Eowyn and I

I once read a rather silly feminist essay on Lord of the Rings that insisted Sam stabbing Shelob the giant spider with a sword was rape imagery. I remain unimpressed with people who try to stir everyone up over dubious evidence of prejudice in great literature, and The Lord of the Rings is one of my all-time favorites. But it does make me wonder sometimes.

About Eowyn

Today, for example, I reread the chapter of Return of the King that deals with Eowyn’s healing and romance with Faramir. It’s a very well-written, very beautiful passage. And it made me very depressed. To explain, first I need to tell you about Eowyn.

Eowyn is a hard, cold, and strong-willed character. She longs for valor, honor, and duty, to “be lifted up above the mean things that crawl upon the earth,” part of something high and noble. She falls for the future king of Gondor because he is all those things, but he offers her only pity (remember that pity in Lord of the Rings literally saves the world; it’s not a bad thing by any means).

Following this rejection, Eowyn sets all her thought on doing great deeds in war and then dying a glorious death in battle. And she is up to the challenge; she “did not blench: maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings, slender but as a steel-blade, fair yet terrible.” She stands when everyone else is overcome with terror, “faithful beyond fear” to her king and able to handle herself. But her courage is the courage of cold despair; a shadow lies over her.

The Change of Heart

The shadow is lifted only when she meets Faramir, who doesn’t love battle itself, but only what it defends. He firmly but kindly shows her that it’s her immaturity that longs for renown in battle and  prefers death to rejection and pity. And finally, “her heart changed, or else she understood it for the first time,” and she allows herself to love him and to turn away from battle and despair and care for green and growing things, and they live happily ever after.

For Eowyn, this is the right decision. But the passage depressed me because I felt as if I were a child being lectured, as if all my dreams of making a difference, of great deeds under wide-open skies, were nothing but childish fancies. A mature woman would love her husband and children and enjoy a simple life. I realize this is the right decision for many people. But the thought of such a life awakens existential despair in me. There’s a reason I only watch It’s a Wonderful Life under duress.

Not to say that I don’t want a husband and children to love – I do, very much so. But I don’t believe that God gave me these gifts, these opportunities, this passion and willpower and yearning for high purpose, so that I could settle down to a quiet life without making a difference. I believe I have a calling, and I intend to fulfill that calling.

Another Eowyn

Why is Eowyn’s resolution not mine? There must be a reason, or I’m just giving into wishful thinking. We both yearn for great deeds and adventure, but I think there’s a key difference. Eowyn’s courage is hard and cold and despairing; she glories in battle because she has not yet learned to glory in the earth and the trees and the sound of laughter. But imagine now a different Eowyn.

Imagine an Eowyn who loves the woods and the meadows, the water and the wind, who laughs and cries often and openly. Imagine an Eowyn who doesn’t want great deeds because of duty or renown, but because she was born a warrior, and there’s nowhere better to be than standing for the good, the true, and the beautiful and taking all comers. Imagine a woman who loves and nurtures her family, who respects and honors her husband, who knows how to be vulnerable and sweet and yet fights like a lioness when roused, swift and powerful to defend her own.

Could such a woman still fall in love with Faramir and live happily as the lady of Ithilien? Of course. But she would not need to grow up and give up thoughts of battle to do so. She would already understand her heart, and it would not need to change. And this is why I think a woman can dream of doing great things without being immature or unhealthy.*

I am not willing to take the story of Eowyn and declare Tolkien prejudiced. I’m not sure if he knew that such women as I just described existed. Regardless, I’m here to tell you they do. And I look forward to seeing what we can accomplish.

*When I write it out like that, it does seem kind of obvious, doesn’t it?

Picture outtake from Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers