In rode the Lord of the Nazgűl. A great black shape against
the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. In rode the
Lord of the Nazgűl, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and
all fled before his face.
All save one. There waiting, silent and still in the space
before the Gate, sat Gandalf upon Shadowfax: Shadowfax who alone among the free
horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in
Rath Dínen.
-
In my youth I was around horses a lot. I worked as a groom
at a stable and worked out horses. I quickly got over some of my romantic
notions about horses and learned to love them as is. Horses are like people.
Some are pretty smart and others are just plain stupid. We've discussed how
Shadowfax is not ordinary horse. However, maybe Shadowfax is more
than a horse. Here, Shadowfax has more guts than most of the men let along
horses. What do you think of the UUT that Shadowfax is some form of spirit
reincarnated as a horse? What spirit might he be?
-
Why does Tolkien mirror the image from Rath Dinen in
Gandalf's face?
Gandalf did not move. And in that very moment, away behind in
some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking
nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above
the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.
And as if in answer there came from far away another note.
Horns, horns, horns. In dark Mindolluin’s sides they dimly echoed. Great horns
of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.
This time it's not
Gandalf saving the day in Rohan-- it's the Rohirrim that save the day for
Gandalf. Another nice Tolkien twist. Some parallel (or ripples in a pond) I see
here:
-
I can think of other examples regarding the break of
day and a new hope. What are they? Also I can recall another cock
crowing in an earlier chapter. What was it and what significance might that
hold? Also horns? See any other ripples?
And so ends the formal questions. I'll have open forum tomorrow
and the chapter Summary sometime before Sunday p.m.
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To
Reverend:
Alas,
we cry for us today--
A
dearest friend has gone away.
As
we recall his words we read
And
weep for words not to be said--
Remember
what our eyes enclose:
The
lasting imprints of his prose.
The
purest tribute our heart rends
Is
written within minds of friends.
~ CA Jolin
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