“The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the road has gone and I must follow it if I can…”
Watching the beginning of the Fellowship of the Ring, one soon encounters the pleasing sight of Gandalf returning to the Shire and conversing with Frodo. It is very evident by his manner and expression that Gandalf loves the small folk quite dearly and treasures them in his grizzled, old heart. On the surface, there is nothing terribly extraordinary in this fact, but upon deeper reflection, it may strike one as odd.
Gandalf is a wizard – one of only three in Middle Earth – and as such he has a great many powers, as well as a ring and staff. He travels all over the world and is involved in the most significant and secret events in history. He associates closely with the ancient beings – the Elves – and is their equal in wisdom and years. He is a main participant in one of the chief conflicts of the 3rd Age. He is all this, and yet he cares for…whom? Hobbits - creatures known for being unknown! Undersized folk who were content to mind their own business and let the “Big Folk” mind theirs; whose fondest desires were after food and ale and good, strong pipe-weed. What could possibly draw such a man as Gandalf – one of the most central creatures of Middle Earth – to Hobbits of all creatures, one might ask?
After considering this at length, a resolution comes to mind: sometimes in this world, full of its various conflicts and complexities, we long for the simple things of life. Our lives can spin so wildly out of control at times that we often need to remind ourselves of what is important – not that ale or pipe-weed are some of the most important things in life, but they are representative, simple, basic pleasures – pleasures that require no planning, no conflict, and no debate. They’re just there. Perhaps that is why we clutch our habits and traditions so tenaciously. In this dizzy, fast-paced world, we often need something to get back to. And while the “significant” things in our life certainly have a place; sometimes the simple things, the quiet, un-demanding things are most important.
In the first chapter, entitled “Concerning Hobbits”, of Bilbo’s book – There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Tale – he gives a description of the Hobbits of the Shire. It may be worthwhile now to note what he says; “Hobbits have been living and farming in the four Farthings of the Shire for many hundreds of years, quite content to ignore and be ignored by the world of the Big Folk. Middle Earth being, after all, full of strange creatures beyond count, hobbits must seem of little importance being neither renowned as great warriors, nor counted among the very wise. In fact, it has been remarked by some that Hobbits’ only real passion is for food – a rather unfair observation as we have also developed a keen interest in the brewing of ales and the smoking of pipe-weed; but where our hearts truly lie is in peace and quiet and good, tilled earth, for all Hobbits share a love of things that grow. And, yes, no doubt to others, our ways seem quaint; but today of all days it is brought home to me: it is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life.”
One might be reminded of the Amish in our own world. Their lifestyle is carried on by only a tiny minority of humanity, and yet some are drawn to their quaint ways and simple lives. People who would never normally dream of adopting the Amish way of living are sometimes suddenly drawn to it when their hectic lives drive them to their nerves’ end. What draws them to the Amish? Certainly not simply the uniqueness of their ways, although that certainly causes attention; but what really stops someone in their tracks and makes them sigh with longing as they pass the farms and the fields of that quiet people? What appeals to their heart? It is the simplicity, the peace, the contentment often portrayed by that people in their slow, leisurely, yet fulfilling lives. Perhaps it is even the slow pace itself that is appealing to us.
The Hobbits’ life was a simple, comparatively insignificant one. The events of their daily practice required no great thought or debate. They just enjoyed life; perhaps living life the way it was meant to be lived. There was laughter and dancing and singing; no worry or care bent their brows or caused their curly hair to turn grey prematurely. This peace and joy showed itself outwardly in the lovely meadows and fields with their flowers – the sunshine beaming down on that beloved valley. There were no hidden motivations in their actions or underlying tensions in their conversations; there was purely good cheer and the simple, uncomplicated pleasures of life. Their figures were the figures of ease and a true delight in the good gifts given to them.
I believe that is what drew Gandalf to the Hobbits and made them so dear to his heart. The Shire was a place of peace and happiness – a resting place for his weary, care-laden mind. Especially when compared to the extensive, toilsome, and agonizing quest of the ring, the life of the hobbit was one that offered an exceedingly welcome relief. Of course Hobbits were far from perfect creatures and had their quarrels and nuisances just as any other folk, and yet for the most part these squabbles were small and did not impact the life of the hobbits at large. At the conclusion of the Return of the King, after Frodo and Sam had been so many places and seen so many things, it was the lovely cherry blossoms of the Shire and the sweet, tangy taste of freshly-picked strawberries that they missed and longed for the most.
So here we find that what made the hobbits so comparatively insignificant was also that which made them so appealing to those who were fatigued with the hectic and complicated struggles of the outside world. In the end it is clear that Gandalf favored the laughter of the hobbit children to the commendation of elves and men and dwarves.
“And so life in the Shire goes on very much as it has this past Age, full of its own comings and goings, with change coming slowly, if it comes at all. For things are made to endure in the Shire, passing from one generation to the next. There’s always been a Baggins living here under the Hill in Bag End…and there always will be.”
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