Weathertop. First, the Nazgul. What are they?
In the back of his mind, Tolkien appeared to have the following idea: there are two parallel “universes”, ours and a “spirit world”. The closest I can get to the idea of “spirit” is “life energy.” Everyone alive has a spirit in the spirit world, with some being stronger than others. Elves are very strong in the spirit world. When you are in the spirit world, everything is there, but it looks grey or foggy, and any life forms shine brighter or less bright depending on the strength of the spirit.
The Nazgul were originally Numenorean lords who got caught up in building empires in Middle Earth. Sauron approached them and said: give me control of you, and you can live forever. In order to do this, he gave each of them a bit of his spirit. The Nazgul are now “undead”: they are spirits in the spirit world that are mostly Sauron, but this is so strong that they can reach across to the real world and cobble together shapes that allow them to act in this world.
Tolkien had a basic problem with the Nazgul: if they are so powerful, how can Frodo survive to reach Mordor? Those who have analyzed his thinking find that he never came up with a completely satisfactory answer. Here’s what he did specify as limits: the Nazgul avoid water, because the Gods might be in it and terminate them; the Nazgul avoid light ‘touched by the Gods’ (discussed later), such as Aragorn’s fire and Gandalf’s light; a Nazgul can be wounded in its spirit by a knife that was ‘touched by the Gods’ when created, like Merry’s, and if so the Nazgul’s spirit becomes so weak that it can’t hold together a shape in this world, and basically becomes a small, powerless “ghost”; and if Sauron himself becomes a small, powerless spirit, the pieces of him become powerless too, and the Nazgul likewise becomes a ghost. Finally, if you destroy the Nazgul’s transportation, it’s on foot and very slow too, as it’s busy maintaining its shape in this world.
There still remain bits of the original avaricious lords in these spirits, and they would love to go off and torture and gloat on their own, or take the Ring for themselves. So Sauron has to exert control through their Rings and periodically give them vague directives to keep them focused on what he wants – like the rest of his “servants.”
When Frodo puts on the Ring this time, he finds out the first trap that Sauron has built into the Ring: invisibility in the “real” world is great, but you are now consciously in the spirit world, and you are now more reachable by the Nazgul so they can drag you completely into the spirit world, where, like them, you will become a “wraith”, but less powerful. In fact, you will be helpless before the Nazgul/Sauron, who is free to torture you and gloat.
What that says is that Tolkien’s world is in fact worse than ours, as long as Sauron is in it, because you are facing potentially endless torture; and, unlike with The Devil, you don’t have a choice about it. Oh well, there’s always faith in the Gods, and God.
Weathertop. Second, Frodo’s addictive wound.
Once Frodo is wounded on Weathertop, he will never recover. He will keep feeling the pain of that wound, especially when the Nazgul or Sauron are near, but also on the anniversary of his wounding, and always as a lower-grade pain.
Now, one way to think about this is to think about steroids (and there are other examples). There you are, aiming for the big leagues or already there, and the only way for you to get there or stay competitive once you’re there, it seems, is to bulk up with steroids. Maybe it’s not necessary; but it’s hard not to understand that choice. And the result is usually painful physical disabilities that never heal, or rages while you’re taking them; but at least, most times, you got to the top.
Except Frodo isn’t like that. What Frodo is probably aiming at, the meaning of his life, is to be a hero like Bilbo. He wants a life where he either dies with positive results or comes back from the journey knowing that he has succeeded, and where the pain of his wounds is bearable. Instead, he gets a quest that he fails, an addiction that never fades, and wounds that never heal at all. And the stabbing seals the deal. From now on, it’s inevitable. And the full sadness of it is that the process of increasing his ability to resist the Ring is a process of increasing his ability to understand things, so that by the end he understands exactly what is going on. What a lovely life and death to look forward to.
Flight to the Ford
In the meanwhile we take a break from addiction for a while, and focus on torture. Oh, yes, also a little bit on Elves.
Think of Frodo’s torture as mental and physical frostbite. The wound is cold, and you can’t feel the area. Your mind is fuzzy, as if you were freezing to death outdoors in minus 60 degrees in Alaska. But around the wound is sharp, sharp pain. And now, we add dizziness -- it seems as if the people and the scenery around you are rippling, insubstantial. And people keep jabbing you and saying get up! Come on! And it goes on, and on, and now you’re tired but you can’t sleep, and if you catch a wink you have nightmares, and it’s getting worse and worse.
But it’s not sickness. People are doing this to you deliberately.
But it’s only religious-type torture, hopefully. It’s going to end, and with faith it will have been worth it. You’re taking a break, believe it or not, from the process of addiction. The Ring is resting; the fragment of knife working its way inwards is doing most or all of the work, and when it is removed Gandalf will conclude that you’re pretty much back to where you were before the wound, addiction-wise.
And then, in the nick of time, you run into your first “middle Elf.” I apologize: this is a made-up term. But Tolkien in LOTR is so successful at portraying Elves that are utterly unlike the imps and sprites of Shakespeare and folk tale that we forget they are there too. Where? Why, in that first visit to Rivendell in The Hobbit, of course. Tralalalalally, always laughing and teasing, hanging around singing silly music. And then in Mirkwood, with the vanishing feasts, and Oberon (oops, I mean Legolas’ Dad). These are the Elves whose descendants we see today (according to Tolkien’s conceit of this being an English mythology). The rest, the “middle Elves” and High Elves, they’ve all gone to the Havens and left. But the Elves, at any time in history before the War of the Ring, are of all three types.
So what’s a “middle Elf”? Not a rustic Elf. Not a High Elf like Elrond or Galadriel – their primary function is not going out in the world and carrying out tasks, but long-term strategy and another new/old word called “counsel.” The “middle Elf” has things to do for the High Elf, or for the community. Glorfindel is a “middle Elf.” And we are going to see equal parts of middle and High Elves from now on, because Legolas is a middle Elf, and so is Haldir.
And that is very, very comforting, because in this story, High Elves don’t really move around – not in time to be of much help, anyway. They are attached to the realms that they defend. They don’t go out among other races much. A middle Elf like Legolas is a much bigger help on the journey – he brings power both in the spirit and regular world with him. He brings the full commitment of the Elves against Sauron with him. Whatever Fellowship he is with suddenly has far more flexibility to deal with and counter Sauron’s threats. If only Frodo was well enough to see it, this is the first sign of the Elvish help that will see him and the rest of the Fellowship through many challenges, almost to the end.
And so, finally, the torture reaches a climax, the Ford floods, Frodo falls, and we end on a cliffhanger. Very traditional. Very satisfying. Will Frodo survive? Of course he will. And the rest of those silly hobbits. You can see that there are five books to go. But how? Turn the page, Dad. I want to hear what comes next.
Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings Like You’ve Never Heard It: