The Unofficial Hobbit Handbook Page 5

  Life Is Better With a Friend

  Hobbits are a communal people. They are not given to striking out on their own or exploring—much less passing—the boundaries of the Shire. Bilbo broke this habit only by what almost amounts to kidnapping, and Frodo evidently inherited some strange wanderlust from his uncle. But all hobbits would rather be homebodies, if given the chance.

  What could be better than sitting in your rocking chair on the back porch on a pleasant Hobbiton evening, smoking pipeweed? The only thing better, in a hobbit’s mind, would be doing so with a friend.

  Perhaps all hobbits are extroverts. Perhaps they become energized by being with one another. One would think there would exist at least a few loners who recover their energy not by being with other hobbits but by being alone. And yet, it seems they all tend to seek company rather than solitude.

  A lesson we might take from the hobbits is that there is something to be said for companionship. The evening is sweeter, the meal is more savory, and the moment is simply finer when experienced with a friend.

  Hard moments, too, are endured more easily when a companion is there to help bear the load, as Merry points out at the opening of our chapter.

  What would hobbits be like in our day of Facebook and Twitter? Each one would probably have as many friends as there are hobbits. Excepting those who live toward Bree, where both the news and the hobbits are often strange. And perhaps excepting those hobbits who go out on boats. But all the rest would be friends.

  If humans can spend all day on Facebook, what might hobbits do? They might never emerge from their holes in the ground. And yet they would be utterly delighted to have spent that time engaged with friends, old and new.

  And can you imagine Pippin with an iPhone? The poor lad would be torn between laughing with his friends at the pub and LOL-ing with his friends over texts.

  Most of us could do with a bit more LOL-ing in our lives, and good friends are the best source of this. Let us take a cue from the hairy-footed hobbits and seek out friends with whom to enjoy the precious days of our lives.

  Make Friends Wherever You Go

  A difference lies between friendliness and friendship. As we have seen elsewhere in this book, hobbits have hospitality down to a science. But that is a cultural expectation to be extended even to those guests who are not friends at all. True friendship goes beyond being cordial.

  Ideally, of course, every hobbit gets to stay home and be sensible, tending to one’s affairs and enjoying the Bolgers, Hornblowers, and Proudfoots (Proudfeet!) of one’s own village.

  But occasionally, either by ill-advised choice or unpleasant turn of events, some unfortunate hobbits are forced to travel—even beyond the borders of the Shire, to the land of the Big Folk. If such a trip must be made, it should be done with one’s friends. But every once or twice in an age, a hobbit goes alone on an unexpected journey.

  In such cases, what is a hobbit to do but continue his habits until such time as he can stop being there and go back again? He must continue to offer kindnesses to visitors. He must continue to offer counsel about well-ordered gardens and good tilled earth. And, of course, he must maintain his practices of enjoying food, drink, pipeweed, song, and the finest thing in life: friendship.

  When a hobbit finds himself in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar companions of good character, he must do his best to befriend them. If you can’t stay at the party you were enjoying, and if you can’t bring the party with you, why not make a new party here?

  Who knows but that the Bifur and Bofur beside you might become your dearest hearth mates? Acquaintances unlooked-for might actually be best friends previously unmet. If you can’t be with the one you love, hobbit, love the one you’re with.

  In the world of men, we can’t always choose our companions. We might venture on a business trip to meet people we’ve never encountered before, not to mention our seatmates on the plane along the way. It’s much more pleasant to stay at home with our comfortable circle of friends. But sometimes the people we meet can become delightful new additions to that circle, which thereby widens just a bit.

  A certain man went on a trip to teach at a conference. Very much against his wishes he was given a roommate who was also on faculty at the conference. The double room was a nuisance. Wasn’t it enough that he would be out among the people for the duration of the conference? Was it too much to ask to have a private retreat at the hotel?

  The roommate didn’t arrive until after midnight the first night. Our hero feigned sleep so as to not have to interact. Inevitably the next morning came, and the two exchanged the obligatory information about one another. It happened that the roommate liked one of our hero’s favorite movies. And that he felt the same way our hero did about certain topics. And that they liked the same bands, were teaching complementary ideas at the conference, and pulled for similar sports teams. Not least of all, the two found an easy compatibility in each other.

  In short, these two were best friends who simply hadn’t met yet.

  Neither would have met the other—neither would’ve had his life enriched—had they not left their comfort zones and taken a lesson from hobbits to befriend those they found themselves beside.

  The next time you’re somewhere with others you don’t know—the subway or the waiting room at the mechanic’s shop or in line at Walmart—don’t neglect the opportunity to make a new friend. Begin by complimenting something about the person or his or her belongings or apparel, and off you’ll go.

  A Hobbit and His Squire

  It has been pointed out that the friendship we see between Frodo and Sam is analogous to the British gentleman and his chief man-servant. The knight and his squire. The master and his apprentice.

  Hobbits ascribe to the time-honored tradition of the younger one learning the older one’s wisdom. Among male and female, lord and peasant, there is much to be gained by paying attention to the transmission of knowledge from the teacher to the student. So Frodo learns Elvish from Bilbo, and Samwise learns gardening from his old Gaffer. The womenfolk among the hobbits likewise pass on skills in their realms of expertise.

  Every one of us, even outside the Shire, ought to have both a mentor and a disciple. Do you have someone to whom you can go when you seek wisdom? If not, see about developing such a relationship. The learned among us can be found in business organizations, churches, and synagogues, and especially the Internet. Why not offer to take one of them to lunch to see if there might be a compatibility there?

  In the same way, you have much to offer those younger or less experienced than you. You could become a mentor. This doesn’t mean being boorish and assuming that you are superior to others and that they should flock to you for your pearls of wisdom and ascribe to your obviously superior methods. It means being approachable and free with the secrets of your success. It means believing that you have something to offer that might result in someone else’s success and being willing to lavish it on a willing learner. If you don’t have a disciple in your circle, perhaps you might develop one in one or more fields in which you have earned a measure of success or expertise.

  Frodo and Sam are friends across a sort of social divide. Though there isn’t a hobbit aristocracy exactly, there are still those who are better off and those who live (and eat) at the homes of the better off.

  Perhaps for them, a better analogy than knight and squire would be officer and sergeant. There are—in the militaries of Gondor, Rohan, and the United States—two separate tracks of rank advancement: that of officers and that of the enlisted. The tracks run parallel but are not considered equal. Traditionally officers have risen from the more highly educated and monied families, whereas enlisted men in the rank and file have come from the wider stock of the nation from which the army is raised.

  One might assume that an officer and an enlisted man, or NCO (non-commissioned officer), would be unlikely friends. Surely the divergent duties and powers of the two would make it an uneven friendship at best. But throughou
t history there are many examples of this sort of friendship.

  Sometimes we encounter kindred spirits in unexpected places. It’s not always our peers who make the best friends. It might be the person on the other side of the world, whose life situation is radically different from our own, who becomes a soul mate of sorts. The trick is to look for such friends wherever you go.

  Frodo and Sam are friends across a social divide, as previously mentioned. Frodo could play the lordly patron and constantly remind Sam of his lowborn status, but he doesn’t. He treats Sam as a peer. Neither does Sam consider himself a worthless peon who has nothing of value to offer. He counts himself as worthy and valid.

  We all have to remember the station our situation places us in—employer or employee, customer or manager, upperclassman or lowerclassman. However, we shouldn’t make more of that station than it is. We must not believe our worth is based on our status.

  Perhaps your next dear friend will be your instructor at the gym. Perhaps it will be the shopping cart kid at the grocery store. Perhaps it will be the Russian you’ve befriended on an online forum about pottery or World War II memorabilia. When we decide not to let our birth differences segregate us, potential friends present themselves to us.

  So whether you’re from the gentry or the peasantry—or whatever your social status—take a lesson from Frodo and Sam, and look for amicability in all your relationships.

  True Friendship

  You would be hard-pressed to find, in literature, a better example of true friendship than that which Tolkien produced in The Lord of the Rings (LOTR). The friendship among the Fellowship, the friendship between Gimli and Legolas, and the friendship among the four hobbits are excellent illustrations of the lengths friends will go for one another.

  But the pinnacle of friendship in LOTR is between Frodo and Sam. When we say we would go to the ends of the earth for someone, we usually don’t think we’ll have to. But that’s exactly what Samwise the Brave did for Frodo. Sam left his gardening, his taters, his Gaffer, and his sense of safety behind and strode off toward an uncertain doom.

  If you searched the Shire from top to Longbottom, you’d not find a more sensible hobbit than Sam. He’s as hobbit as hobbit gets. He was from fine stock and on a path to being herbmaster before too many more years had passed. Yet, off he went, out of Bag End like one of Gandalf’s fireworks.

  Speaking of that wizard, Gandalf charged Sam not to leave Frodo’s side as they journeyed to Rivendell. But he needed no Grey Wizard to tell him that.

  Sam was loyal to Frodo beyond the bonds of mere acquaintanceship or the noble loyalty of a servant to his master. This was the fiercest kind of friendship, one that bears very little difference from love. And before it was over, Sam would stand before monsters, orcs, goblins, Ents, and traitors, and on the lip of the Cracks of Doom, all for his friend.

  Frodo’s friendship for Sam is equal to Sam’s for him. To take the Ring at all was an act of heroism of the first order. And what is heroism but friendship of a dramatic sort? Frodo’s friendship for Sam involved protecting him from the burden of the Ring so far as he could. It was true that Frodo wouldn’t have gotten far without Sam, but there is no doubt that Sam wouldn’t have gotten past Farmer Maggot’s field had it not been for Frodo. They helped each other along the way, even when it came to self-sacrifice.

  Frodo took up the Ring and vowed to move it away from the Shire in order to protect his people. Of course that meant removing himself from the Shire, as well. Probably a portion of Frodo didn’t mind the journey, having a bit of the Took in him. (Tooks longed for adventure.) And Bilbo’s tale of going there and back again rang loudly in his ears. Removing the danger from the world of hobbits was a truly generous gesture.

  Other hobbits displayed loyalty and heroism that amounts to friendship of a true sort. Fatty Bolger, Merry, Pippin, and Farmer Maggot played their parts well. What no one knew and old Gandalf suspected was that hobbits are not mere children, made soft by how completely they’ve been protected. They are hardy and resourceful and courageous beyond anyone’s estimation. At the heart of the Fellowship that saved Middle-earth was the friendship of hobbits.

  Who would you go to the ends of the earth for? Would you leave the comfort and safety of your home if it might mean danger and sacrifice? For whom would you march into Mordor?

  And do those people know you would do that for them? Maybe it’s time you told them.

  Friendship isn’t just parties and feasting. Friendship is self-sacrifice for the benefit of those you cherish.

  Fellowship

  Fellowship is a form of friendship and companionship that has special meaning in the world of Middle-Earth—and in our world as well.

  Fellowship as a Noun

  A fellowship is a band of companions united toward a common purpose and quest. Bilbo’s fellowship was with Gandalf and the dwarves. Frodo’s fellowship was with representatives of all the free races: elves, dwarves, men, wizards, and hobbits. Their mutual goals, and their pursuit of those goals, bound these people into a powerful, albeit temporary, force.

  Are you a member of a fellowship? Are you on a team or task force or committee formed to advance something you believe in? Your life will be richer if you join such a group. Shared experiences—hardships, victories, and even defeats—unite people in lasting ways.

  A certain couple adopted a child from China. They worked with an American adoption agency that arranged the travel details. When at last it was time to board the plane for Asia, the couple didn’t know anyone in their travel group. When they arrived in Beijing, they began meeting the other adoptive families. In all, there were thirteen families traveling together to one province in China to adopt their new family members.

  After touring Beijing with one set of local guides, the group boarded a flight to their target province in China’s interior, where other guides took them through the process of getting their children. After a week or so with the new babies, the whole group boarded another flight and flew to a third province, where a third set of guides helped them through the sequence of finalizing the adoption.

  Through it all, that core group of families grew closer as a fellowship. The local guides were wonderful but didn’t become members of the group. Only the adoptive families—and then the babies—remained as they traveled from place to place. The families helped each other, went to Chinese groceries for each other, borrowed and lent and compared with each other, ate and drank together. In short, they grew a rich fellowship with one another. They were bound together through their common goals and experiences.

  Today the group has maintained a connection, though the connection is not as close as it was during the journey. Some of the families have been back to adopt again—but they went with other groups and formed other fellowships. While their original fellowship has parted, it has not been broken. Nothing can remove the bond they formed while they traveled that path together.

  When you find yourself a part of a fellowship, explore it to the fullest. Don’t sit in your room and isolate yourself from the other members of the group. The more you invest in your fellowships, the richer you will be.

  Fellowship as a Verb

  Another meaning of fellowship is to have a friendly relationship with someone else. It sounds a bit archaic to our ears, but it is possible to fellowship with another person. That means to enjoy one another’s presence and the unique contributions each brings to the party.

  We most easily fellowship with people who are united with us in purpose and thought. Fellowship is that comfortable excitement that arises when we speak to like-minded people of the things we’re most passionate about.

  Do you have people with whom you can fellowship? Maybe you get together with those who love the same sports team you do, despite the fact that this is not that team’s hometown (Go, Cowboys!). Maybe you have found people who share your political, philosophical, or spiritual beliefs. Maybe you get together once a year with those who labor in your craft but usually wo
rk alone. It’s such a relief to talk with someone who understands where you’re coming from.

  When Frodo and Sam were ascending Mount Doom, they tried to remember the Shire. They thought of spring and harvest and their beloved homes. No one else for hundreds of leagues could truly understand what they were talking about or the feeling they were remembering, and that was what made the fellowship so sweet. Together, they could create a space where their mutual joy could exist. Were they separate, their private memories wouldn’t have sustained them. Their fellowshipping brought the Shire to life.

  Seek out those with whom you can fellowship. The Internet is, like a magical ring, capable of both good and evil. But one of its more helpful aspects is that it can bring together people of similar mind who might otherwise remain separated by distance, language, or national boundaries.

  Rich fellowship is awaiting you. Find it, build it, and enjoy it.

  Alliances

  Hobbits do not enter into alliances lightly. Oh, they might temporarily ally with pipeweed growers in the Southfarthing to ensure delivery of the stuff to Hobbiton, or they might agree to do business with Big Folk in Bree, but such arrangements are prickly and uneasy. It’s hard to maintain permanent working relations with strangers who are so odd.

  As for alliance with those outside of the Shire, should anyone be so foolish as to consider it, hobbits would be hard-pressed to find parties wanting to enter into such an arrangement. Hobbits are small, after all, even when compared to dwarves. No one comes to Bree looking to hire hobbit warriors or hobbit wizards or hobbit guides into Mordor. No one wants a hobbit army.

  About the only thing outsiders might want from hobbits is pipeweed. It has been rumored that certain wizards have developed a taste for Old Toby.