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Bingo Baggins, Frodo Took and a Hobbit in Wooden Shoes

© Douglas Charles Rapier

Art is duplicitous. One of the hallmarks of great art is its success in casting a spell of illusion. The deception is a joyful one, however, one which offers insight or beauty. A taut stretch of artfully paint-dabbed canvas becomes the landscape of Tuscany or the Shire. By the sounds of music, by the movements of the dance, we are ensorcelled. Time and space are held in thrall. Emotions and memories are evoked by enchantment. Moreover, one of the most complete illusions cast by great art is the appearance of its being effortlessly executed. Like the mid-flight somersault of a trapeze artist, art gives the illusion that its perfection is pre-ordained and could not be otherwise than perfect.

So it is with 'The Lord of the Rings' by JRR Tolkien. On first reading, could any one of us imagine the story other than how it is told to us by him? Could we envision a character other than Strider/Aragorn leading the Fellowship or perhaps a hobbit other than Frodo being the Ring-bearer? Could 'The Lord of the Rings' be the beloved masterpiece it is reckoned to be if there were no Samwise Gamgee to serve as Frodo's grounding point and as a constant flesh and blood, warts-and-all reminder of why their impossible quest must succeed? Would any wizard other than Gandalf have filled the bill? How many would read and re-read this noble saga if the stakes of the quest were no greater than the winning of treasure (as in Bilbo's adventure) and the villains were of a lesser order of malevolence than the Black Riders or the Dark Lord, Sauron? No need to consider for long these fanciful flights of specious speculation because 'The Lord of the Rings' for most of us is perfection. But it was not always thus.

Long before any of us had the opportunity to yield to his artful illusions, Professor Tolkien was himself engaging in all manner of speculation and creative invention during the decades of writing and re-writing his masterwork, 'The Lord of the Rings'. This should come as no surprise. However, one of the sweeter deceptions induced by Professor Tolkien's labors is the impression that this marvelous epic was borne full-blown like Athena from the forehead of Zeus. Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth.

Here, I must consider that readers may be split by the preceding pronouncement into two factions: one being those whose reaction would be expressed as "Absurdly obvious!" whereas the others' might be voiced inversely as "Obviously absurd!". The first faction may have either spent long hours studying literary criticism or have read one/any/all of the volumes of Christopher Tolkien's 'The History of Middle-earth'. To those of this jaded number, I ask forbearance. Stating the obvious is the prerogative of writers and teachers. I do so for the benefit of those who may count themselves members of the second group (as I most assuredly would have done in my callow youth) - those gentles gently ensnared in the artfully crafted illusion that the mythos and saga of Middle-earth flowed as effortlessly through the pen of JRR Tolkien as the Great River through the Mouths of Anduin. As enticing as the illusion is, the truth of Tolkien's labors is far more edifying. For, to comprehend the full measure of a hero, we must know what trials and challenges the hero faced on his quest. Tolkien's quest was a long painful one.