[note to readers: In the course of preparing this series, I accidentally deleted my only copy of this post. What follows is a crude and hasty attempt to recreate it.]
And so, we arrive at Edoras. Here, I’d like to focus on a moment that seems to mark a radical, sudden, implausible change in a character: the moment when Theoden turns against Grima and starts listening to Gandalf.
Now, the movies simply exaggerate one perfectly valid (imho) interpretation of what is happening: that what has been happening to Theoden is something akin to magical “possession.” Here, I’d like to suggest another, almost completely unmagical interpretation of what happens in that hall, in which Theoden’s change of heart is not implausible at all.
Let’s start with the scene in the Hall of Meduseld. We climb the hill, the winds whipping around us, and enter a darkened hall. Here, we engage with Theoden, and at the climax there is a flash of light and Grima sprawls on the floor, motionless, and then Gandalf points his staff and a beam of light descends from the top of the hall. And then we emerge from the Hall and we find that a thunderstorm has passed through, leaving a sunny day. The wind as you entered was the arrival of a weather front. The flash of light might have been a bolt of lightning from the storm. The beam of light descending might have been the emergence of the sun from the clouds, in late morning, from the hole high in the Hall’s roof to vent smoke. And, by the way, that thunderstorm may have been the same one that hit Frodo in the beginning of Book 4, descending the cliffs of the Emyn Muil.
In other words, once again Tolkien may be using the weather to reflect and affect mood. Once again, Tolkien may be minimizing or making ambiguous the magic element in the scene. But if that’s true, what is the non-magic answer for Theoden’s change?
At this point, I would suggest that you think of what is going on in the Hall as a legal case. Wait, what?
Consider what has likely been going on in the last few years, from Grima’s point of view. I would suggest that for the years preceding this scene, in order to steer Theoden the way Grima wants, Grima has had two basic messages for Theoden: Be depressed. Be paranoid. You are getting old. The chance to be a great king and a hero like your predecessors is vanishing. Be depressed. Saruman is a traitor. Who else is a carrion bird, circling over your land? Be paranoid. Your heir, Theodred, is dead. Be depressed. The follow-on heir, Eomer, cannot be trusted. Be paranoid.
And then, having stoked Theoden’s depression and paranoia for this moment, Grima sets up a situation in Theoden’s mind. Think of this, Theoden, as a king’s judgment on a legal case. I will stand as your prosecutor, as any wise counselor should do. Gandalf will be the defendant – and everyone knows the legal maxim that one who acts as his own lawyer has a fool for a client. You shall be the judge. And my opening argument is that you should be depressed – Theodred is dead – and paranoid – Eomer cannot be trusted – and that Gandalf willfully chooses times of destruction to meddle with ill intent, and therefore should be cast out.
But Gandalf has a legal trap for him. And he begins by pointing out that Grima does not explain the famed guests he brings. And Grima does not perceive the trap, and insults the guests, and does not perceive that Gandalf has moved the main focus of the inquiry away from Gandalf the defendant. And now, Gandalf baits the trap: he mentions Elves. And Grima falls completely into the trap: he not only moves even further from the subject of Gandalf the defendant, he also insults Galadriel. And now, Gandalf springs the trap.
See, Theoden, Gandalf says, what your “wise,” your “high” counselor has said. He knows nothing of Elves, nothing of Lorien, nothing of Galadriel. His ignorance shows he is not “high.” And since he has slandered them, it can only be for his own, selfish purposes. Your “wise” counselor, Theoden, serves not you, but his own self-interest. You thought that I was the defendant. No; I am the prosecutor. And this case is now closed.
And in his thoughts, judging the case, Theoden can follow Gandalf’s logic. It is indeed clear that Grima is not high. It must be that he is slandering for his own interests. And in that moment, when Theoden is acting as judge, and then as a king assessing what is best for his kingdom, when he has temporarily forgotten his paranoia, Gandalf shows him hope, a beam of light, a breath of fresh air, a way out of depression. And thus he sees that Grima has misrepresented Gandalf as well.
And then Theoden sees that Grima has been telling him the same things for many years, and therefore misrepresenting for many years, and then, with a crushing sense of shock, that he has been listening to this voice, to the exclusion of all others, for many years. That with this man to control his perceptions, he has been perceiving the world falsely for lo these many years.
But he is a king. Kings bear the burdens, like this knowledge, that must be borne.
And yet, there is something missing in that acquiescence. Still, Theoden calls him Grima. Calls him “my counselor.” Theoden has not fully cast off Grima Wormtongue. Why?
I would suggest that one thing Theoden has not yet wrapped his mind around is why Grima has done this. Why is this figure presented to me so different than the one I had in my head all these years? What is it in Grima’s underlying character that explains the new Grima to me?
And then Gandalf says to him, speaking to Grima Wormtongue, “How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead, you were to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire?” Saruman. Desire. What does that remind me of?
It reminds me of the Council of Elrond, where Gandalf states of Saruman, speaking of the One Ring, that “a lust that he could not conceal shone in his eyes.” Lust. A new/old word. In some medieval Christian interpretations, including not only obsessive sexual desire but also excessive desire for treasure or power. It is more than a focus on an object; it is a consistent state of mind. It describes a personality, not merely a passing phase.
And so, now Theoden can wrap his mind around the personality of Grima Wormtongue, and see his true depths. And see that, as others have said, the only thing of value that Wormtongue offers, figuratively down on his belly like a snake, like a worm, is a golden tongue. The tongue of a Great Worm, like Smaug the Golden. And from here on in, Theoden refers to him as Wormtongue, as he has not before.
Thus, at the end of the scene, Theoden acts entirely as a king rendering judgment, passing judgment on Grima Wormtongue. He has taken counsel from Gandalf, his new and truly wise counselor, and heard all concerned. He has rendered a verdict of guilty. Now, he passes sentence on Wormtongue, giving him a “suspended sentence”: one last chance to redeem his life in Rohan, with the promise of severe penalties should he fail. The process of law is complete, and throughout Theoden seems to have changed his mind logically as the evidence changes, acting consistently as judge and king. Is that really such an implausible transformation? Is there really that much of possession or magic in my description?
I want to close by considering one further question, that may seem odd at first. There is Grima Wormtongue, just before sentence is passed. Should he be pitied? Can Gandalf pity him? Can we pity him, when he is not yet in the state of fear and degradation and dependency that follows from his choice after sentencing? Should we?
Afaik, Tolkien doesn’t clearly take a side on this issue. We know that seemingly extreme cases, like Gollum, are to be pitied. We may guess that Sauron before his fall, and the Nazgul, are not to be pitied, since Gandalf says, I pity even Sauron’s slaves, but not necessarily Sauron in his power, nor the Nazgul as seemingly willing slaves to their Nine Rings. Wormtongue at this point seems to fall midway between the two, with his fall and suffering and effective slavery seemingly almost inevitable but not yet happening.
And yet, there may be another factor to weigh. Here is a Danish folk tale to ponder, told iirc in Isak Dinesen’s Out of Africa. I think it goes like this: A merchant appears before a king, desperately trying to unload on him merchandise that is obviously difficult to sell: a snake. And as the king proves obdurate, his claims grow wilder and wilder. Finally, he bursts out: “You’re going to love this snake!” And the king looks at him impassively, and says, I see no reason to love a snake. And that upsets the merchant so much that he forgets who he is talking to, forgets about the sale itself, and cries out, “Oh, you must love this snake! You needs must! For if we do not love snakes, who will love us?”
Perhaps we should pity Grima Wormtongue, down on his belly like a snake. Perhaps we needs must. For if we do not, who will pity us?
Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings Like You’ve Never Heard It:
- The First of a Series of Ramblings About JRR Tolkien
- Part II. Pre-Psychology Writing, Poetry, and a New Hero
- Part III. Torture, Enlightenment
- Part IV. Weather, Mushrooms, Leaders
- Part V. In the Moment, Sam the Obscure
- Part VI. Folk Songs, Master, First, Fair
- Part VII. Hiking, Curses, Noble Language
- Part VIII. The Hiker’s Extrasensory Writing
- Part IX. Torture, Elves, Endings
- Part X. Your Highness
- Part XI. Business Meetings, Dwarves
- Part XII. Horns of Wild Memory
- Part XIII. Ecstasies of the Dwarves
- Part XIV. Valaraukar, the Third Touch of God
- Part XV. Memory, Nature, Passion
- Part XVI. The Gift of Enchantment
- Part XVII. Frontier Maturity
- Part XVIII. Pity, Decisions, Endings
- Part XIX. Into the Shadow, Kings, Names, Winds
- Part XX. People of the Morning, Child Soldiers
- Part XXI. Herdsmen and High Trees
- Part XXII. The Faith of God