Samwise the Brave--I finally understand.

I just completed my yearly watching of The Lord of the Rings, and for the first time in my life--in all the times I have read the books, watched the movies, talked about the story, and thought about the story--I have finally had genuine sympathy and empathy for Sam Gamgee.

In the course of my life I have always loved Merry and Pippin; they’re fun. I carry deep passion for Aragorn (that one doesn’t even need to be explained). And Gimli and Legolas are the two cool kids you wish will be your friends. Gandalf obviously needs no explanation. But Frodo and Sam have never seriously captured my interest. I understood it was hard for Frodo and Sam to make it to Mount Doom; more than hard, it was a quest with such little chance of success that their completion of it defies any true understanding. But watching Lord of the Rings this time around it struck me how hard, how unimaginably hard, it must have been for Sam.

Frodo is effectively a substance abuser; the longer he carries the ring the more his mind is no longer his own. He lashes out at those around them, doesn’t take care of himself, and sinks deeper and deeper into a world where no one can follow. Frodo could not have made it without Sam because he would have crumpled under the ring. I think anyone who attempted the quest on their own would have. Sam’s job, therefore, is not only to accompany Frodo and help him but to carry him, literally and figuratively, all the way. Sam must bear the burden of the journey and the burden of Frodo. Yes, Sam doesn’t have to worry about the ring working on his mind, but he is alone, hated, and abused in turns. Gollum, another necessary figure doesn’t make anything easier. And to watch his best friend turn to Gollum over him, and to be able to understand it (perhaps) objectively but never emotionally.

And Sam can’t walk away. No matter what Frodo does to him. No matter what Frodo makes him do. No matter what Frodo requires of him. Sam is the pack mule, the load bearer. There is nothing glorious or archetypically heroic about Sam Gamgee; he isn’t the most interesting or charismatic or funny. But he’s strong and staid and to have made that journey with Frodo and Gollum, to have stood by Frodo all that way and to bear no resentment and no ill will when it was all done--I don’t think I have ever appreciated what sort of strength that would take.

We don’t glorify that sort of strength in our society; I’m not sure I know of a society that does. We look up to the Aragorns and revere the Gandalfs. We have people who bluster and preen and imagine themselves Legolases or Gimlis, but no one sets out to be Sam. Sam isn’t glamorous. And on the surface of it, why would you want to be Sam? He wants nothing more than to live a quiet life; he wouldn’t adventure if it weren’t thrust upon him, and he certainly doesn’t want to keep adventuring when it’s over. But as I’ve contemplated what makes a hero I think there is an aspect of immovable strength combined with simplistic decency that should be considered. Most people are neither naturally good enough nor naive enough to be Sam, and more than that most people could not survive bearing the load Sam does. But despite his lack of glory he is a truly impressive character.

Perhaps even among LOTR lovers my ode to Sam seems a bit much. But I share it anyway because even with all of my imagined philosophizing about any number of things I still miss the most obvious things sometimes. How could I live my whole life with LOTR and never once until just now, fully understand--emotionally and objectively--how impressive Samwise the Brave truly is? What does it mean for my own philosophies if they now metamorph to include an idea of heroism that is neither exciting nor glorious, but unimaginably difficult, tedious, and necessary?

I remember a professor said once that we return to stories over and over in our lives because each time we revisit them we might find they mean something different. He was right.