<Well, here goes!>
I've done a bit of editing in the first couple of paragraphs because some of my references are not really applicable here:
I sat down several weeks ago to write my own responses to Tom’s character, quite certain that I knew what I wanted to say, quite sure of what Bombadil means to me. But putting my thoughts into words has proved to be rather more difficult than I anticipated, because, I realize, my feelings about old Tom continue to ebb and flow and evolve with each reading of LOTR, as well as with each discussion I have with others (most especially the others here) about the beautifully complex and powerful nature of Tolkien’s world that can, it seems, be constantly rediscovered as something totally unexpected, or newly recognized as a slightly different expression on an otherwise deeply familiar face. The Tom I “knew” as a teenager has grown up with me, and has taken on the joys and sorrows and gains and losses of my life. He has changed as I have changed, and has become redefined by lessons learned and beliefs embraced. Why, old Tom has even changed for me since this time last year, when some of us began our discussion of The Silmarillion.
This is a post that grew and changed in the writing , until I realized that I wasn’t on the same track anymore; that my thoughts had, like Tom’s meandering tales, taken me to places unforeseen.
So..........where should I begin?
Perhaps at the open door of the House of Bombadil.
Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!
And with that song the hobbits stood upon the threshold, and a golden light was all about them.
It now seems so much more significant to me that the hobbits are at last drawn out of the darkness and fear of that conundrum of a forest, not just by the friendly, twinkling lights of Tom’s house in the distance, but by a door suddenly thrust open, and a great beam of bright light, and a song like
“a glad water…falling like silver to meet them”.
Light and song and water: these elements are repeatedly used throughout LOTR and The Silmarillion. It seems that in our discussions in Teremia’s LOTR thread at TORC and the Sil thread here, we have returned time and again to matters related to the nature and meaning of light and music and song, and the power that is inherent in them. And quietly winding themselves through those discussions, perhaps more subtly, yet somehow ever present, are Tolkien’s “waters”: the great Sea, wide rivers, deep lakes, running streams, silver dews.
Eä’s first form is pure music, its first physical manifestation is as a “light, as it were a cloud with a living heart of flame”, and the substance of the newly created world that is most greatly praised by the Ainur is water, in which the echo of the First Music is strongest. The Two Trees and their sacred light are brought into existence through Nienna’s flowing tears and Yavanna’s song. The Elves awake under brilliant stars kindled with the liquid light of Telperion that are reflected in the waters of Cuiviénen, and “the first sound that was heard…was the sound of water flowing, and the sound of water falling over stone.” From the time they first enter the myths and histories of Tolkien’s created world, light and music and water always serve the reader as something akin to portals through which one can catch glimpses of a deeper, more profound and unfathomably ancient “magic”: from the songs sung in the Hall of Fire, to the mirror of Galadriel, to the vision of a dead brother carried by the currents of Anduin, to Treebeard’s great vials of light and liquid in Wellinghall, to a single star that pierces the heart of small hobbit looking up from a dark and desolate land. And here, at the house of Bombadil, all three elements combine in a great burst of welcome for both the hobbits and the reader into a place resounding, as Faramond noted, with the “deepest and wildest magic” of all.
It came as a great surprise to me that I had never really considered that it is Goldberry’s song, not Tom’s, which greets the hobbits as they stand upon the threshold, blinking in the golden light of that lamp and candle filled room. It also had never struck me that her song is compared to “water…falling like silver”, so reminiscent of the imagery in Frodo’s dream. To be honest, I suppose I never really considered Goldberry much more than “Tom’s pretty lady” until my more recent readings of LOTR. But now I see many deeper elements revealed in her presence, and consider her absolutely integral to Tom’s character and Tom’s “magic”. Rather like the manner in which her song blends with Tom’s, but then takes it beyond the “derry doll”, turning it into something different - higher and more beautiful - Goldberry is both a part of Bombadil, and yet something unique and separate. Looking at both of them at this point in my life, I see them as quite a striking example of balancing opposites, like forces of yin and yang. They are both ageless, but he is forever old, and she forever young. He is rough and brown, wearing the deep, ripe colors of sky and fields in autumn, she is smooth and white, draped in the softer colors of waters and mist and budding spring. Upon this reading, I noticed the wonderful way each compliments the other in a seemingly simple little passage about setting the table:
Tom and Goldberry set the table; and the hobbits sat half in wonder and half in laughter: so fair was the grace of Goldberry and so merry and odd the caperings of Tom. Yet in some fashion they seemed to weave a single dance, neither hindering the other, in and out of the room, and round about the table….
Weaving “a single dance”…..I love that image, as well as the thought behind it. The house of Bombadil would not be the same were Goldberry not there. Tom himself, I think, would not be the same. With all that “yang” energy, it is certainly Tom that everyone muses upon, but to my mind, if he indeed is some kind of an echo of the First Music, then it is Goldberry, the River-daughter, that is the source of the song. For many years, I paid that old extrovert, Bombadil, all the attention, listening to his tales that reach back before Time was counted. But I think Goldberry too, sings of things long past and deeply mysterious:
After they had eaten, Goldberry sang many songs for them, songs that began merrily in the hills and fell softy down into silence, and in the silences they saw in their minds pools and waters wider than any they had known , and looking down into them they saw the sky below them and the stars like jewels in the depths.
I suppose that passage can well be taken at face value - as seeing the sky and stars reflected in wide, deep water - but this time, somehow, it seemed to me that I was gazing down upon Arda itself, surrounded by the Enfolding Ocean of Vaiya, with the ancient stars of Elentári shining upward to my wondering eyes. Ah yes, there is something about the house of Bombadil.
Upon this reading, I also noticed that the day the hobbits spend with Tom is completely within the little realm of the house itself, which more and more is seeming to me like some kind of a Tolkienesque version of the TARDIS. Interestingly, what necessitates this day of rest, which seems somehow to exist outside the boundaries of time and space, is rain: a steady veil of rain that obscures everything beyond the dwelling, so that
“nothing could be seen all round the house but falling water.” And with it, once again, comes the song of Goldberry,
“falling gently as if it was flowing down the rain out of the sky”. Although steady, it is certainly no deluge, but rather a “soft” rain, “sweet” and cleansing: water for the River-daughter’s “washing day” which will seek out the little streams that run towards the river which will in turn seek for the Sea. Is it any wonder that Tolkien decided that the house of Bombadil would be the place that Frodo dreams, or seems to dream, of passing through that veil of glass and silver into the Blessed Realm?
And what of Tom himself? Well, I suppose that more than anything else, he reminds me of the “Sages” or “Masters” spoken of in the Tao Te Ching:
The Sage of old was profound and wise;
like a man at a ford, he took great care,
alert, perceptive and aware.
Desiring nothing for himself,
and having no desire
for change for its own sake,
his actions were difficult to understand.
Being watchful, he had no fear of danger;
being responsive, he had no need of fear.
He was courteous like a visiting guest,
and as yielding as the springtime ice.
Having no desires, he was untouched by craving.
Receptive and mysterious,
his knowledge was unfathomable,
causing others to think him hesitant.
Pure in heart, like uncut jade,
he cleared the muddy water
by leaving it alone.
That is from an interpolation of the Tao that I’m not normally drawn to, but this time somehow, the language fits. It’s title, by the way, is
“The Manifestation Of The Tao In Man”………….hmmmmmmm
. Well, Tom is no Man, but for me, he represents that “inner sage” that I think we all have somewhere within us, rarely summoned but indescribably powerful, as fleeting moments when we just “are”. Once again, it was a post by the wise Anthriel that helped me put this thought into focus: that there are times when we become absolutely one with the moment – lost in the very essence of being, as much a part of the natural world as sunlight and starlight and water, as much a part of the rhythms of the world as the music they inspire. Funny that. For me at least, it is these things that seem to be pivotal whenever I have attained those astonishing moments of clarity; when I am
“alone and nameless” in the sense that everything I “am” becomes focused into a singular point of immediate experience that cannot be contained or expressed in any word or called by any name. It’s like time and language and maybe even “knowledge” itself just cease to exist. I suppose it is what I understand to be “bliss”.
Well, there you have it. Time for another glass of Merlot, I believe, after going on for so long. I do so like all the Toms’ that you have shared with me. Thank-you. They are all wondrous, even Alatar’s, because if Bombadil truly was just a misplaced remnant of the earlier tale or even a self-indulgence on Tolkien’s part, he still has opened the door for me into a magical place, and like all magic,
not knowing how it’s done is what makes it real.
:D:D The mystery, the fantasy, the fancy surrounding them is part of their magic and charm for me. But what they represent to me is elemental earth, really. Always have.
I agree with you.
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