Taking the name of Elbereth in vain (FR 1.xii.212-13)

 

At Weathertop Strider says of the Witch-king that ‘more deadly to him' than Frodo's sword 'was the name of Elbereth’ (FR 1.xii.198), but he clearly does not mean the mere mention of her name any more than he means ‘deadly’ to be taken literally. Not only does the invocation of her name not kill the Witch-king, but Strider uses ‘deadly’ again in the very next sentence to describe the effect on Frodo of the Morgul knife, which does not kill its victim. To think that he means literally what he says about Frodo's use of the name Elbereth has absurd consequences. For if all one had to do to drive off the Ringwraiths were to say 'Elbereth', they would not be so fearsome: they would be the Knights Who Say Ni. The 'deadly voices' and the 'harsh and chilling laughter' with which they respond to Frodo's attempt to command them at the Ford of Bruinen proves the name of Elbereth alone cannot harm them.

Elbereth must have aided Frodo when he invoked her at Weathertop, but not when he did so at the Ford (FR 1.xii.212-13). It is impossible to say why this would be, but at the river Frodo's feelings and behavior when faced with the Ringwraiths differ in ways that may be quite significant. In the first place he is moved by hatred of the Riders, and in the second he attempts to command them to leave him and the Ring alone. If, as I think, Frodo is trying to harness the power of the Ring to dominate its dark servants here, it seems little likely that Elbereth would aid someone wielding the Ring any aid. However that may be, it seems entirely unlikely that acting out of hatred would win her support.

Houses of Mirth and Lamentation

Copyright Donato Giancola

A cold voice answered: 'Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.' 

A sword rang as it was drawn. 'Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.' 

'Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!' 

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. 'But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund's daughter. 

 (RK 5.vi.841)

(Okay, this post is going to be nowhere near as charming as Jerry Burns' Mathom-House post from a couple of days ago.)

The houses of lamentation just sound so KJV, and Dernhelm's laughter is like something out of a Viking saga. (See Tom Shippey's marvelous new book, Laughing Shall I Die: The Lives and Deaths of the Great Vikings.) But it's the juxtaposition of the two, and the Witch-king's calling her a fool that has long made me wonder if there was something else Tolkien was playing off in this scene besides Macbeth. 

The notion struck me when I first read one of my other favorite books, Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth, the title of which comes from Ecclesiastes 7.4. The KJV renders this verse:

The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.

If Tolkien is recalling the Bible here, he is using it expertly and ironically to undercut the Witch-king. For of course he is the fool here, not Éowyn who will have the last laugh when she finds happiness in the Houses of Healing.

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Works Consulted

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Glad Would He Have Been To Know Its Fate (RK 5.vi.844)

So passed the sword of the Barrow-downs, work of Westernesse. But glad would he have been to know its fate who wrought it slowly long ago in the North-kingdom when the Dunedain were young, and chief among their foes was the dread realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king. No other blade, not though mightier hands had wielded it, would have dealt that foe a wound so bitter, cleaving the undead flesh, breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will. 

(RK 5.vi.844)

We all know how Éowyn fulfilled Glorfindel's prophecy that 'not by the hand of man will [the Witch-king] fall' (RK App. A 1051), a prophecy uttered again in slightly different form by the Witch-king himself even in the hour of his reckoning: 'No living man may hinder me' (RK 5.vi.841). 

Yesterday I was having a conversation with my friend, +Paul Mitchener (distinguished Maths Lecturer at Sheffield and illustrious writer of RPGs), about Merry's experience on the Barrow-downs, and the sword mentioned in the quote above came up. Paul called it 'the final revenge of Arnor.' That was when it hit me. You see, it's obvious that Éowyn fulfills the prophecy by not being a man. Slightly less obviously, so does Merry, who is no man in a different sense (cf. RK App A 1070). Thus we can already see Tolkien playing with the word 'man' in two different ways. But with the addition of 'living' comes yet another layer of meaning, especially given the great emphasis he places on the timeless sword and its history, both here and when Bombadil gave it to Merry back on the Barrow-downs (FR 1.viii.145-46; cf. RK 5.i.756). Only now the weight is on living where before it was on different meanings of man. The smith who wrought this sword is no living man. Yet across the centuries and from out of the grave -- a grave that lies open now because the Witch-king himself once sent an evil spirit to inhabit it (RK App. A 1041) -- that smith has hindered the greatest of the servants of Sauron. 

That's a very cold revenge indeed, and very sharp play on meanings of words.

No irony in Tolkien?