Look for the Light
Personal reflections upon one of the more controversial lines of The Rings of Power
Author’s note: this article contains spoilers for Season 1 of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power and Season 1 of The Last of Us
It is an objective truth that even the most “perfect” films or TV shows have elements whose reception is more subjective. Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, for example, is considered one of the most “perfect” trilogies of films in history even 22 years after its release, with only the original Star Wars trilogy being considered a match for it. But even there, some of the choices made by Jackson and company are not universally beloved. Changing the characterizations of people like Isildur, Aragorn, Theoden, Gimli, Faramir, Elrond; eliminating Frodo’s journey through Buckland, Tom Bombadil, the Barrow-downs, Prince Imrahil and the Sons of Elrond; heavily streamlining events such as the Council of Elrond and Aragorn’s coronation; or shifting the timeline of events, in particular moving Shelob’s lair from the end of The Two Towers to the middle of The Return of the King. In all of these cases and others, there are two sides to every interpretation of them even among those who love the Jackson movies and think they are worthy adaptations of J.R.R. Tolkien’s books. It’s just the way with art and its interpretations.
And if this is true for a cultural milestone such as the Jackson trilogy, it’s even more true for projects that don’t quite reach those heights. One example of such a project would be The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, an adaptation of events of the Second Age of Middle-earth whose bare outline is presented in the appendices at the end of The Return of the King, and which draws upon The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, Tolkien’s letters and elsewhere to flesh them out. The show is hated by some and loved, liked or at the very least respected by more, but there are some things that all of the above can agree on. One of these would be the writing. Working with the limitations they have, the writers for the show were frequently forced to rely upon their own devices, with sometimes mixed results. And one example of this is a line that becomes something of a defining mantra for Galadriel (Morfydd Clark), the show’s heart, soul, and lead heroine: “Sometimes to find the light, we must touch the darkness" Even for fans of the show and of Morfydd’s Galadriel, this line presents problems, and for her detractors and enemies this line presents a goldmine for attack. Why is that? And what do I personally think about this line? Those two questions are what I’ll try to answer here.
The context for this quote is as follows. In a prologue scene set in the Blessed Realm of Valinor during its days of bliss, Finrod (Will Fletcher) disrupts a fight between his younger sister Galadriel (here portrayed by Amelie Child Vickers) and some other elven children who had been bullying her over a paper boat. Not just any paper boat, mind you: a lovely one that transforms into a swan after sailing for only a few moments, which Galadriel had made based on Finrod’s instructions. In the course of their loving conversation after this incident, Finrod takes to opportunity to offer Galadriel some advice in the form of an analogy about boats and stones. It’s a bit clumsy, but his central point is about always seeking the light of what is true and beautiful is sound. But then Galadriel asks a followup question: how can one tell what is a true light and what is only a reflection? So Finrod leans in close and whispers, “Sometimes, to find the light, we must first touch the darkness.” It’s a piece of advice that Galadriel remembers and keeps close as the millenia march on and she has plenty of opportunity to face and be touched by the darkness. Finrod is slain, along with probably thousands of other friends and comrades; Valinor is darkened and lost to her at least for now; Beleriand, her second home, is utterly destroyed; and for all her sacrifices, evil survives. But through it all she endures, presses on, tries to inspire others, and stays focussed on her mission.
Some people have problems with this piece of advice. To them, it smacks too much of moral relativism, of some sort of equivalency between good and evil, as almost “needing” evil to understand good, or even of a Manichean dualism where good and evil are simply two sides of the same coin. And not without reason. One element of the season’s story which has been criticized even more universally than Finrod’s advice concerns the origins of the ore mithril. In the books it’s just a very strong, light and beautiful metal, but in the show it’s given a possibly apocryphal backstory involving a contest between a noble Elven warrior and an evil Balrog for mastery of one of the legendary Silmarils. Their duel, and a random bolt of lightning, end up infusing the mountain where they fight with an ore that contains both the strength of evil and the purity of good. This is unquestionably dualistic and alien to Tolkien’s worldview, mitigated only by the fact that this legend is possibly apocryphal and that we currently don’t have a clear answer about its veracity. With this in mind, it makes sense that Finrod’s counsel would arouse similar concerns. And these concerns are shared both by people for whom Rings of Power is essentially the work of the Devil, and by people who genuinely do like the show but have issues with it, sometimes serious ones.
Personally, I don’t share the hesitation some of my friends and allies do with this advice. And there are two reasons for this.
First of all…I got a physical copy of Unfinished Tales for my birthday last December. Mostly for Galadriel, and “The History of Galadriel and Celeborn” chapter certainly did not disappoint. But there's so much more there as well, spanning all three of the ages of Middle-earth that we know. In particular, there’s a portion in "Of Tuor and His Coming to Gondolin” that is relevant to our discussion. The mortal hero Tuor, after four years of being an outlaw hunting and being hunted by the Easterlings who have conquered his homeland of Dor-Lomin, is seeking the mysterious Annon-in-Gelydh, the Gate of the Noldor, to find a way out of his lost homeland. In the course of his attempts to find this possibly legendary passage, he stumbles upon two Elves, Gelmir and Arminas, messengers from Cirdan the Shipwright trying to bring a warning to the hidden kingdom of Nargothrond. He tells them of his desire to get out of Dor-Lomin, and his difficulties in navigating the mountains that fence in that land. To which Gelmir responds, “Through the darkness, one may come to the light.” And knowing where the Gate of the Noldor can be found, they point him in the right direction. With some hesitation, Tuor follows their guidance, and is rewarded by being the first mortal man to enter the fair land of Nevrast and to gaze upon the Sundering Seas; only the first step in embarking on a new life that will have some mighty consequences for the history of Middle-earth.
“Through the darkness, one may come to the light.” While it’s not an exact match, this does share some passing similarity with “Sometimes to find the light, we must first touch the darkness.” Perhaps not; as best I can tell, I’m the only commenter who has drawn this parallel, and nobody has yet asked JD Payne and Patrick McCay about it. But if I’m right, this would not be the first time that a quote from one section of Tolkien has been applied to another section in an adaptation to help flesh out and move the story forward, or as Youtuber Nerd of the Rings put it “using Tolkien to supplement Tolkien.” This has happened before in Rings of Power, most famously in Episode 6 when Bronwyn comforts her son Theo on the eve of battle using words drawn almost verbatim from an inner reflection of Sam on the road to Mount Doom: “In the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach.” And Rings of Power is far from being the only Tolkien adaptation that does this. It happens all the time in the course of Peter Jackson’s films. Sometimes it works very well; Faramir, a character who got butchered by the theatrical edition of The Two Towers, ends up being significantly rehabilitated by being given insightful and thoughtful lines of dialogue from characters like Sam, Gandalf and Beregond in the Extended Editions of The Two Towers and The Return of the King. Sometimes not so well, such as when in The Return of the King, Gandalf comforts Pippin with the reassurance of life after death using words drawn directly from the description of Frodo's dream of Valinor in the house of Tom Bombadil. It's a touching scene, but it actually poses some significant lore problems owing to the fact that Valinor is extremely not the same thing as Heaven; it may be the Undying Realm, but that’s only because the immortal Elves and Ainur live there. Perhaps this line in Rings of Power is nothing more than an innocent attempt to make use of the Professor’s prose, even if it’s in a context that doesn’t make sense?
I concede that this might not be the case; as I said previously, I’m the only commenter who has really brought up this similarity. But even if this isn’t what is the case, there’s still another idea to consider. One that is particularly timely given the time of year that we currently find ourselves in. Tolkien was a Catholic, and a devout one; although he cordially detested allegory, his faith and his values infused every aspect of his legendarium. And the central event of the drama of Christianity is Christ’s Passion and death, and His triumphant resurrection. And better than anyone else, Jesus knew the hatefulness and evil of death. This is why just in the days before he entered Jerusalem, he wept at the tomb of Lazarus. And why he was filled with such anguish in the Garden that he sweated blood, and begged his Father “If it is possible, take this cup away from me!” And yet Christ did not simply mourn Lazarus, he commanded that his tomb be opened and that death release his friend. And he did not ultimately reject his vocation, for in the Garden he said “Not as I will, but as You will.” And Catholics like Tolkien and myself believe that Jesus was fully God as well as fully man. There were countless times throughout the Passion that he could have forsaken his mission; when his enemies mocked him and shouted “If you are the son of God, come down from the cross!” he could have done so. But instead, he endured his fearful and sorrowful passion until the very end. For God to become a man, and to die? That’s touching the blackest darkest we can possibly imagine.
Now I’m not suggesting that Galadriel in The Rings of Power is a Christ-figure, not when I’ve argued before that the idea proposed by many that Galadriel of the text is a Marian figure is at best reductive and at worst actively wrong. But Galadriel’s journey does have many similarities to the journey of faith that all Christians must take. Christians are called to deny themselves, “take up their cross” and follow Christ. To submit our wills to the Lord’s, to bear whatever trials we may face, to offer up our difficulties as prayers. To imitate in our lives the Passion of Christ, as best we can. The road to Heaven is not an easy one, and many trials await the Christian on his journey. And sometimes they can be very dark. Like the death of a loved one or family member, or a feeling of utter loneliness, or a personal sin or character flaw that might seem too strong and we’re afraid will overpower us, or a sense of complete failure when something we have dedicated our whole lives too goes horribly wrong. The important questions, therefore, are of intent and duration: does one intentionally seek out the darkness, and when it comes how intense is the actual "touching"? How does one react to his or her trials, with despair and surrender to the darkness or with resolve, hope, and trust in Divine Providence?
Perhaps nothing so vividly demonstrates the moral and upright way of responding to the kiss of darkness than the finale of Rings of Power. After a season of adventure and mission, but also tragedy, setback and misfortune, Galadriel learns a devastating truth: Halbrand, her friend and comrade-at-arms, is nothing more than a disguise for the shapeshifting fallen angel Sauron, the chief lieutenant and aspiring heir to the first Dark Lord, Morgoth. The full extent of the shock, horror and heartbreak this revelation unleashes can only be imagined, but one can guess from Morfydd’s face and eyes. And Sauron the Deceiver seizes his moment, using this moment of peril and vulnerability to trap Galadriel in a living nightmare. But is it a nightmare? First Galadriel reunites with Finrod, who gives her comfort, brings a smile to her face for the first time in a while, and once again offers her counsel. But is it Finrod in truth? He had died fighting one of Sauron’s wolves many long years ago, all the while staying true to his friends and his sense of right and wrong. Galadriel, who still mourns him, knows this well, and is thus thrown off by the vision’s counsel to simply allow Sauron’s plans to proceed unhindered. Clearly, she was able to tell the difference between a false light and the true one. With that tactic failing, Sauron changes the battlefield, to the raft in the middle of the ocean where an exiled Galadriel had first met Halbrand and first learned that she was right to fear evil’s return. There he tries to reassure her that he too chafed at Morgoth’s lust for darkness and destruction, and he too seeks to heal a broken middle earth abandoned by the Valar. And he offers her a chance to join him, to be his queen, to join her light to his power and to save Middle-earth.
This is a truly dangerous moment. For one of Sauron’s great powers is an uncanny way of knowing what a person wants, fears and hopes for, and being able to, as he himself put it, master that and so master the person. We've seen it over and over in Tolkien's legendarium, be it with Gorlim yearning to be reunited with his wife, Celebrimbor and the smiths wishing to preserve Middle-earth as an echo of Valinor, Pharazon and the King's Men terrified of mortality, Saruman who sought absolute power for himself…all were undone because Sauron preyed upon their hopes, fears and wants, mastering them and thus mastering all these people. Even Denethor, to a degree; although he proved too strong of will for Sauron to master him, Sauron was still able to bring him to depression and despair of victory, laying the ground for him to be eventually overcome with madness over Faramir's apparent death. This temptation of Galadriel is in the same vein as all of these. For having spent a lot of time at her side, Sauron has discerned her loneliness, her longing for the bliss of Valinor, her carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, her singleminded desire to stamp out the last memories of Morgoth, and her sense of being the only one who cares. And although at this point, the Mairon who repented before Eonwe at the end of the War of Wrath is gone, perhaps a traumatized, confused and sorrowful Galadriel will be more understanding than the Herald of Manwe, more willing to add to Sauron’s power to rule. Here is a false light blazing brighter than the sun, if ever there was one.
But in his desire to dazzle Galadriel and draw her in, Sauron blinded himself to one crucial fact. So caught up was he in his own concerns, his own fears, his own ambitions, that although Sauron was able to guess at what Galadriel hoped and feared, he wasn’t able to grasp at who she was. A noble and generous spirit, blessed with mercy and understanding, selfless and compassionate. In short, a good person, who when she first met Halbrand on the sea and learned that he was fleeing ravaging orcs extended him pity and understanding. Whose reaction to the glory of Numenor, instead of the envy that Halbrand projected, was sorrow at the decline of relations between the Edain and the Elves. Who, even while despairing of ever finding peace herself, was still urging Halbrand to make the choices that would hopefully help him to find peace. This coming after centuries of Galadriel fighting the darkness, losing much of what she loved to it, and living in fear of it taking her heart and changing her. She had been touched by the darkness, but it had not robbed her of her soul and her virtue. If anything, her pressing on despite it and through it has made her stronger. And so when Sauron makes his offer, she does not trust him enough to blindly accept power, even if offered for a noble purpose. She constantly refers to him as a “friend of Morgoth,” a tyrant, and a Dark Lord, and as soon as he says there's no difference between saving and ruling, she immediately pulls a knife on him and defies him once again. And she still defies him even when he switches tactics once again, showing his true face and heaping scorn and emotional abuse upon her. Even when brought to tears, Galadriel does not yield. And when after it is all over and Elrond brings her back to the real world, her first thought is how to continue the fight. Galadriel therefore shows that she understands the difference between light and darkness, is wise enough to be able to determine a false light, and loves the truth too much to give up on it. Her journey through Season 1 is a microcosm of her story since her birth in the Bliss of Valinor, and is a good representation of how one can be touched by darkness but not turned into it.
Galadriel’s love of the true light and ability to tell it from a false one is something she shares in common with Joel and Ellie in The Last of Us, both in the show and in the game it’s based upon. Joel’s mission, accepted reluctantly but eventually fully embraced, is to bring Ellie to a group calling themselves the “Fireflies”, in the hopes that they can bring about an end to the plague that has ravaged the world and wiped out 60% of humanity. The finale of the latter show's S1 is even called "Look to the Light", derived from the motto of the Fireflies: “When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.” But it turns out that the light of the Fireflies is every bit as false a light as Sauron's offer of a crown to Galadriel in the finale of Rings of Power S1, for they would need to kill Ellie to access her brain for study. And it's strongly implied both in game and in the show that the cordyceps infection does not have a cure, and that immunity cannot be replicated; ultimately this would result in killing an innocent for nothing. Joel mowing down the Fireflies to save Ellie very strongly shows him turning away from this false light. But tragically in this universe, there’s no true light to turn to. Joel saved a life, but contrary to the lie he tells Ellie there is no cure, no hope for humanity writ large. And even the promise of peace in Jackson is stained by the lie he tells Ellie, which will have disastrous consequences next season. What a depressing thought that is, for there to be only differing shades of darkness and no true light.
Not so for Tolkien’s world, of which Rings of Power is an adaptation faithful in spirit if not in every detail (looking at you, Mithril origin story). There is, indeed, a true light that can be known, and loved, and striven for. We can see traces of it piercing through, clear and cold, throughout the first season. Galadriel’s numerous acts of virtue and goodness (do not believe for one moment that she is a villain or a monster); the selfless fraternal love of Elrond and Durin; Miriel choosing to conquer her fears and heed the call of the Valar as shown by the White Tree’s petals; Nori taking significant personal risks to give aid and comfort to The Stranger; Elendil embracing his newfound role as a leader of the Faithful even in the face of being touched by darkness himself; Gil-galad refusing the idea of a crown of Mithril…in this world, light and darkness are clearly distinct, and one is clearly more desirable than the other. And the quest to reach it, while hard and sometimes flirting with darkness, is still a noble one. Within ourselves and in others we can see what Tolkien would describe as “some samples or glimpses of final victory.” How much more joyful will the full thing be? So let us press on, and be as best we can “a light in dark places where all other lights go out.”
The similarities between Tuor’s journey through the tunnel of darkness to light, and RoP Finrod’s words to Galadriel, occurred to me as well when reading Unfinished Tales after the season concluded. Great post.