It’s time for another #TalkingTolkien.

I love me some tragedy in my epic tales. That sense that but for the alignment of fate and personality, things could have been – if not perfect – then almost so. But where’s the fun in perfection?

A well-drawn tragedy invites the reader to imagine, just for a moment, that things are going to work out just fine after all.

Even on a second reading.

This wizard isn’t going to turn on his friends. Londo isn’t going to bomb Narn. King Arthur won’t face Mordred at Camlann.

Here’s a definition, before we get started.

“a dramatic composition … dealing with a serious or somber theme, typically involving a great person destined to experience downfall or utter destruction, as through a character flaw or conflict with some overpowering force.”

#LordoftheRings & #TheHobbit are engines driven by tragedy.

The arrogance of elves & men bringing about the rise of Sauron. The power of the One Ring consuming its bearers (up to and including Frodo). Pride corrupting Denethor and breaking his mind (see also: #Boromir)…

Arwen burying herself alive after Aragorn dies (yeek!). Eowyn more eager to die in battle than live untested. Dwarves delving too greedily and too deep (and getting into grudge matches with goblins).

But it’s not just the good guys.

Sauron, Smaug & the Witch-king (officially the *best* character, fight me) all get killed by pride, denying Middle-earth its rightful place as Arda’s chief industrial economy & wealth-creating state.

(Granted, it’s not usual to read the baddies getting comeuppance as tragedy.)

But the #LordoftheRings tragedy I want to talk about is one I’ve not mentioned so far. The greatest tragedy, perhaps (it’s certainly the one we see in the most detail).

It’s Saruman, first of the wise and variously ‘the White’ and ‘of the Many Colours’.

For most of his time in the story, you know Saruman’s a wrong ‘un. Like Denethor, he’s dabbled with Palantir voyeurism, and it’s gone badly.

But where Denethor merely loses his vim, Saruman is driven to open treachery.

This is ‘book’ Saruman, by the way. The one who thinks to set himself up as Sauron’s equal and thus save Middle-earth and get the trains running on time (probably over hobbits) etc. etc.

He’s not in thrall, he’s 'just' on the way to becoming another Sauron. But he meant well.

(This, by the way, is a point often overlooked. If Saruman had his way, he’d simply become the next Sauron – they’re both Maiar, after all. But Saruman knows best. He has a mind of metal. He’s figured out all the angles.)

Saruman’s ‘for the good of all’ approach breaks down pretty quickly, what with him terrorising Rohan and all. But through it all, Gandalf conveys a sense of regret. That maybe he can be drawn back to the side of the angels and destroy Sauron, as he was sent to Middle-earth to do.

This comes to the fore in ‘The Voice of Saruman’. This is one of those chapters that largely doesn’t exist in the movies. (Even in the extended #ReturnoftheKing it’s barely there.)

Basically, Gandalf and the core cast (+Rohan) rock up to Orthanc and parley with Saruman.

Again, despite Gandalf warning everyone that Saruman can’t be trusted, you get the sense that Gandalf wants to trust him; believes he can come back.

And such is the skill with which #Tolkien writes the chapter, you want to believe it too.

You know that Saruman’s a twisty snake, parleying only because Treebeard wants to hoom-hom him to death.

But the possibility remains that Saruman can put aside his pride, his failure, his ambitions to launch a range of savoury grilled hobbit snacks, and get back on team good.

He doesn’t, of course. He’s too far gone. But for one, glorious moment, the reader glimpses a future in which Curunir rejoins the council of esteemed thespians in a final, righteous battle with Sauron. When he refuses, it hurts.

But not as much as what comes next.

Because when we see Saruman next, he’s lording it over the Shire, which he’s made into a small, pitiful echo of what Sauron would have done to the world. The most obvious example of punching down in the whole book.

And he can't even get that right.

He’s overthrown almost without effort by Hobbits.

Hobbits.

He who might have shielded Middle-earth against evil dies with a slit throat.

Saruman’s the embodiment of Tolkien’s theme that power corrupts.

It’s not just that his desire for mastery of the One Ring made him ‘evil’ it’s the fact that what thwarted ambition leaves behind is a petty, twisted shell.

And every time I encounter him in re-reads of #TheLordoftheRings I want him to turn away from the path he’s on. I long for it.

Even though he can't and won't.

Saruman’s arc is one of my touchstones. What’s said, what’s implied and what the reader can bring to it.

While he doesn’t have a direct parallel in #LegacyofAsh...

(available from @orbitbooks)
(US: http://ow.ly/B9nd50z4WeV )
(UK: http://ow.ly/TgAO50z4WeU )

...he remains an influential example of how thin the dividing line between necessary evils and flat-out abhorrent ones can be.

If there’s only one moment in #LegacyofAsh where you long for a character to choose another path and save the world a little heartache – even on a second reading, when you know what’s coming – then I reckon I’ve done my job.

Namarie.

(and the hashtags I forgot earlier up, because caffeine is slow today: #amwritingfantasy, #writetip).