The Wisdom of the Shire

There’s a special camaraderie amongst the inhabitants of the Shire that goes beyond mere friendship. Frodo and his friends are a “fellowship” long before the Nine Companions set out from Rivendell. The Hobbits share a bond that will not be broken and they’re exemplars of the motto, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”*

Hobbits will scuffle over a plate of sautéed mushrooms, of course, but they’ll lay down their lives to save someone they love as Merry demonstrates when he attacks the Witch-king of Angmar to protect Éowyn; and Pippin when he races through the war-torn streets of Minas Tirith to alert Gandalf about Faramir’s premature funeral pyre arrangement; or Sam when he fights the monstrous spider Shelob.*

We first catch a glimpse of the steadfastness of the Halflings in The Hobbit when Thorin and the Dwarves are caught by the giant spiders of Mirkwood and wrapped up in cocoons. Bilbo has every reason to turn and run from this terrible nest of overgrown arachnids, but he isn’t going to let his friends get turned into juice for spiders. His courage to attack the monsters is admirable. But it’s his loyalty to his friends that spurs him to bravery.

Merry and Pippin are examples of persistency in friendship too. They know Frodo is planning to leave Hobbiton on some mission of danger, and so they plot in secret to go along with him no matter what, “through thick and thin—to the bitter end” as they tell him. And in Rivendell Pippin declares that Elrond will have to tie him up and send him back to the Shire in a sack if he won’t let him go with his friends on the rest of the journey. At certain points in the journey Gandalf probably wishes Elrond had taken the young Took up on his threat.*

Sam is the paragon of this indefatigable friendship. He journeys with Frodo into the hell of Mordor, knowing full well the dangers, and eventually realizes there will be no coming back to the Shire. But even then he refuses to give up heart. He’s constantly trying to cheer up Frodo, never giving in to the despair or darkness of their seemingly impossible task. Whenever he can he steers Frodo’s morbid thoughts back toward the light of the Shire—the origin of their deep bond.

The Hobbits are relentless in a good way. They stick like glue to their friends. After Frodo is stabbed by the Ringwraith and ends up in a coma in the House of Elrond, Sam stays by his bedside for nearly four days and nights, watching over him. And when Merry is lost amongst the dead after the Battle of Pelennor Fields, Pippin finds his shell-shocked friend wandering the streets and brings him to the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith.

Good friends help you through illness and bad times, and they don’t let you fall through the cracks, no matter what kind of problems you’re facing. It seems like it’s getting harder and harder nowadays to have close friends like these, doesn’t it? Everyone is busy to the point of madness with barely enough time to socialize unless it’s via postings on Facebook where “I’m eating a sandwich” apparently qualifies as an Internet version of a conversational gambit.

Staying close to old friends from childhood or college is made more difficult (and sometimes impossible) when we’re spread all over the planet with our various global careers. So what was it about the Hobbits that made them so truehearted toward their friends? And how did they keep that connection for their entire lives?

To answer these questions it might be helpful to explore the roots of a Hobbit’s upbringing in the Shire—Frodo in particular. After his parents died in a boating accident he went to live with his late mother’s relatives at Brandybuck Hall. The Gaffer describes the place as a regular “warren” and we can easily imagine the young Frodo in a rambling tunnel-filled Hobbit-hole teeming with rambunctious cousins. If Merry Brandybuck is any indication of the character of his family they are a breed of happy, fun-loving, candid, quick-witted and dependable Hobbits.

Buckland and the neighboring Shire would have been like gigantic playgrounds for Frodo and his companions, with wide-open fields to run through, rivers to swim,* and little woods to explore. Frodo was, by several accounts, quite the young imp. We know he was chased out of Farmer Maggot’s farm for stealing mushrooms, and there’s no doubt he got his love of traipsing about the countryside in the early days of his youth.

Frodo is eventually brought to Bag End where his kindly uncle Bilbo makes him his heir, probably because he recognized his own adventurous nature in Frodo. Here Bilbo teaches Frodo a smattering of Elven-tongue and poetry, and a love of lore and maps. But even with this “higher education”* and the trappings of wealth Frodo fits right in with the simple agrarian society of Hobbiton. There are rich people like Bilbo and the Brandybucks, of course, but there is no aristocracy or ruling class. Sam might call Frodo “master” but they are equals as Hobbits. Can you imagine Lord Grantham of Downton Abbey knocking back a few pints and belting out a drinking song with his gardener?

As an adult, Frodo and his childhood friends have a merry time with one another, joking and singing and telling stories, drinking beer and going on long walks. They like to take the piss out of each other—to give each other a gentle roasting. And they possess a healthy dose of self-effacing humor. It’s easy to be friends with people who are cheerful and don’t take themselves too seriously. And friendship comes easy when your friends don’t want anything more from you than the joy of your company.

The Hobbits have time to cultivate friendships—vast amounts of time to just hang out and simply be together. In a way they have lower expectations about how their friends should act than we do. We have so little time to be with our friends in this hectic world that when we can get together it usually has to be while doing something amazing. There’s so much pressure we end up acting like performers. We have to be witty, charming, interesting and interested. We can’t just sit around and eat a meal or go for a walk. Instead we have to be in a book club, or take part in an epic and expensive ski trip, or help build a mechanical float and head to Burning Man. It’s all so exhausting being friends in this era. There’s so much less pressure when you’re just Hobbitting about.

One of the best personality traits of the Hobbits is that they have the innocence of children without being childish. The fierce King Théoden—who meets Merry and Pippin soon after the dreadful Battle of the Hornburg—can’t help but forget the dire circumstances of the War of the Ring and banters with the amusing “Holbytlan” as he calls them. Gandalf warns Théoden not to encourage them. They’ll make small talk on the “edge of ruin” says the wizard in his gruff way. (But you know that Gandalf loves them too.)*

What Gandalf is really saying about the Hobbits is that they are undaunted. They may not have the innate bravery of Aragorn or Boromir, but they refuse to be downcast, even in the face of disaster or death. Perhaps Gandalf instinctively knew to send Bilbo along with Thorin & Co. because he realized the good-natured Hobbit would be a healthy dose of amiability amongst the surly Dwarves. It’s Bilbo’s desire to save his friends from certain death that leads him to steal the Arkenstone and give it to the Elven-king, thus incurring Thorin’s murderous wrath. But in the end, the Dwarf and Hobbit make up as friends, even if it is on Thorin’s deathbed.

If you’ve ever had a falling out with a good friend or family member in your life, the death of Thorin scene from The Hobbit has a particular resonance. It’s very difficult for us to swallow our pride and either ask for forgiveness or accept it from somebody else when they ask it of us. Human nature is such that we feel the most pain from a perceived betrayal when the person who perpetrated the wrong against us was someone we trusted or thought of as a close friend. If Bilbo can rekindle a bond with a comrade who called him a rat and was about to throw him to his death off a high wall, you can renew a friendship with someone who hurt your feelings.

In The Return of the King, Sam shows an amazing capacity for forgiveness. After rescuing Frodo from the tower of Cirith Ungol, Frodo is seized by the madness of the Ring and lets forth a venomous rant at his friend, accusing him of trying to steal his Ring. When Frodo comes to his senses he apologizes, and Sam merely wipes his tears on his sleeve and forgives his friend. Later, when Frodo is utterly exhausted and can’t move an inch farther, Sam hoists Frodo onto his back and carries him as though he were giving a child a piggyback ride—albeit a ride up the flinty slopes of Orodruin.*

After the Hobbits drive out the Shire invaders at the end of The Return of the King, they settle down to a quiet life. Sam marries Rosie and they move into Bag End where they take care of Frodo who is suffering from his old wounds (both physical and psychological). He’s like a WWI veteran recovering from trench fever. But Frodo feels lucky. He knows there’s not a Hobbit in the Shire who’s being looked after with such care.

Merry and Pippin spend their days after the War of the Ring “cutting a dash” around the countryside, singing and laughing and telling fine tales. But most of all they become famous for their “excellent parties.” In the end perhaps the greatest threat to the evil of Sauron was not men at arms, but rather the bonds of love that kept the Hobbits from letting their friends fall into darkness and despair.*

The Wisdom of the Shire Tells Us …

“May a star shine on the hour of your meeting a new friend, and continue to light up the long path of your friendship.”