Okay, I get it…
Although I disagree vehemently with the vitriol and name calling from purists who believe Peter Jackson’s renditions of these stories are trash, I can understand with the highest level of empathy why they believe so.
Scenes and quotes out of order or completely removed, leaving context at the door. Rearranging of the entire storyline for cinematic adaptation. Using creative license to make a stunning motion picture without violating the limitations of rights to Tolkien’s content while still maintaining the essence of the story… It’s enough to leave someone who has first read the stories writhing on the floor in agony that the movies, in many instances, deviate from the script so heavily it almost feels like you’re experiencing an entirely different storyline.
I see this writhing often in the comments of those who defend the Peter Jackson films on social media, and I can’t wait for the day I have them in mine. (Hehe 😉)
I still love the movies (all of them, including Rings of Power) and I will till the day I die. They brought me through my darkest season as a single mother of three—a story for another post—and I will be forever grateful to Peter Jackson for creating something that would quite literally save my life.
Now… on to this week’s wanderings and ponderings.
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Out of the Frying Pan Into the Fire
I can’t handle this scene…
The wolves running around on fire of all sorts of colors. The hobbit, too short to reach even the lowest branches jumping like my chihuahua who can barely get up onto my bed. The dwarves clinging to branches so as not to become food for yet another enemy (I wonder if they thought something along the lines of, “why is everyone trying to eat us?!” as they watched the flaming fur dancing in the grove below them). Then, when things couldn’t seem to get worse, great eagles snatching them from the branches, “yes, we are definitely getting eaten tonight…”
I’m curious how long it took them to realize this was a rescue plan and not a meal plan, especially after being discussed as “prisoners” being brought to the Great Shelf to be presented before the Lord of the Eagles.
Here were are at a crossroad of providence again. Will that word be in all of my posts as I journey through these stories? It seems a recurring theme, whether I want it or not!
“But they that wait upon the LORD, shall renew their strength: they shall lift up the wings, as the eagles: they shall run, and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31, 1599 Geneva Bible
After being rescued and brought into the presence of the Lord of the Eagles they were famished with hunger (Bilbo feeling nearly dead of it), but after the eagles brought provision and the dwarves made preparations, they laid down in comfort and contentment that night, being filled with the gifts of the eagles; food, warmth and most of all, their life.
“Later on you might have seen a bright fire on the shelf of rock and the figures of the dwarves round it cooking and making a fine roasting smell. The eagles had brought up dry boughs for fuel, and they had brought rabbits, hares, and a small sheep…
Soon Bilbo’s stomach was feeling full and comfortable again, and he felt he could sleep contentedly, though really he would have liked a loaf and butter better than bits of meat toasted on sticks. He slept curled up on the hard rock more soundly than ever he had done on his feather-bed in his own little hole at home.” ~The Hobbit, Chapter VI: Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire, J.R.R. Tolkien
The times I have been rescued like this, I cannot count.
I am in awe of the mercy of my Heavenly Father when it comes to life’s journey… and messes… and fiery, colorful wolves running around in chaotic fashion at my feet. Not only does He rescue me from the wolves (many in sheep’s clothing) but He gives me sustenance and causes me to lie down and rest after having my fill of Him. Lord of the Eagles (and of everything) indeed.
Psalm 23 never felt so dear.
Queer Lodgings
The extended version of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug makes much more sense than the theatrical cut as I read through this chapter.
“Inside the hall it was now quite dark. Beorn clapped his hands, and in trotted four beautiful white ponies and several large long-bodied grey dogs. Beorn said something to them in a queer language like animal noises turned into talk. They went out again and soon came back carrying torches in their mouths, which they lit at the fire and stuck in low brackets on the pillars of the hall about the central hearth. The dogs could stand on their hind-legs when they wished, and carry things with their fore-feet. Quickly they got out boards and trestles from the side walls and set them up near the fire…
The other ponies came in rolling around drum-shaped sections of logs, smoothed and polished, and low enough even for Bilbo; so soon they were all seated at Beorn’s table, and the hall had not seen such a gathering for many a year.” ~The Hobbit, Chapter VII: Queer Lodgings, J.R.R. Tolkien
I relate to Beorn and his love of animals, but mine aren’t as skilled or trained enough to be my servants and bring me food and furniture—no matter how hard I wish!
Although the story is altered in the films from what we read in the book, I do believe Peter Jackson captured the magic of Beorn’s home in the many details of the garden, animals and larger than thumb sized bees that buzzed around. A close tie with Rivendell as far as restful places go, but nothing beats my love of the Shire and adoration for things that grow. (hmm… do I feel a poem coming on?)
I wish Beorn’s hospitality had been showcased more in the films. I feel like he was portrayed more as a grumpy old man than the kind and protective creature he seems to be on these pages, even if it had to be drawn out of him with some time. But that’s okay, I wouldn’t have wanted a troop of any kind showing up on my porch unannounced either—especially if I intentionally lived a far way off from the commotion of dense civilization (which I do). It inspires me, though, that even though this group was unexpected, he still met them with a level of care I’m not sure I would have if this had been me. I shall do better.
His skepticism of their story is understandable, and I appreciate the details Tolkien included of Beorn coming across a wolf and a goblin and verifying their tale. He was going to help them anyway, but knowing the truth and severity of their situation, he was able to know exactly what they needed to provide them with what would help them best, and guide them on a safer road than perhaps he would have if not for finding the truth.
I also found myself envious of Beorn’s larder. Enough provisions to send fifteen off into the wild with weeks of food and skins for water is goals, precious. He makes my well stocked pantry look pitiful. I’ll be working on that, as well.
As Gandalf travels with them to the edge of Mirkwood, I’m pleased by his grace of staying with them several days past what he had promised them before. It was an extended good-bye I believe did the company’s hearts good as they prepared for the inevitable moment when he would have to leave them and the hospitality of a new friend.
Sometimes a season requires separation, for many different reasons. This previous season reminded me of just that. The waiting often felt like Mirkwood—confusing, suffocating, arduous and at times impossible to navigate but I trusted the process and the One who was sending me into a season of preparation before stepping into what you’re reading now. As I type these letters, I am reminded of all the times I asked questions and got silence in return. My Guide didn’t abandon me, He just thrust me into the direction I was to go in order to make my way through to the other side of the wood, learning what I needed to learn on my own so I would be ready; closer to the purpose of my journey.
Flies and Spiders
A chapter I wish I could skip, as my fear of spiders is comparable to my daughters’ fear of Gollum (if you read my last post, you know).
Gross.
That’s where I want to stop writing about this chapter.
But I shall give a bit more for your sake, so you think not of me as a wet lettuce.
Tolkien’s description of the spiders in this depth of detail is… ahem… fascinating? I had chills all over my body through most of this chapter at the characteristics he wanted his readers to understand about these massive Mirkwood abominations.
Traversing through the confusing trees with the dwarves and Bilbo felt like walking through a labyrinth, constantly taking wrong turns and not knowing which way was East. The exhaustion of carrying Bombur and having too little food to make up for the expended energy was palpable and as they kept losing each other in the dark, I wanted to shake them and tell them to just go to sleep and dream sweet dreams of dinner until they had sunlight to walk by, but seeing as the spiders had Bilbo half wrapped in his half doze, I imagine that would have been terrible advice.
From a fly in a half-web to a fierce Sting-swinging hero, I am just as blessedly surprised as Bilbo was of his strength and courage to save all of the dwarves and evoke such a fear in the spiders after wiping out so many that they left to return to their dark colony.
Between the disappearing Wood-elves and web-spinning arachnids, I couldn’t wait to get out of the dark sticky strings of this chapter and onto the next…
At this point, I have only experienced the Elfking’s prison through the Peter Jackson film, and reading that only Thorin was taken by the Wood-elves has me very curious about how this next chapter will unfold and how the dwarves will find their legs again after being poisoned by the creatures of whom I wish not to speak of any further…
Barrels Out Of Bond
Ah… okay, now I’m tracking.
“Out of the frying pan, into the fire” becomes “out of prison cells, into sealed wooden barrels”.
After the rest of the dwarves were captured by the Wood-elves, this scene came together and became much clearer for me—I thought as I read, “Okay, this is a massive change in the story if they only took Thorin.” This event in the film was still a deviation from the writing as far as the prison scene is portrayed, but justice was done with the barrels… sort of.
I remember watching The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug in the theater and this scene—specifically when Bombur was thrown to and fro and then landed on the shore, bursting out of his barrel with weapons to slay the orcs—had the entire theater rolling. Even my best friend at the time, who I would certainly deem a Tolkien purist enjoyed the scene thoroughly, even though creative license and much liberty was taken in this seemingly boring event in the book of barrels floating down the river with no flying arrows or shoreline battles between orcs and two rogue elves. I imagine not many of us would have loved this leg of the journey on film; watching wooden barrels bobbing in the river, uneventfully. I suppose since Azog and Bolg were added to this storyline, the eventful river ride was necessary to move the story along and add a bit of humor to a tumultuous situation to keep the crowd… entertained.
So here we are now. On the shore getting ready to be transported further down the river toward the Lake. Hopefully the dwarves are still alive, and Bilbo can warm up and stop sneezing.
A Warm Welcome
I’m still processing this one. Erm… where’s Bard?
As I said at the start, the differences in the books and the movies sometimes makes it feel like you’re experiencing a completely different storyline. These last few chapters have been just that for me.
Thankful the dwarves are still alive, frustrated for Bilbo that after all he has been through to keep the company together and alive, his immediate reward for his heroism is a shocking cold. It is not mentioned in this chapter, but I imagine this day of all days so far, he dreamt of his little chair by his little fire in his little hobbit-hole more than usual. This adventuring stuff is just too big sometimes.
After much doubt from the Master of the Men of the Lake and the dwarves wearing out their warm welcome, he bid them leave for the Mountain, even if only to see if the prophecies were in fact true.
Trading barrels for three large boats was just what the Company of Thorin Oakenshield needed to stir up hope in this last leg to the journey’s end. Here’s to hoping Bilbo’s cold has run its course by the time they reach the other shore.
Onward to The Lonely Mountain, friend!
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