There’s nothing like a good villain in Tolkien and, unfortunately, he has so few of them. Now, before people go hanging me, let me say that I think Tolkien intentionally kept the good villains to a minimum. The really evil folk were rare because they were corrupting and manipulating everyone else toward evil. Neither Melkor nor Sauron would have tolerated a rival Dark Lord. Almost all the other guys were just their minions. It’s debatable whether the Balrog of Moria was really serving Sauron in the Third Age.
But Tolkien’s evil is different from the evil in most stories. He is not focusing on evil in human beings. He is focusing on external evil, what he sometimes calld Evil Incarnate. One would almost expect to hear those words reverberate when he spoke them. Thunder should peal from the heavens, and clouds should block the sun. Melkor and Sauron may have been good to begin with, but they walked down that dark path ahead of everyone else. Heck, Melkor blazed the trail and Sauron widened it.
There is human evil in Middle-earth: greed, avarice, pride, and so on. Kings and heroes can easily run amok and leave the path of Goodness and Light. Tolkien derives his tragedy from these human characters. But neither Melkor nor Sauron is tragic, though they could be. That is, there is no regret over the fall of these two once truly great and magnificent beings. They were Ainur, angels, children of the thought of Iluvatar before there was Time, before the Children of Iluvatar were brought into being. They weren’t always dark, but were once of the light. And yet the choices they made led them down into destruction. Their corruption wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
On the other hand, there is nothing of petty evil in Tolkien. No one gets mad at the village and poisons their bread, so to speak, in a petty act of revenge over cheap shots and insults. All acts of evil are universally despised. People have a sense of what is right and wrong, and they generally try to live by it. Except for “those other guys”, the enemy. In every war, the victors are the good guys in their own sight. So Sauron’s followers undoubtedly enjoyed the successes they experienced because they were on the right side. It was the evil Elves and the domineering Dunedain who needed to be destroyed.
On the other hand, one might be quick to point out, who would think the Orcs are “good” people? Even the Orcs seemed to despise themselves. Yes and no. We define good and evil by the values we are taught or learn while growing up. The Orcs were corrupted. What they might deem to be good wouldn’t necessarily make sense to us, but it would make sense to them. “What is best in life?” “Crush your enemies. See them driven before you. Hear the lamentations of their women.” Not exactly classic Tolkien dialogue, but it reflects the values of warriors in some people’s imaginations.
Good, in the sense of what is best for the community, also existed among the Orcs. Aragorn pointed out that they would travel a long way to avenge a fallen captain. Why? The Orc was dead, after all, right? What was in it for the living Orcs to risk their lives trying to pay back someone who had killed a captain they probably hated? Pride. But not just pride. There had to be a pack sense, a tribal feeling which underlay all the inevitable abuse. The growling and fighting and snarling was part of the social pecking system. Chickens determine a social hierarchy and so do Orcs. That’s just the way things are. So what if the head Orc probably killed five other Orc chiefs to take over the tribe?
The Orcs were loyal to their masters. They fought and died by the thousands for Melkor, Sauron, and Saruman. Many of them may have lost their free will, but even Melkor (Tolkien argues in one of his essays) couldn’t directly control them all. They hated their masters but feared them. And yet, some of the Orcs seemed to take pride in their service. Shagrat, for example, was fiercely determined to see to it that Frodo was delievered to Barad-dur. Why? Gorbag and his boys didn’t seem to feel compelled to stay on the path. Even when Shagrat was told an Elven warrior had breached his defenses, he insisted on sending the prisoner to Lugburz (though in the end only Frodo’s mithril coat was taken). Shagrat was a “good Orc”. He would be the kind of Orc you’d want working for you if you controlled Orcs. Gorbag wasn’t all that good.
But that isn’t to say that the Orcs’ values should have been on a par with those of the Elves and Dunedain. The Orcs lived their lives according to the will of their masters. They could not know there was an absolute standard of good and evil, ultimately derived from the values of Iluvatar. It would be His values which prevailed over all, and they might not necessarily match those of the Elves and Men. Iluvatar, for example, permitted evil to exist. Why? That same question has been asked of the Judeo-Christian community for a long time. Why does God permit evil to exist?
The New Testament answer is that, if God were to end evil today, then nearly everyone would perish. He delays his judgement to give people as much time as He deems reasonable to reflect upon their sins and turn away from them. Iluvatar’s purposes are not so clearly explained. In fact, Tolkien was troubled by the implications of extending that principle to Iluvatar. He recognized that if the Orcs were rational incarnates, like Men and Elves, then Iluvatar was creating spirits which were doomed to live lives of evil. Why would Iluvatar do that? It wasn’t predestination which would doom the Orcs so much as their circumstances.
The answer eluded Tolkien. He could only decide that Iluvatar knew what he was doing, but that if the Orcs were rational incarnates, this somehow served Iluvatar’s purpose. One might just as easily ask, however, why Iluvatar would allow a child to be born who would grow up to become Ar-Pharazon. What is the difference between a King of Numenor who turns to evil and the Orcs who are raised in evil, except that the Orcs are denied free choice? Gandalf seemed to speak of the Orcs when he told Denethor, “And for me, I pity even [Sauron’s] slaves”.
Evil exists on both sides of the war, then. So evil is not really about “us” and “them”. It’s about the choices one makes within the bounds of one’s life. An Orc’s choice to waylay and rob people is evil. Sauron probably didn’t allow highway robbery in his realm. All the goods belonged to him and served his needs. Pity the Orc who robbed one of his supply trains!
But if evil is to be found everywhere, can good be found everywhere? This question is more difficult to answer. The Orcs would have abided by Sauron’s laws for the most part. They feared him and they feared the consequences of disobedience. But was a law-abiding Orc being “good”? Put another way, if a Man were to live under Sauron’s rule (and many did), and he acted no differently from the Orcs, was he any less evil for being a Man, or any more good? I don’t think so. He had the advantage of caste, perhaps, but only if Men in general were treated better by Sauron than the Orcs. It may be that the Orcs got better treatment (but probably everyone was treated equally badly).
Saruman tried to set himself up as a dark lord, and he represents what Sauron might have achieved very early on, before the War of the Elves and Sauron. Sauron had to start out as a lonely Maia at some point in the Second Age. It would have taken him time to accumulate followers and slaves. And until he settled in Mordor, long before he made the One Ring, how effective was his control of other creatures? How many other creatures was he capable of imposing his will upon?
When Sauron began to dominate Melkor’s former servants, he may have been only a little worse than an angry village baker. That is, his sins in the First Age were no doubt legion, but he had recanted for a time. A long time. It would be centuries before Sauron returned to his evil ways. Was there simply a moment of anger somewhere which triggered the return to darkness and evil? Was that how Saruman began to walk the path?
The quest for evil in Middle-earth is almost as long as the quest for redemption, it seems. Melkor was disruptive during the Ainulindale and he apparently angered Iluvatar, but was he really evil? When Melkor entered Ea with the other Valar, he seems to have worked long to help them give shape and substance to the universe. There was no real strife until they were making that region which came to be known as Arda. And then he claimed it for his own, which he had no right to do. How long were the countless ages of the stars in which Melkor (and Sauron, and all the other nameless Maiar who eventually followed Melkor into evil) had not yet become evil?
On a smaller scale, how long was it before the Noldor fell into evil? They weren’t evil when they reached Aman. They hadn’t yet succumbed to the sins of pride that Melkor capitalized upon after his release from captivity. Weren’t they still essentially a good people on the day Melkor was released from Mandos? What would that day have been like? And if only Feanor, who had set himself aside from his father’s household, were already succumbing to the pride which would be his downfall, did Melkor sense the taint of another evil in Valinor?
It was a long time before Melkor really achieved much of anything in the way of corrupting the Noldor. And though Feanor rejected Melkor, the Valar believed that Melkor was somehow responsible for Feanor’s eventual dark mood. Had Melkor not slain the Two Trees, and Finwe besides, Feanor might have been a bit rude, but he may not have gone over the edge. But it’s clear that, when he ascended the hill of Tuna in defiance of the Valar and spoke to his people, Feanor had finally crossed the line, and the Noldor would soon follow him.
It’s hard to imagine how the Noldor slowly fell to the sin of pride. They became arrogant and openly distrustful of one another. There must have been arguments and disputes, but apparently nothing came to blows or crossing of swords. Did the bakers occasionally spike each others’ cakes? What was the mindset of a people who could so easily (it seems) turn upon their neighbors (the Teleri of Alqualonde)? How did it come to pass that, when Feanor ordered his people to steal the Telerin ships, no one stood forth and asked why God should need a starship (or, more appropriately, why Feanor thought he had the right to take the ships)?
Was it too late for dissension in the ranks? Even the good-hearted Fingon went charging into the fray without knowing the just and unjust causes of the combatants, or seeking for them. His irresponsible and headlong charge, born of loyalty, seems to have doomed all of his people. What would have happened if Fingon had asked first what was going on? What if he had refused to support Feanor’s theft of the ships? Would the Noldor still have launched themselves into exile, or would only a small fraction of the nation have been doomed?
The road into darkness seems to have many pitfalls, but there are also pit stops. There are points where one may assess what one has done and turn back. Boromir’s redemption is an example of how someone could set out upon the dark path, and yet not make the full journey. He still paid with his life for trying to take the Ring, but his death was a noble one. He sacrificed himself trying to save two companions.
Even Ar-Pharazon is said to have hesitated when Sauron urged him to cut down the White Tree of Numenor. It was Isildur’s valiant effort to save a fruit before the Tree was destroyed that finally pushed Ar-Pharazon over the edge. It might be argued that, had Isildur done nothing, the king would still eventually have agreed to Sauron’s suggestion. Sauron wasn’t about to relent in his efforts to corrupt and destroy the Numenoreans. Nonetheless, Isildur’s action prompted Ar-Pharazon to reaction, and Ar-Pharazon resumed the journey into darkness.
Earnur, the last King of Gondor from the Line of Anarion, didn’t exactly turn to evil, but he succumbed to pride. And yet his downfall was also delayed. The first time the Lord of the Nazgul issued a challenge to the king, the Steward Mardil was able to restrain Earnur. Earnur had a respite, but in time he resumed his self-destructive course. He responded to the second challenge.
It’s not really easy for anyone to become evil in Middle-earth. The Orcs weren’t always evil. Somewhere back in their beginnings they were good, as good as anyone else. They weren’t really Orcs. There eventually came a day when they could be called Orcs, but what was the transitional process like? And were they so far gone down the path they couldn’t return, if the desire entered their hearts? The question of the redeemability of the Orcs troubled Tolkien and has disturbed many of his readers. Many people assume the Orcs were all destroyed in the War of the Ring, but that is not the case. The Epilogue (which Tolkien was persuaded not to publish) indicates the Orcs were still around. Sam even speculates that they won’t ever be completely destroyed, and during World War II Tolkien often made reference to the “Orcs” in the British army in letters to his son.
Orcs, therefore, were not so utterly evil that they could always be distinguished from Men. Or perhaps Men were not always so good that they could be distinguished from Orcs. The Elves’ disobedience wasn’t universal, as was the disobedience of Men. The Elves were able to learn the errors of their ways, and to reject the path of darkness. Men had to wait for another form of redemption.
Yet we see the good and evil in Middle-earth mostly through the eyes of the Hobbits. There were some mean Hobbits, and Hobbits who willingly served Saruman. But in general, the Hobbits possessed an innocence, a faithfulness to good, which all Men and Elves must have once shared. That is not to say the Hobbits hadn’t shared in the Fall of Man. They must have, being (as Tolkien said) a branch of the Human race. But they had turned aside from the darkness and never wholly gone back toward it. A few, like Smeagol and Lotho Sackville-Baggins, stole down the path and vanished into oblivion.
To Hobbits, the Elves were good and the Orcs were bad. Such thinking was at once right (because the Hobbits judged the Elves and Orcs on the basis of their actions) and wrong (because the Hobbits didn’t look deeper than their own experience). What did Sam think of Feanor’s rebellion? Well, it was all in the past for him, no doubt. It was a matter long set right. But did he understand that the Orcs weren’t really to blame for their nature? Did he understand that Gandalf pitied even Sauron’s slaves, or why?
On the other hand, Hobbits were generally of a gentle nature. They didn’t beat their children, didn’t (apparently) suffer from alcoholism, and seem not to have had much of a problem with bank robbers, murderers, and kidnappers. What would a Hobbit kidnapper demand for ransom, anyway? A cartload of pipeweed? The pride and anger which brought down other peoples really doesn’t well up much in the Hobbits. They are long-suffering and long-enduring people, but they also lack ambition. And all the troubles of Elves and Men seem to come from ambition. Or desire.
About the most ambitious act any Hobbit outside the Sackville-Baggins family seemed to express, was to steal mushrooms or cover as many taverns as possible. Lotho’s ambition to become the Boss brought him to a sad and pathetic end. Paladin II, Pippin’s father, was outraged that anyone should try to set himself up as ruler of the Shire, but he didn’t do anything to contest Lotho. The Tooks simply waited out the storm in their own land, rather than marching to war against the Ruffians. It wasn’t important enough for Paladin to start a war which might result in the deaths of many Hobbits.
As villains go, Lotho really doesn’t accomplish much. By the time the reader even learns about what he has done to the Shire, betraying it into the hands of Saruman, he is already dead. He is even extended the excuse of being recognized as a fool who got in over his head. In some ways, Grima Wormtongue is also excused. His evil is more readily diagnosed by Gandalf. Grima wants Eowyn. But he also hopes to share in Saruman’s power. And when Saruman is brought down so, too, is Grima, who scurries along like a faithful dog, but a bitter one.
There is an entire hierarchy of bad guys who each prey upon the lesser ranks in some ways. Sauron stands at the top, powerful and vain, immutable. Beneath him stand various lieutenants such as Saruman and the Lord of the Nazgul, powerful in their own right, but too weak to prevail over Men. Beneath Saruman stand servants like Grima and Lotho, petty but ambitious creatures with little real power. And yet both cause great harm to their people. And beneath Lotho are ruffians like Bill Ferny, brutal thugs with no real ambition except to be mean and petty.
There are many faces of evil in The Lord of the Rings, and degrees of evil and pettiness. There is little true redemption. Boromir could have been much worse than Lotho and Grima. He could have rivalled Saruman, perhaps, for he was already a prince of a great nation. But nearly everyone who falls stays fallen. Even wise old Denethor, who almost stumbles back from the brink in the end, suffers the fate his madness has decreed for him. He gives in to despair.
The only character whom Tolkien really excuses completely is Frodo himself. Frodo gives in to the Ring at last, but it has taken months of demonic torment to drive Frodo to claim the Ring for his own. The claim is not born of pride and arrogance, nor of ambition to become a great and powerful lord. It’s essentially an act of insanity, an insanity brought about by the breaking of his mind. Frodo is in many ways reduced to the stature of an Orc. Not a mean, petty, vicious, murderous Orc. But rather an Orc who has had his free will stripped from him, his choices denied him. He is no better than the Orc slaves who first succumbed to Melkor’s and Sauron’s wills.
And if there is redemption for Frodo, and forgiveness, then should there be redemption and forgiveness for the Orcs?
This article was originally published on January 24, 2001.
