It is told among the Elves that after Eärendil had departed, seeking Elwing his wife, Mandos spoke concerning his fate; and he said: ‘Shall mortal Man step living upon the undying lands, and yet live?’ But Ulmo said: ‘For this he was born into the world. And say unto me: whether is he Eärendil Tuor’s son of the line of Hador, or the son of Idril, Turgon’s daughter, of the Elven-house of Finwë?’ And Mandos answered: ‘Equally the Noldor, who went wilfully into exile, may not return hither.’
But when all was spoken, Manwë gave judgement, and he said: ‘In this matter the power of doom is given to me. The peril that he ventured for love of the Two Kindreds shall not fall upon Eärendil, nor shall it fall upon Elwing his wife, who entered into peril for love of him; but they shall not walk again ever among Elves or Men in the Outer Lands. And this is my decree concerning them: to Eärendil and to Elwing, and to their sons, shall be given leave each to choose freely to which kindred their fates shall be joined, and under which kindred they shall be judged.’
The Silmarillion, Chapter 24, ‘Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath,’ by J.R.R. Tolkien
It is a curiosity often forgotten by Tolkien readers that this virtue bestowed upon Eärendil and Elwing, each of them the products of Elvish and Mannish unions, was granted not as a matter of course for their half-elven nature, but as a special boon in recognition of their extraordinary courage and selflessness — a boon that was, to be sure, informed by their unusual heritage, but not derived from it.
Most — perhaps even all — other post-Tolkien media has followed his example in having Men and Elves be biologically close enough to wed and to conceive children. Where they diverge, though, is in the nature of these children: taking “half-elven” to mean something definable on that physical level. In, say, D&D, a half-elf is a definably different genetic being: a creature sharing characteristics of both parents (such as, say, a liger) — including, crucially, the lifespan. Such half-elves are long-lived, if not so long-lived as their elvish ancestors.
Tolkien’s half-elves are different. In Middle-earth, the products of Elvish and Mannish unions are Men…unless otherwise determined. In Tolkien, half-elves are half-elvish only in the matter of genealogical record, not in terms of biological or spiritual “nature” — they are, by default, Men, as is even more clearly indicated in a variant of the text quoted from above:
To Eärendel I remit the ban, and the peril that he took upon himself out of love for the Two Kindreds shall not fall on him; neither shall it fall upon Elwing who entered into peril for love of Eärendel: save only in this: they shall not ever walk again among Elves or Men in the Outer Lands. Now all those who have the blood of mortal Men, in whatever part, great or small, are mortal, unless other doom be granted to them; but in this matter the power of doom is given to me.
The Lost Road and Other Writings, Part Two, “Valinor and Middle-earth before The Lord of the Rings, Quenta Silmarillion”, by J.R.R. Tolkien, ed. Christopher Tolkien
Except, of course, for those who are not. Except for those few half-elves who are granted a choice — and a choice that lingers across some generations, and is seemingly removed for others. For so it is that Arwen, the daughter of Elrond, is herself given the chance to make the same choice that her father made — and yet Vardamir, the son of Elros and the distant ancestor of Aragorn, is apparently fully Mannish.1
This, then, is what today’s essay is concerned with: with trying to come to some conclusion as regards how the half-elven can be made sense of in Tolkien — and, primarily, in trying to understand why it is that the Gift of Eru, that is Death, is something irrevocably bestowed…except, again, when it is apparently not.
I think it is wise to firstly list the various instances of Elvishness and Mannishness either “switching,” or becoming a matter of choice in some way — more so for the sake of showing just how truly varied and unusual each specific circumstance is.
- Lúthien — an Elf who is granted the Gift of Men as a consequence of her interceding before the Valar on behalf of Beren, her lover.
- Túor — a Man who weds Idril, the daughter of the Elvish king of Gondolin. “It is said…” that Túor was afterward counted among Elven-kind.
- Dior — the son of Beren and Lúthien. Dior is an especially interesting case, in that he was indeed counted as being the heir to Thingol, his Elven grandfather and the ruler of Doriath, though he himself was evidently of Mannish nature.
- Elwing and Eärendil — the children of Dior and his wife (Nimloth), and Túor and Idril respectively, who themselves wed. It is through Elwing and Eärendil that the matter of the half-elven becomes rather more complicated. Both are born as mortals, and yet, as described in the passage that opened this essay, they are granted the gift of choice by Eru through the Valar: they are allowed to themselves determine which kindred they belong to. This choice is irrevocable, yet can be delayed (as will be important soon) under certain circumstances. Both of them ultimately choose Elvenhood, which leads us to…
- Elros and Elrond. The twin sons of Elwing and Eärendil, who are themselves granted the same choice as their parents. Elros chooses to be counted among Men, and his descendants are thus also Men, becoming the rulers of the island kingdom of Númenor, and later Arnor and Gondor. Elrond, on the other hand, elects to become an Elf, and remains in Middle-earth.
- Then, finally, there is one “possible” recorded instance of Elvish-Mannish coupling — the tale of Imrazôr, a Gondorian nobleman whose son was the first of the Princes of Dol Amroth. It was said that Imrazôr wedded Mithrellas, an Elvish maid, and thus an Elvish strain entered the Princes (as remarked upon many years later by Legolas) — and it is this case that is perhaps most instructive as regards a “typical” Elf-Man union. For Galador, Imrazôr’s son, must indeed have been half-elvish by blood — yet clearly was Mannish in his nature.
It is with Elros and Elrond that matters become vexed. For, as mentioned above, the children (and all descendants) of Elros are Men, fully and absolutely — still bearing an Elvish “strain,” and blessed with extraordinarily long lives, but no longer granted any gift of choice. The Gift of Men has been bestowed upon them, absolutely and irrevocably.
This is not so with Elrond’s children. Elrond’s own twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and his daughter Arwen, are also granted the same choice that was granted to their father, and to their grandparents:
At the end of the First Age the Valar gave to the Half-elven an irrevocable choice to which kindred they would belong. Elrond chose to be of Elven-kind, and became a master of wisdom. To him therefore was granted the same grace as to those of the High Elves that still lingered in Middle- earth: that when weary at last of the mortal lands they could take ship from the Grey Havens and pass into the Uttermost West; and this grace continued after the change of the world. But to the children of Elrond a choice was also appointed: to pass with him from the circles of the world; or if they remained to become mortal and die in Middle-earth.
The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A: I (i) ‘Númenor’, by J.R.R. Tolkien
And, despite having lived for many years beyond a Mannish lifespan, at least one of Elrond’s children accepts the chance to surrender her immortality. The tale of Arwen and Aragorn (himself a descendent of Elros) need not be retold here, I suspect — but what is worth emphasising is that Arwen’s taking of the Gift of Men for herself and dying a mortal death is not something that any Elf can do, nor is it a biological product of her genetic makeup. It is a favour, a boon granted to her as a child of Elrond.
And a boon that is seemingly not granted to the children of Elros, as is reinforced in one of Tolkien’s letters.
In the primary story of Lúthien and Beren, Luthien is allowed as an absolute exception to divest herself of ‘immonality’ and become ‘mortal’ — but when Beren is slain by the Wolf-warden of the Gates of Hell, Lúthien obtains a brief respite in which they both return to Middle-earth ‘alive’ – though not mingling with other people : a kind of Orpheus-legend in reverse, but one of Pity not of Inexorability. Túor weds Idril the daughter of Turgon King of Gondolin; and ‘it is supposed’ (not stated) that he as an unique exception receives the Elvish limited ‘immortality’: an exception either way. Eärendil is Túor’s son & father of Elros (First King of Númenor) and Elrond, their mother being Elwing daughter of Dior, son of Beren and Lúthien: so the problem of the Half-elven becomes united in one line. The view is that the Half-elven have a power of (irrevocable) choice, which may be delayed but not permanently, which kin’s fate they will share. Elros chose to be a King and ‘longaevus’ but mortal, so all his descendants are mortal, and of a specially noble race, but with dwindling longevity: so Aragorn (who, however, has a greater life-span than his contemporaries, double, though not the original Númenórean treble, that of Men). Elrond chose to be among the Elves. His children – with a renewed Elvish strain, since their mother was Celebrían dtr. of Galadriel – have to make their choices. Arwen is not a ‘re-incarnation’ of Lúthien (that in the view of this mythical history would be impossible, since Lúthien has died like a mortal and left the world of time) but a descendant very like her in looks, character, and fate. When she weds Aragorn (whose love-story elsewhere recounted is not here central and only occasionally referred to) she ‘makes the choice of Lúthien’, so the grief at her parting from Elrond is specially poignant. Elrond passes Over Sea. The end of his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, is not told: they delay their choice, and remain for a while.
JRR Tolkien, Letter 153
This is significant. The Gift of Men, mortality and death, cannot be abrogated once given — except that we know that it can be removed by Eru, for Eru “removes” it for at least Eärendil and Elwing, who by all rights should have been counted among Men, and must have been born as Men. So too with their sons, for Elrond and Elros were indeed born prior to the judgement of Manwë.
And none of this is even touching upon the matter of Túor. Here, the “some say…” that Tolkien often employs in his writings is doing some heavy lifting indeed. It is entirely possible that Túor passed over the Sea with Idril, and perished in Valinor while she endured. Possible. But it feels unfitting, somehow. And it is worth noting that it was at least considered possible that he was granted an Elvish nature, and that Tolkien himself states that it was so more clearly later in that same letter.
This all then returns us to the original question: why, and how? What sense are we to make of any of this? What, if any, rules are there that inform us of the irrevocability or otherwise of Elvishness or Mannishness? And (and I think this is the most pressing question) why is it so that the children of Elrond are granted the same gift of choice, where none of the descendants of Elros are likewise afforded such?
It is a question that I intend to address — but first, I think it is necessary to turn away from the Elves and toward Men, and toward Tolkien’s conception of Death in Middle-earth.
Tolkien’s cosmogony would have it that Elves, the Firstborn of the Children of Ilúvatar, are by their natures undying — capable of meeting with accident or injury and thus being slain, but otherwise free of physical weariness and the ravages of time. It is this that separates them from Men, from the later-coming mortals.
This, of course, is hardly news to anyone who has made it this far in the article. What is worth noting, though, is that there were readers in Tolkien’s own day who saw this as being theologically problematic — as running counter to the very Catholicism that Tolkien ascribed to. In 1954 Tolkien corresponded with one Peter Hastings, the owner of a Catholic bookshop in Oxford, on several points of theological concern that Hastings had in LOTR. Tolkien returns to the question of death several times in his drafted letter of reply (indeed, the same letter 153 that was cited above), but none so clearly or so directly as in the following quote.
Since ‘mortality’ is thus represented as a special gift of God to the Second Race of the Children (the Eruhíni, the Children of the One God) and not a punishment for a Fall, you may call that ‘bad theology’. So it may be, in the primary world, but it is an imagination capable of elucidating truth, and a legitimate basis of legends.
JRR Tolkien, Footnote to Letter 153
There are other Tolkien passages and quotes from around the same time (Letter 131 is also instructive, as is 156) that show the same philosophy in regards to mortality and death. Early in the 1950s, Tolkien seems to have been wholly willing to allow mortality to be a product of a divine plan within the context of his own stories, so as to better set apart the Men and the Elves of those tales. Elves were Elves, immortal and yet bound to the world – whereas Men were mortal, and not so confined, and there was no need to interrogate the differing natures of each further.
Most notably for the purposes of this argument, Tolkien seems here to be overtly suggesting that the mortality of Men is not the consequence of a Fall in their history – by which he means: the original sin of Adam in the Garden of Eden. According to Catholic theological thought, it is this original sin of Adam that has separated Man from God, that has stained the souls of all Adam’s descendants and has brought about many other evils, including the tendency of humanity toward sin…and the mortality of the body. In short, in the Primary World, Catholic tradition holds that mortality and death are themselves consequences of that original sin. It is clearly not a tradition that Tolkien holds any personal disagreement with, yet in his reply, he makes it very clear indeed that the mortality of his fictional Men is intended to stem from some other divinely-ordained cause.
And yet this is not the end of the story. For in 1958, Tolkien corresponded with a Rhona Beare, and in an unsent draft, he wrote this on the nature of death and mortality in Middle-earth.
In this mythical ‘prehistory’ immortality, strictly longevity co-extensive with the life of Arda, was pan of the given nature of the Elves; beyond the End nothing was revealed. Mortality, that is a short life-span having no relation to the life of Arda, is spoken of as the given nature of Men: the Elves called it the Gift of Ilúvatar (God). But it must be remembered that mythically these tales are Elf-centred, not anthropocentric, and Men only appear in them, at what must be a point long after their Coming. This is therefore an ‘Elvish’ view, and does not necessarily have anything to say for or against such beliefs as the Christian that ‘death’ is not part of human nature, but a punishment for sin (rebellion), a result of the ‘Fall’. It should be regarded as an Elvish perception of what death — not being tied to the ‘circles of the world’ – should now become for Men, however it arose. A divine ‘punishment’ is also a divine ‘gift’, if accepted, since its object is ultimate blessing, and the supreme inventiveness of the Creator will make ‘punishments’ (that is changes of design) produce a good not otherwise to be attained: a ‘mortal’ Man has probably (an Elf would say) a higher if unrevealed destiny than a longeval one. To attempt by device or ‘magic’ to recover longevity is thus a supreme folly and wickedness of ‘mortals’. Longevity or counterfeit ‘immortality’ (true immortality is beyond Ea) is the chief bait of Sauron – it leads the small to a Gollum, and the great to a Ringwraith.
JRR Tolkien, Letter 212
It is, in many ways, less a contradiction of his earlier ideas on death, and more a refining or a softening. Death remains a gift, but a gift understood as such solely through Elvish traditions and through an Elvish understanding, and with the further caveat that a truly all-loving God could not and would not inflict a punishment that was not in itself a good in some fashion. Further, mortality itself remains a “right” thing, rightly ordained and thus not a thing to be dodged or to try and escape from — but now with a clearer acknowledgement of why and how this might be so.
In short, it opens the possibility for death to be a consequence of original sin in Middle-earth, even as it is in the Primary World as held by Catholic theology. It opens the possibility (a very likely possibility, as will be shown) that in the years between 1954 and 1959, Tolkien revised and reconsidered his ideas on mortality in his fiction, and came to a new conclusion: that there is no essential contradiction between the idea of Death as a consequence of original sin, and Death as a gift from God. And, while the original sin in Arda itself may or may not have been Adam’s sin, it seems likely indeed that Tolkien intended for there to have been an original sin – and for mortality to stem from it.
For, written around the same time as the Beare letter, there is at least one source in which Tolkien expressly addresses the possibility of death being a consequence of original sin in his own world — the Athrabeth.
‘For I do not believe your tale. None could have done this save the One. Therefore I say to you, Andreth, what did ye do, ye Men, long ago in the dark? How did ye anger Eru? For otherwise all your tales are but dark dreams devised in a Dark Mind. Will you say what you know or have heard?’
Morgoth’s Ring, Part Four, “Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth”, by J.R.R. Tolkien, ed. Christopher Tolkien
Throughout the Athrabeth, the two protagonists debate matters of hope, belief, and philosophy. Death is a matter that naturally arises through the discussion, and Finrod, the Elvish king of Nargothrond, reiterates the fact that the “brevity” of the lives of Men is but a part of their nature, as is held in the Silmarillion — itself an Elvish text.
Only for Finrod to be stopped and challenged by his partner in speech, Andreth. It is not so, she claims. Among Men, it is said that they too were made for immortality, only to be injured and marred, reduced to their current state by the Enemy.
This Finrod challenges her on — it is not, he believes, within the potentiality even of Morgoth to so alter the very nature of a race of beings. If Andreth speaks truth, Finrod rejoins, and Men have had Death inflicted upon them? Then it must have been done by the One himself.
From here, the discussion moves to other questions — to the nature of the relationship between the spirit and the body, to questions of the perception of the world, and to hope and love. But, as is observed in the commentary that accompanies the text, it is clear that a central issue of the text was intended to be Tolkien’s own consideration of and working through that question of original sin and mortality in Arda – and, though there is no “right” conclusion drawn by either Finrod or Andreth as to what the truth may be, it is clear that there was at least an interest on Tolkien’s part in aligning his Gift of Death more closely with death as understood within his own religious beliefs. Indeed, given that the Athrabeth also touches upon what is called “the Old Hope” – the Mannish belief that the One will Himself enter Arda and unmar it – which is as clearly Christian an idea as any to be found in Tolkien’s fiction, it seems plain that the work is somewhat intended to serve as an exploration of how Elvish beliefs might marry with Catholic teachings.
All of this talk of original sin and mortality may seem to have rather strayed from the point! But, before we return to the matter of the Half-Elven, there is one final matter to observe, and that is Tolkien’s writings in 1960 that:
The Quendi never “fell” in the sense that Men did. Being “tainted” with the Shadow (as perhaps even the Valar in some degree were, with all things in “Arda Marred”) they could do wrong. But they never rejected Eru, or worshiped Melkor (or Sauron) either individually, or in groups, or as a whole people. Their lives, therefore, came under no general curse or diminishment, and their “life-span”, co-extensive with the remainder of the life of Arda, was unaltered – except only insofar as, with the very ageing of Arda itself, their primitive vigour of body steadily waned.
The Nature of Middle-earth, Part One, Chapter VI, “The Awakening of the Quendi,” by J.R.R. Tolkien, ed. Carl F Hostetter
Their lives, therefore, came under no general curse or diminishment. Not only does this form yet further evidence that these questions of death and original sin were playing on Tolkien’s mind throughout this period, it is a useful piece of evidence in forming the thesis that original sin did bring about the mortality of Men in Arda — and, crucially, that the Elves lacked that original sin. They possessed a capacity for sin, to be sure, but there was no inherited stain upon them.
Hence, one can see Tolkien subtly changing his mind and shifting his ideas on Death and its origins throughout the 1950s, in order that they be brought more closely in line with Catholic theology — or at the least, that there be no essential contradiction between one and the other (even if the exact correspondence remains nebulous and unstated). There are, of course, many such other examples throughout the ‘50s and the ‘60s of Tolkien altering his mythology in order that it might more readily accord with real-world phenomena and beliefs — the “Round Arda” being an easy and illustrative example of this late tendency in the author. And to this day, many of these revisions and alterations, both the great and the small, are hotly contested by readers as to which version is “better.”
I have never seen anyone observe this apparent softening of Tolkien’s consideration of death in Middle-earth, however. And it is, to be sure, a very minor reconsidering on his part, and arguably one that bears little upon the stories. And yet within it is, I believe, a very cogent argument for why the Gift of Death is permanent (yet removable) while the nature of the Elves must inevitably give way to it. I do not know and cannot say if Tolkien ever even considered the correspondence between the two — but to my mind, it works very well indeed. And it forms a compelling case for this revision, at least, as being one that serves the stories.
It is my proposal (whether intended or even fully considered by Tolkien or not) that Death as a consequence of original sin in Middle-earth is not only coherent, but it resolves the problems of Elvish-Mannish unions as outlined above.
Elves do not suffer from original sin: hence, no Elf can be marred by it. Men do, and thus, all Men must be born with it. Original sin is inherited, and thus, any child born to a Mannish parent will have original sin — and therefore, it follows that any child born to a Mannish parent must itself be of the Race of Men. Otherwise, such a child would be an Elf with original sin, and this cannot be.
This goes some way toward explaining the passages quoted at the beginning of this essay, but it does not address the question of how Eärendil and his descendants may have been permitted a choice. For Eärendil, as the son of Túor, and Elwing, the granddaughter of Beren, must themselves have been born with original sin, must they not? How, then, might it have been permitted for them to set that original sin aside in taking up an Elvish fate?
Yet the answer to this question is both trivial, and not to be found in Tolkien, but rather in Catholic theology itself. For Catholic teaching holds that there is just such a mechanism by which original sin is washed away — the sacrament of baptism.
The different effects of Baptism are signified by the perceptible elements of the sacramental rite. Immersion in water symbolizes not only death and purification, but also regeneration and renewal. Thus the two principal effects are purification from sins and new birth in the Holy Spirit.
. . .
By Baptism all sins are forgiven, original sin and all personal sins, as well as all punishment for sin. In those who have been reborn nothing remains that would impede their entry into the Kingdom of God, neither Adam’s sin, nor personal sin, nor the consequences of sin, the gravest of which is separation from God.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church, v. 1262 — 1263
Needless to say, there is no reason to suspect that Eärendil and his kin were actually baptised, as such! Yet it is illustrative that Catholic theology holds that there is just such a mechanism by which original sin can be washed away — and it then stands to reason that, if such a cleansing were to occur, the “nature” of the baptised might be further altered that they be counted among the Elves, by the grace of God. And indeed, it is made clear many times over that the Valar do not possess the authority to withdraw the Gift of Ilúvatar from any Man — but Eru himself does, and does so.
One might argue that the sacrament of baptism cannot itself exist in Middle-earth, being as it is an explicitly pre-Christ world, and to that I would agree. But to a timeless God, surely such issues are of no consequence? Surely, if the sacrifice of Christ and the sacrament of baptism provides a mechanism by which original sin may be lifted, there is nothing to withhold God / Eru from permitting the grace of that sacrament before its temporal institution (as, indeed, Catholic doctrine holds occurred with the Virgin Mary herself, born free from original sin)?
Hence can Eärendil and others (including Túor) be born as Men, and then subsequently be “reborn” into Elfdom. And hence can their children be granted that same choice — and the children of Elrond, including Arwen, can also inherit it, even as the children of Elros must be counted amongst Men. As soon as mortality and original sin are introduced (or reintroduced) into any union of Elf and Man, the mark of inherited original sin is indelibly left upon any and all offspring arising from such a union. Only in special circumstances, brought about through grace, might that mark be lifted — and if willingly accepted, such as by Elros and by Arwen, then it is again reintroduced into their descendants, and again endures.
This is all a long and rather heady subject, and doubtless one that I have not done justice to. Nonetheless, I do truly believe that it all fits together rather elegantly, and explains much concerning the Half-elven that is otherwise difficult to reckon with. If mortality in Tolkien’s fiction is indeed a consequence of original sin, then it stands to reason that that original sin functions much the same as it does in Catholic thought – chiefly, that it is inherited. If Elves are free of original sin, then no Elf can be stained with it. And if there is a mechanism (as there is with baptism) through which original sin may be cleansed, then it stands to reason that in certain extraordinary circumstances, and ever solely through the grace of the Creator, that mechanism should be deployed.
So it is that the children of Beren and Túor alike should be Men, bearing as they do original sin. So it is that Eärendil and Elwing might be cleansed of original sin, and thus be permitted to become as the Eldar in nature. So it is that Elrond and Elros might be granted that same choice, and that Elrond become Elvish whilst Elros accept the Gift of Men. And so is it that Elrond’s children, too, may be granted that same choice – because they have been born into a lineage free of original sin, which is not true of the children of Elros, nor those of Imrazôr, nor of any other unrecorded example of a half-Elvish child.
I will be very honest: I do not know that Tolkien ever worked through these ideas and the mechanism by which the hereditary consequence of original sin may or may not lie upon the half-Elven or not. I have no real way to show that this was what he “thought” of the matter, at any point in his life.
Yet, at least in this matter? I do not know that it matters. To be sure, without authorial confirmation, this entire question must always be considered through a speculative lens. But I do think that there is enough there to support my case that it could have worked like that – and, and just as importantly, it is difficult for me to find another version of events, of cause and effect, that so cleanly explains the nature of Mannish mortality, and why it persists even in the half-Elven…persists, and yet not inevitably so, when the intervention of Eru is permitted.
The Half-Elven are so merely by genealogy, not by any biological or physiological “split” in their natures. As a rule, half-elves are fully human, rendered so by their inheritance of original sin, and thus subject to mortality and all its woes and graces. Yet this original sin can, by divine providence, be washed away – whether through the sacrament of baptism, or through some subtler act of God. Thus can every example listed above, from Lúthien to Elros, be reconciled as being coherent within the observable laws and nature of Middle-earth.
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- It is here necessary to note that Tolkien did at least once consider the possibility that Vardamir, too, inherited the choice that was offered to the children of Elrond, as mentioned in The Nature of Middle-earth. To this, I would offer the counter-observation that it does run counter to statements made in several other places by Tolkien as regards the nature of half-elves in general and Elros’ line in particular; and that he does not seem to have revisited the idea at any other point in his writings. To be clear, it does suggest that Tolkien did not, even until this point, consider the possible implications that I have tried to work through in this text – but, as worked through in the conclusion to this essay, I do not know that this is gravely damaging to the substance of these arguments. ↩︎