Who is Tom Bombadil?

This is one of the most persistent questions fans of Tolkien’s Middle Earth writings have.

Bombadil is likely the most enigmatic character in the entire Tolkien legendarium and there is much evidence that Tolkien preferred him that way. Tolkien resisted every attempt to pin Bombadil down or define him thoroughly simply seeing the character as “interesting” – an attribute that he felt was enough.

Still we see clues to something of him. The one ring appears to have no power or sway over Bombadil. Bombadil refers to himself as eldest. Some people seem to think this means he is Eru-Illuvator, the creator of all things. This is understandable but I think incorrect.

To be “eldest” implies a beginning to compare against others who are not eldest. Eru has no beginning…Eru is not eldest because Eru has no age to compare against others. Eru is always.

Some people consider Bombadil to be a personification of nature, a Maia on the order of Gandalf, Sauron, a Balrog etc. Others consider him one of the Valar, like Aule.

Personally I think Bombadil is the personification or manifestation of the Secret Fire.

“Therefore Ilúvatar gave to their vision Being, and set it amid the Void, and the Secret Fire was sent to burn at the heart of the World; and it was called Eä.”  – Valaquenta

The fact that Illuvator and the Valar sang the word into being and that Bombadil is famously at his most powerful while singing does not seem to be a coincidence to me. Bombadil is ultimately a creative force and not a destructive one. Nothing in the word seems to affect him however he seems to be able to effect the world.

Gandalf refers to himself as a servant of the Secret Fire and I like to think this means Gandalf is aware of the true nature of Bombadil as the creative force of Illuvator and thus, while not Illuvator, a reliable means for seeing Illuvator’s character and nature.

Whoever he is Tom Bombadil is one of the most interesting characters in fantasy literature and Tolkien was wise to remain vague about him.

The Song(s) of Tom Bombadil

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!Ring a dong! hop along! Fal lal the willow!Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling! Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling. Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight, Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight, There my pretty lady is, River-woman’s daughter, Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water. Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing? Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o! Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o! Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away! Tom’s in a hurry now. Evening will follow day. Tom’s going home again water-lilies bringing. Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?

Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle! Tom’s going on ahead candles for to kindle. Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping. When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open, Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow. Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow! Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you. Hey now! merry dol! We’ll be waiting for you!

Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties! Hobbits! Ponies all! We are fond of parties. Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together!

Now let the song begin! Let us sing together! Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather, Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather, Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather, Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water: Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow; Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.

I had an errand there: gathering water-lilies, green leaves and lilies white to please my pretty lady, the last ere the year’s end to keep them from the winter, to flower by her pretty feet till the snows are melted. Each year at summer’s end I go to find them for her, in a wide pool, deep and clear, far down the Withywindle; there they open first in spring and there they linger latest. By that pool long ago I found the River-daughter, fair young Goldberry sitting in the rushes. Sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating! And that proved well for you– for now I shall no longer go down deep again along the forest-water, not while the year is old. Nor shall I be passing Old Man Willow’s house this side of spring-time, not till the merry spring, when the River-daughter dances down the withy-path to bathe in the water.

Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo! By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow, By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us! Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow, Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow. None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master: His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.

Get out, you old wight! Vanish in the sunlight! Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing, Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains! Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty! Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness, Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.

Wake now my merry lads! Wake and hear me calling! Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen; Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken. Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open!

Hey! now! Come hoy now! Wither do you wander? Up, down, near or far, here, there or yonder? Sharp-ears, Wise-nose, Swish-tail and Bumpkin, White-socks my little lad, and old Fatty Lumpkin!

Tom’s country ends here: he will not pass the borders. Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting!