The Wisdom of the Shire

In Middle-earth “the Big People” are the various races of Men who live outside of the Shire and are very different breeds from the Hobbits. They tower over the Halflings, as adults loom over children. To the Shire-folk, the Big People often appear sinister or oafish or merely baffling.

On occasion the Hobbits must venture into the lands of the Big People and deal with them on their terms—like in the Mannish town of Bree to the east of the Shire. In the events that take place during the War of the Ring, however, the Hobbits are totally swept up in the concerns of Men, and must leave the protection of their beloved Shire far behind.*

From encounters with the sinister Bill Ferny of Bree to the enigmatic Tom Bombadil, from the grim Bard of Laketown to the imperious and patronizing Denethor of Minas Tirith, the Hobbits grow and change as they interact with the Big People. Despite their trials, the Halflings never abandon their simple goodness, sense of humor and strong moral code.

Though Gandalf is a wizard, he looks like a Man, so in Bilbo’s mind Gandalf is a Man. Bilbo initially treats this strange fellow, loitering about his door one sunny morning, with suspicion. (Men, Hobbits believe, are slow-witted and noisy, bumbling about with the grace of goblins.) Not much good can come from dealing with Men, and that’s why the Shire-folk generally keep to themselves.

Bilbo quickly learns that Gandalf is trustworthy but terribly mysterious. Hobbits are ingenuous creatures—you can pretty much read everything they’re thinking on their friendly faces. They don’t have the capacity for dissemblance. Gandalf is one of those people who have many secrets and hidden agendas, and if you want to be their friend you’ve got to just hang on tight, because you’re in for a strange (but usually interesting) ride.

Gandalf, for his part, is impressed by the ways Bilbo constantly surprises him with his selfless acts of courage. After Bilbo gives up the Arkenstone* to appease the humorless Bard and the rapacious Elven-king of Mirkwood, Gandalf is waiting in the shadows and surprises Bilbo by telling him what an excellent job he’s done. The wizard, just like Bilbo, does not wish to see Thorin and the other Dwarves wiped out in a siege of the Lonely Mountain by an army of indignant Men and irate Elves. Sometimes compromise is the best way to solve an impasse with one of the Big People.

The Elves are not Men, but they offer the same sort of uncertainties for the Hobbits. When Frodo, Sam and Pippin are leaving the Shire at the start of The Fellowship of the Ring they meet an Elf named Gildor on the road. The Elf is humorously sarcastic for one of his kind, calling the Hobbits “dull” and gently mocking Frodo for using the Elven-tongue. Once he finds out they’re pursued by Black Riders, however, Gildor becomes serious and protects the Hobbits, watching over them for the night.

When Frodo laments that a Hobbit can no longer be safe in his own country, Gildor tells him matter-of-factly that the Hobbits can fence themselves into the Shire, but they can’t forever fence the rest of the world out. Gildor is a pragmatist and a pessimist. He’s one of those people who laugh wryly and tell you that you’re in a heap of trouble when you already know far too well. But Gildor’s advice is sound. A lot of us are guilty of trying to isolate ourselves in a little protected world, ignoring what’s going on around us. Eventually, the Black Riders of the world will come looking for you.

Tom Bombadil is just as mysterious as the wizard Gandalf and more detached from the events playing out in Middle-earth than Gildor the Elf. In a way, however, he is the one Man the Halflings can relate to the best, for he is like a big, good-natured and friendly Hobbit in yellow boots (albeit a Hobbit who’s married to a gorgeous singing river spirit).*

Tom is the only character in Middle-earth for whom the Ring holds no power. It’s nothing more than a trinket to this “Man” who calls himself the “Eldest” of Middle-earth: he was there before the Big People and the Little People. The Hobbits and their concerns are unimportant to Tom. He’s like a preoccupied adult listening with half an ear to some children gabbing on about the complicated rules of some whimsical game they’ve invented.

Frodo is ticked off when Tom takes the Ring and tosses it in the air, pretending to make it vanish. And the Ring-bearer becomes embarrassed when he’s caught making sure Tom hasn’t switched the Ring with another. He puts the One Ring on his finger and disappears from the sight of his friends, only to find that Tom can see him as plain as day: the Ring’s power of invisibility doesn’t work with Bombadil.

Tom is one of those rare people who can see right through us “warts and all.” Although this kind of person has the power to mortify and embarrass us, they’re often the most helpful type of friend for when you need plain advice without someone putting on a front and massaging your ego. The more lofty a person’s position is in the world, the less likely they are to take the counsel of a Tom Bombadil—the wise man disguised as a stoner dude wearing a LIFE IS GOOD T-shirt who says exactly what’s on his mind.

Soon after this encounter with Bombadil, Frodo and his friends encounter the character of Bill Ferny, a “stupid and wicked” goon in the village of Bree. They immediately take a disliking to the nefarious Ferny, especially after he charges them an exorbitant amount of money for a sad pony he’s obviously starved and abused.*

We’ve all met Bill Ferny before. He’s the kind of guy who beats his dog, tells off-color jokes and generally makes you feel uncomfortable with his leering smirk. He’s not the worst sort of Man, he’s just one of the nastiest—the kind who causes trouble just for fun.

As they’re leaving Bree, Sam hits Bill in the nose with a perfectly aimed apple. I do not advocate the use of hard fruit for violence. But every so often the Big People need a little bit of a wake-up call to see the errors of their ways. So yeah, go ahead and throw that metaphorical apple right in that smug face, if you feel so inclined.

Sometimes the Hobbits are too concerned with first impressions, however, as is the case with their opinion of Strider. None of them trust the rugged-looked Ranger when they meet him at The Prancing Pony. He’s a scruffy Man, brooding and downright sketchy. While they’re on the run from the Ringwraiths they learn of Strider’s worth as a fighting man and a guide. They’re also enraptured by his lays—romantic tales of the First Age Strider sings at the campfire. He’s one of those people who “looks foul but feels fair.” Like some mopey guy you meet at a party and can’t stand at first, but then someone hands him a guitar and it turns out he can play any Beatles song.

Later, in Rivendell, they learn that Strider the Ranger is really Aragorn—a valorous heir to a great throne. They see him in his cool Elven clothes, probably with his hair all nice and washed, hanging out with the stunning Arwen. He’s a totally different guy from that scoundrel they met in Bree. How many times in your life have you let a first impression affect the way you treat somebody, only to find you were totally off the mark? I once snubbed a new colleague because he was wearing a velvet coat that I thought looked pretentious. I immediately disliked this guy simply because of his coat. Who in the hell wears a velvet coat? I thought. And then all of a sudden it hit me. Hobbits wear velvet coats. That guy turned out to be an amazing friend, and I’m still looking for a velvet coat of my own.

In Lothlórien Frodo offers (perhaps unwisely) to give the Ring to Galadriel of his own free will, mainly because he is so enraptured with the splendid Elven queen and suddenly sees her as a means of freeing himself from the grave burden. Frodo learns a valuable lesson about seduction and the corruption of power—even the majestic Elves aren’t immune to the allure of the Ring; and thus a mere Man like Boromir will become victim of an impossible-to-deny temptation.

Boromir is a jumble of contradictions. Strong of body yet weak-minded. Terrified of Sauron and at the same time as brave as a lion when in combat with the Dark Lord’s servants. He fights valiantly to save the Nine Companions in the Mines of Moria, but then goes crazy and tries to seize the Ring from Frodo. Dealing with a Man like Boromir is perilous, for sure. How do you compromise with a person who wants something from you that you’re not willing to give? We all can’t put on a magic ring like Frodo and simply disappear.

When Frodo argues with Boromir about what course to take with the Ring, the honest Hobbit tells the Gondorian that he does not trust in the “strength and truth of Men.” This is the lesson. There are strong men in the world. Powerful men who think they can wield destructive power in a way that can fix any problem. But sometimes they lie. And oftentimes their use of force is really a sign of weakness, just like it is with Boromir. Denethor’s son recognizes his mistake soon enough, of course, and dies defending Merry and Pippin.

Faramir, Boromir’s more thoughtful yet equally valiant brother, is strong enough to pass the character test of the Ring. His father Denethor snidely refers to him as “wizard’s pupil” so we know he must have spent time with Gandalf when the wizard was in Gondor doing one of his “research trips” studying the history of the Ring.*

Frodo and Sam are understandably afraid of Faramir when they’re captured by his band of Gondorian Rangers in the forest of Ithilien. But they do not beg or cower, nor do they back down. Frodo uses reason to convince Faramir to let them go, and Boromir’s younger brother—the thinking-Man of Middle-earth—comprehends the perilous nature of the Ring just as well as Gandalf or Galadriel. Honesty and straight talk can sometimes work with those who have us in their sway, especially if they are honorable and decent people.

Sometimes, however, this strategy of rationality fails. Denethor is the perfect example of a power-hungry Man who cannot be appeased or worked with. He’s egotistical, tyrannical and lacks empathy. A lot of us have worked for someone like Denethor, and it’s a helpless feeling to be under the thumb of a boss like the last Steward of Gondor. Power does funny things to people’s heads—and the thought of losing that power is a heinous blow to the bloated ego of someone used to being in complete control.

Pippin is the one Hobbit who comes into contact with Denethor, and he instantly offers the Steward of Gondor his life in repayment of Boromir’s. The little Halfling’s forthright manner makes a crack in Denethor’s armor, but not even the goodness of the Shire can have a lasting effect on the last Steward’s impending emotional collapse. With Men like Denethor there is no way to help them. You have to cut your losses and run, or do what you can to prevent them from hurting others when they finally take their fall, otherwise you might end up in their funeral pyre.

Pippin’s best friend Merry gets to interact with a Man in a completely different way. Merry meets Théoden soon after Gandalf helps resurrect the King of Rohan’s faith in himself and his people. The King of the Golden Hall is the kind of person we should all be so lucky to follow: lionhearted, kind and principled—a rare combination in a Man. Merry offers his services to Théoden and is rewarded with a true friendship. Although Théoden is killed on the field of battle, he dies in the most honorable way for a Rider of Rohan.* His last words to Merry are beautifully gentle for one so fierce at war. He tells Merry he regrets they won’t ever be able to talk anymore about “herb-lore,” and asks him to think of him when he smokes his pipe.

Théoden is an archetype of heroism. He is not a perfect man, of course. He falls prey to the same fear and despair that destroyed Denethor. But when he is given a second chance at life—a pathway to redemption—he seizes it with vigor. Merry learns from Théoden to face an enemy and death without flinching.

One of the great twists in Tolkien’s story is that of all the warriors of the Big People, the most valiant and pure of heart is not a Man at all, but a Woman. Éowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan, cannot be corrupted by the diabolical council of Saruman’s spy in Rohan—the odious Wormtongue.* Nor is she afraid of battle or death. Her greatest fear is to be trapped like a caged animal back home in Rohan, “skulking in the hills” while the men go off to fight.

So she disguises herself as a male warrior in mail and helm and rides in the host with her uncle Théoden and brother Éomer, taking the surprised Merry along for the ride, seeing in the overlooked Halfling a kindred spirit who is capable of much more, just like herself.

Éowyn is Amelia Earhart, or Jane Goodall, or Lynn Hill.* She’s any woman who flies in the face of a world dominated by men—men who would keep her from pushing the limits of her physical and intellectual capabilities. She doesn’t defy her beloved King out of spite. She defies him because she knows he’s wrong to think less of her abilities merely because she’s a woman. She’s uncompromising and makes her own decisions.

In one of the most thrilling and emotional scenes in The Lord of the Rings, Éowyn takes on the dreaded Witch-king of Angmar, an ancient sorcerer and minion of Sauron, feared by Men for thousands of years because he’s never been beaten in battle. It was prophesied that no Man ever would triumph over him, and he mocks Éowyn with this fact as he moves in for the deathblow, eliciting her famous laughing reply, “But no living man am I! You look upon a woman.”

With a little help from Merry the Hobbit, Éowyn slays the Witch-king and sends his dark spirit flying from the realm of Middle-earth and into the Void. She does so nearly at the cost of her own life, but the unshakable Éowyn would not have had it any other way. Merry learns from her more than any of the other Big People about determination and heroism in the face of overwhelming odds. This serves him well when he helps lead his own people in driving out the Shire invaders—the worst collection of Big People in Middle-earth.

The Wisdom of the Shire Tells Us …

“Let your moral compass point your way through the world of the Big People, and do not compromise the core of who you are.”