The concept of free will underpins everything in Tolkien’s sub-creation. As I already mentioned in my last blog post, there is a reality to Middle-Earth existent so profound that it is rivalled by few other stories across literature. This may seem an overstatement, that writers such as Kafka, Dickens, and Orwell cannot offer the same all-encompassing sense of life as a writer of fantastical stories, but we must think about the fundamental central assumptions that they carry.
We know Kafka for his intensely dark, surreal psychological themes; Dickens offers incredibly nuanced social commentary; the works of George Orwell focus on modern politics and the possible effects of systems. However, when we think about Lord of the Rings, the answer does not come so quickly – is it simply a fun adventure story? Is it a tale of good and evil? Is it some sort of allegory for the Great War and Britain’s history? Is it the product of the invention of a language? Is it something else altogether? There are evidently so many layers to Tolkien’s work that it becomes impossible to reduce the story (or any of its constituent parts, for that matter) to one singular interpretation. This is because the only true assumption Tolkien makes is that of Free Will. As Professor Fulton Brown showed us, Tolkien shows that “if you have free will, everything will follow” (Prof. Fulton Brown, discussion on April 27th 2026). The reason for such a claim is because Free Will is the most fundamental underlying assumption we (or at least a lot of us) have about life. It is the anchor upon which the great ship humanity has built through civilization, wars, technology rests. Indeed, Tolkien – in a letter he ultimately never sent – writes that “I tried (…) to make visible and physical the effects of Sin or misused Free Will by men” (Letters, 290). So, misused Free Will – which implies (and Tolkien explicitly writes that about two sentences later) the necessity of Free Will – finds itself at the core of The Lord of the Rings.
But what does it mean for characters to have free will? Do they not simply act at the whim of their author? Well, Tolkien claimed that “in order that [free will] may exist, it is necessary that the Author should guarantee it, whatever betides” (Letters, 290). In The Lord of the Rings, we are shown the characters’ free wills by their choices. The importance of choice, without perfect knowledge or control of its consequences, is paramount. All the characters of The Lord of the Rings are faced with choices they must make of their own accord, for only it is only in their independent choosing that they have free will. During the Council of Elrond, for example, the Lord of Rivendell makes this clear as he cautions Frodo about the implications of his choice to take the Ring, saying that “‘it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right.’” (LotR, bk. II Ch. II) In the same speech, Elrond exclaims (with regard to Frodo becoming the ring bearer): “‘Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck?’” (LotR, bk. II Ch. II) Thus we see that there is no inevitability in Middle Earth. Elrond, an ancient, noble Eldar who has the gift of foresight himself is taken aback by Frodo’s choice.
Here we already see wisdom and structure in Tolkien’s thought. Rather than acting as a dominating master (such as Melkor), he shows the reader: Behold your free will, and what comes of it! Similarly, Frodo chooses to cross the river in the breaking of the fellowship and make for Mordor on his own. Here, Tolkien shows us, very subtly, a clear instance of free will in the story – as Aragorn contemplates that “‘[Frodo] is debating which course is the most desperate, I think,’” (LotR, bk. II Ch. X), we see the dilemma Frodo is having in real time, trying to decide what path to take, knowing that he cannot turn back. This introduces yet another integral facet of Tolkien’s understanding of free will – the lack of foreknowledge.
This made me think of a famous quote by Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. The nineteenth century Christian existentialist wrote in his journal: “It is really true what philosophy tells us, that life must be understood backwards. But with this, one forgets the second proposition, that it must be lived forwards.” We do not understand what the future brings; that knowledge is an impossibility for humans. Thus – remembering our Free Will – we must choose to act righteously, not to fall into temptation or complacency, without fully understanding the implications of our actions. Tolkien expresses this beautifully in his poem Mythopoeia, in which one stanza reads:
Blessed are the men of Noah’s race that build
Their little arks, though frail and poorly filled,
And steer through winds contrary towards a wraith,
A rumour of harbour guessed by faith.
We must act following a faith that the Good will prevail, although we cannot know it for certain. Again, we encounter Kierkegaard, whose famous ‘leap of faith’ concept – that we must live believing in a Good despite lack of reason or evidence – is embodied frequently by the Fellowship. Gandalf explains this to Frodo in Bag-End, saying that “all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us” (LotR, bk. I Ch. II). There is no possible way for Frodo to ascertain the future (which, very understandably, fills him with fear), and yet he chooses to act in a manner that reflects a deep moral faith and duty.
In this sense, Tolkien’s Middle-earth is not merely a world of myth, but a narrative of the human condition itself. Like Kierkegaard’s individual, Tolkien’s characters must act without certainty, choosing the Good without guarantee of its triumph. It is precisely this burden – and dignity – of free will that makes Middle-earth feel so real: its inhabitants do not simply inhabit a story, but confront the same moral and existential demands that define our own lives.
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