Lessons in Abnegation by elfscribe  

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Lessons in Abnegation

Inspired by pandemonium_213's scholarly paper on “Tolkien, Lunatic Physicists, and Abnegation,” presented at the Mereth Aderthad 2025, a celebration of 20 years of the Silmarillion Writers Guild.*

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“The greatest examples of the action of the spirit and of reason are in abnegation.”  
The Letters of J.R.R.Tolkien, 186. 
                    
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Year 16, Fourth Age 

When Meril entered the reading room, her two students were sitting at opposite ends of the table glaring at each other. Odd. They usually sat quite happily next to one another. Closer examination revealed that Prince Eldarion’s left eye was bruised and one exquisite cheekbone had gone purple. Cirion had twigs in his curly, blond hair and his tunic was rent at the shoulder. Hmm.

Visible through the large arched windows of the classroom, the White Tree in the courtyard lifted blossoming branches against the afternoon sky. Meril set down the documents she was carrying and regarded the two young men over her spectacles. “Well, which of you is going to tell me what happened?”

Cirion scowled. Fostered by King Elessar as a child, Cirion was the elder of the two by nearly four years. He and the Prince had grown up together, and were dear friends, more like brothers actually, but as with all brothers, there were occasional scuffles. At sixteen, Eldarion was rather awkwardly flowering into manhood, slim, but already nearly as tall as Cirion, and perhaps more idealistic than pragmatic. The lessons benefitted from their sometimes lively disagreements. But this one . . . appeared serious.  

Meril quirked an eyebrow. “Eldarion?”

“He said they all were wrong,” Eldarion grumbled. “We, uh, got into a fight over it.”

“I can see that,” Meril said. “Perhaps some specifics, so we can sort it out.”

Folding his arms, Cirion said, “This morning after breakfast, El and I began discussing the choices made by Elrond and others about the Ring. I merely said I couldn’t understand why they decided not to use it to defeat Sauron, and El took offense.”

“You said they should have used it!” Eldarion cried, as he lurched forward in his chair. “You said Boromir was right. So, by implication, that means all my family, and Mithrandir, all of them were wrong to reject it!” His face had darkened with bruised fury, silver eyes flashing, long ebony hair falling disheveled about his shoulders. He reminded Meril of descriptions she’d read of his flame-eyed Noldorin ancestors. Such passion!  

“People died because of that decision!” Cirion snarled.

“You don’t know what would have happened otherwise,” Eldarion declared. “People would have died regardless. It was war against a terrible foe! We’ve both heard stories from my parents. Everyone knows, the Ring was evil and would corrupt anyone who wore it. Therefore, they couldn’t use it. Isn’t that right, Mistress?”

“We have the benefit of hindsight, Eldarion,” Meril replied gently. “Let’s explore the problem further.”

A delicious scent of blossoms wafted into the room, reminding Meril of the miraculous day, eighteen years past, when Mithrandir and King Elessar entered the courtyard carrying a healthy sapling to replace the withered tree. Before leaving the city, the wizard had visited the archives and they had talked—all too briefly. In the years since, as she’d labored to compile stories of the War of the Ring, she wished the Wise Ones were still here to consult. But they had departed Middle-earth. It was a new age. The Age of Men. And ‘twas up to her to try to educate the future king.  

Meril squared her shoulders. “Imagine yourself in a position of responsibility and leadership during the War. The Dark Lord has amassed an overwhelming army and is putting forth his power. His advance seems unstoppable. But lo, the Ruling Ring has been found and you have access to it. What do you do?”

“After study yesterday, I pondered this for some time,” Cirion replied, “and decided that I would claim the Ring, but only use it to battle Sauron and achieve peace. Then I would put it away for safekeeping, forever.”

“You actually think you would be capable of doing that?” Eldarion snorted. “There are so many problems with this. Where could such a thing be kept safe anywhere in Middle-earth? And you think you could resist its power? My great-grandmother Galadriel considered using it to try to defeat Sauron, but powerful as she was, she knew that the Ring would ensnare her and she would end up taking the Dark Lord’s throne herself. A horrifying thought! So, she refused, even knowing that it meant losing the realm she loved. Because it was the right thing to do!”

“But,” Cirion interrupted.

“No, let me finish,” Eldarion declared. “Mithrandir also refused it. Of all the Fellowship, including my father, only Boromir dared try to take it by force, which he came to regret. Faramir faced temptation as well, and resisted. The Ring-bearer accepted it reluctantly but with the mission of destroying it. They all knew the Ring’s history and the malevolent intent of its creator. They knew if they tried to use it, it would corrupt them! So, they rejected it!” Eldarion thumped a fist on the table.

“Easy, Eldarion,” Meril said. “Cirion, what have you to say to that?”

Cirion raised his chin. “How did they know for certain that it would corrupt them? They were wise and noble. So perhaps they could have resisted the Ring’s evil. Instead, they took a dreadful chance sending it off into Mordor. Luckily, the gamble paid off, just barely. But what if it hadn’t? There were myriad ways the quest could’ve gone wrong. If so, instead of sitting here contemplating history, we’d be slaves of the Dark Lord . . . or dead. So, why would Mithrandir, and Elrond and Galadriel, pardon me El, I know they’re family but I feel I must understand this, why would they take that chance? Why not try to see if they could control it successfully?”

“That would be risky as well,” Eldarion huffed. “Did we not read Mithrandir’s account of how Saruman succumbed to the lure of the Ring? He didn’t even need to touch it to desire its power, a desire which conquered him. The same was true of Lord Denethor, who was furious when Faramir failed to bring him the Ring, because he feared for his city. Both came to bad ends.”

“El, you are overlooking some hard facts!” Cirion cried. He gazed at his clenched fists. “I was but two years of age during the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, but even so, I remember when they brought in my father’s head—which those beasts had hurled over our walls. Mother couldn’t stop crying. I remember clutching her as we hid in our root cellar, scarce able to breathe for fear, and the terrible doom, doom of Mordor’s ram beating against the gate.” Cirion’s voice caught. “I lost my father and my older brother in the War. My mother died of grief not long after, making me an orphan until King Elessar took me in. So, you can see why I question those who rejected using the Ring’s power.” Cirion dashed a hand across his eyes. “Because that decision killed people.”

Eldarion’s face softened. “I know, and I am so sorry, my friend. I have heard how our people suffered in the War. I’m fortunate that I was not yet born.”

In the heavy silence that followed, Meril recalled her home at Imloth Melui, her father ambushed by orcs, her house burning as they fled across the plains to the safety of the city walls. She came around the table and put a comforting hand on Cirion’s shoulder. “I understand your pain, Cirion, and your desire to prevent what happened. It’s only natural to feel that way.”

“Consider,” Cirion’s voice grew stronger. “Those who carried the Ring for some length of time,” he counted on his fingers, “Isildur, the creature Gollum, Bilbo, and Frodo. None of them became Dark Lords.” He looked up. “So, it was possible to resist.”

“Mmm,” Eldarion replied. “According to Mithrandir’s account, Isildur was killed by orcs in part because he feared to use the Ring against them. The halflings by nature seemed resistant to its power. Even so, Gollum was driven mad. Bilbo rarely used it, so avoided the worst. Still the wizard had to push him to give it to Frodo, so it was working its influence upon him. Frodo bore it valiantly, but he was unable to resist at the end. If not for Gollum’s interference, the quest would have failed. The only Ring-bearer who took no hurt was Samwise, and the account says he was tempted but did not claim it, because he was loyal to Frodo, and because he simply did not want what the Ring offered. So, it seems all who bore the Ring were tempted by it to their detriment, even if their intentions were the noblest ones.”

“You’ve both learned what the history tells us,” Meril said. “Let’s think for a moment, Cirion. What if, in our hypothetical situation, you claimed the Ring because you wanted to save your people. But once you claimed it, you found you had to continue using it; because it wouldn’t just be one battle, would it? There would be many. If the men you defeated sued for peace and threw down their weapons, would you kill them to prevent another uprising? If they rebelled, would you destroy them all, including families with innocent children? Surely those remaining would want revenge, and the Ring, crafted with malice, would urge you to strike first. Would you be forced to continue fighting, committing atrocities until all the world was under your thumb? You see, you may begin with good intentions and the desire to protect those you love, but soon you would seek to dominate and destroy, until that is all you do. And all you are. And then you are lost. A servant of evil.”

Cirion’s face paled. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Eldarion nodded. “So clearly, the best course of action requires utter rejection of that kind of power.”

“But was it so cut and dried?” Meril turned to him. “You say you would have followed the wisdom of Elrond and Mithrandir and abnegated the Ring’s power. Instead, you would send defenseless halflings into the heart of the Enemy’s realm, swarming with orcs, on the chance they would survive to cast the Ring into the fiery chasm? What if they were captured and the Ring taken by the Enemy? A likely prospect, as Cirion pointed out. Your gamble would have failed and everything you care about destroyed. What then?”

Eldarion chewed a thumbnail. “Mother said grandfather was prescient at times. Maybe he foresaw something ...”

“In none of my conversations with Mithrandir did he suggest that,” Meril replied gently. She went over to the arched window. “In any case, I am asking what you, as King, would do.”

Eldarion sighed. “Perhaps the decision would be . . . more difficult than I thought and likely a losing proposition no matter what was decided. I apologize, Cirion.” Rising, he came over, and cast his arms about Cirion’s shoulders.

A tear snaked down Cirion’s cheek as he hugged back. “And I am sorry I hit you. Often do I let anger get the best of me. But might there have been another solution? Mistress, didn’t the records say the Council considered throwing the Ring into the ocean?”

Eldarion sank into the chair next to him. “They did, but they rejected that." He paused. "I think they knew there would be a cost no matter what decision they made, but they were considering the future—a world finally free of that evil. They made the decision for the next generation and the one after. They made it for us.”

Pleased, Meril smiled and nodded.

Cirion looked up, troubled. “Mistress, do you think the Darkness is truly gone? Could it take a new form and threaten us again?”

“A new form?” Meril mused. A memory assailed her of the hour the Dark Lord fell.

She was standing at the Citadel wall, staring anxiously at the shadowed Ephel Dúath when the earth shuddered so violently, it threw her to her knees. There came a fearful roar, louder than the din of battle, and a monstrous cloud erupted above the mountains. Riven by unnatural lightning, it billowed up and up into a vast column, crowned with a mushroom-shaped dome. A thing of horror. A prophet of doom. Then, the cloud shrank, dissipated. The land sighed and the sun shone. But the terror of that vision had never truly left her.

“Could evil return some day?” Meril replied. “It’s possible, even likely. If not Sauron, then some other manifestation of Arda Marred.”

Eldarion's eyes glinted with determination. “If so, Mistress, then we shall have to pass the test yet again.”
            
The End            

 

Chapter End Notes

Many thanks to my beta, the marvelous and perceptive Russandol.  

*I appreciate the opportunity, Pandë, to imagine characters’ voices to accompany your discussion of moral dilemmas surrounding the use of destructive power, both in our world and Tolkien’s.

The need for brevity has forced my characters to summarize events and character decisions that, we know, were in reality more detailed and complicated.

Cirion is named after the 12th Steward of Gondor. 
Meril = rose (Sindarin)

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