11

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

Quick survey: Do you like it when a restaurant hostess hands you a flashing buzzer and says, “It’ll be about forty minutes”? When you sit down in the little room outside your doctor’s office and pick up a magazine dated eight months ago, do you feel cheerful about what will happen next? By and large, do you have positive inclinations toward traffic jams?

I’m willing to guess you answered no to all three questions.

Most people hate waiting. It’s another universal experience none of us can avoid no matter how hard we try. And it gets no easier with practice. In fact, the more we are forced to wait, the more loathsome waiting seems.

According to chapter 11 of Bilbo’s journey, these human sentiments are shared among hobbits and dwarves as well.

Inverted Triumph

It has been a long journey for Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Thorin, and Bilbo. The company that first came together all the way back in the Shire has passed through many lands and survived many dangers.

They’ve ridden through the Lone-lands and brawled with trolls. They’ve been refreshed in Rivendell. They’ve climbed the wearying paths of the Misty Mountains, sprinted through the terrifying tunnels underneath, and warred with orcs and wargs. They’ve perched on the eyries of eagles and even traversed on the backs of those majestic birds. They’ve been rejuvenated in the house of Beorn. They’ve trudged through lightless, airless Mirkwood. They’ve clashed with spiders. They’ve been imprisoned by elves and escaped, only to arrive half-alive at Esgaroth and the Long Lake.

And now, after fighting tooth and nail for every grim step and exhausting advance, Thorin and Company pass the final stretch and make camp at the base of the Lonely Mountain. The outbound jaunt is over. They have arrived.

We who have anticipated this event for more than two-thirds of the story might well expect a moment of triumph and exaltation from our protagonists. But such emotions are missing entirely from this part of the narrative.

Awaiting celebration, we’re told explicitly that, rather, there is no “song or sound of harps.”[1] Expecting joy and mirth, we learn there is “no laughter.”[2] Thinking we’ll sense a collective satisfaction at what they’ve accomplished, what they’ve overcome, and what they expect to reclaim, we find instead that the dwarves have become resigned to a “plodding gloom.”[3]

There are two main reasons for such dejection at this juncture. The first and most obvious is the dragon. Bilbo and the dwarves see steam and dark smoke pouring from the front gate under the mountain—all but guaranteeing both the reality of Smaug and his nearness somewhere within those bowels.

All along the way, the dwarves in particular (not so much Bilbo) had envisioned Smaug as a goal to be reached. Now that they’ve reached him, he suddenly has transmogrified into a problem that must be solved. And what a big problem he is, at that.

The second reason for their lack of spirit: The waiting is compounded with boredom. Upon first arriving, Bilbo and the dwarves spent several days wandering along the mountain’s surface on its western edge, seeking the hidden door indicated on Thorin’s map. The dullness of their search would have been broken only if Smaug had burst into the air and been upon them.

When Bilbo does finally find a path leading up to the back door, the general mood improves for an evening. However, the dwarves then prove unable to open the door through cleverness, through spells, even through force. Things get so desperate that they bang on it with picks and hammers, despite the dragon’s presence! Despair once more settles over the camp.

For months and months Bilbo and friends have been on the offensive. Actively, and among other things, they’ve been riding, running, climbing, singing, laughing, hiding, and floating. Now they’re forced to sit. And wait. And stare at a locked door with no clue about how to get to its other side.

Autobiographical Waiting

For Tolkien, this time of frustrated waiting pointed back to his experiences during World War I—or the Great War, as it was known by his generation.

A signals officer, he spent more than a year as part of the Thirteenth and Eleventh Battalions of the Lancashire Fusiliers. He trained for months in several locations and saw live action at the Battle of the Somme. In October 1916, though, he was diagnosed with trench fever and taken out of service. He spent several more months in military hospitals before returning to England and pursuing his academic (and writing) career.

Tolkien later characterized his time in the army in these terms: long periods of waiting interspersed with bursts of chaotic action. He dealt with inclement weather, oozing mud, freezing temperatures, and the constant lethal threats of enemy soldiers and their shells.

Nevertheless, he frequently was bored out of his mind. Communicating with a friend during the war, he wrote:

These grey days wasted in wearily going over, over and over again, the dreary topics, the dull backwaters of the art of killing, are not enjoyable.[4]

In another letter he added this description of what he found to be typical:

The usual kind of morning standing about freezing and then trotting to get warmer so as to freeze again. We ended up by an hour’s bomb-throwing with dummies. Lunch and a freezing afternoon . . . we stand in icy groups in the open being talked at! Tea and another scramble—I fought for a place at the stove and made a piece of toast on the end of a knife: what days![5]

Most certainly was he able to empathize with the frustration of Bilbo and the dwarves, then, as they milled about aimlessly on a spur of the mountain.

Biblical Waiting

Scripture contains several examples of people who, having received a call to take a certain action or a promise to receive a certain gift, were required to wait long periods of time before the fulfillment of that call or promise. In fact, the phenomenon is sufficiently common to have spawned the phrase “waiting on the Lord” for entry into our unofficial Christian lexicon.

Of all the biblical men and women who experienced this waiting, the story of Abraham is the most striking. He was still known as “Abram” at the time when he is introduced:

The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.

I will make you into a great nation,

and I will bless you;

I will make your name great,

and you will be a blessing.

I will bless those who bless you,

and whoever curses you I will curse;

and all peoples on earth

will be blessed through you.”

So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot [his nephew] went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he set out from Harran.

Genesis 12:1–4

God’s words shocked Abraham from three directions: (1) He had no children; (2) he was already seventy-five; and (3) his wife, Sarah, was sixty-five, had been barren her entire life, and had already experienced menopause.

By any practical standard of judgment, it was unworkable for Abraham and Sarah to produce a child—and thus, by the same measure, it was not possible for him to become a “great nation” and somehow provide blessing to “all peoples.” Nonetheless, the Scriptures emphasize that Abraham believed what God had said. Like Bilbo Baggins, he accepted the call to an apparently impossible quest for what was a seemingly unattainable result.

Here’s what happens a little later:

When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to him and said, “I am God Almighty; walk before me faithfully and be blameless. Then I will make my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers.”

Abram fell facedown, and God said to him, “As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations. I will make you very fruitful; I will make nations of you, and kings will come from you.”

Genesis 17:1–6

Did you catch that? He was seventy-five when he first received God’s promise of a coming son. And then, twenty-four years later, God changed his name from Abram (which means “exalted father”) to Abraham (which means “father of many”). This alteration may have been a bit hard to swallow, seeing as nearly a quarter century later he still hadn’t received the promised child!

In fact, Isaac wasn’t born until another full year had passed. Abraham was a hundred years old when he finally received his son—a full twenty-five years after God guaranteed it would happen.

Again, plenty of biblical others also experienced this “waiting on the Lord.” After leaving Egypt, the Israelites wandered in the wilderness forty years before finally entering the Promised Land (Numbers 32:13).

David waited approximately fifteen years from when he was anointed as Israel’s next king until he actually ascended to the throne in Hebron. And then he waited another seven years before he was able to unite his country and set up his headquarters in Jerusalem (2 Samuel 5:4–5).

The 120 disciples waited in the upper room for several days between Jesus’ ascension and the pouring out of His Spirit at Pentecost (Acts 1:1–14).

And this last example is a reminder of what He’d just recently said:

Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.

Matthew 24:42–44

Today, all followers of Jesus are “waiting on the Lord” regarding His return. We are told to “be ready” so that, like Bilbo, we are in a position to reap the benefits when God fulfills His promise.

Continuing Themes

Once again, chapter 11 is among the shorter sections in The Hobbit and does not contain a lot of action or new information. However, several events do reinforce many of the primary themes and ideas we’ve been exploring.

I’ll briefly highlight those events in the remaining pages of this chapter.

BILBO AS DIVINE AGENT

Recall that, early on, we saw Gandalf serve as an Agent of Providence in three distinct ways. As an Agent of Divine Initiation, the wizard set in motion several chains of events that would impact not just Thorin and Company but all of Middle-earth. As an Agent of Divine Wrath, Gandalf destroyed the forces of evil whenever he came into contact with them. And as an Agent of Divine Rescue, he repeatedly saved Bilbo and the dwarves from danger.

As the story progressed, Bilbo began to function within those roles, starting with the clash against the goblins in the Misty Mountains. When Gandalf left them on the borders of Mirkwood, Bilbo took his place as leader within the group and replaced Gandalf as an Agent of Providence.

In chapter 11, Tolkien lets us know in slightly subtle terms that Bilbo has indeed appropriated Gandalf’s role within the story. When the dwarves are unable to open the mysterious back door, they begin to complain and suggest to each other that Bilbo walk through the front gate wearing his magic ring.

When Bilbo hears them, he notes that he’s the one who has to get the dwarves out of their difficulties ever since Gandalf left.

But now his actions (in chapter 11 and beyond) will confirm his new position. As an Agent of Divine Initiation, he finds the path leading to the hidden door; he is also the only one to comprehend the runes on Thorin’s map, and his quick thinking allows the dwarves to open the door once the keyhole is revealed. As an Agent of Divine Wrath, Bilbo will voluntarily walk down the tunnel to confront Smaug, and the thrush will carry his inside information to Bard, ultimately leading to Smaug’s demise. And as an Agent of Divine Rescue, the hobbit will move the dwarves inside the tunnel before Smaug’s sneak attack on the mountainside, again saving their lives.

THE LAST TEMPTATION OF BILBO

At the start of this book, I recommended paying attention to moments when Bilbo pines for his old home (and old life) in the Shire. These are indicators that the hobbit is still working through the motives and cravings of his “old self.” They’re also signs that he is in danger of losing the focus and attention needed to succeed on his quest.

The most precarious of these occurrences now takes place as Bilbo sits on the grassy space between the locked door and the walls around—what he and the dwarves refer to as the “doorstep.”

With his back against a rock, Bilbo knows the black wall of shadow he sees in the distance is Mirkwood. Beyond that, he can see the blue blur of the Misty Mountains—far, far away. He cannot see beyond that, but he knows that’s where he would find the Shire if he decided to leave and go home.

For days, Bilbo sits with his back against that rock and broods about the Shire, about going home. This is the last time he toys with such temptation before the climax of his story—but make no mistake, he is tempted.

Fortunately for everyone, he resists long enough for Providence to step in and provide him with another opportunity to take action and save the day.

DIVINE ASSISTANCE

Just a quick review: We know from The Silmarillion and other works that Middle-earth was created by a divine being called Ilúvatar. We also know that Ilúvatar rarely takes direct action in the world, preferring to work through Divine Agents in order to make known his will and to see it carried out.

Most of his agents came from the ranks of the Valar and Maiar: the immortal, angel-like beings he sent into the world at its beginning. These were responsible for creating many of the geological structures within the world and were the primary teachers for the elves—the firstborn in Middle-earth.

In Bilbo’s day, however, they have largely separated themselves from Middle-earth and dwell in Valinor, across the sea. For this reason, the Istari were sent into Middle-earth in order to help stewards and shape the events there. The Istari are all Maiar, lower angels; again, Gandalf is one of them.

There have been times throughout Middle-earth’s history when mortal beings have been conscripted into service as Divine Agents. Tuor, father of Eärendil, is a good example. So is Bilbo Baggins. Initially chosen by Gandalf, throughout his adventure we’ve seen Bilbo develop into a true hero—a Divine Agent initiating events, bringing wrath upon evil, and rescuing those in need.

Now and again Bilbo has received divine assistance, including his dramatic rescue by the eagles and even his finding of the One Ring. However, nothing has been overt; nothing could be confirmed as supernatural.

Until chapter 11.

As Bilbo sits on the doorstep, looking west toward his home and enduring his darkest moment of temptation, he begins to feel like he’s waiting for something. Then, hearing a sharp sound behind him, he turns to see a thrush knocking snails against the rock wall. Instantly he remembers the rune-letters from Thorin’s map—“stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks”[6]—and understands. Summoning the dwarves, they all watch as a last red burst of sunlight pushes through a gap in the clouds and lands upon the door, revealing a keyhole. Thorin is able to use the key that came with his map, and the door opens.

This is a supernatural occurrence by any standard. The overall event spans hundreds of years, from the making of the map to Bilbo’s flash of realization on the doorstep. It incorporates specific times, weather patterns, lunar cycles, a bird, some snails, even the hobbit’s inner thoughts.

It’s a miracle, in other words. And it comes when Bilbo and the dwarves were at their lowest point, mired in frustration, uncertainty, and doubt.