On the Flet With Haldir: Tree Escapes in Tolkien

It takes vision to look up from the toilsome single dimension of the Road and see the vertical possibilities of escaping into trees. J.R.R. Tolkien gives us this surprising change of position with Bilbo up into the Misty Mountain pines, up the great oak in Mirkwood, and with the Fellowship when they scale a glimmering ladder and enter a treehouse of the Galadhrim - the talan that rescues the fellowship from imminent danger thanks to the protective cover of a Mallorn.

After what they have been through in Moria culminating in the shocking loss of Gandalf, there is both eucatastrophic relief and sheer unexpected wonder awaiting them in the boughs. The travelers enter a very welcome time and space apart amid their peril and sufferings, and I hoped to capture the sparkling beauty of this moment. Frodo follows the hithlain ladder up onto the flet and finds himself looking up into the marvelous faces of this brotherhood of elves. Haldir briefly uncovers his star-like lamp to look down at the little hobbit. Orophin is at his brother's right shoulder and Rúmil is at his left. In every way, they are a reflection of the Mallorn, making it little wonder that they are so well hidden amongst branch and leaf.

Legolas is speaking to the other elves but his eyes cannot help straying up into the glorious golden foliage, while Sam is close on Frodo's heels, having to overcome his natural hobbit feelings to brave the heights. The whole night in the tree is so remote-feeling, as if the fellowship is in a defended tower, safe from the orcs who go crashing past as the elves lead them astray with their voices. It is almost like a dream in this land of the Dreamflower, Lothlórien. I consider this one of the greatest scenes of Tolkien Faërie. Enchanting.

Haldir's Curious Question

Working on this painting gave rise to a discussion with some fellow Tolkien readers on a topic I had not seen considered elsewhere. As we know, the travelers spend all of the next day being led by Haldir through the Golden Wood, and he makes the remark to Merry that he doesn't know whether or not Mallorn trees grow beyond the Great Sea. It suddenly occurred to me that it is rather puzzling that a Lothlórien elf would not have this information, given that he is living in the realm of Galadriel, who once dwelt in Valinor.

In talking this over with friends, several possible explanations were considered, including:

• Might the Galadhrim have avoided talking to their Lady about the Blessed Realm, given that this might have been rather a painful and touchy subject on account of her exile/absence from Valinor?

• Might Galadriel simply not have known of everything that was in Valinor?

• Might she have known the answer, but Haldir's lack of information is based in limited personal contact with Galadriel? Of course, it is Haldir who leads the company to her reception chamber, but did he spend most of his life guarding the eaves of the forest, thereby giving him little direct access to the Lord and Lady?

We can't know the answer, but I hope the question is an interesting one.

Tree friends - a great Tolkienien tradition

I had the pleasure this week of listening to the latest Prancing Pony Podcast Patreon Postscript in which Alan Sisto and Dr. Sara Brown spent some time discussing the extremely sad, episodic account of Professor Tolkien's feelings about a particularly beautiful poplar tree. He was angry when a neighbor wanted it cut down though it stood far from her house and could not have caused her any harm and he was then dismayed when a farmer later lopped the beautiful old tree down for no apparent reason at all.

The PPP reading reminded me how readily I related to this tale from Tolkien's life, because the most beautiful view from my own home is of a stand of the most splendid poplars imaginable in a neighbor's yard. When that house went on the market, people came out with chainsaws and razed these glorious trees right down to the ground. I wept at the dreadfulness of the sight and was so thrilled to see that, despite such ruthless orc-work, the poplars resprouted from their hewn trunks and are now, some years later, nearly as tall as my first memory of them. Every day for the past few months, I have been going outside just to look at them like golden torches against the flat blue autumn skies and to listen to the singing of their graceful leaves.

Tolkien mourned that his own local poplar had no friend, no protector, no defender. If we could take a lesson from the flet and from the ethereal sight of Haldir and his brothers who made their lovely lives amongst the Mellyrn, I think it would be to treat the great trees with the reverence they will most certainly inspire in any observant heart. Sometimes, we have to grant ourselves a tree escape - time off the one-dimensional road of self-concern and busy-ness. In the beautiful branches, even just in thought, we find rest.

I hope you'll enjoy a moment of respite today with this video short, my friends: