9. Floatsam and Jetsam; 10. The Voice of Saruman; 11. The Palantír
In “Floatsam and Jetsam”, Merry and Pippin recount to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli all that they have experienced since they were captured by orcs during the breaking of the Fellowship, and their friends also share their own adventures. In other words, the chapter contains nothing particularly significant for our reading, and therefore we move on to the next.
10. The Voice of Saruman
The company rides under Gandalf’s leadership to the great, black tower of Orthanc to confront Saruman. Twenty-seven steps lead up to the gate. From this numerical value (3x9), we can infer that fate and the necessity we previously discussed are particularly prominent here. It is Saruman’s fate to end up in this situation, isolated in the tower that rises from a devastated and flooded area, driven by a force stronger than himself. We know that his studies of the Rings of Power were the prelude to the fall that now befalls him out of necessity.
Gandalf commands Saruman to open the gate, but it remains shut. Wormtongue, who has taken refuge here, shouts at them through a window. It is a noteworthy detail that the first sign of life from the tower is precisely the complex that once held Théoden in its grip. One could say that Orthanc, Saruman, and Wormtongue belong to the same complex, but the image of the towering structure and the wizard suggests the archetypal core of the power complex. This archetypal force is, one might say, collectively enchanting, as we shall see.
Saruman speaks to them, but for now only through a window. In other words, he gives voice to the tower itself and personifies its upward-striving and inevitably inflationary state. The voice is seductive (just as Wormtongue’s words once seduced Théoden). “No one could resist its pleas and commands without an effort of will,” it is written. Since the voice has an enchanting effect, it represents an unconscious energy that the affected can only resist by summoning willpower, that is, consciousness. The anonymous soldiers escorting the king easily fall under Saruman’s voice, as they form a collective. A group’s level of consciousness always sinks to the lowest common denominator, and the individuals within the group lose their ability to differentiate.[1] Saruman had no difficulty commanding his will-less hordes or now seducing Rohan’s soldiers, but with “enlightened” individuals – those who individuate – such as Aragorn, Théoden, and Gandalf, it becomes more challenging.
Saruman now steps out onto the balcony, having first addressed them ingratiatingly, wearing a large cloak “whose color was not easy to determine, for it changed if they shifted their gaze or if he moved.” Gandalf had already mentioned during Elrond’s council that the multicolored cloak confused the eye. As we discussed in that chapter, this is not a rainbow-like garment or a cloak reminiscent of a peacock’s plumage – symbols we noted as representing the completion of the alchemist’s work – but rather confusion, chaos, unclarity; everything has merged, and distinction (sine qua non for consciousness, as Jung often says[2]) has ceased. We previously described how all of Isengard has become a waterlogged chaos.
The first to react soberly and decisively to Saruman’s enchantment is Gimli, who grips his axe and grumbles: “The words of this wizard stand on their heads.” Characteristic of this dwarf, perhaps more than anything else, is that he stands with both feet firmly rooted on the ground, indeed belonging to the earth itself. This prevents him from being swept away by the seductive speech that sways, for instance, the soldiers. The earth is immune to this form of intoxication; it is even an antidote to intoxication, as noted, for example, by Odin in "Hávamál".[3] We also know that Saruman himself is in that inflationary “high-up” state, and the best remedy would be to come down to earth, as we discussed in the previous chapter.
Saruman immediately becomes irritated and berates the dwarf, only to compose himself and become ingratiating once more. With effort, he conceals the black, frustrated rage within him, but as soon as someone down on the ground – like Gimli now – demonstrates that he does not accept Saruman’s inflationary influence, or in other words, do not mirror his power complex, aggression breaks through. Realizing this does not serve his cause, the wizard repeatedly collects himself and tries to seduce anew.
Now he turns to Théoden, who has sat silently on his horse, with an invitation to talk and cooperate. But Théoden has already overcome his own darkness, as the story with Wormtongue illustrated. He no longer falls for this influence at all but speaks clearly and distinctly, saying: “You hold out your hand to me, and I perceive only a finger of the claw of Mordor.”
This is not only a rejection, which in itself would provoke Saruman, but Théoden declares that the wizard is nothing more than Sauron’s tool. Saruman, of course, becomes furious and leans over the railing as if seized by an impulse to strike the defiant one with his staff. “To some suddenly it seemed that they saw a snake coiling itself to strike.” The serpent appears at this very moment because Sauron is mentioned and, for an instant, becomes part of the image.
Finally, Saruman turns to Gandalf, claiming that the two belong to a “high and ancient order” while Gandalf’s companions are “lesser folk,” so the two of them should confer together. But Gandalf laughs at his attempts to persuade. Having passed through water and fire, reborn and enlightened, Saruman no longer holds any power over him.
When Gandalf dismisses Saruman as “Mordor’s jailer” (referring to how Saruman once held Gandalf captive with the intent to deliver him to Sauron), he urges Saruman to come out of the tower; he repeats the question of whether Saruman will “come down.” We discussed how landing with both feet on the ground is what is needed to break the inflationary state. “Coming out of the tower” becomes an image for abandoning the power complex itself and returning to the earth.
We recall that when Gandalf broke Théoden’s enchantment, he led the king out of his golden hall. Théoden followed him, supported by Éowyn, and was redeemed by the wind, the water, and the green meadows. Saruman is far more consumed than Théoden ever was – Saruman represents the archetype, while Wormtongue represents the complex – and he entirely lacks the feminine element. With Saruman in Orthanc, there are no signs of potential redemption. When Gandalf spoke to Théoden before they left the throne, he said he could not help him unless there was a spark left in the king. That spark is absent in Saruman, and Gandalf is unable, despite his efforts, to redeem him from his situation. “Pride and hatred had prevailed.”
Saruman loses control and reveals his “true self”; his voice becomes “shrill and cold.” He is scornful, referring to the Ents as “wood-demons” (which is fitting in relation to our comparison with Artemis in the previous comment); he cannot leave the tower as long as these linger in Isengard.
Gandalf gives him one final chance: “You can leave Orthanc as a free man – if you choose.” At this, Saruman mocks Gandalf for his supposed lust for power. In the unconscious state Saruman inhabits, he does not even realize that he himself is the power-hungry one and projects this onto Gandalf.
Saruman leaves the balcony, but Gandalf commands him to return, which he does, whereupon Gandalf proclaims: “Saruman, your staff is broken!” The staff, which is, of course, the wizard’s very instrument of power, shatters with a crack. Saruman crawls back into the tower.
Then something strange happens: A crystal ball is thrown from the tower, possibly to kill Gandalf. But it is not Saruman who hurls it from a high window, but Wormtongue. Pippin rushes forward and picks it up, but Gandalf then takes charge of the globe.
They turn away. “Saruman has chosen to retain power over Orthanc,” Gandalf says. But from a psychological perspective, it might be more accurate to say that it is Orthanc that retains power over Saruman. He is a tool for something greater than himself.
11. The Palantír
The palantír as a symbol is not entirely easy to grasp. We know it is a black crystal globe, and we might assume that it grants clairvoyance, perhaps evoking associations with witches and fortune-tellers. These ancient palantíri, it turns out, were used precisely for far-seeing and for communicating over long distances between allies. We indirectly encountered the palantír for the first time at Weathertop, where we stepped outside the narrative (but still within Tolkien’s mythos) to note how Weathertop, through the tower that stood there and the palantír kept within it, symbolically belongs to Aragorn. We also mentioned that Aragorn’s people, the Dúnedain, built Orthanc, from which this palantír so unexpectedly came hurtling. In other words, the palantír is tied to the Aragorn symbol, the one that unites opposites.
But what is the palantír used for in this story? To confront Sauron (or be confronted by him). The palantír is explicitly used twice in the narrative: by Pippin and by Aragorn, both of whom encounter Sauron through it. But we soon learn that two others use it during the course of the story: Saruman and Denethor. Everyone who uses a palantír in the tale is, in some way, confronted by the Dark Lord. Thus, it is also tied to him. The palantír is a round object – a totality – associated with magical powers that put one in contact with the “Sauron archetype.” (We will not delve deeper into this image now, as we plan to explore the idea when Frodo reaches Mordor.)
From a rational perspective, the scene where Saruman crawls back into the tower, only for the ancient, legendary, and priceless palantír to be thrown out of a window by Wormtongue, possibly to harm Gandalf (no one knows why), is rather strange. We discussed events that the narrative itself described as “queer” in earlier comments, and in the detour in “Treebeard,” we wrote about Tolkien’s intuitive and associative writing, which gives rise to – rationally speaking – not entirely obvious events, to put it mildly. We can linger further on this question in this context by quoting an excerpt from a letter by the author:
“I knew nothing of the Palantíri, though at the moment the Orthanc-stone was cast from the window, I recognized it, and knew the meaning of the ‘rhyme of lore’ that had been running in my mind: ‘seven stars and seven stones and one white tree.’[4] These rhymes and names will crop up; but they do not always explain themselves.”[5]
In “The Intuitive Writing”, several examples were mentioned of how creative individuals receive images or phrases, as Tolkien describes here. One “sees” or “hears” them, is gripped by them in some way, but does not yet understand their meaning – somewhat like David Lynch’s “puzzle pieces”; so one works, waits, and tests until it dawns. In any case, Tolkien’s unconscious spontaneously threw forth this image, and the question becomes: why?
What did the intuition feel was missing in the story, what piece was needed at this point in the still-incomplete puzzle? It concerns a ball with magical abilities that evokes thoughts of witchcraft; it is thus a feminine image, within which one can glimpse the core of the matter, Sauron, whose expression is masculine. We will, as mentioned, return to Sauron as a symbol and thus the hermaphroditic nature of this abstract image in the darkest depths of the story, but we believe that what the intuition sought was to provide an opening for Aragorn to confront his main adversary. Without the palantír, Aragorn and Sauron would entirely lack a relationship, despite later in the story being leaders of opposing sides. We have seen that Galadriel herself revealed her current relationship with Sauron, followed by Gandalf, when reborn and clad by the increasingly distant Galadriel, symbolically establishing his current relationship with Sauron in conversation with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli in Fangorn. While Aragorn, as Isildur’s heir, has a historical relationship with Sauron, they lack a current relationship in the story. We know that Aragorn would never establish one were it not for the palantír. For the sake of balance and completeness, the intuition, so to speak, threw forth the palantír, created by Aragorn’s ancestors, from Orthanc, built by the Dúnedain; thereby allowing Aragorn to establish a current relationship with Sauron, as we will see.[6] A balance that would otherwise have been missing as the story progresses toward its fulfillment is thus established.
It is understandable that this mystical and powerful orb sparks fascination. As mentioned, Pippin has certain trickster traits – he jests, is occasionally ironic, curious, and follows impulses that are sometimes clever and sometimes foolish. It is likely these traits that make Pippin the one to reveal to us what the palantír is, by sneaking it away while Gandalf sleeps and stealing off to gaze into it. It becomes a terrifying experience. First, he sees the nine Ringwraiths, who are then replaced by Sauron himself (underscoring that the nine “are” him). The Dark Lord believes Pippin is Frodo, the Ring-bearer, captured by Saruman, and that the wizard, for some reason, is showing his prize to his dark master. Sauron says: “We shall meet again soon. Tell Saruman that this dainty is not for him. I will send for it at once.” When Pippin recounts his vision, Gandalf says that Sauron became too eager. “He wanted you, quickly, so that he could deal with you in the Dark Tower, slowly.” It is interesting that neither Sauron nor Gandalf mentions the Ring in connection with this experience; rather, as established, it is the one bearing the Ring that the Ringwraiths earlier, and now the Dark Lord, pursue.
Gandalf asks if Aragorn wishes to take the palantír, and he does, for “this assuredly is the palantír of Orthanc from the treasury of Elendil, set here by the Kings of Gondor. Now my hour draws near.” The wizard says the stone must be kept secret and that, above all, Pippin must not know where it is kept. “The evil fit may come on him again.” Pippin’s trickster side is not merely harmless – curiosity, jesting, and snooping – but also an entryway for more sinister impulses and actions. Loki, one of mythology’s most famous trickster figures, was something of a jester and truth-teller, but he also caused the death of the beloved Balder, Odin and Frigg’s son. Pippin cannot be defined as a trickster, but he has such traits, and under unfortunate circumstances, these can open the door to darker forces. Gandalf realizes this and thus says that Pippin must not be exposed to such temptations. But he also decides that Pippin should accompany him to Minas Tirith on the wind-swift Shadowfax, while the others continue to Edoras.
We ourselves proceed to Frodo and Sam, on the other side of the river.
Footnotes
[1] See, for example, Jung, "Concerning Rebirth", CW 9i, par. 225.
[2] See, for example, Jung, Two Essays on Analytical Psychology, par. 329.
[3] Stanza 137: "When ale thou drinkest, seek might of earth, For earth cures drink." "Project Gutenberg", https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/73533/pg73533-images.html, accessed November 9, 2025.
[4] Note how central Aragorn is to the story, even on a purely intuitive level.
[5] Tolkien, Letters, p. 217.
[6] In a letter Tolkien writes: "Gandalf's opposite was, strictly, Sauron, in one part of Sauron's operations; as Aragorn was in another." (Letters, p. 180.)