The Return of the King Women and Femininity

Éowyn has two pretty big problems here: (1) As a lady, she resents being left behind to tend the household while the Riders of Rohan (and particularly Éomer) have the freedom to ride off and be heroes. And (2) as someone with an official duty to her people, she can't just do whatever she wants. There is responsibility that comes from being a member of the House of Eorl, and in her case, that responsibility doesn't come with much power. But we know that the men and women of the Rohirrim are "valiant both alike" (The Two Towers 4.5.122), so you can imagine how frustrated Éowyn feels. But here's the real question: do you think Tolkien approves of Éowyn's complaints? Or does he agree with Aragorn and the other dudes? Are there ever instances in the The Lord of the Rings when it is virtuous not to do your duty—like Éowyn's riding into battle? Or is doing your duty a virtue in and of itself?

Take that, you ugly, stinky Nazgûl jerk! This is one of our favorite scenes because Éowyn finally gets to stick it to everyone who ever told her she doesn't have a place on the battlefield. More importantly, she gets to stick it to the Lord of the Nazgûl, who has fatally underestimated her awesomeness. The irony here is that the Lord of the Nazgûl underestimates her because he thinks she's a man, while everyone else has underestimated her because she's a woman. In the end, though Théoden's death marks a tragic point in the novel, it's also a moment of great triumph for one of Middle-earth's few women warriors. We couldn't resist letting out a little cheer.

She's a kick-butt warrior maiden, sure. But this description of Éowyn is particularly interesting because it shows two sides to her character. As both a warrior and a lady, she has distinct qualities of both: her bright hair is glowing underneath her helmet (so, that's feminine). Her eyes are "hard and fell" (masculine) and yet there are "tears [...] on her cheek" (that's feminine, in this context). In Tolkien's world, Éowyn can't be totally girly—she has to be hard and cold—because she's a warrior, and therefore needs some more masculine qualities. Can you imagine Tolkien's Arwen wielding sword and shield? Probably not, right?

While Ioreth may be crotchety and perhaps too chatty, she still has wisdom in her old sayings. Ioreth's chatterbox nature is likable, whereas this guy—the herb-master of the Houses of Healing—seems like a patronizing jerk. He talks even more than Ioreth, showing off his learning regarding names, etymologies, and variations of plants. But he totally misses the importance of what he is saying in that rhyme of old days "which women [...] still repeat without understanding": "When the black breath blows [...] come athelas!" What does he think that means? Black breath, hello? While Ioreth may not match Galadriel in wisdom, she is still smart enough to recognize the truth in the old sayings she repeats, unlike this pompous old fool.

Thank goodness Éowyn is unconscious. Otherwise, we imagine this would be incredibly awkward—to have three dudes surrounding her sickbed and discussing her love life. To make matters worse, one of them is her brother and the other is the man she loves unrequitedly. Cringe. They are discussing what has made her ill: is it the frost that came into her heart when she fell in love with Aragorn and he didn't return her feelings? Or is it the shame of having been stuck alone in the House of Eorl with her elderly, possessed uncle and Gríma Wormtongue? Either way, we do appreciate that Gandalf acknowledges the fact that Éowyn has Éomer's "spirit and courage" but "the body of a maid." He at least seems to understand that it ain't easy being a lady in Middle-earth.

We've said it before, and we'll say it again: Tolkien's depiction of Éowyn the warrior-woman is profoundly ambiguous. On the one hand, she is brave and stern. But somehow, this courage doesn't quite hang right on her female body. Her cool demeanor contrasts with what a woman should be—at least in Middle-earth's terms. Now that she has met a man who is apparently tough enough for her ("this tall man, both stern and gentle"), she is starting to soften and become more maidenlike, even in her voice. So, love is (apparently) making a woman out of Éowyn, much to everyone's approval. What gender politics does this transformation suggest?

Wait a second. So all it takes to turn a kick-butt shieldmaiden into a peaceful healer is the love of a good man? We're not sure how we feel about this transformation, but it seems Tolkien has something to say about gender through Éowyn's example. In any case, we'll turn it over to you: which Éowyn do you like better? The warrior woman, or the wife of Faramir?

Aside from Frodo's clever pun on Arwen's name among her people (Arwen Undómiel means Arwen Evenstar), this quote jumps out at us for its description of the lady elf. Based on Frodo's view of her, Arwen's primary virtue appears to be that she is lovely. Her beauty literally lights up the night. Unlike the active Éowyn, Arwen's main contribution to victory in The Return of the King is sewing a banner. Yep. She sews. Maybe that's why Peter Jackson felt the need to give Arwen's actions a bit of a boost in the movie version.

It surprises us that Tolkien so often describes Éowyn as cold and distant, when the two women in this scene, Arwen and Galadriel, seem utterly unreal to the king and dwarf squabbling good-naturedly over them. Gimli is willing to draw his ax against Éomer in The Two Towers when Éomer suggests that Galadriel is a witch. But what does Gimli truly know about her? For that matter, what does Éomer know about Arwen? Gimli describes Galadriel as "the Morning," while Arwen is "the Evening," which makes it seem as if these two female figures are more symbol than character.

After they've been separated for a year, the first thing Sam and Rosie have to say to each other is "Hullo." Seriously, guys? That's all you have to say? Aside from this hilarious greeting, what strikes us about this scene is how self-sacrificing a female Rosie is. Sure, she wants to reunite with her sweetheart, but she knows he has some rather masculine problems to deal with first—those ruffians, to be precise. She immediately recognizes that Sam's duty (to Frodo and to the Shire) comes first.