I recently returned to Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings (LOTR) trilogy, having first read it about twenty years ago. Partway through the first volume, I settled into a world that I did not want to leave. Reflecting on that reading experience, I appreciate how the story itself required me to adjust my reading to a pace that suited the characters and the events. In that connection, I have two observations about LOTR. One deals with pace literally—the experience of covering territory on foot—a feature that is lost in the film version, which bounces from event to event. The second is Tolkien’s idea of fellowship, which the film medium conveys exquisitely.

The characters in LOTR are equipped with domestic and material technologies congruent with the European Middle Ages. The primary mode of travel is walking, unless one is fortunate enough to have a horse, a wagon, or a boat. Therefore, when Frodo accepts the responsibility of Ring-bearer, he imagines he will journey to Mordor, climb Mount Doom, and return the ring to the fires that forged it—all while traveling on foot. There is no way to cut to the chase under these conditions. Threats posed by Sauron’s malevolence compete with hazards of the landscape and hostile populations. The world is unsafe; pedestrians do not have right of way.

The respite at Rivendell brings pace and fellowship together. The hobbits settle in for a reunion with Bilbo before their journey resumes, spending a month healing wounds, exchanging songs and stories, and meeting new characters who will form the fellowship. The films give the briefest impression of Rivendell’s healing qualities, but the affective power of faces and body language communicates the strength and commitment of the fellowship, animating stilted language.

The fellowship demonstrates that success depends on cooperation. Frodo accepts the role of Ring-bearer, but he admits that he does not know how to bring the ring to Mount Doom. He feebly tries to discourage his hobbit friends from jeopardizing their safety by joining him, but he rejoices at their insistence on becoming part of the fellowship. Frodo recognizes that if one takes on the impossible, one gathers one’s friends to help.

Clearly, Tolkien was unburdened by notions of individualism—especially as understood by Americans. No doubt his experiences of the World Wars taught him much about alliances as well as the motives that create and sustain them. His tale of good and evil sets innocence (hobbits) and experience (men, wizards, elves, dwarves) against the corrupt power of Sauron and his allies. As the whole of Middle-Earth undergoes political change, the fellowship embraces the alliance of Gondor and Rohan. In so doing, that larger fellowship prepares to govern Middle-Earth when the Dark Lord falls.

Armies march, horsemen ride hard, and Frodo makes his painful way to Mount Doom. The defeat of evil requires physical sacrifice and psychological transformation. Once evil is undone, the heroes are swept away on eagles’ wings to rest, recover, and walk home again—together.