Short bows, crossbows …
And that wouldn’t have helped them one little bit. The Lake-men had archers, and nothing they did even slowed down Smaug until the thrush told Bard the one place to shoot for. On the other hand, when axe-wielding dwarves attacked Glaurung at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears (in the Silmarillion), even the Father of Dragons turned out not to be axe-proof, and while they didn’t kill him they hurt him badly enough that he fled the battlefield and hid up for a long time.
Glaurung was a flightless dragon, which made it easy for Fingon to attack him using mounted archers, or armored dwarves to ring him with axe blows. Besides Glaurung, dwarves have a bad record in fighting dragons. A forefather of Thorin was killed by an Uruloki (flightless, fireless dragon) whereas men appeared to fare well against them. It seems that valor and audacity is a dragon’s main downfall.
Baker writes:
> So I guess I’ve been wrong, because the Tolkien geeks wouldn’t let Jackson get
> away with saying it wrong.
Jackson (and everybody else who produces and distributes his films) doesn’t give a damn about Tolkien geeks or the Tolkien estate except in so far as he can avoid being sued by them.
+1
Beorn set them up pretty well before they had to go into Mirkwood. I know they were given some pots of honey but I can’t remember what else.
Per the book: as well as the honey – “nuts, flour, sealed jars of dried fruits… twice-baked cakes that would keep good a long time, and on a little of which they could march far. The making of these was one of his secrets, but honey was in them, as in most of his foods, and they were good to eat, though they made one thirsty.” [Cram, indeed.] He also gives them some bows and arrows – though expressing doubt whether anything they find in Mirkwood will be wholesome to eat (as proves true, with the business of the squirrel). With the dwarves having come by their bows this way, one suspects that their archery was unskilled and not much practised.
A thing in the group’s sojourn with Beorn, which has always made me cringe a bit: Beorn is warming up to his unexpected guests, and becoming more friendly. [Beorn] “picked up the hobbit and laughed. ‘Not eaten up by Wargs or goblins or wicked bears yet I see’ ; and he poked Mr. Baggins’ waistcoat most disrespectfully. ‘Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey,’ he chuckled.”
If I’d been Bilbo, I’d have reckoned that this Beorn bloke seemed possibly a bit dodgy, and would have walked warily in his presence. The book was written in a more innocent time, no doubt. (As for Tolkien’s Catholicism – maybe best to go no further along that road…).
One faithful to the book?
Agree, with a caveat - I think Jackson and his inner circle consider *themselves *to be the ultimate Tolkien geeks, and the only ones’ whose opinion matters.
Yes, indeed; a nudge and a wink in the direction of a hint that Catholicism leads to child-buggery would be in poor taste for sure. :rolleyes:
The dwarves were given cram by the Lake-men; all very well for a long journey but desperately uninteresting to eat except as a chewing exercise. Gimli mistook lembas for cram the first time he saw it and on discovering his error had enthusiastically tucked into a whole day’s rations before anyone could stop him. He rated it better even than the Beornings’ honey-cakes and said that was high praise indeed since they were the best bakers he knew of and didn’t exactly give it out for nothing as a rule.
Yes, I was being a bit facetious about cram, as even the dwarves complain about it. As has been pointed out, the Lake-men provided that. It would not have been uncharacteristic traveling rations; however. A well-provisioned party would mostly carry things that keep well: hardtack (or something similar), a little cured meat of some kind, and possibly dried fruit and cheese. They would presumably supplement it by living off the land as much as possible while remaining on the move, picking any fruit they see, gathering nuts, and so forth. Probably not hunting, which would take too much time away from travel.
Of course, Thorin and Company were not well-provisioned. What they originally carried is unclear, since they lost nearly all their food the first night they were going to camp, and thereafter depended on rations provided by others.
Pardon requested – I was mixed-up about cram. PPs have jogged memory: what Beorn and his successors provided, was a lot nicer.
It is assumed they were fed reasonably well in the elvish dungeons, and upon their arrival at Dale. Cram is for tough-slogging it outside civilization.
My thoughts exactly. As it is now, the dwarves are on the one hand cartoons and on the other super cool warriors, and that’s the problem I have with the movie, it doesn’t work because it doesn’t know what type of movie it is.
To be fair, that dichotomy exists in the book as well. The dwarves are both comic (always frightened, pushing the burglahobbit to the fore, tumbling over each other, greedy, stubborn, etc) and heroic (fighting, trying to restore their ancient rights, etc.) I think that just means that Tolkien’s writing is NOT simplistic.
My problem with the movie is not the portrayal of the dwarves, but just the lengthy battles and chase scenes that are extremely repetitive.
It’s more than assumed in both cases; the Elf-king had them locked away securely but in clean dry cells and with enough food. Towards the end of chapter 8 we are first told how Thorin was captured and refused to explain himself, so he was locked away securely but with plenty of food and drink “if not very fine; for Wood-elves were not goblins, and were reasonable well-behaved even to their worst enemies, when they captured them. The giant spiders were the only living thing that they had no mercy upon.” Then in chapter 9 it is the turn of the other dwarves and they are also locked away separately but given food and drink. Only Bilbo has to scavenge what he can, as he remains invisible the whole time they are in the elves’ stronghold.
Then when they arrive in Lake-town they are starving after being shut up in barrels for a few days, but they arrive at a time of feast and the Master deems it expedient to welcome them since the townsfolk think the days of wealth and plenty are about to start again any minute, and he has them all seated at the high table, even giving up his own seat to Thorin. Then “they were all doctored and fed and housed and pampered in the most delightful and satisfactory fashion” for many days to come, until Thorin decides it is time to set out - and even then the Master is willing to provide them all the food and supplies they need, if only they will go away (as he expected the dragon to massacre them if they actually dare go to the Mountain). In the mean time there is a reference to “banquets”, plural.
The worst part for me is that PJ has to amp up the peril of every perilous situation (“it’s not perilous enough! We need to add more peril”) until what you get is arcade video-game peril. I.e. comical and not remotely suspenseful.
For example. “Fifteen birds in five fir trees; their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!” You might think that being up in trees, which are on fire, surrounded by wargs and orcs, the former of whom have been snapping at heels while the latter are mocking everyone mercilessly about their impending demise, is pretty perilous. That’s what Tolkien wrote. But for PJ, oh no, that’s not enough peril. “I know! We need more peril! Let’s make the trees toppled over onto each, like dominoes! Yeah! And when they’re all in the last tree, it falls over, too! Over a gigantic cliff! Yeah! And then let’s inject a totally unjustified vengeful back-history scene! Yeah!”
:rolleyes:
That kind of stupid, puerile, and cinematographically ineffective stuff took this die-hard, lifelong Tolkein fan straight out of the movie and into joining the PJ-hating club. Well, maybe not hating, but certainly* very* wary of seeing any more of these movies.
Ragadast is inexcusable. Not his presence in the film. The treatment of his character. Obviously, he wasn’t in the book, so they can do whatever they want. What they choose was very, deeply, stupidly embarrassing.
As a minor nitpick, though, Dale is a ruin, as of the time of the book. Laketown was some ways away from Dale, but was the closest intact settlement.
Agreed. Bird poop in his hair and beard are bad enough - but a sleigh pulled by giant bunnies?
:: shudder ::
Quite right - and when Smaug is slain and the people of Lake-town are all set to make Bard their King, the Master makes a good deal of this, because Bard is a descendant of the Lord of Dale and has no rightful claim to be King of Lake-town; instead he’s welcome to clear off and re-establish Dale now that the Dragon is dead.