Chapter Text
“When they have read it, some readers will (I suppose) wish to ‘criticize’ it, and even to analyze it, and if that is their mentality they are, of course, at liberty to do these things – so long as they have first read it with attention throughout. Not that this attitude of mind has my sympathy: as should be clearly perceived in Vol. I p. 272: Gandalf: ‘He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.’ ”[1]
“And overbold I may be accounted, for though I have been a lover of fairy-stories since I learned to read, and have at times thought about them, I have not studied them professionally. I have been hardly more than a wandering explorer (or trespasser) in the land, full of wonder but not of information.”[2]
This essay is an analysis of character motivations in The Lord of the Rings (LotR),[3] distinguishing three broad categories of motivation: the renown-seeking, the political and the humane.
Down below, we’ll go into detail on what each of these entails and analyze how they apply to specific characters, with the greatest attention given to the tagged characters. For now, though, we’ll use the following definitions:
- The renown-seeking motivation covers the character’s pursuit of honor, glory, acclaim and the manner of immortality that can be won through fame. Characters with this motivation may wish to uphold their honor in reaction to (actual or threatened) injury, or they might proactively seek glory.
- The political motivation is the desire to defend a specific body politic, such as the character’s country. Loyalty to the character’s liege lord, kin or allies can also be considered forms of the political motivation.
- The humane motivation is a compassionate wish to nurture others or the natural environment, to protect them from violence or tyranny, and to ease the suffering of living beings.[4]
Characters can have several motivations, which might exert varying degrees of influence over them at different points in the story. They might also completely abandon (one of) their previous motivations or transition to a new one.
The meta also analyzes the heroic ideal of LotR, in part through the lens of character motivations, in part from other angles.
This chapter starts with a bit of groundwork. Tolkien’s academic career focused on Germanic languages and literature, and he’s given us a fair amount of commentary on the behavior of heroes in Old and Middle English poetry. A little familiarity with the heroic ideal reflected in these works—and Tolkien’s interpretation of it—is helpful for understanding LotR.
After that, we’ll move on to the main subject of this chapter, an analysis of Boromir’s character, his motivations and the heroic ideal he represents.
On War’s Anvil, Glory Seeking
LotR’s depiction of its characters’ motivations is influenced by the heroes featured in the poems Tolkien studied[5] and wrote.[6] In addition to martial prowess, the pursuit of honor, glory and renown is also central to the hero’s character in these works.[7]
Tolkien explains the role of renown-seeking in the story of the pagan Geatish hero Beowulf, who defeats the monster Grendel and Grendel’s mother in Denmark, then becomes king of his people before dying in a fight against a dragon:
“Beowulf ... does more than he need, eschewing weapons in order to make his struggle with Grendel a ‘sporting’ fight: which will enhance his personal glory; though it will put him in unnecessary peril, and weaken his chances of ridding the Danes of an intolerable affliction. But Beowulf has no duty to the Danes, he is still a subordinate with no responsibilities downwards; and his glory is also the honour of his side, of the Geatas; above all, as he himself says, it will redound to the credit of the lord of his allegiance, Hygelac.
“Yet ... the excess persists, even when he is an old king upon whom all the hopes of a people rest. He will not deign to lead a force against the dragon, as wisdom might direct even a hero to do; for, as he explains in a long ‘vaunt,’ his many victories have relieved him of fear. He will only use a sword on this occasion, since wrestling singlehanded with a dragon is too hopeless even for the chivalric spirit. But he dismisses his twelve companions.
“He is saved from defeat, and the essential object, [the] destruction of the dragon, [is] only achieved by the loyalty of a subordinate. Beowulf's chivalry would otherwise have ended in his own useless death, with the dragon still at large. As it is, a subordinate is placed in greater peril than he need have been, and though [the subordinate] does not pay the penalty of his master's [high spirit / pride] with his own life, the people lose their king disastrously. ...
“[Beowulf] wished for glory, or for a glorious death, and courted disaster.”[8]
Nevertheless, Beowulf is not reproached by the Christian poet who chronicled his adventures in the famous Old English epic poem of the same name. Only those warriors are criticized who failed to aid him. Beowulf himself is praised for being “the most gracious and fair-minded” of all kings and “kindest to his people,” but the poet’s literal last word on him is “lofgeornost”—meaning “keenest to win fame” or “most desirous of glory.” The word is not meant as a rebuke: on the contrary, it’s “the summit of the praise of the dead hero.”[9]
But why was Beowulf so desirous of glory? And why was this seen as a good thing?
The hero explains his reasoning in the poem:
“For every one of us, living in this world
means waiting for our death. Let whoever can
win glory before death. When a warrior is gone
that will be his best and only bulwark.”[10]
We can see from Beowulf’s words that his renown-seeking is connected to a sense of doom. He knows he will die, so he wants to immortalize himself through glorious deeds. These sentiments aren’t unique to him: they are part of the warrior culture that produced him, and that’s why no one condemns his glory-hounding. Within the context of warrior culture, acting in a manner perceived as honorable or glorious can seem as much an inevitable necessity as death itself, leading to a fatalistic outlook.
All this leads to the question of what exactly it means to be a glory-hound. Renown-seeking heroes, as defined here, actively desire and pursue honor, glory, fame, and the material manifestations of such social esteem, namely wealth and status. They consciously seek out the rewards that many storytellers (such as Tolkien) like to bestow on their heroes at the end of the story. They don’t just inadvertently become famous; they covet (immortal) fame, and this serves as a major motivation for their heroic deeds. That said, they act heroically even in the absence of witnesses, and they don’t pursue renown through corrupt means. It’s also worth noting that although we focus here on the Germanic tradition most closely studied by Tolkien, renown-seeking is (or was) a core heroic value in a wide variety of cultures.
So what must the renown-seeking hero do to actually win that renown? There are some common blueprints across traditions, such as getting revenge against someone who has wronged the hero (and thereby impinged his honor). More fantastical approaches usually involved defeating supernatural creatures, but that was hardly reproducible in real life by the ordinary warrior.
Germanic warrior culture had its own unique prescriptions about what counted as the ultimate “glorious” action. Inevitably, Ragnarök—a prophesied cataclysmic event in which many of the gods are slain in battle against monsters, and the world is consumed in fire and chaos—would be seen as the epitome of a glorious battle by Germanic warriors and poets. On this subject, Tolkien quotes another scholar:
“ ‘The Northern Gods,’ Ker said, ‘have an exultant extravagance in their warfare ...; only they are on the right side, though it is not the side that wins. The winning side is Chaos and Unreason’—mythologically, the monsters—‘but the gods, who are defeated, think that defeat no refutation.’ And in their war men are their chosen allies, able when heroic to share in this ‘absolute resistance, perfect because without hope.’ ”[11]
The absolute, hopeless resistance of the gods and their human allies against their monstrous opposition inspired a warrior code that glories in fighting a losing battle to the last. This can apply to some extent to Beowulf’s fight against the dragon, which he knew he wouldn’t survive, and which is heavily implied to result in disaster and death for his people. But the sentiment is best summed up in a different poem, the Old English fragment known as The Battle of Maldon, where we find “the clearest statement of the doctrine of uttermost endurance in the service of indomitable will”:
“Will shall be the sterner, heart the bolder,
spirit the greater as our strength lessens.”[12]
These lines, according to Tolkien, are “the finest expression of the northern heroic spirit,”[13] also called “Northern courage.”[14] Northern courage—as Tolkien saw it—is intrinsically tied not just to a sense of doom, but also to pride and the pursuit of glory (what we call here the renown-seeking motivation).
To understand why, let’s briefly look at the background of this poem.
The historical battle of Maldon, chronicled in the eponymous poem, was fought in 991 between Viking raiders and Anglo-Saxon defenders led by Beorhtnoth, Ealdorman of Essex.[15] According to Tolkien:
“The Northmen and the English were ... separated by an arm of the river; tilled by the incoming tide, it could only be crossed by a ‘bridge’ or causeway, difficult to force in the face of a determined defence. ... But the vikings knew ... what manner of a man they had to deal with: they asked for leave to cross the ford, so that a fair fight could be joined. Beorhtnoth accepted the challenge and allowed them to cross. This act of pride and misplaced chivalry proved fatal. Beorhtnoth was slain and the English routed; but the duke's ‘household,’ his heorðwerod, containing the picked knights and officers of his bodyguard, some of them members of his own family, fought on, until they all fell dead beside their lord.”[16]
Inspired by the historical event and the Old English poem,[17] Tolkien wrote a short play in verse, The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son, to which he added prose commentary.[18] Together, the play and the commentary help explain what Tolkien saw as the essence of Northern courage, and why he thought it couldn’t be separated from the desire for glory.
In Tolkien’s play, set during the aftermath of the defeat, two Englishmen retrieve Beorhtnoth’s body from the battlefield in a wagon. While doing so, one of them[19] has a dream or vision:
“It’s dark! It’s dark, and doom coming!
Is no light left us? A light kindle,
and fan the flame! Lo! Fire now wakens,
hearth is burning, house is lighted,
men there gather. Out of the mists they come
through darkling doors whereat doom waiteth.
Hark! I hear them in the hall chanting:
stern words they sing with strong voices.
(He chants) Heart shall be bolder, harder be purpose,
more proud the spirit as our power lessens!
Mind shall not falter nor mood waver,
though doom shall come and dark conquer.”
We can see here how Tolkien connects Northern courage to impending doom. The warriors in the dream are like the gods and their human allies during Ragnarök, fighting an unwinnable battle against the “outer darkness.” They are “at war with the hostile world” and will inevitably be overthrown. Yet they refuse to surrender. Their song is an “exaltation of undefeated will” and of indomitability.[20]
But to Tolkien, precisely because this indomitability seems so awe-inspiring, an element of pride and renown-seeking is inevitably introduced into it—and it may grow out of control:
“For this ‘northern heroic spirit’ is never quite pure; it is of gold and an alloy. Unalloyed it would direct a man to endure even death unflinching, when necessary: that is when death may help the achievement of some object of will, or when life can only be purchased by denial of what one stands for. But since such conduct is held admirable, the alloy of personal good name was never wholly absent. Thus Leofsunu in The Battle of Maldon holds himself to his loyalty by the fear of reproach if he returns home alive. This motive may, of course, hardly go beyond ‘conscience:’ self-judgement in the light of the opinion of his peers, to which the ‘hero’ himself wholly assents; he would act the same, if there were no witnesses. (Cf. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, 2127-31.)[21]
“Yet this element of pride, in the form of the desire for honour and glory, in life and after death, tends to grow, to become a chief motive, driving a man beyond the bleak heroic necessity to excess—to chivalry. ‘Excess’ certainly, even if it be approved by contemporary opinion, when it not only goes beyond need and duty, but interferes with it.”[22]
Like many others, Tolkien saw Beorhtnoth’s thanes as a prime example of Northern courage. They were motivated to uphold their loyalty to Beorhtnoth by fighting to the death to avenge him (political motivation)—but they were also concerned to uphold their honor in doing so (renown-seeking motivation).[23]
Summing up the above, we can identify the following elements of Northern courage:
- a situation where the hero’s defeat and death will be inevitable if he pursues his course; and
- the hero’s response to this doom, which is characterized by
- unyielding will, endurance and courage;
- stoic, fatalistic acceptance;
- the renown-seeking motivation (pride, desire for honor, glory and immortality), possibly mixed with the political motivation (loyalty to lord / kin / country, etc).
Northern courage isn’t synonymous with courage: it’s a particular brand of courage, and its constitutional elements are strongly interlinked.
The hero’s inevitable defeat and death are the backdrop that showcases his unyielding will. If there were a possibility of surviving or at least in death accomplishing his objective, then it would also be possible that his will would have been broken had his situation been more bleak. Only in defeat and death does the hero prove himself truly indomitable.
We’ve already discussed above why the renown-seeking motivation is never wholly absent. By contrast, Northern courage doesn’t involve a humane motive to sacrifice oneself to save others. Neither the Maldon poet nor Tolkien attributes any such motivation to any of the men of Beorhtnoth’s household, nor would this be in line with the fundamental hopelessness at the root of Northern courage.
Of course, Northern courage isn’t synonymous with the renown-seeking motivation either, in that it’s possible to seek glory in other ways, such as in situations where the hero need not completely despair of life and victory—Beowulf wrestling with Grendel is an example of this. But it’s certainly a notable manifestation of the renown-seeking motive in Old English poetry, and like many other aspects of these poems, it exerted some influence on LotR.
During the historical period Tolkien studied, the poetic depictions of heroes and their renown-seeking went through some development, but in some ways, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same:
“We have two poets that study at length the heroic and chivalrous ...: one near the beginning in Beowulf; one near the end in Sir Gawain. And probably a third, more near the middle, in Maldon, if we had all his work. It is not surprising that any consideration of the work of one of these leads to the others. Sir Gawain, the latest, is the most fully conscious, and is in plain intention a criticism or valuation of a whole code of sentiment and conduct .... Yet it is a poem with many inner likenesses to Beowulf .... Sir Gawain, as the exemplar of chivalry, is of course shown to be deeply concerned for his own honour, and though the things considered honourable may have shifted or been enlarged, loyalty to word and to allegiance, and unflinching courage remain.”[24]
Tolkien wrote his own interpretation of Arthur and his knights in The Fall of Arthur. In this poem, Arthur’s downfall is caused by an overambitious military campaign he starts out of pride and a desire for glory:
“... so burned his soul
after long glory for a last assay
of pride and prowess, to the proof setting
will unyielding in war with fate.”[25]
In summary, we can say that all the heroes of these poems—not just Beorhtnoth but also his thanes, as well as Beowulf, Arthur and Gawain—had a desire for honor, glory and renown that was, in itself, a motive.[26] Indeed, they sometimes even pursued these things at the risk of endangering their people or jeopardizing their other motives.
Before we move on, it’s important to make one more observation regarding Tolkien's attitude to the heroic ideal discussed above.
While Beowulf lived during pagan times, Beorhtnoth’s thanes were Christian (just like the Beowulf poet or Arthur and Gawain, for that matter). We see continuity in the warrior code, but undoubtedly, prideful, fatalistic glory-seeking is at odds with Christian doctrine on hope, salvation, faith, the soul’s immortality, the sinful nature of pride, etc. Lack of hope in particular animates the concepts of doom (or fate) and also Northern courage as a sense of the inevitability of death, decline and defeat.
Reconciling pagan Germanic fatalism with Christian hope was a concern for the authors of Old English poetry. Tolkien also wrestled with this issue in his own way: hope was important to him as a Christian virtue, and he even injected it into his retellings of pagan Germanic myth—into the Ragnarök prophecy itself, in fact. Thus, his New Lay of the Völsungs, nominally an attempt to organize and unify Edda material dealing with the Völsungs, contains a crucial deviation from the source. In Tolkien’s poem, the prophecy includes that a certain hero—Sigurd, obviously—can slay the monsters and save the world, and he becomes known as “Ódin’s hope.”[27]
“Ódin at times gives expression to this, saying that his hope looks out beyond the seeming disasters of this world. Though Ódin’s chosen come all to an evil end or untimely death, that will only make them of greater worth for their ultimate purpose in the Last Battle.”[28]
Thus, the spirit of the Ragnarök prophecy—the “pagan despair” over inevitable death, decline and defeat—is fundamentally changed and Christianized: evil can only conquer temporarily, but Good will ultimately triumph. “The special function of Sigurd is an invention of the present poet,” admitted Tolkien.[29]
A connection can be drawn here to Tolkien’s famous concept of eucatastrophe, which he describes as an essential feature of fairy-stories and fundamentally Christian in its optimism. He defines it as
“a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief."[30]
He considers the Resurrection the greatest eucatastrophe.[31]
It’s unsurprising then that in Tolkien’s Homecoming, the other character[32] criticizes his companion’s exaltation of Northern courage due to the hopeless and un-Christian nature of his words:
“... But your words are queer,
Torhthelm my lad, with your talk of wind
and doom conquering and a dark ending.
It sounded fey and fell-hearted,
and heathenish, too: I don’t hold with that.”[33]
LotR is strongly influenced by Old English poetry, but it alters the morality and outlook of those poems, amongst other things, by bringing in the Gospel-inspired eucatastrophe.[34] Whether the marriage is a happy one is up to the individual reader. One of the best examples in LotR of Tolkien’s tendency to tease concepts from Old English poetry but pull back from taking them to their conclusion is the assault on Minas Tirith. This battle represents the metaphysical notion of man’s precarious fortress under siege by the outer darkness,[35] but instead of the “inevitable Victory of death,” we get a eucatastrophe at the last minute.
On that note, let’s now look at character motivations and the heroic ideal of LotR, starting with Boromir.
A True Man
The broadest point to be made here about Boromir is that he starts off with a personality often encountered in heroic legend: he is a hero strong and valiant, driven by a mixture of the political and renown-seeking motivations, but not necessarily by wisdom. For the reasons set out above, Tolkien seems to have wanted to create a new type of hero, and this is evident, amongst other things, in Boromir’s character development.
Firstly, let’s look at Boromir’s personality at the start of the story, then we’ll go over the transformation in his character and motivations throughout the book.
the strongest must seek a way
One thing that is useful to establish about Boromir straight away for character analysis is that—like other Men of Gondor—he’s honest to a fault. He doesn’t lie: at worst, he doesn’t tell the full truth (and even helpfully admits to this fact). He keeps this habit when he talks to the Fellowship after he tries to take the Ring from Frodo; Sam successfully locates Frodo by realizing that
“Boromir isn’t lying, that’s not his way.”[36]
Boromir’s lack of guile is also apparent from how clearly he shows his “restlessness” and “doubt” by “muttering to himself, sometimes biting his nails.”[37]
It’s important to note that while Boromir is loved by his father and is seen as an aspirational figure by Gondorian society, nothing in the text suggests that his personality is a fake front designed to please others. Some people possess socially valued character traits. Throughout his life, Boromir encounters some very keen-eyed characters, noted for their almost preternatural ability to read people, and they all believe that Boromir is exactly as he presents himself. Individually, these characters can make mistakes of judgment, but Boromir can hardly have fooled all of them, and such an idea is never hinted at anywhere in the text, either (including in the Appendices, which rely on authorial “telling”).
Having established Boromir’s honesty and the authenticity of his personality, let’s look at that personality in more detail, including the aspects of it that made him vulnerable to the Ring.
In the Appendices, we are given the following summary of Boromir’s character:
“Boromir, [the eldest son], beloved by his father, was like him in face and pride, but in little else. Rather he was a man after the sort of King Eärnur of old, taking no wife and delighting chiefly in arms; fearless and strong, but caring little for lore, save the tales of old battles.”
Tolkien further implies, by way of comparison to Faramir, that Boromir sought “glory in danger without a purpose.”[38] This point may have been included because it’s fairly typical of the renown-seeking mythological hero: see Beowulf trying to 1v1 the dragon. However, in Boromir’s case, such an implication isn’t supported by the narrative.
Boromir’s fearlessness is indeed demonstrated several times throughout the novel.[39] Firstly, we have his lone “great journey from Gondor to Rivendell—the courage and hardihood required is not fully recognized in the narrative.”[40] Admittedly, he disturbs the “foul” pool rather recklessly,[41] and laughs during the escape from Moria, even as orcs spot the Company and arrows whistle past.[42] But he also objects strenuously to the Fellowship’s “perilous” travel itineraries through Moria and Lothlórien, expressing a preference for plain roads such as the one that goes through the Gap of Rohan.[43]
So Boromir can get a bit foolhardy in the moment, but he doesn’t seek danger without purpose: he very much has a purpose. But more on that later. For now, it should be noted that although Boromir’s fearlessness is certainly an asset to the Fellowship, it also doubles as a character flaw. Fear is the weapon of the Ringwraiths and Sauron in general, but it isn’t always portrayed as a bad thing: there’s a kind of “wise fear” in Tolkien’s writings.[44] Gandalf didn’t want to go to Middle-earth because he considered himself too weak and feared Sauron; he was told this is precisely what made him a good candidate.[45] He and others, such as Frodo or Sam, fear the Ring’s power, which helps them overcome its temptation. Faramir also rejects the Ring by saying he’s “wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee.”[46]
By contrast, Boromir’s lack of wisdom and his fearlessness mean he underestimates the danger of the corrupting power of the Ring:
“These elves and half-elves and wizards, they would come to grief perhaps. Yet often I doubt if they are wise and not merely timid. But each to his own kind. True-hearted Men, they will not be corrupted. We of Minas Tirith have been staunch through long years of trial. We do not desire the power of wizard-lords, only strength to defend ourselves, strength in a just cause. ... The fearless, the ruthless, these alone will achieve victory.”[47]
This lack of wise fear—which stems from pride—is typical of mythological heroes such as Sigurd, who carelessly and fatally dismisses Fáfnir’s warning to “flee” the cursed gold.[48]
Now let’s look at what Boromir would do with the Ring. These fancies are always specific to the character: Sam dreams of gardens, Gollum of fish and revenge, Faramir of proving his “quality,” Gandalf of aiding those he pities, etc. For Boromir, the fantasy goes like this:
“What could not a warrior do in this hour, a great leader? What could not Aragorn do? Or if he refuses, why not Boromir? The Ring would give me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!”[49]
We are then told that “he seemed to have forgotten Frodo, while his talk dwelt on walls and weapons, and the mustering of men; and he drew plans for great alliances and glorious victories to be; and he cast down Mordor, and became himself a mighty king, benevolent and wise.”[50]
We can see the political and renown-seeking motivations at play here, which we’ll get to in a moment, but these words are notable for other reasons too.
It’s understandable for Boromir (or anyone else) to presume that it would take a great military leader to defeat Sauron, and that, given the attitudes of Gondorian society, such a leader would need to be a strong warrior of “high” descent. But these are not the moral truths of LotR, whose themes include the exaltation and ennoblement of the “unknown,” and “weak” and “humble.”[51] One of Boromir’s vulnerabilities stems from this misalignment between his worldview and LotR’s values, so let’s take a closer look at the issue.
Boromir, by virtue of being the eldest son of the current Ruling Steward, is Captain-General of Gondor. Accounted the “best man in Gondor,”[52] he displays many qualities of a good commander: he’s “hardy in toil,” “onward in battle.”[53] Pippin sees him as both kindly and lordly—and likes and admires him for these qualities.[54] Similarly to how Boromir aids his Hobbit companions during the Quest, we’re told that he was "the helper and protector of Faramir” during their childhood.[55] But the reason Tolkien provides for the lack of any rivalry between the brothers is also revealing:
“It did not seem possible to Faramir that anyone in Gondor could rival Boromir, heir of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower; and of like mind was Boromir.”[56]
For what it’s worth, in the draft of a letter to a reader, Tolkien also calls Boromir a “bossy” brother.[57] He further claims that Boromir’s bossiness, combined with the attitude of their “stern proud father of great force of character,” resulted in accustoming Faramir to “giving way and not giving his own opinions air.”[58] Such drafts shouldn’t be given too much weight, but in this particular case, the bossy comment does tally with Gandalf’s view of Boromir as a “masterful man.” The wizard makes this assertion with regard to Boromir claiming the Rivendell errand, overcoming both resistance from Denethor to the entire adventure and Faramir’s bid to be chosen for the task himself.[59]
During this dispute with his brother, Boromir trumps down with being “the older and the hardier,” a reasoning Faramir accepts.[60] Faramir is 35 at this point, so the issue isn’t that he’s objectively too young, just that he’s the younger son. In Gondor, as in many premodern societies, siblings are not equal by law or custom: there’s a hierarchy between them, topped by the eldest son, who has rights and privileges that his siblings don’t. Both Boromir and Faramir appear to have understood their relationship within this social framework.
So Boromir is comfortable in his role as a warrior and a leader and also believes it would take this kind of man to defeat Sauron. This is significant for two reasons. First, although Frodo is brave and has certain leadership capabilities, he doesn’t meet these criteria in Boromir’s eyes. Secondly, the Ring gives power of Command to the wearer,[61] which is more tempting to some than to others: thus, Gandalf explicitly connects Boromir’s vulnerability to the Ring to him being “a warrior, and a lord of men.”[62] For someone like him, the Ring’s temptation was, as Faramir put it, too sore a trial.[63] Sam’s hobbit-sense recognizes his fantasies of “armies flocking to his call” as a bit ridiculous. [64] But it’s not ridiculous to Boromir, who is already Captain of Gondor’s forces—with a long-standing ambition to be possibly more.
Faramir relates this anecdote about his brother:
“And this I remember of Boromir as a boy, when we together learned the tale of our sires and the history of our city, that always it displeased him that his father was not king. ‘How many hundreds of years needs it to make a steward a king, if the king returns not?’ he asked. ‘Few years, maybe, in other places of less royalty,’ my father answered. ‘In Gondor ten thousand years would not suffice.’ Alas! poor Boromir. Does that not tell you something of him?”[65]
The seeds of the idea of becoming king were present in Boromir from childhood. This ambition was discouraged by Denethor, but enough of it remained alive in Boromir, at least in a dormant state. In truth, to a reader less emotionally attached to the hereditary principle than Tolkien, Boromir’s stance during this conversation is quite rational. There wasn’t even a claimant to Gondor’s throne at this time (or for the past thousand years). Still, Tolkien could form Gondorian attitudes to kingship in his own image, and he did so. Thus, within the framework of the story, the differing attitudes of father and son stem from the fact that Denethor is prideful but “wise also, and far-sighted, and learned in lore,”[66] while Boromir is equally prideful, but we’re clearly meant to think he lacks wisdom and learning.[67]
Boromir, however, is also more amiable and easier to win over than his intransigent father, leading him to have a fairly cordial relationship with Aragorn.[68] Nevertheless, Faramir does believe that—for all that his brother would reverence an heir of Elendil—Boromir’s attitude towards Aragorn may have changed if the two men had reached Minas Tirith, and the “pinch had come,” turning the former traveling companions into “rivals.”[69]
It should be noted that Faramir isn’t taking the influence of the Ring into account here, or in anything else he says about his brother before finding out that the “thing” is the One Ring. At this point in the conversation, he knows little to nothing of the nature or powers of the “thing”: he isn’t even sure if it would be useful in winning battles.
This finally brings us to Faramir’s comment about his brother’s purpose and motivations (namely, the political and renown-seeking motivation):
“If it were a thing that gave advantage in battle, I can well believe that Boromir, the proud and fearless, often rash, ever anxious for the victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein), might desire such a thing and be allured by it.”[70]
So in a work that morally favors the “reluctant hero,”[71] Boromir wants to be the one who saves his country, and actively “delights in arms.”[72]
In later chapters on different characters, we’ll go into the assessment of the political motivation, but for the purposes of this chapter, Boromir’s patriotism needs no defense or explanation. Regarding the pursuit of glory, this was (as explained above at length) a standard motivation for pagan warriors and Christian knights alike for hundreds of years in myth and poetry.[73] Even today, many people desire fame, and this aspiration is socially encouraged in certain contexts. But without a doubt, times have changed, and the renown-seeking motive is no longer fashionable.
This, however, should not lead us astray in assessing Boromir’s character, either by denying that he has this motivation or denouncing him as “evil” for it. Tolkien’s work is steeped in ancient poetry where glory-hounding heroes abound (though these weren't Tolkien’s values). Boromir is presented in the text as a type, which is why he is explicitly compared to King Eärnur.[74] The key elements of his personality—delight in arms; pride; fearlessness; honesty and loyalty; desire for honor and glory; dignity and nobility of manners; assertive, “masterful” disposition; kindly and protective attitude towards those in his care; lack of interest in the arts or marriage—form a fully cohesive whole, modeled on the heroes of old, but capable of development in a direction more aligned with Tolkien’s values.[75]
So to sum up, Boromir is vulnerable to the Ring for the following reasons: his pride and lack of “wise fear,” his status as a warrior and lord of men, his overvaluation of strength, his latent desire to be King, and his very much active, long-standing desire to be the hero who saves his country.
strange paths
Boromir’s positive character arc is fairly orthodox. He makes bad choices in pursuit of his wants, driven by his flaws, creating a disaster of his own making. At that darkest moment, he sees the error of his ways and proves he is a changed man by making a sacrifice in a high-stakes confrontation. A textbook way to handle character development, but it’s a tried-and-true formula for a reason and can be quite cathartic for the reader.
When we first meet Boromir during the Council of Elrond, he is keenly aware of the dire straits his country is in, but has by no means given up hope:
“Long yet will [Sauron’s march in power to the North] be delayed .... Gondor wanes, you say. But Gondor stands, and even the end of its strength is still very strong.”[76]
Boromir immediately raises the possibility of using the Ring against Sauron. When Elrond and Gandalf reject this idea, he isn’t thrilled by their answer but accepts it, trusting in part in the weapons Gondor already has, and in part in the Sword-that-was-Broken, which featured in the prophecy. [77] Aragorn commits to taking Andúril to Minas Tirith, and the two set out, accompanying the other members of the Fellowship, who are heading for Mount Doom.
Boromir has debates with Gandalf and Aragorn over going to Moria and Lothlórien. He eventually pronounces the route through Moria preferable because “[t]he wolf that one hears is worse than the orc that one fears,”[78] but he maintains his objections to Lothlórien.
In Lothlórien, Galadriel declares that “hope remains while all the Company is true,” and proceeds to test that assumption.[79] Each member of the Fellowship feels that he is offered
“a choice between a shadow full of fear that lay ahead, and something that he greatly desired: clear before his mind it lay, and to get it he had only to turn aside from the road and leave the Quest and the war against Sauron to others.”[80]
Boromir doesn’t reveal what Galadriel tempted him with, but he claims he “refused to listen. The Men of Minas Tirith are true to their word.”[81] After this, he starts exhibiting obvious signs of internal conflict.[82] Several times later in the novel, Boromir’s issues are explicitly traced to Lothlórien, where he supposedly “first saw ... what he wanted.”[83]
In addition to the vision he saw in Lothlórien, several other events likely pushed Boromir in the direction of trying to claim the Ring: the nearing of the point where his road diverges from the others, the protracted uncertainty and conflict over what to do after Gandalf’s death, the likeliness that Aragorn will break his promise to take Andúril to Gondor (voiding Boromir’s lengthy Rivendell errand),[84] as well as witnessing the “weakness” of the Ringbearer and Aragorn’s flawed leadership. These factors help explain why the issue suddenly manifested at the precise time it did, resulting in a disaster a mere ten days after a four-month-long problem-free period.
Prolonged proximity to the Ring no doubt contributed as well, but the degree of supernatural “compulsion” shouldn’t be overstated. Faramir pretty much guesses the entire story without knowing about the One Ring’s involvement, and this limits the extent to which Boromir’s troubles can be blamed on parapsychological influences.[85]
It’s also worth noting that—his doubts about Frodo aside—Boromir’s main problem isn’t a loss of all faith in victory. Despair is the cause of Denethor’s downfall rather than Boromir’s, who doesn’t resemble Denethor much [86] and whose case represents in the story not the dangers of losing all hope but of the ambition to achieve greatness and “do good” using the Ring.
Boromir has certain character traits that make him vulnerable to the temptation of claiming the Ring, and a series of external events pushes him over the edge. It should be noted, though, that during his conversation with Frodo, his desire for the Ring becomes so overpowering that it prevails over all other aspects of his personality, which can be reasonably deemed a form of temporary madness. He breaks his word and bullies Frodo: very out of character on both points. There’s almost a horror atmosphere to this scene as Boromir, who had been a loyal and valiant companion, turns on Frodo, at first attempting to cajole him, then springing on his smaller friend and shouting abuse, his “fair and pleasant face ... hideously changed.”[87]
by moon or by starlight
Boromir falls helping Merry and Pippin and fighting orcs, in line with how he has been portrayed so far. But his actions before his death nevertheless represent a significant change in his character and motivations.
Boromir didn’t have to die in a minor skirmish, with seemingly little historical significance, in an unsuccessful attempt to protect two random Hobbits. He could have said that he was needed for greater things in Gondor’s war against Sauron, that people there were counting on him, and he had a duty to return to them. There would have been some truth to this, but it wouldn’t have been the thematic truth of the story. He instead lets go of his desire to achieve glory by saving Gondor in favor of trying to protect Merry and Pippin.
There’s a parallel here to Gandalf in Moria, as we will see in a later chapter. Gandalf has been sent to Middle-earth with four others to oppose Sauron, but by Moria, he at least knows of no other who remained active in this role. Yet he chooses to give up his life to save his companions—rejecting the prideful notion that he is special and indispensable for victory against Sauron. Similarly, it’s humbling for Boromir that he must entrust the task of saving his people to someone else.
Arguably, there’s also a message in LotR of concentrating on what needs to be done in the now, rather than abandoning current duties in the hope of good that can supposedly be done later, or out of fear of what will happen later, or by losing oneself in abstractions. We see this not just with the deaths of Boromir and Gandalf but also at other points, such as Sam’s “mirror temptation” or his decision to prioritize protecting Frodo’s “corpse.”
In a work that emphasizes the importance of mercy, pity and forgiveness, it’s thematically important to show a successful redemption instead of just tragic failed attempts as with Gollum. We can also detect a religious undertone in how Tolkien handles Boromir’s contrition: he immediately feels remorse, but initially hides his actions from the Fellowship. The redemption arc is closed with his confession and asking for forgiveness.
There can be little doubt that Tolkien indeed considered Boromir redeemed by his death in defense of Merry and Pippin. The elegy he composed for the character is one of the most moving poems in the work.[88] Gandalf also says of him:
“Poor Boromir! ... But he escaped in the end. I am glad. It was not in vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir’s sake.”[89]
And Gandalf is right to be compassionate towards Boromir: he had been tried far harsher than most LotR characters.
That said, while Tolkien’s starting point for Boromir seems fairly clear, the endpoint is slightly more ambiguous. The fact that we don’t see Boromir’s point of view before his death is limiting in this respect. We could say he tried to save Merry and Pippin because they were two defenseless people needing protection against an orc attack, or because he wanted to redeem himself in his own eyes or that of the Company, or because he felt a duty of loyalty to them as members of the Fellowship, or because he would have considered it dishonorable to abandon them and flee the orcs.
Nevertheless, there is clearly a renunciation of pride in his last moments: in his confession and contrition, his perception of himself as someone who “failed,” and his abandonment of all hope of personal glory in the salvation of Gondor, leaving only a selfless wish for the good of his country. As such, he definitely moves away from the old heroic ideal towards the one championed in LotR.
The fact that Boromir dies without managing to protect Merry and Pippin also brings Northern courage to mind, since—for the reasons explained above—Northern courage is all about the glorious defeat. But although Tolkien was obviously attracted to Northern courage, it isn’t the moral ideal of LotR. Hope is a central virtue in LotR, yet it is at odds with the authentic character of Northern courage, while the pridefulness inherent in Northern courage is at odds with LotR. Boromir’s death is about rejecting pride and renown-seeking, and there’s also a hopeful note to his end, no matter how tragic. His death is therefore not a fully faithful representation of Northern courage but an attempt to salvage as much of the concept’s attraction and positive aspects as possible while aligning it with Tolkien’s moral ideals.[90]
Still, an argument can be made that Boromir’s death in battle in his prime years accords better with the sentiments of the old poets than the humane values Tolkien sought to introduce into his work. [91] Admittedly, not clinging vainly to life is important in a work concerned with death and decay. But the “redemption through death” route does also mean that Boromir retains one of the defining aspects of the old hero: he’s immortalized through a glorious, violent death right after his crowning moment. Sad songs are sung of his heroic demise by those he left behind. He never becomes a “has been,” never loses his strength and good looks, or suffers the indignity of having to adjust to a new reality less congenial to his talents.[92]
The Old English poem The Wanderer focuses on the sorrow of a character who has outlived his glory days; all that’s left to him now is to fade away as he laments his life without heroic deeds or the companionship of his fellow warriors:
“Where has the horse gone? where is the rider? where is the giver of gold?
Where are the seats of the feast? where are the joys of the hall?
O the bright cup! O the brave warrior!
O the glory of princes! How the time passed away,
slipped into nightfall as if it had never been!”[93]
Tolkien used this passage as the inspiration for a song about Eorl the Young. But of course, this very issue of dying a warrior’s death while young, as well as the character arc in general, is handled pretty differently with our Rohirric “case study,” Éowyn. She will be the focus of the next chapter.
Endnotes
[1] The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Humphrey Carpenter (Letters), 329 draft of a letter to Peter Szabó Szentmihályi
[2] J.R.R. Tolkien: On Fairy-Stories
[3] Page numbers cited refer to the 50th Anniversary HarperCollinsPublishers 2005 edition
[4] Obviously, this isn’t a comprehensive list of all motivations fictional characters can have; these are just the types most relevant for this LotR analysis.
[5] E.g., Beowulf, The Battle of Maldon, The Battle of Brunanburh, The Seafarer, The Wanderer, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the Poetic Edda
[6] E.g,. The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son, The Fall of Arthur, The New Lay of the Völsungs, The New Lay of Gudrún
[7] “Worship” is another related word used in some texts, including Tolkien’s own The New Lay of the Völsungs (“Wealth and worship / would wait on thee, / if thou durst to deal / with its dragon master.”) Its opposite is “disworship” (“When Sir Gawain heard these words, he was sore displeased, and said, ‘Fair lady, me repenteth that ever I took upon me this quest; for it shall be great disworship to me to die in this quest ....’ ” Sir Thomas Malory: Le Morte d'Arthur)
[8] J.R.R. Tolkien: The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son (Homecoming), Part Three (Ofermod). Tolkien’s assessment of Beowulf’s reasons for fighting Grendel barehanded can be questioned, as swords tended to fail Beowulf (2682-2686 in Heaney; see also 1522-1528, 2584-2586), though it’s not clear that this was his reason for renouncing the use of weapons against Grendel. In any case, his insistence on fighting the dragon alone indeed seems like an unnecessary excess.
[9] J.R.R. Tolkien: Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics (Monsters)
[10] Beowulf, translated by Seamus Heaney, 1387-1390. Renown-seeking is hardly unique to the Germanic warrior code: the pursuit of honor and reputation is central to the hero’s standing in many cultures, see e.g. the role of κλέος (renown, glory) in the ancient Greek heroic ideal. But we concentrate here on what can be presumed to be Tolkien’s primary influences.
[11] Monsters. Even with regard to the death of Beowulf, who had nominally won his fight against the dragon, Tolkien writes: “Disaster is foreboded. Defeat is the theme. Triumph over the foes of man's precarious fortress is over, and we approach slowly and reluctantly the inevitable Victory of death. ... That the particular bearer of enmity, the Dragon, also dies is important chiefly to Beowulf himself. He was a great man. Not many even in dying can achieve the death of a single worm, or the temporary salvation of their kindred. ... But there is no hint, indeed there are many to the contrary, that it was a war to end war, or a dragon-fight to end dragons. It is the end of Beowulf, and of the hope of his people.”
[12] Tolkien’s translation, Homecoming, Part One (The Death of Beorhtnoth).
[13] Homecoming, Part Three (Ofermod). He also maintains that these lines are likely not original to the character who speaks them in the poem, but “an ancient and honoured expression of heroic will.”
[14] What does “Northern” mean? In one of his letters, Tolkien wrote: “Not Nordic, please! A word I personally dislike; it is associated, though of French origin, with racialist theories. Geographically Northern is usually better.” (Letters, 294 To Charlotte and Denis Plimmer) But he doesn’t say what counts as Northern geographically.
I had a theory that “Northern” may have been intentionally used to also include Finnish (possibly even Celtic) alongside Germanic, but so far, I couldn’t substantiate this. “Northern,” at least as used by Tolkien in this context, seems to be a frustratingly vague synonym for Germanic, possibly “necessitated” by the two wars against Germany during Tolkien’s lifetime.
Tolkien seemed to apply the concepts of Northern courage and Northern heroic spirit to Germanic warriors in particular. In Monsters, he draws a contrast between Northern and Southern mythologies, apparently meaning Germanic and Greco-Roman (the “Classics”): “But we will now return once more to the monsters, and consider especially the difference of their status in the northern and southern mythologies. Of Grendel it is said: Godes yrre bær [bore God’s wrath]. But the Cyclops is god-begotten and his maiming is an offence against his begetter, the god Poseidon. ... In the southern myths there is also rumour of wars with giants and great powers not Olympian .... But [the] ruling gods are not besieged, not in ever-present peril or under future doom.”
In his lecture on the Elder Edda (included in The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún), he uses “Germanic spirit” as a concept related to Northern courage: “To a large extent the spirit of these poems which has been regarded as (a branch of) the common ‘Germanic spirit’ – in which there is some truth: Byrhtwold at Maldon would do well enough in Edda or Saga – is really the spirit of a special time.”
“Germanic” and “Northern” may also be synonyms in this letter: “I have spent most of my life, since I was your age, studying Germanic matters (in the general sense that includes England and Scandinavia). There is a great deal more force (and truth) than ignorant people imagine in the 'Germanic' ideal. I was much attracted by it as an undergraduate (when Hitler was, I suppose, dabbling in paint, and had not heard of it), in reaction against the 'Classics'. ... I know better than most what is the truth about this 'Nordic' nonsense. Anyway, I have in this War a burning private grudge – which would probably make me a better soldier at 49 than I was at 22: against that ruddy little ignoramus Adolf Hitler .... Ruining, perverting, misapplying, and making for ever accursed, that noble northern spirit, a supreme contribution to Europe, which I have ever loved, and tried to present in its true light. Nowhere, incidentally, was it nobler than in England, nor more early sanctified and Christianized.” (Letters, 45, To Michael Tolkien).
[15] Old English “Byrhtnoð,” composed of beorht (bright) and noþ (courage). Multiple spellings exist for his name. Byrhtnoth seems most standard, but Tolkien used Beorhtnoth and the Wilfred Berridge translation of The Battle of Maldon that I use in the footnotes went with Brithnoth. I aligned with Tolkien’s spelling since I quote him a lot.
[16] Homecoming, Part One (The Death of Beorhtnoth). It’s Tolkien’s interpretation of this poem and its heroes that’s relevant to this essay, but for the sake of completeness, it should be noted that Tolkien’s assessment may have been wrong. The Vikings in question were raiders; nothing tied them to Maldon. No doubt they had their own pride and preferred not to run away, but if Tolkien thought that the Vikings would have continued the fight until the three thanes guarding the causeway had killed them all, then he attributed too much “chivalry” to a bunch of pirates. Beorhtnoth himself was the one who originally set the guards over the ford, but had he completely denied the Vikings passage over the causeway, they would have just sailed away and raided a less well-defended part of “the realm of Æthelred.” Of course, it’s still possible that Beorhtnoth granted more ground than was necessary to have a chance at defeating his country’s enemies in battle, and that he did so out of pride, or to make the battle “sporting” or more glorious. But Tolkien contends that the only reason to grant any ground at all was “chivalry.” This is debatable for the reasons above and also because chivalry is a code of conduct usually thought to have been developed at the turn of the 12th and 13th centuries, while Beorhtnoth died in 991 AD.
[17] Specifically this line: ða se eorl ongan for his ofermode alyfan landes to fela laþere ðeode. Ker translated this as “then the earl of his overboldness granted ground too much to the hateful people.” Berridge’s translation is “Then did the earl, in his overweening heart / Lend land too much to that loathed people.” Due to his take on Beorhtnoth, mentioned above, Tolkien preferred a more severe translation: “then the earl in his overmastering pride actually yielded ground to the enemy, as he should not have done.” This translation is less faithful: the whole “as he should not have done” line was made up by Tolkien. His reasoning: “[The original Old English lines] are in fact of severe criticism, though not incompatible with loyalty, and even love. Songs of praise at Beorhtnoth’s funeral may well have been made of him, not unlike the lament of the twelve princes for Beowulf; but they too may have ended on the ominous note struck by the last word of the greater poem: lofgeornost ‘most desirous of glory.’ ”
[18] The work, originally published in Essays and Studies by Members of the English Association, has three parts. Part one, “The Death of Beorhtnoth,” is a short essay that provides Tolkien’s interpretation of the historical event, as well as his thoughts on the Old English poem and his alliterative play. Part two is Tolkien’s poem/play itself. Part three is another essay, titled “Ofermod.” It broaches several topics, such as the translation of the titular word, Beorhtnoth’s character, the relationship between him and his thanes, Northern courage as represented by the thanes and comparisons to Beowulf.
[19] “Torhthelm (colloquially Totta) is a youth, son of a minstrel; his head is full of old lays concerning the heroes of northern antiquity, such as Finn, King of Frisia; Fróda of the Hathobards; Béowulf; and Hengest and Horsa, traditional leaders of the English Vikings in the days of Vortigern (called by the English Wyrtgeorn).” Homecoming, Part One (The Death of Beorhtnoth)
[20] Monsters
[21] This is the final confrontation between Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Gawain has arrived at the Green Chapel to fulfill his promise of receiving a return blow from the Green Knight, which was part of the grotesque “beheading game” started at King Arthur’s court a year earlier during Christmas. Gawain of course does not expect to survive getting beheaded, but he tries to face his death with dignity, though there are no witnesses present.
[22] Homecoming, Part Three (Ofermod)
[23] This is how the narrator and the thanes themselves explain their motivations in Maldon (translation by Berridge):
Aelfwin: “Nor shall the thanes mid the people reproach me, / That I would consent to flee from this fight, / My home to seek, now my lord lieth low, / Slain in the strife; but yet it most grieves me / For that he was both - my kinsman and my lord.”
Leofsund: “I do promise this, that I will not hence / Fly a foot's step, but shall further go / To avenge in the war my friendly lord. / Then shall not need in Sturmere the steadfast soldiers / To twit me with words, now my friend is fall'n, / For that I returned home without my lord, / Turned from the battle, but the sword shall take me, / The point and the steel. ... Brithnoth avenge! / Now may not go he who thinketh to avenge / His friend among the folk, nor mourn for his life.”
Eadward: “Then yet in the rank stood Eadward the tall, / Ready and eager - a boastful word spoke, / That he would not flee a foot's space of land, / Or budge back, now that his better chief was fall'n. / He shattered the shield wall and fought with the soldiers / Until he his treasure-giver upon the seamen / Had worthily avenged - 'ere he lay with the slain.”
Offa: “Soon in the struggle was Offa struck down / Yet had he done what he boasted to his friend / As he bragged before to his ring-giver:- / That they both to the burg should ride / Hale to their home, or in the battle fall, / On the war field perish of their wounds. / He fell like true thane at his chief's side.”
Brythwold: “Thought must be the harder, heart the keener / Spirit shall be more - as our might lessens. / There lies our chief all cut down, / Good man on the ground; for ever may he grieve / Who now from this war-play thinketh to go. / I am old in years - hence I will not, / But by the side of mine own lord, / By my chief so loved, I think to lie."
Narrator: “Then went forth the proud thanes, / Brave men - hastened eagerly, / And willed they all - for one of two things: / Their lives to lose, or their loved lord to avenge.”
“Then was fighting nigh, / Fame in the fight - now was the hour come / When that the feymen must fall.”
“They stood steadfast; Brithnoth stirred them, / Bade each of his men intend to the strife / That would from the Danes win glory.”
“And then they went forth - for life they recked not.”
[24] Homecoming, Part Three (Ofermod). Arthur and Gawain were Britons, but many European peoples contributed to Arthurian literature, and Tolkien wrote The Fall of Arthur in Old English alliterative verse.
[25] We also have this quote on Gawain, with echoes of Northern courage: “Greatest was Gawain, whose glory waxed / as times darkened, true and dauntless, / among knights peerless ever anew proven, / defence and fortress of a falling world.” Overall, however, Tolkien’s interpretation of Gawain is arguably more negative than that of other poets. In Layamon’s poem Brut, a character declares: “for never loved I long peace in my land,” and is reproached by Gawain. Tolkien’s Gawain is himself so “battle eager” that he doesn’t notice Mordred’s deception.
[26] Homecoming, Part Three (Ofermod). Never mind men, even horses can be glory-seekers: “Greyfell Grani, / glory seeking, / leaped the lightning / lightning-sinewed.” The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, The New Lay of the Völsungs
[27] “If in day of Doom / one deathless stands, / who death hath tasted / and dies no more, / the serpent-slayer, / seed of Ódin, / then all shall not end, / nor Earth perish. / On his head shall be helm, / in his hand lightning, / afire his spirit, / in his face splendour. / The Serpent shall shiver / and Surt waver, / the Wolf be vanquished / and the world rescued.” The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, The New Lay of the Völsungs, Upphaf, 14-15
[28] The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, Notes on the poems by the author
[29] The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, Commentary on The New Lay of the Völsungs
[30] On Fairy-stories, 99.
[31] “... I coined the word 'eucatastrophe': the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears (which I argued it is the highest function of fairy-stories to produce). And I was there led to the view that it produces its peculiar effect because it is a sudden glimpse of Truth, your whole nature chained in material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back. It perceives – if the story has literary 'truth' on the second plane ... – that this is indeed how things really do work in the Great World for which our nature is made. And I concluded by saying that the Resurrection was the greatest 'eucatastrophe' possible in the greatest Fairy Story – and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love. Of course I do not mean that the Gospels tell what is only a fairy-story; but I do mean very strongly that they do tell a fairy-story: the greatest. Man the story-teller would have to be redeemed in a manner consonant with his nature: by a moving story. But since the author of it is the supreme Artist and the Author of Reality, this one was also made to Be, to be true on the Primary Plane.” Letters, 89 To Christopher Tolkien
[32] “Tidwald (in short Tída) was an old ceorl, a farmer who had seen much fighting in the English defence-levies.” Homecoming, Part One (The Death of Beorhtnoth). Tída is less influenced by the pagan Germanic heroic tradition than Totta and is more Christian.
[33] Fey = marked by an apprehension of death, fated to die, doomed; fell = ferocious, savage
[34] It should be noted that even according to the Ragnarök prophecy, the world will eventually be reborn, which could reflect a pagan belief but may also result from Christian influences, especially given the tone of judgment. In any case, in the original Edda version, the current world and its familiar figures (such as the major gods) will be irrevocably destroyed during Ragnarök. This is in contrast to Tolkien’s version, where they can be saved.
As mentioned, the authors of Old English poetry (Beowulf, The Wanderer, The Seafarer, etc.) also tried to blend pagan fatalism with Christian salvation. But unlike Tolkien, they didn’t generally do it by introducing happy plot twists and endings to create joy: they tended to maintain a melancholic tone. Tolkien’s approach to reconciling the pagan cultural inheritance with Christianity differs from early Christian writers, and his unique focus on happy turns in the external plot may owe as much to his love of fairy tales as to his religious beliefs.
[35] Monsters
[36] p. 405
[37] p. 382
[38] p. 1056
[39] I know Tolkien didn’t like this word, but I think LotR is a novel, so I will call it that with apologies to the Professor. “Heroic romance” doesn’t roll off the keyboard the same way.
[40] J.R.R. Tolkien: Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth (UT), The History of Galadriel and Celeborn and of Amroth King of Lórien
[41] p. 307
[42] p. 329
[43] pp. 296, 338. Of course, these only qualify as roads—never mind plain roads—in comparison to Moria.
[44] Tom Bombadil “has no fear” (p. 124), but he also isn’t considered a sensible or reliable person by Gandalf and co. Thank you to bunmakethbread for pointing out that a parallel can be drawn between "wise fear" and the fear of God, and that God is even referred to as the fear of Isaac in Genesis 31. (“Except the God of my father, the God of Abraham, and the fear of Isaac, had been with me, surely thou hadst sent me away now empty.”)
[45] UT, The Istari
[46] p. 681
[47] p. 398
[48] “O son of Sigmund! / sooth I tell thee: / my guarded gold / gleams with evil, / bale it bringeth / to both my foes. ... Fools! saith Fáfnir – / with fate of woe / this gold is glamoured. / Grasp not! Flee thou!’” Although Fáfnir may well have revealed the existence of the curse to guard the gold even past his own death, the curse was still very much real. The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, The New Lay of the Völsungs, Regin 33
[49] p. 398
[50] Ibid
[51] “The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.” (p. 269)
“Here we meet, among other things, the first example of the motive (to become dominant in Hobbits) that the great policies of world history, ‘the wheels of the world,’ are often turned not by the Lords and Governors, even gods, but by the seemingly unknown and weak.” Letters, 131 To Milton Waldman
“[A] person of greater native power [than Frodo] could probably never have resisted the Ring’s lure to power so long.” Letters, 181 To Michael Straight, draft
“[T]he main narrative ... is planned to be ‘hobbito-centric,’ that is, primarily a study of the ennoblement (or sanctification) of the humble.” Ibid.
[52] p. 679
[53] Ibid.
[54] p. 810. The Ring Goes South chapter shows many instances of Boromir aiding the Hobbits.
[55] p. 1056
[56] p. 1057
[57] Letters, 244 From a draft to a reader of The Lord of the Rings
[58] Ibid.
[59] p. 246, p. 755.
[60] p. 671
[61] Albeit only to sufficiently powerful wearers who have trained their will “to the domination of others” (p. 366)
[62] p. 496
[63] p. 681
[64] p. 901
[65] p. 670
[66] p. 1055
[67] The stewards never made a claim to Gondor’s throne, being content to rule in practice, but they were actually descended from King Elros (presumably through Silmariën and later Anárion). Tolkien noted that Húrin of Emyn Arnen was a kinsman of King Minardil, or he would never have been given such authority (exercise royal power in the king’s absence, assist in determining the heir to the throne, etc). Boromir didn’t inherit Denethor’s more substantive Númenórean character traits, but he did have his father's looks. These indicated their royal descent through such characteristics as being uncommonly tall and naturally beardless—an enduring trait in men with Elvish ancestors, though it may have lapsed in the line of the stewards until the reappearance of the Númenórean “strain” in Denethor. (Boromir was also descended from the Sylvan Elf Mithrellas through his mother, Finduilas, potentially strengthening the Elvish physical features.) This visibly distinguished Boromir from other Men of Gondor (except the Dol Amroth line), since, aside from the royal house, Númenóreans were descended from Men, so most males were bearded. (The Nature of Middle-earth (NoME), Part II, chapter V)
[68] An interesting aspect of Boromir’s personality is that he has more good humor than other Men of Gondor. He even cracks a bit of a joke—at his own expense, no less—on Caradhras: “lesser men with spades might have served you better” (p. 292). Or there’s the teasing “sturdy dwarf” comment (p. 391). True, he is described as being “stern of glance” when we first meet him (p. 240), but Tolkien does walk that back somewhat later. “More like to the swift sons of Eorl than to the grave Men of Gondor he seemed to me” (p. 436) and “Yet he felt in his heart that Faramir, though he was much like his brother in looks, was a man less self-regarding, both sterner and wiser” (p. 665). Of course, Boromir’s relatively more relaxed personality isn’t always a positive: that’s pretty apparent from the second quote and Tolkien’s portrayal of sternness as a virtue in general. As to the Éomer quote, that’s Tolkien signaling that Boromir didn’t share his father’s “Númenóreanness” and was more similar to Middle Men like the Rohirrim. By contrast, Faramir has inherited the Númenórean sternness from Denethor. Both the Frodo-and-Sam duo and Éowyn find him intimidating during their first meeting; he even makes Éowyn falter and cry when they first meet (as patients in a hospital). None of the characters were downright intimidated by Boromir when first meeting him due to his more personable nature.
[69] p. 670. This feels like an oblique reference to an earlier outline of LotR, in which Boromir and Aragorn reach Minas Tirith, the “Lord of Minas Tirith” dies, Aragorn is chosen as King, and Boromir goes over to Saruman to help him claim the throne (History of Middle-earth (HoME) Vol 7, p. 210). I wouldn’t equate the Boromir in the published text with the character in this outline, and I don’t think he would have gone this far had he made it to Minas Tirith. But the trouble indeed started after Boromir and Aragorn were no longer united in the same goal, and in view of Faramir’s comment, this may well have been intentional on Tolkien’s part.
[70] p. 671
[71] “Anyway I myself saw the value of Hobbits, in putting earth under the feet of ‘romance,’ and in providing subjects for ‘ennoblement’ and heroes more praiseworthy than the professionals: nolo heroizari is of course as good a start for a hero, as nolo episcopari for a bishop.” Letters, 163 To W. H. Auden. This attitude on Tolkien’s part also manifests in Gandalf wanting to turn down the assignment of going to Middle-earth to oppose Sauron, mentioned above. We also have Tolkien’s condemnation of going beyond the bleak heroic necessities, quoted above.
[72] This is the real difference between his courage and that of Faramir, rather than Boromir going out of his way to endanger himself without any purpose, as the text of the Appendices might imply.
[73] Boromir did know the limits of the value of social approval, though: although “all spoke his praise” (p. 436), he complained that his people received “much praise but little help” (p. 246).
[74] Eärnur is similar to Boromir in multiple ways. They are both fearless, strong, concerned for their honor and/or desirous of martial glory. They are valorous but didn’t inherit their fathers’ wisdom. They love to fight and have the mentality and constitution of a champion. They never married or had children (p. 1051). Eärnur, perhaps even more so than Boromir, is clearly modeled on the heroes of old. He resembles Beowulf in that he retains his fighting prowess even at an advanced age and dies as an old king without an heir, still acting as if he were his people’s champion rather than their king. His unwise acceptance of the Witch-king’s challenge parallels Tolkien’s interpretation of Beorhtnoth.
[75] Not all of the heroes who likely inspired Tolkien represent this complete package, but Boromir does unite all of the main characteristics in himself. Even his iconic horn may be considered a call-back to Germanic heroic legend and medieval knightly ideas. See e.g. this passage in Beowulf: “His army surrounded the weary remnant / where they nursed their wounds; all through the night / he howled threats at those huddled survivors, / he promised to axe their bodies open / when dawn broke, dangle them from gallows / to feed the birds. But at first light / when their spirits were lowest, relief arrived. / They heard the sound of Hygelac’s horn, / his trumpet calling as he came to find them, / the hero in pursuit, at hand with troops.” (Translation by Heaney.) These lines are the obvious inspiration for the Rohirrim’s horns at cockcrow. As instruments, horns are also associated with heroic music in general.
[76] p. 266
[77] p. 267
[78] p. 298
[79] p. 357
[80] p. 358
[81] p. 358
[82] p. 382
[83] pp. 667, 680
[84] Though admittedly, Boromir seems to care about Frodo, not Aragorn. This could be because if Frodo goes to Minas Tirith, everyone else will too, or because by this point, his focus is the Ring, not Andúril.
[85] Another reason not to overstate the Ring’s supernatural powers of coercion is simply that it would ruin the story. It’s pretty whatever if the Ring can make anyone do anything (even people who never touched it), and all that the characters do amounts to little more than the inscrutable machinations of a piece of jewelry, rather than character-driven action.
[86] p. 1056
[87] p. 399
[88] Notably, the song is from the perspective of the people waiting for Boromir back home: much of LotR was written during WWII, when Tolkien’s son Christopher was in the RAF.
[89] p. 496. We are also told repeatedly that he has “died well” (pp. 669, 813) and that his face was beautiful in death (p. 669). When applied to male characters, “beautiful” is almost always used to indicate moral virtue.
[90] Cf. putting “Ódin’s hope” into the Ragnarök prophecy in the New Lay of the Völsungs. The introduction of religious undertones into Boromir’s death scene can be said to mirror the way the Old English word dōm, originally denoting glory, honor, praise, the pagan Germanic value of posthumous reputation (the driving force behind renown-seeking), eventually took on the meaning of a spiritual reckoning under the influence of Christianity.
[91] That said, Aragorn’s death arguably shows that Tolkien shares the concerns about the hero living past his peak. His terror of mental and physical decline is such that he endorses suicide, albeit not for the masses, just for special people like Aragorn, who was, we’re told, given “the grace to go at [his] will” (p. 1062). Tolkien also has a habit of conveniently killing off favorite characters for whom aging would have become a problem. (See e.g. Beren, whose fairy-tale romance with Lúthien would have been marred if he alone turned into an old man, or Lúthien herself, who, like Arwen, wastes away from grief in a way that seems to be distinguished from suicide by a technicality at most.)
[92] Boromir is extraordinary in his courage and martial prowess, but he might have made a poor stay-at-home political leader trying to run the country while the king engages in military adventures abroad. Others may have been better suited to give peace-time counsel, too. Not that Tolkien portrays King Elessar as needing counsel from mortal men anyway—the reader who derided Faramir’s “job” as a steward did have a point (Letters 244 From a draft to a reader of The Lord of the Rings).
[93] Translation by Roy Liuzza. In Beowulf, the “forgotten person” who had deposited the hoard in the barrow that the dragon came to haunt was in a similar predicament to the Wanderer and lamented it in comparable terms.
This attitude is also represented in The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison, where a character says after achieving victory over his enemies: “Thou wilt say [this sword] brought me good luck and victory in battle. But it brought not to me ... this last best luck of all: that earth should gape for me when my great deeds were ended.”
Compare also Signy, daughter of King Völsung in Norse mythology, who commits suicide after finally exacting revenge.