This may seem like a peculiar opening salvo for a blog post, but I can’t say I particularly care – after all, it was this particular contemplation that led me to taking the time to actually set up and commit to the whole affair. In particular, I’ve been preoccupied with a Man from the Legendarium who is perceived extremely negatively these days, and I think it’s jolly unfair.
It’s no secret that Jackson’s LOTR trilogy made several of its Men rather less heroic than they had been in the books. Denethor outright becomes a villain (a change I rather dislike, though I can understand a cinematic defence of it). Aragorn goes from a confident leader, willing to assume his kingly position if fate deems it right, to a doubting and unwilling woodsman with a destiny he actively does not want (a change that….well let’s just say that I prefer book!Aragorn, but have a lot of sympathy for how the film version developed). And Faramir goes from being….well, Faramir…to somehow becoming an antagonist. Suffice it to say that most of us did not see that one coming.
However, less attention is paid to the films’ Original Sin in this matter. The very first Man to receive 5 seconds of screen time is rewarded with a character assassination that should make Faramir feel like he got off easy. Yep, I’m here to reassess Isildur.
Now, a few things before we get started. Obviously, the films are relatively clear in how they portray Isildur during his limited screentime – but we’re not here for that character, rather for Tolkien’s Isildur. This isn’t to say that I hate the film version or anything – rather, to explain that the two are very, very different characters, and I think that Isildur’s cinematic portrayal has led to a lot of people, even fans of the books, conflating the two.
Which is rather a shame, because Isildur’s a compelling character from beginning to end. His first notable deed (and, curiously, the first time he crosses Sauron, though not directly) occurs in Númenor, when he defies the will of both Sauron and his land’s King, Ar-Pharazôn, the latter of whom was on the brink of deciding to fell Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor and a symbol of the friendship between the Men of that land and the Eldar.
[When] Amandil heard rumour of the evil purpose of Sauron he was grieved to the heart, knowing that in the end Sauron would surely have his will. Then he spoke to Elendil and the sons of Elendil, recalling the tale of the Trees of Valinor; and Isildur said no word, but went out by night and did a deed for which he was afterwards renowned. For he passed alone in disguise to Armenelos and to the courts of the King, which were now forbidden to the Faithful; and he came to the place of the Tree, which was forbidden to all by the orders of Sauron, and the Tree was watched day and night by guards in his service. At that time Nimloth was dark and bore no bloom, for it was late in the autumn, and its winter was nigh; and Isildur passed through the guards and took from the Tree a fruit that hung upon it, and turned to go. But the guard was aroused, and he was assailed, and fought his way out, receiving many wounds; and he escaped, and because he was disguised it was not discovered who had laid hands on the Tree.
The Silmarillion, “Akallabêth”, by J.R.R. Tolkien
The text gives us a few clues about Isildur’s character – he’s rash, though perhaps not without just cause. He is also willing to chance both death and injury to do the right thing….and implicit in the passage is the risk of imprisonment, denouncement and execution that Isildur chances for his entire family, were it not for his disguise. This may seem like poor judgment on his part – but we also see that he declines from discussing his plan with his family, giving at least the chance of deniability to them should he be recognised. And, as already stated, his reason is extremely sound – and well thought out. Isildur seems strong-willed, certainly, but no more than many of the great leaders of the Legendarium. Furthermore, he seems heroic, thoughtful, and (crucially) willing to act upon the counsel of others…not that Amandil (his grandfather) instructs Isildur to do anything of the sort, of course.
At the tender age of 110, Isildur was forced to flee the destruction of Númenor with his father, brother, and the few Men who remained uncorrupted (and un-human-sacrificed) on the island. Isildur had been subjected to years of watching Númenor’s decline into wicked and vile deeds (which was due in no small part to Sauron’s evil influence) and seeing his home brought to utter ruin as a direct consequence of this evil was likely deeply traumatising for him….which was likely only compounded when, having washed up on the shores of Middle-Earth and begun to rebuild, he learnt that Sauron himself had survived, when Sauron popped by after another century or so and captured Isildur’s new home, the city of Minas Ithil.
We then move into slightly more familiar territory with the War of the Last Alliance, though it’s well worth remembering that Anárion, Isildur’s brother, was killed during this conflict. Then, of course, his father Elendil is killed a year later, in the final battle with Sauron, and Isildur claims the One Ring – the single action which will come to define him in history.
The Ruling Ring passed out of the knowledge even of the Wise in that age; yet it was not unmade. For Isildur would not surrender it to Elrond and Círdan who stood by. They counselled him to cast it into the fire of Orodruin nigh at hand, in which it had been forged, so that it should perish, and the power of Sauron be for ever diminished, and he should remain only as a shadow of malice in the wilderness. But Isildur refused this counsel, saying: ‘This I will have as were-gild for my father’s death, and my brothers. Was it not I that dealt the Enemy his death-blow?’ And the Ring that he held seemed to him exceedingly fair to look on; and he would not suffer it to be destroyed.
The Silmarillion, “Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age”
This, clearly, is very different to the leering, punchable villain of the films.
We see Elrond and Círdan attempt guidance, attempt to speak with a man they doubtless saw as at least a wise ally, likely even a friend. And we see Isildur refuse that counsel – but it is a refusal with justification. Of course, it’s made exceedingly clear that Isildur’s choice is the wrong one, and is guided by the Ring’s malevolent influence, that goes without saying. However, it paints a much more mature picture of the incident, especially when Isildur’s grief is thrown into relief. Both his birthplace and the city he governed have been destroyed by Sauron, and his father and brother both slain in the war against him. This is a moment of triumph for Isildur, but it is one mixed with grief and vengeance – and as we know, the Ring is at its most powerful when its bearer faces negativity.
Further, we’re not wholly sure what Elrond and Círdan told Isildur. To the best of my knowledge, they did not possess any concrete evidence that Sauron would endure and be able to regain so much of his native power while the Ring survived. And as bearers themselves of Vilya and Narya, their counsel to Isildur that he should destroy his own precious weregild may have seemed highly suspect, especially to his grieving and already clouded mind. Like I said, Isildur’s decision was unambiguously wrong. But framed in this manner, it brings his character into a far more forgivable context.
The truly fascinating thing in all this for me is that Isildur can then be viewed as a troubling parallel with Frodo, the character who inherits the burden of Isildur’s mistake. For Frodo, too, suffers great hardship and torment. Frodo, too, is eventually presented with the opportunity to destroy the Ring. And Frodo also fails. With the benefit of near-on 1,000 pages of story leading to Frodo’s failure, we as readers are able to empathise with Frodo in that crucial moment, even as we recognise that he has made a terrible error.
Sadly, though, I suspect that the parallel is only strengthened with history. In the immediate aftermath, Frodo is of course celebrated, heralded as a hero, as I am sure Isildur was by his people following the conclusion of the War. Yet it is not too difficult to imagine Frodo’s name being tarnished in the long centuries after, as his story becomes more widely known and less remembered – though not forgotten. Only those among the Wise who studied the entire tale would comprehend the enormous suffering of Frodo, while those familiar with the broad strokes would understand him as a failure, perhaps even a traitor, a fool saved from the consequences of his own foolishness only by a lucky fall. Thus, Frodo would pass to ill-deserved infamy until he be remembered solely for his greatest failure – just as I think Isildur has been.
The impression I get of Isildur from all the collected writings is very much that of a good, even great, man, one with wisdom and not easily swayed from just thoughts and deeds. In the midst of his darkest hour, he makes a single mistake that will lead to the suffering and deaths of many, and many have judged him solely and harshly on that poor action. But the sinner should not be judged for the sin, no matter how catastrophic the sin may be – and I do believe Isildur to be less of a sinner than the movies would have it. Overall, he is a noble and considered leader, a Man who dealt with tragedy beyond the ken of most, and who did far greater good in far darker times than many would. He may not be one of the great heroes of the Legendarium, but he also deserves far better than his current lot.
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