This chapter is hilarious.
So I’ve had a personal theory for a few years: I think that the Herb-master of the Houses of Healing is JRR Tolkien inserting himself into the books in an Alfred-Hitchcock-style cameo. Let me explain.
Thereupon the herb-master entered. ‘Your lordship asked for kingsfoil, as the rustics name it,’ he said; ‘or athelas in the noble tongue, or to those who know somewhat of the Valinorean...’ ‘I do so,’ said Aragorn, ‘and I care not whether you say now asëa aranion or kingsfoil, so long as you have some.’ ‘Your pardon lord!’ said the man. ‘I see you are a lore-master, not merely a captain of war. But alas! sir, we do not keep this thing in the Houses of Healing, where only the gravely hurt or sick are tended. For it has no virtue that we know of, save perhaps to sweeten a fouled air, or to drive away some passing heaviness. Unless, of course, you give heed to rhymes of old days which women such as our good Ioreth still repeat without understanding. When the black breath blows and death’s shadow grows and all lights pass, come athelas! come athelas! Life to the dying In the king’s hand lying! It is but a doggrel, I fear, garbled in the memory of old wives. Its meaning I leave to your judgement, if indeed it has any. But old folk still use an infusion of the herb for headaches.’ ‘Then in the name of the king, go and find some old man of less lore and more wisdom who keeps some in his house!’ cried Gandalf.
So I think this is our favorite philologist inserting himself in the story because Tolkien himself used to do this exact thing all the time. He would get diverted into random etymological asides that no one besides himself was remotely interested in. I had the opportunity to take a seminar in college with Verlyn Flieger, one of the world’s leading Tolkien scholars, and she is well acquainted with any number of people who knew Tolkien well, including a number of his former students. So my source on this is pretty solid.
And then later, we get this from Aragorn:
Merry smiled. ‘Well then,’ he said, ‘if Strider will provide what is needed, I will smoke and think. I had some of Saruman’s best in my pack, but what became of it in the battle, I am sure I don’t know.’ ‘Master Meriadoc,’ said Aragorn, ‘if you think that I have passed through the mountains and the realm of Gondor with fire and sword to bring herbs to a careless soldier who throws away his gear, you are mistaken. If your pack has not been found, then you must send for the herb-master of this House. And he will tell you that he did not know that the herb you desire had any virtues, but that it is called westmansweed by the vulgar, and galenas by the noble, and other names in other tongues more learned, and after adding a few half-forgotten rhymes that he does not understand, he will regretfully inform you that there is none in the House, and he will leave you to reflect on the history of tongues. And so now must I. For I have not slept in such a bed as this, since I rode from Dunharrow, nor eaten since the dark before dawn.’
I can’t imagine our favorite philologist seriously poking fun at someone for an interest in “the history of tongues,” but I can very easily imagine him poking fun at himself as a man of much lore but little wisdom. It’s a very British thing to do.
And of course, there’s the punch line to that little speech, an independent bit of levity to the chapter:
Pippin remained behind. ‘Was there ever anyone like him?’ he said. ‘Except Gandalf, of course. I think they must be related. My dear ass, your pack is lying by your bed, and you had it on your back when I met you. He saw it all the time, of course.
Corollary to all this is that Ioreth might be Edith Tolkien inserted into the story by her husband. I don’t know enough about her to support this, but it makes a deal of sense - Tolkien poking a little fun at his wife’s foibles, along with his own. So I’m going to go ahead and continue to believe it to be the case.
Next time, plans are laid and Imrahil announces that it’s just a prank, bro.