The Lord of the Rings’ Aragorn and Heroism Defined by Faith and Kindness
Mortensen and Jackson’s Hero Draws Quiet Courage from Optimism and Belief in Good
Never underestimate the influence our favorite characters can have on our lives. I was born in 1994, and thus had no lack of potential movie role models growing up. Star Wars was back, and 5-year-old me had no trouble loving the prequels — the Duel of the Fates was one of my earliest beloved film scenes, and I wanted very much to be a Jedi and have lightsaber duels. There were Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine and Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man — I wanted to be them, too, as well as Christian Bale’s and Daniel Craig’s tough, modern takes on Batman and James Bond, respectively, once I was a little older. Above all, though, I wanted to be Viggo Mortensen’s Aragorn in Peter Jackson’s remarkable The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Technically, I wanted to be Strider, Aragorn’s rugged initial Ranger-form in The Fellowship of the Ring, and in the backyard, I was him, albeit with a wooden dowel instead of a sword.
As an adult, I still watch Jackson’s Rings trilogy frequently, and have tried to identify what about Mortensen’s hero was so epic and admirable to me as a boy with no thoughts of character analysis. What made him my hero? Kids know Aragorn is awesome because he’s an amazing swordsman and a heroic warrior. Grown-ups can appreciate his nobility, that he is tough without being a brute, and properly chivalrous to the women in his life. All great qualities.
Lately, however, I have realized that the most heroic thing about Aragorn is his eternal ability to soldier on in faith that good will prevail, even when there is little to be optimistic about. He is also unfailingly kind and deeply protective others, especially those less powerful than himself. Throughout the trilogy, Jackson and Mortensen illustrate how Aragorn absolutely refuses to give in to despair, even when facing certain death, and goes out of his way to give hope and strength to his allies — thus, they reveal the depth of his heroism.
In Fellowship, Strider is a little scary at first. We meet him in a classic Old West saloon scene, sitting hooded in the corner of the Prancing Pony, smoking his pipe and watching ominously… Once we are properly introduced, though, it is clear that he is good — as Frodo says in the novel and extended edition film, Strider “looks foul, but feels fair.” Strider smuggles the Hobbits away from the Ringwraiths that hunt them, and it is not long before the Weathertop scene illustrates his willingness to throw himself into danger to defend others. Weathertop is a ruined watchtower where Strider and the Hobbits stop to spend a night on the road; while their protector is away, the halflings foolishly start a fire, alerting the wraiths to their position. The Hobbits cannot defend themselves against the Ringwraiths, and Frodo is near-fatally wounded. When it seems that the Hobbits are doomed, the mysterious stranger they have hesitated to trust literally leaps onscreen armed with sword and torch to battle all of the wraiths alone before they can kill them and seize the Ring. Weathertop was high on my list of favorite movie moments as a kid.
At the Council of Elrond, where the Fellowship of the Ring is formed and Frodo volunteers to bear the Ring to Mordor, Aragorn is the first to offer help: “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword,” he vows without hesitation. Aragorn’s willingness to lay his life down for the greater good without question is clear. Aragorn is heroic as the Fellowship journeys south, especially when he hurls himself between Frodo and a Cave Troll and is knocked unconscious against a stone wall for his trouble. His noblest moment of the film, however, comes during the disaster at Amon Hen.
Amon Hen is the climactic battle where Boromir is killed and the Fellowship fractured. The heroes are already in dire straits going into it: Gandalf is dead, Boromir has tried to take the Ring from Frodo, and it seems all will soon be lost. When Aragorn finds Frodo, visibly terrified after fleeing Boromir, Frodo recoils from him. Aragorn keeps his distance, does not intimidate him, and when Frodo offers him the Ring to carry the rest of the way to Mordor, Aragorn’s character shines forth: in a moment when the Ring, which corrupts all it touches, is within his grasp, Aragorn kneels before Frodo and gently closes his small hand back around it. “I would have gone with you to the end — into the very fires of Mordor,” he says sorrowfully. He will not take the Ring, as he knows it would be his undoing. The decision takes courage and character. As Aragorn says, he swore to protect Frodo, and even if he cannot carry the Ring, is still prepared to give his life to keep that promise: when he sees Frodo’s sword glowing blue, signaling the arrival of the Uruk-hai that have tracked them, Aragorn springs up, draws his sword, and commands Frodo simply to run.
When Aragorn strides into a clearing and finds himself facing a hundred snarling Uruks, he is calm. Even as skilled a warrior as he stands little chance against so many vicious foes alone. Aragorn seems to say a silent prayer as he faces the rushing enemy — he will likely die here, and is prepared. He buys Frodo time, fighting the Uruks one by one until help arrives. “Elendil!” he roars as he leaps from a platform directly onto a group of Uruks, invoking his ancient ancestor’s name to give him strength in battle. The scene is a powerful illustration of Aragorn’s spirituality, and how he relies upon his faith and internal strength so that others can rely upon him. The very act of allowing Frodo and Sam to go on alone requires deep trust and faith that good will triumph, even if reason says that is unlikely.
In The Two Towers, Aragorn must tend to other theaters of the looming War of the Ring while keeping faith that Frodo and Sam will succeed, without any way of knowing if they are even alive. Aragorn’s faith is tested repeatedly throughout Towers: when his dogged pursuit of the Uruk-hai that abducted Merry and Pippin only yields evidence that he is too late and the Hobbits are dead and burnt, Aragorn carries on. When the heroes arrive in Rohan to find that King Théoden is a puppet of the traitorous Wizard Saruman instead of an ally, Aragorn carries on. When he is dragged off a cliff by a Warg, swept away, and presumed dead, Aragorn rallies by drawing strength from the thought of Arwen, the woman he loves; with help from his horse, Brego, he manages to get up and regroup with his allies at Helm’s Deep, the fortress where Rohan will stand against a 10,000-strong host of Uruk-hai dispatched by Saruman to rout the kingdom for good.
Helm’s Deep illustrates how Aragorn’s faith in goodness and his allies is the eternal wellspring of his strength. There is little hope that Rohan will win: they will meet Isengard’s 10,000 heavily-armed Uruks with only 300 elderly and teenaged men. Legolas, Aragorn’s steadfast comrade, tells him it is a lost cause, that everyone in Théoden’s paltry host will die — “Then I shall die as one of them!” Aragorn rages for all to hear. Once again, the Ranger faces a hopeless battle, but retreat is not in his character, especially when other lives are at stake. Aragorn knows he will probably die, and prepares to meet his fate head-on.
Perhaps the most moving display of Aragorn’s undying kindness and support of those around him comes in the hours leading up to the siege. When he spots a boy who cannot be more than thirteen sitting in armor too large for him, Aragorn speaks to him. The boy is Haleth, son of Háma — Háma was the Man of Rohan mauled to death by a Warg when Orcs ambushed the exodus on the road. Haleth has just horrifically lost his father, and is now called upon to fight and die for his people before ever having the chance to grow up. He is clearly terrified, and cannot even talk to his father. Aragorn knows how the battle will likely go, but gives Haleth no sign of despair: “This is a good sword,” he says after examining the boy’s weapon (although it does not look like a particularly good one). While Théoden indulges in cynicism, Aragorn takes the time to bolster a young boy’s courage. “There is always hope,” he tells Haleth. More than any of his military feats, this small act of kindness is profoundly heroic.
The siege is hell. Aragorn takes a beating, including being blown off the Deeping Wall when the enemy detonates a massive black powder bomb beneath it. He fights on the frontline the entire battle, and still has to combat Théoden’s pessimism as morning approaches, when the King bemoans what can be done against “such reckless hate” — “Ride out and meet it,” Aragorn counsels. Like at Amon Hen, he does not know the meaning of surrender, even when defeat is assured. Of course, had Aragorn agreed with Théoden and given up, the defenders would have died moments before Gandalf returned with Éomer’s 2,000 exiled cavalrymen and routed Isengard’s host at the same time the Ents laid waste to Isengard itself. Aragorn never gives up hope, not because he knows he will succeed, but because he knows doing so would be a grave sin when the tide is about to turn — which could be any moment, which means it is never acceptable to give up. As the sun rises over Helm’s Deep, the tide has turned — but as Gandalf says, the battle for Middle-earth is about to begin.
Everything is at stake in The Return of the King — there is still no guarantee that any of the heroes’ actions will amount to anything, as Frodo’s status remains unknowable. Aragorn’s faith is highlighted again in an early scene in which the heroes celebrate Rohan’s victory at Helm’s Deep. As others drink and sing, Aragorn and Gandalf stand aside and speak solemnly about Frodo. Gandalf cannot say what he thinks has become of him — “What does your heart tell you?” asks Aragorn, ever the man of feeling and hope. After a moment, Gandalf smiles: “That Frodo is alive. Yes — yes, he is alive.” In moments of doubt, Aragorn knows that optimism is the wisest course, and worth indulging in.
Aragorn’s duty in Return may be his noblest hour in the trilogy, because it requires him to give up the life he knows, along with his fears and self-doubts. For the heroes to stand any chance at the Siege of Minas Tirith, where Middle-earth’s fate will be decided, they need massive reinforcements — the only available are the Army of the Dead, and only if Aragorn accepts his birthright as the King of Gondor, a path he has shunned out of fear that he would be no better than Isildur, his forebear who succumbed to the Ring. Aragorn always does what he must when others depend upon him, though, and everyone depends on him now. He accepts his destiny and takes up Andúril, the ancestral sword of the King, in order to command the army, which makes the difference at Minas Tirith. Gondor’s capitol city survives, and Aragorn has committed to returning to rule there when the war is over — but the war is not over yet.
Aragorn’s final great moment of heroism is commanding the combined hosts of the Men of the West before the Black Gate of Mordor. It is a hail-Mary play, a final desperate bid to give Frodo time to destroy the Ring. Of all the unwinnable battles Aragorn has fought, this is objectively the most hopeless. The heroes simply do not have the manpower to win, but do not intend to: they truly only mean to distract the enemy long enough for Frodo to complete his mission. It will undoubtedly be suicide.
Aragorn’s speech at the Black Gate again illustrates his unfailing empathy to the fears and feelings of others, and ability to comfort and encourage them even in dire times. The heroes are surrounded and outnumbered many times over — there is no surviving this. “I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!” Aragorn booms to his troops astride Brego. Here, Jackson cuts to the face of a young soldier, whose eyes widen when his commander suggests that his bravery outweighs his own. As in the scene with Haleth, Aragorn knows that the best weapon to carry into a hopeless fight is hope, and that stoking the bravery of others is one of the greatest graces.
The fight begins with Aragorn’s purest moment of selfless bravery. For all of Sauron’s displays of might, he fears Aragorn — just before the battle, Sauron speaks to him. We cannot hear what he says, but can assume it is a traditional Satanic Offer of some sort: hollow flattery and the promise of who knows what if Aragorn only betrays his allies and sides with him. Sauron clearly did not listen to the speech Aragorn just made, did not hear him say that, “A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day!” When Sauron beckons him as Elessar, his regal title, Aragorn simply looks at Gandalf, smiles with tears in his eyes, and whispers, “For Frodo.” Then he charges, roaring, into the enemy line, at peace going to meet his death — that is who he is.
Throughout The Lord of the Rings, Peter Jackson shows time and again that Aragorn is a strong man defined by gentleness, a soldier defined not by violence, but by sensitivity and emotional intelligence. Aragorn is the antithesis of a brooding sociopath dressed as a bat or an angry, womanizing MI6 assassin — he is a noble, chivalrous knight, minus any laughable Prince Charming tropes, a protector of the weak who never abandons hope or kindness. Casting real-life Renaissance man Viggo Mortensen was a stroke of genius, and the character will be one of the hardest-ever to recast whenever the time comes. I may have been most impressed by Aragorn’s sword-fighting as a boy, but now I can see how the character was a wonderful role-model of gentle masculinity, courage, and kindness during my most formative years. I looked up to Strider then, and still do now. That’s how our heroes should be.
