The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

Being the Third Part of The Lord of the Rings

I’m always a little sad when I finish The Lord of the Rings. Mostly because a great story, one that immersed me in an otherworldly place and time, is over. I’ve always had a difficult time, however, really embracing the chapter entitled “The Scouring of the Shire,” which comes near the end of The Return of the King and in other readings my little bit of sadness comes from the disappointment I feel in that chapter.

 

This time, of course, I knew what was coming and braced for it. Since there were so many things I enjoyed even more than I ever had before in The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers, (and in The Hobbit) I even thought I might come around to like “The Scouring if the Shire.” Sorry. Not yet.

The rest of the novel is a wonderful as the rest of the trilogy. I had forgotten at least as many details from this book as the others and the refreshing of my memory was exciting and enjoyable. I’m a little more mature (okay, quite a bit more) than the last time I read it, so the deeply felt losses and sacrifices were more compelling. A happy ending to such a brutal, hopeless story must be hard won and I no longer shy away from themes at that level, especially in such a great story.

I just can’t quite get a grip on how the Shire could have gone to the dogs so quickly and easily while our hobbit heroes were away. I appreciate that the work that must be done to clean up the corruption, social and physical, in the Shire demonstrates the changes and growth Merry, Pippin and Sam experienced while off adventuring, but it’s hard for me to believe that “Sharkey” could have reached such a Snidely Whiplash-like level of ridiculous pettiness. Oh well. There are a lot of pages in this trilogy and in The Return of the King itself that are more than enjoyable enough to make up for my confusion over one chapter.

And so the end of an age of Middle Earth and of a beautiful fantasy series has come. It’s a bittersweet ending of mixed triumph and loss. I read the last page, as always, with a sigh.

Of course, I could always read it all again.

 

 

Coming soon: some thoughts on Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

 

 

 

A Year of Books I’ve Read Before