This is by far my biggest post yet. This doesn’t surprise me in the least: I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say about this chapter since I started this reread. It’s a doozy.
Alas poor Boromir. He was always going to be the first to fall to the lure of the Ring, and not because he’s a bad guy in any way.
The lure of the Ring is in proportion to what one might do with it. It’s why it has such temptation for Gandalf, who could do a lot of good with it, and Galadriel, who had always wanted to rule. Boromir’s need for the Ring is pretty desperate: he’s been leading the war against Mordor for his entire adult life, and knows better than anyone just how desperate the West’s situation is. His need is, additionally, exactly what the Ring is designed to do: he wants to build an army that can defeat Mordor, the Ring is exactly the right tool for the job. (Boromir probably doesn’t have the strength to bend the Ring to his will, which people like Aragorn, Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond, and probably Denethor and Faramir, do, but that’s not really the point.)
He’s vulnerable from the other direction as well. Aragorn and Gandalf and the rest have a degree of wisdom and strength of will that few can match, which gives them an edge in resisting the lure of the Ring. Boromir is a good and brave man, but he doesn’t have the strength of spirit to match someone like Aragorn.
Throw in some very human, relatively minor, and not-at-all-damning character flaws, like a hearty sense of pride and an appreciation of personal glory, and you’ve got someone who is more or less ideally designed to be tempted by the Ring. All of them would be, given time, but it’s not at all surprising that Boromir is the first. And it’s a mark of the fact that he is a good man that he recognizes what he’s done almost immediately - though too late for Frodo to recognize that he’s got to strike off on his own. Massive props to Sean Bean for doing a really great job with the character in general and this moment in particular.
So Frodo puts on the Ring to flee from Boromir (strength of arms once again being useless in the Quest), and makes his way to the top of Amon Hen. Not for nothing is it named the Hill of Sight. I’m just going to quote the whole passage, because it’s another of my favorites and I’ve spent way too long trying and failing to find a way to abridge it and still do it justice:
At first he could see little. He seemed to be in a world of mist in which there were only shadows: the Ring was upon him. Then here and there the mist gave way and he saw many visions: small and clear as if they were under his eyes upon a table, and yet remote. There was no sound, only bright living images. The world seemed to have shrunk and fallen silent. He was sitting upon the Seat of Seeing, on Amon Hen, the Hill of the Eye of the Men of Númenor. Eastward he looked into wide uncharted lands, nameless plains, and forests unexplored. Northward he looked, and the Great River lay like a ribbon beneath him, and the Misty Mountains stood small and hard as broken teeth. Westward he looked and saw the broad pastures of Rohan; and Orthanc, the pinnacle of Isengard, like a black spike. Southward he looked, and below his very feet the Great River curled like a toppling wave and plunged over the falls of Rauros into a foaming pit; a glimmering rainbow played upon the fume. And Ethir Anduin he saw, the mighty delta of the River, and myriads of sea-birds whirling like a white dust in the sun, and beneath them a green and silver sea, rippling in endless lines. But everywhere he looked he saw the signs of war. The Misty Mountains were crawling like anthills: orcs were issuing out of a thousand holes. Under the boughs of Mirkwood there was deadly strife of Elves and Men and fell beasts. The land of the Beornings was aflame; a cloud was over Moria; smoke rose on the borders of Lórien. Horsemen were galloping on the grass of Rohan; wolves poured from Isengard. From the havens of Harad ships of war put out to sea; and out of the East Men were moving endlessly: swordsmen, spearmen, bowmen upon horses, chariots of chieftains and laden wains. All the power of the Dark Lord was in motion. Then turning south again he beheld Minas Tirith. Far away it seemed, and beautiful: white-walled, many-towered, proud and fair upon its mountain-seat; its battlements glittered with steel, and its turrets were bright with many banners. Hope leaped in his heart. But against Minas Tirith was set another fortress, greater and more strong. Thither, eastward, unwilling his eye was drawn. It passed the ruined bridges of Osgiliath, the grinning gates of Minas Morgul, and the haunted Mountains, and it looked upon Gorgoroth, the valley of terror in the Land of Mordor. Darkness lay there under the Sun. Fire glowed amid the smoke. Mount Doom was burning, and a great reek rising. Then at last his gaze was held: wall upon wall, battlement upon battlement, black, immeasurably strong, mountain of iron, gate of steel, tower of adamant, he saw it: Barad-dûr, Fortress of Sauron. All hope left him. And suddenly he felt the Eye. There was an eye in the Dark Tower that did not sleep. He knew that it had become aware of his gaze. A fierce eager will was there. It leaped towards him; almost like a finger he felt it, searching for him. Very soon it would nail him down, know just exactly where he was. Amon Lhaw it touched. It glanced upon Tol Brandir – he threw himself from the seat, crouching, covering his head with his grey hood. He heard himself crying out: Never, never! Or was it: Verily I come, I come to you? He could not tell. Then as a flash from some other point of power there came to his mind another thought: Take it off! Take it off! Fool, take it off! Take off the Ring! The two powers strove in him. For a moment, perfectly balanced between their piercing points, he writhed, tormented. Suddenly he was aware of himself again, Frodo, neither the Voice nor the Eye: free to choose, and with one remaining instant in which to do so. He took the Ring off his finger. He was kneeling in clear sunlight before the high seat. A black shadow seemed to pass like an arm above him; it missed Amon Hen and groped out west, and faded. Then all the sky was clean and blue and birds sang in every tree.
For those wondering, the thought that came to Frodo from “some other point of power” telling him, “Fool, take it off!” was the mind of the returned Gandalf.
The movie inserted a scene here with Aragorn meeting Frodo before he departed, resisting the temptation of the Ring, and accepting his decision to strike off without the Fellowship. It’s an adaptation choice that I really like: it takes the decision out of being an internal monologue of Frodo’s, and gives Aragorn a bit further character development as well. We also get a moment with Merry and Pippin, with Merry recognizing that Frodo is planning to go off alone and drawing the attention of the orcs so Frodo can get away. Once again, an adaptation choice that I really like. In general, Fellowship is my favorite of the movies.
Back to the books. Aragorn asked Sam to stay with him while they look for Frodo, but Sam figures out what Frodo is going to be doing and slips away from Aragorn to return to the boats. (He shouts “Coming Mr. Frodo!” at the boat being pulled into the water by an invisible person, a callback all the way to “Three is Company” and Frodo, Sam, and Pippin’s departure from Bag-End.)
‘Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam!’ he said. ‘Oh, Mr. Frodo, that’s hard!’ said Sam shivering. ‘That’s hard, trying to go without me and all. If I hadn’t a guessed right, where would you be now?’ ‘Safely on my way.’ ‘Safely!’ said Sam. ‘All alone and without me to help you? I couldn’t have a borne it, it’d have been the death of me.’ ‘It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam,’ said Frodo, ‘and I could not have borne that.’ ‘Not as certain as being left behind,’ said Sam. ‘But I am going to Mordor.’ ‘I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course you are. And I’m coming with you.’
Oh Sam, I love you forever. You are just the best in pretty much every way.
Two final thoughts. I have trouble not wincing when I watch Sean Astin rushing into the river, because as it turns out there was a large shard of glass on the New Zealand riverbed, and prosthetic latex Hobbit-feet aren’t much protection. The end result was more or less what you would expect to happen in that situation, much to Astin’s discomfort (while Elijah Wood hovered around helpfully exclaiming over just how much blood there was). And the other point I want to make: when the Fellowship are waiting around for Frodo and discussing what happens next, Aragorn says that he wouldn’t want the entire company to go with Frodo to Mordor: just Sam (naturally), himself, and Gimli. I always thought that was a subtle-yet-powerful recognition of Gimli’s worth as a companion, that he’s the one Aragorn would want to bring along.
<phew>. So that was a hell of a post - apologies for the length, but believe it or not I edited it down a lot. And that wraps it up for The Fellowship of the Ring. I’ve been enjoying this a lot, and am getting a lot out of it - for as often as I’ve read the books, I’ve never sat and thought about them as deeply as I have with this reread. I’m also getting lots of positive feedback from you who are reading this, which feels really good for the old ego. Not gonna lie.
Next time, we open The Two Towers with the Departure of Boromir.
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