When hope begins to fade, so does the willpower of men both weak and strong. As the horizon fades into evanescence, so do both the wit and innate morality of even the best among us. This principle, proven millions of times over during times of historical strife, is an axiom of our nature — a cruel reminder of our fragile composition. One demonstrative example of this concept, demonstrated thoroughly by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s gut-wrenching prose, is the degradation of spirit that hunger brings on. “When the belly rumbles, conscience flees” (Solzhenitsyn 226). This is, of course, because intense hunger constitutes the ultimate form of desperation.
In a healthy and civilized society, it’s easy to forget the necessity of consumption. It is something taken for granted, because most folks in developed nations eat for pleasure rather than sustenance. However, many throughout all of mankind’s history (including today) do not have this luxury. I, for instance, have not gone more than 30 hours without something to eat. For those who have experienced starvation, it is a nagging and unimaginably painful reminder of one’s own mortality. Nonetheless, even those who suffer so terribly eventually become too weary even to feel desperation, tragically weakened to the point of being unable to care.
Such is (nearly) the case with Theoden, King of Rohan. Until guided towards correctness by Gandalf and Aragorn, his judgement is clouded by thoughts of impending doom. His once clear mind became foggy in light of Sauron’s increasing power, led further wayward by his Judas-like advisor, who clogged his ears with incessant verbal poison. Until the “fork-tongued,” “witless worm” (Tolkien 514) known as Grima Wormtongue was expelled from Rohan, it was apparent that Theoden’s wisdom was tainted by such desperation as well. Thus, even a king of noble intention and proven bravery can fall in the face of waning hope.
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