I have long been of the (not uncommon) opinion that the lengendarium of J.R.R. Tolkien, including The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, etc, constitutes the finest work of fantasy ever crafted. For me, this is not questionable; nothing short of ancient myth even approaches it in scope, is as compelling, or has as much to say about the reality of human life. There are many reasons for Tolkien’s high standing in my mind, but I want to discuss one aspect in particular here, one that has been of particular fascination to me in the last month. I’m going to talk about power in The Lord of the Rings (TLOTR), the kind of power that in most other fantasy is called “magic.” I’m not going to use that word, but will stick to the term “power,” for reasons I will try to explain.

To begin, I want to discuss probably the most obvious user of power in TLOTR, and the being whom the uninitiated would likely first point to as a magician. I am talking of course about the wizard Gandalf the Grey. He is very often compared to other fantasy wizards, particulary Albus Dumbledore from the Harry Potter series, and such comparisons, I think, contribute significantly to the misunderstanding about the nature of Gandalf’s power. To explain the difference, I will start by addressing a difference in the nature of their being, and therefore the source of their power. Dumbledore is a human, a man who has through deep study of magic and immense natural gift become one of, if not the, most powerful wizard of his time. Gandalf, though he appears human, is not. His true name is Olórin, and he is a type of spirit called a Maia. The Maiar were created as servants of the Valar, beings comparable (somewhat) to the pantheon of Greek gods in terms of their power and their role in Middle-earth. Gandalf, along with four other Maiar in the form of wizards, was sent as a guide for the peoples of Middle-earth against the evil of Sauron, a corrupted Maia who has turned against the Valar and all things good. So, a key difference between Gandalf and other fantasy wizards is that Gandalf did not learn his power, in the way that Dumbledore or Harry Potter had to study, learning incantations and techniques for the manipulation of reality. Gandalf’s power is an inherent part of his being, and is as natural to him as breathing is to us.

This leads me to my second point, one which I think is probably the most important thing to realize about power in Tolkien’s work. I am going to discuss one of the most famous scenes in TLOTR, the battle between Gandalf and the balrog known as Durin’s Bane in Moria. It will be easier to understand what I am talking about if the scene is fresh in the mind, so I have included the video here. I encourage you to watch the whole video, but pay particular attention to the confrontation on the bridge, between 2:29 and 3:34.

As Gandalf faces down the demon, there is some clear use of what many would call magic: Gandalf’s creation of a shield of light and the breaking of a stone bridge with a wooden staff, and the balrog’s creation of weapons made of flame. However, I would draw your attention to the words being spoken. Crucially, Gandalf makes no incantations, nor does he speak in an arcane tongue known only to himself. He simply makes statements, statements which identify who and what he is, and who and what the balrog is. “You cannot pass,” he tells the balrog. “I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn! Go back to the Shadow. You cannot pass!” Some context is necessary to appreciate the significance of these statements. First, the terms “Secret Fire” and “Flame of Anor” refer to the same thing, the Flame Imperishable, which is the creative power of Eru Illúvatar, the God of Tolkien’s work. The Flame is the power which created and which sustains life, and so Sauron, the balrog, and all other servants of evil hate it, even as they covet it desperately. Gandalf is invoking the very essence of life, of goodness, as his power and his master, confidently and truly stating that the balrog cannot defeat a being imbued with such power. “Dark fire,” which Gandalf identifies as the balrog’s power, is the antithesis of the Flame Imperishable, the destructive power that evil musters in an attempt to undo the good that Illúvatar and his servants have shaped. In Tolkien’s work, power like that is inherently inferior to the purity and goodness of life, and so Gandalf says, “the dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!” Udûn is, simply, a name for the evil place where balrogs were created. In this battle, both beings are claiming the primacy of their power. Gandalf’s victory has nothing to do with skill, equipment, or knowledge, but instead is a result of the inherent goodness and nobility in his being and his mission. All Gandalf does is state what his power is and where it comes from, and assert its superiority to the corruption of the balrog. Even when the balrog kills him, he returns, sent back by the power of life that is his master. This is, I think, the most important difference between Gandalf’s power and magic in something like Harry Potter or The Inheritance Cycle. Gandalf doesn’t run around flinging bolts of fire, firing green lightning from his staff, or lifting rocks with his mind. He simply stands, and claims his identity and his mission. In that claim lies his great and mighty power.

A similar of example of someone using power through identity-claiming is found when Aragorn, also called Strider, confronts the King of the Dead in a plea for help against the armies of Mordor. Some context before I show you this scene as well: The dead men in question are the spirits of a tribe which, long ago, swore to defend the kingdom of Gondor from whatever enemy. When Sauron attacked Gondor, the king called upon the tribe to come to their aid. The tribesmen did not come, and Gondor lost the battle badly. For this betrayal, the king of Gondor cursed the tribe, binding their spirits to Middle-earth until their oath is fulfilled. Aragorn is a direct descendent of that king, heir to the throne of Gondor. He is the only living person who can release the trbesmen from their curse. The army of men mustered to defend Gondor against Sauron is not nearly large enough, so Aragorn decides to go into the caves to seek out the dead tribesmen, and to ask them to honor their oath. As you watch this one, be sure to note any similarities in the content of Aragorn’s speech and Gandalf’s from before.

This confrontation, like the last one, does not involve much skill with weapons or magic. Instead, this is a test of power. Aragorn makes his request, demanding that the ghosts fight for him and fulfill their oaths. The King of the Dead refutes him, saying that none but the king of Gondor may make such a demand. As he finishes saying “King of Gondor,” Aragorn raises the sword Andúril before him in defiance. The name “Andúril” is elvish for “Flame of the West,” and the sword is made from the fragments of Narsil, the ancestral blade of Gondorian kings. Narsil was used to cut the One Ring from the hand of Sauron, and the shards of the blade were kept by the elves until the heir to the Gondorian throne would claim it. Aragorn did so, and the sword that was broken was reforged. When Aragorn raises the sword, he is claiming his birthright and the authority that comes with it. The reforged blade is a clear symbol of strength and power, one that Aragorn has finally embraced after avoiding it for much of his life. As soon as he raises the sword, the ghost attacks him, striking with a blade that any one else would have no way of countering. With Andúril however, Aragorn blocks the strike, and then grasps the ghost by the throat – another impossibility for anyone but he as the heir to the power of Gondor. The King of the Dead protests, “That line was broken!” Aragorn asserts his reclaimed brithright in respose: “It has been remade.” The sword he carries is an explicit symbol of the power of his lineage: shattered in one last heroic act, it lay impotent for millennia. Now, however, one has come to claim the blade and the power that comes with embracing his righteous destiny. Now the blade is made whole, brighter and stronger than before, with new purpose. Aragorn can say, raising his sword again, “I am Isildur’s heir. Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled!” The power of Aragorn’s ancestry, represented by Andúril, righteously asserts itself over the oathbreakers, holding them responsible for their actions, whilst offering them redemption.

Aragorn’s power is not the same as Gandalf’s power; while Aragorn is invoking his birthright and its authority, Gandalf is channeling the creative power that sustains life and the very world itself. Regardless of the differences in source and scope, both types of power function in similar ways. When either person uses his power, he does so through a process of identity-assertion; Gandalf when he says “I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor,” and Aragorn when he raises the blade of his ancestors, saying “I am Isildur’s heir.” Neither of them use their power as we might now expect similar fantasy characters to. It is said that Aragorn was the finest swordsman of the Third Age, but you wouldn’t know it from the scene above. Gandalf as well is said to be the most powerful wizard in Middle-earth, yet he does not perform any of the earth-shattering, reality-warping magic that is so common in modern popular fantasy. Their power depends on skill, equipment, etc, only secondarily; primarily, it is a result of who they are. This fact contains a deep and wonderful lesson for all of us, I believe. Our focus as we move through the world should not be to gain anything for its own sake. That includes material wealth, knowledge, power, friends, anything. In order to claim our power, as Aragorn and Gandalf have done, we must find what is appropriate and righteous for us. Aragorn could have used many weapons with great skill, but none but Andúril could have carried him to his final destiny. Gandalf submits himself to death at the hands of the balrog, but through that pain becomes a purer version of himself. There is great wisdom there I think, wisdom into which I’m sure I have yet to pierce farther than the most superficial of layers.

I’ve been thinking about this idea of power through identity in Tolkien’s work for a long time, and have only recently found an articulation of it that I felt to be at all satisfactory. I hope it is somewhat coherent! I’m very passionate about this subject, and I welcome all your questions and comments.

Peace.