Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


9.15.2005  

Gollum Revisited

I've started reading some Tolkien again. The Fellowship of the Ring is the current flavor of choice, as Scott will bitterly attest. Right now I'm still in the Shire, and Gandalf has just told Frodo of the true nature of the One Ring, and how through Gollum's treachery, it eventually found its way to Frodo's own hand.

When I read through that segment earlier, I was reminded of a little piece I wrote several years back. I'd posted it then, but since it's come to mind, I'd like to post it again.

A strange thing has occurred within me over the past decade. Gollum, of The Lord of the Rings fame, has become increasingly heroic in my eyes. I cannot pinpoint exactly when this began to happen, for that seems of far less import than the profound reason why.

I recall a creeping horror that slithered its way into my imagination when my mind first beheld his wretched form. Silently I pleaded with Bilbo to run, not to trust Gollum, for I did not believe a creature so vile, so detestable, could possibly have any good within him. Yet, held within the memory of that very first encounter deep within the roots of the Misty Mountains, I can now see the true reason for my horror.

When gazing into that festering heart, that heart that knew no hope, no love, and no kindness, I happen upon the very thing I loathe: the wretchedness of my heart. I had long harbored a disdain toward Gollum with an air of superiority. But this disdain, I now realize, had sprung forth from the revulsion of seeing my own fears given existence, given a name.

With great ease had I condemned him! He who had a mind long caged in its own lies and deceits, unable or unwilling to see beyond its depraved desires. His faults were seen and weighed, and swiftly did I pronounce his doom. Of good there was naught to be seen; had there been any, it came in a form so stunted and deformed as to render it unrecognizable. In due time, however, I found that my cries against his hideousness echoed back at me, mocking me, accusing my own heart. A painful brokenness came upon me the when I learned the aching reality.

How terrible and sweet was the hour of truth! Long had I myself been caged, yet knew it not; long had I fed upon the depraved desires of my soul, gnawing jealously upon lies. To see myself in Gollum mirrored was to embrace the sobering truth, which had been buried and forgotten for so long.

My pleas are not for Bilbo to run any more. No, they are reserved for Gollum, for myself, to turn away from the lies, and remember the truth that pierces through the darkness. Though Gollum failed in the end, he was shown the pity and the grace that should he eventually desire to change, he could. So when I read of his exploits now, I cheer for him, in hopes that I might learn what he did not - there is indeed hope for the wretched.

posted by Bolo | 1:19 AM
2 speakage
Free Hit
Counters
Dell Coupons
Daily
Read
Listen
Visualize
Blogging Buddies
Old School
Me
Bug Me
Yore
Factuality
Quotatious