Mechtild's

*


Nearly seven years ago, Elijah Wood said something about playing Frodo to an interviewer that resonated with many fans. The journalist wrote that Wood, although he had gone on to other roles since the trilogy, nevertheless did not disavow the character of Frodo. "I think at a certain point the attention on those films will die down, but I think I will always be associated, as will everyone else, with those films," Wood told his interviewer. "I'll do other things. But Frodo I think will always be there, like my little shadow." (Raymond Johnston, Prague Post, August 19, 2004). Now Elijah Wood is reprising the role of Frodo, and his "little shadow" will be entering the light once more.

Hearing about Wood revisiting the role in The Hobbit has led fans to wonder how he might feel about it, in his private thoughts. Surely an actor who embraced a role with such warmth, even affection, in spite of being so overwhelmingly associated with it (not such a "little" shadow, after all), would find the memory of the part almost haunting. No, haunting implies a ghost. Frodo might be for him more of a living presence, even if just hovering at the edge of vision.

Jan-u-wine has wondered these things. She has written a poem about it. Real- life jan-u-wine lives in a satellite city of L.A., near the ocean, not far from Elijah Wood's part of the Los Angeles shire. Trying to explain how the poem came to be, she wrote,

For about two weeks, I've been observing the same sorts of sunsets the poem describes.... almost as if the sun is setting in opal milk. To me, it's very pretty. From my point of view, I can see the little 'hill' that makes up Palos Verdes. From where Elijah lives, he'd see the Santa Monica Mountains. It'd probably be even more misty there, the mountains more pencil-smudged, since he lives closer to the ocean (I don't know precisely where he lives, I'm just assuming much closer than I). Anyway, in watching these sunsets, a great feeling of *forever-ness* started building inside.

Jan-u-wine recognized that feeling, a feeling she associates with the undying presence of Frodo. If she was feeling it, others might, too, including Frodo's actor. And, surely, if he weren't feeling Frodo's presence, he'd be seeking it.

For images, I chose the top two to complement each other, showing Elijah and film Frodo in serious, contemplative moods. To frame the poem, which has a very different atmosphere, I chose two others I thought complementary. I don't know what Wood was thinking when this photo was taken, but his expression to me is one of pleasurably reflective anticipation. The image of Frodo at the bottom comes from the moment in FOTR when Bilbo is showing him the Red Book. I thought this very appropriate, given the rumoured context of the new film's Frodo-Bilbo scene.


~*~

Of Humans and Hobbits

The sun is setting now,

the sharp red of it
spread thin and rose-opal
upon the black pencil-lines
of the Santa Monicas....

Lately,
in this almost-misty hour
between sun-set and dark,

he finds himself
with another voice

upon his tongue,
other words

and distanc'd
thoughts

sparking,
like midnight'd stars,

within his mind.

Oh, yes, he knows this voice.

He knows it
and

has not allowed himself
to speak in such reducted
tones.

Not for years.

Not
for


years.


A lifetime,
it seems,

and though he is determined

not
to be grieved,

he has missed
the music

of it,
so very

different
from his own.


And he watches

the faded sunlight
pinking

smudged mountains,

the smell of the sea
still

hot and green
and

so insanely

blue,

as lights
wink

and call

in the boister
of a city night.

And the other voices
inside,

they are quieting now,

quieting,
as if there were only

one
voice worth hearing,

and that,
not more than a whisper

upon a long-dispersed wind.

He sleeps,
then,

dreaming,
the voice rocking him

like his mom
used to,

close
and safe,

to and .......

fro......

back again....
and.......

there.

One morning,
soon,

he will
wake

in the Shire.

Oh.

The little grasses,
and

the river that runs,
sweetly,

beyond the green
steep

curve of the hill,

laughing,

and leaping
about

the silence of winter-grey
stones....



meeting,
at last,
the green-burnished gold

of the Brandywine.


And he doesn't know

*how*
he knows these things,

only
that

he does.

Soon,
he will wonder

why
his feet have coverings
upon them,

and why
his trousers are so very long.

Soon, his fingers will hold
a quill,

the small,
ivory planes of it

as light and quick
as the letters he will scribe.

Soon,

there will be magik
and memories and the stuff of
which fond

forevers are conjured.


Soon.

Recent Frodo entries:

~ "Eagles to Ithilien".

~ "Naked in the Dark".

Other Links:

~ All entries featuring jan-u-wine's poems.