Beauties that Pierce Like Swords, Part 3

How beautiful is the Fellowship of the Ring, the Nine Walkers. Darkening days and the pull of the Ring once divided men and wizards, dwarves and elves against one another (and the Enemy is most pleased when in his ring he sees those who oppose him fighting instead with one another), but now how nobly they fight together again to repel the Enemy of all free peoples. How loyally do they support and aid the Ring-Bearer in his quest!

“I will take the Ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way.”

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear,” said Gandalf.

Gandalf’s love and sacrifice pierce my heart. How tenderly he cares for the weak and mortal of Middle Earth, for hobbits and men! “A lord of wisdom throned,” he is “swift in anger” when they are foolish, but he is also “quick to laugh,” to pity, and to forgive, so affectionate over them and vigilant for their preservation, as over his little children: “A deadly sword, a healing hand / a back that bent beneath its load / a trumpet-voice, a burning brand / a weary pilgrim on the road.” Into Moria he went for their sakes, knowing how near at hand his doom might be, and there in Khazad-dum he sacrificed himself and “stood upon the bridge alone / and Fire and Shadow both defied.” “NO!” I sob with Frodo as I see him fall; and as he, like unto Christ, returns from death glorified in white and blinding light, unspeakable are my wonder and joy.

“We’re coming too! You’ll have to send us off tied up in a sack to stop us!” Dear Merry and Pippin! How loyal they are to Frodo from the very beginning:

“You must go – and therefore we must, too,” said Pippin.

“You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin – to the bitter end,” said Merry. “But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo…. We are horribly afraid – but we are coming with you, or following you like hounds.”

“My dear and most beloved hobbits!” said Frodo deeply moved.

The love of the hobbits for one another is of the greatest value. “I think, Elrond, that in this matter it would be well to trust rather to their friendship than to great wisdom,” said Gandalf, supporting Pippin in his wish to go with the Fellowship. And how valiant do he and Merry prove to be! My eyes stream with water to see the precious little hobbits, fear staring in their eyes, rallying in front of their dear Frodo with their small swords extended, giving their best attack in his defense, or leaping with shrill yells onto the back of the cave troll to avenge him. So nobly do they sacrifice themselves, leading the Uruk-hai away from Frodo that he might continue on his quest. And when their paths lead them into different ways, nobly they fall into place in their new duties – nobly they work and fight for the love of their companions and of that dear faraway Shire, that “all that is green and good in this world” be not stamped out.

“If by my life or death I can protect you, I will,” said Aragorn. “You have my sword.”

“And you have my bow,” said Legolas.

“And my axe!” cried Gimli.

The love between the members of the Fellowship is so very beautiful. “Greater love hath no man than this” – and constantly they lay down their lives for one another. Never willingly would they abandon Frodo – “Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens,” said Gimli. Never would they abandon one another. They would not suffer Merry and Pippin to be driven like cattle unto torment and death at the hands of the Uruk-hai – “Not while we have strength left!” cried Aragorn. Thus swiftly did they run to save them, denying themselves rest. “This deed of the three friends should be sung in many a hall!” cried Eomer. And when the time is come for the Sword that was Broken to go to war, ever do the bow of Legolas and the axe of Gimli come alongside it.

How tender they are to one another:

“They have taken the little ones,” panted Boromir with tears in his eyes. “I have failed you all. The white city will fall, and all come to ruin.”

“No!” said Aragorn. “You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory.” And taking his hand and kissing his brow, tearfully he cried, “Be at peace! I will not let the white city fall, nor our people fail!”

How piercingly bright shines the nobility of the Men of Westernesse – of Aragorn, like unto Christ the returning King, in all things proven worthy of the sceptre, the crown, and the Evenstar; and of Faramir, Captain of Gondor, and Boromir his repentant brother. These are Men who know great love – for their people, for their friends, for their ladies – and great hate, for the shadow which threatens these beloved. They are strong and courageous, fighting with skill and passion unto the death, never giving up hope – not for themselves, for their own pride and glory, but for the love of those they defend: strength which pours out its life for the sake of the beloved. “I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory,” said Faramir. “I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Numenor.”

Yet their beautiful nobility is most clearly shown not merely in battle but in their day-to-day sacrifice of themselves. In their strength they are meek, humble, gracious, and gentle. They walk in the paths laid before their feet without turning aside. They undertake the leadership of others and the responsibility for their decisions, even when gone amiss. Their leadership is that of servants – laying down their lives for their friends. How tenderly they care for those who follow them and depend on them, whether beaming down upon the little hobbits, or clearing a path through the snows of Caradhras with their own doughty arms and carrying the wee hobbits over, or running back to tend to the wounds of the hobbits: “I am sorry, Frodo!” cried Aragorn full of concern. “We have such need of haste, that I have forgotten that you were hurt; and Sam too…. We have done nothing to ease you, as we ought, though all the orcs of Moria were after us…. Come, Boromir! We will carry them.”

Ever are they vigilant to aid the Ring-Bearer, to protect him, even, if need be, from themselves. “Fear no more!” said Faramir. “I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo.”

“I would have gone with you to the end,” said Aragorn, closing Frodo’s fingers over the Ring, “—into the very fires of Mordor.”

Related Links:
   “Beauties that Pierce Like Swords, Part 1″
   “Beauties that Pierce Like Swords, Part 2″