Our Elves, Our Selves

There are many reasons to admire Tolkien’s elves.  They are beautiful, graceful, and – in most cases – wise.  Yet the beauty of the elves, despite their mythological peculiarities, is of a sort at least partially attainable by human beings, and one of its most insightful descriptions is provided by Sam in the chapter “A Short Cut to Mushrooms.”  The hobbit says, “They are quite different from what I expected – so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it were.”

 

The beauty of the elves is not just a physical beauty, but a way of being that taps into the diversity and tensions of the human experience (for the elves were imagined by a human), and reconciles those forces into a powerful and compelling unity.  People usually experience age and youth, or happiness and sadness, as opposites in conflict with one another.  Yet in the elves, we see the connection of opposing elements, a balance or intermingling of innocence and wisdom, of eager action and melancholy contemplation.  The power of those tensions, the blending of those forces, is available to all of us.

Frodo is such a compelling hero in part because he bridges the gap between the hobbits and the elves.  Gildor names him “Elf-friend,” after all.  As such, Frodo serves as a manifestation of the twin desires of many Tolkien readers: to be as charming, amiable, and earthy as a hobbit, yet as noble, graceful, and powerful as an elf.  Even if we can’t always achieve such aspirations in our own lives, at least we can be reminded of them through the person of Frodo.

 

But we can be those things – sometimes, at least.  It may be easier to act like a hobbit than an elf – but there is something “elven” in our humanity, too.