Chapter 4: A Short Cut to Mushrooms
A shorter chapter; one that serves to get the Hobbits out of the immediate danger posed by the mysterious Black Riders.
After a short debate about which route to take; one in which Frodo is absolutely revealed as the leader of the expedition. Frodo listens to the objections of Pippin (whose character, in all its youthful exhuberance and humor is beginning to fill in) but ultimately, as the elder, it is Frodo who calls the shots.
There is some lovely writing describing the woodlands of the Shire; and it brings to mind my child-hood journeys to “The Creek”, a nearby bit of woodland and wild-life in the midst of suburban St. Louis…A narrow band of trees and a creek with steep sides. I remember there was a stout rope hanging from one tree, and it was possible to sing on the rope over the creek…the water below was at most only a couple of feet deep and if one was to let go, it was a nasty drop that resulted in getting wet (or worse). I don’t recall anybody ever hurting themselves and I was too timid to ever try. Anyway, I mainly went down their by myself, enacting the adventures of the books I’d read and generally getting covered in mud.
I remember climbing up the steep muddy banks of the Creek once and sort of slipping, catching myself on the root of a tree. Lacking the strength to climb back out, I hung there, screaming for help. And I got help, from a pair of boys my own age who found me and hauled me out onto the land. For years, I always reminded them of that time they had “saved my life” though, actually the fall down to the creek level was probably only about 8 feet and I would likely not have died if I had fallen…at that point I was light enough to jump off of high places without injury.
Anyway, I’m reminded of that: there is a bit of a sense of “boys at play” in the hobbits scramble through the forest. They are trying to hide from the Black Riders, of course, but I don’t think they are really as full of dread as they should be. Perhaps Frodo is the most…and actually I find it a little odd how he regards the daylight as being “treacherously bright.” Of course, re-readers know that the Nazgůl are at their least powerful during the day-time; and that only their horses can really see in the sunlight. So, in fact, “treacherously bright” is just wrong. It is the dark that Frodo should fear.
Could it be that the ring is exercising it’s subtle power on Frodo, convincing him to go by dark paths where the Nazgul’s powers are slightly enhanced?
The woodland imagery is all very lovely. Many people hate Tolkien’s obsession with describing place; but I’ve always thought it was one of the things that brought it all alive to me.
The Hobbits go on, down a steep bank to a creek only to find that at the top of the bank is a Black Rider! They have escaped by only a matter of a few minutes and only the fact that it’s not possible to bring the horse down the bank keeps them from being caught and from the Lord of the Rings becoming a very different story indeed!
They scramble into some thorn bushes and under cover and continue traveling through the forest. The forest of course is a narrow forest, not the deep dark fairy tale forests of Middle Earth; and there is nothing to fear from the forest itself. Drinking some liquor that the Elves (perhaps unwisely ) left for them, they get drunk enough to start singing loudly. This seems a little daft to me. They know they are being pursued! How dumb can they be? Again, I have to wonder if the Ring is not influencing their behaviour in some way: Pippin is a bit of an idiot (well, he is the equivalent of a teenager still), but there is really no excuse for Frodo.
Sure enough, it seems they are heard; and the cry (literally) goes up. A long, eerie wail “with words in it”; answered by another further wail. I kind of see this as fantasy transformation of an air-raid siren…I can well imagine that in the early forties when Tolkien was writing the first draft of this chapter, he could relate to a merry time with friends or family being interrupted by the dreaded song of the sirens that heralded woe and death.
Sobered by the sound, the hobbits continue their journey to find themselves on Farmer Maggot’s land. There is a bit of drama involving some dogs; that all seems far less important to me on re-read than it did when I first read it back in the day.
What strikes me now is the depiction of the gentleman farmer: for Farmer Maggot’s farm is large; he has a bevy of children to help out with the chores, plus seems to have farm hands. Which might explain why he is so casually dismissive of Sam…referring to the Hobbits as Master Peregrin and Master Frodo and all. Of course Sam is too busy being offended by the East Farthinger calling West Farthingers queer to think about the fact that his place is hardly more than Maggot’s field hands. Sam accepts his place, whether it means passing up beer at the Golden Perch or not being dignified with a proper name.
The description of the food ( a plate heaped with mushrooms and bacon — excuse me while I drool — and “other solid farmhouse fare” sounds so…perfect.
Finally there is the eerie sense as the Hobbits make their way by waggon to the Buckleberry Ferry…the dread one would feel riding on a dark night in a thick fog in the pre-street-light days. And the sudden fear that pierces them when they hear the dreaded sound of hooves…only to find out it is Frodo’s old friend Merry Brandybuck…who will become one of the major characters of course.
The chapter ends with Frodo getting the reward he so yearned for in his youth: the coveted mushrooms of Farmer Maggot.
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