What Smaug Reveals

Bilbo, after an unexpectedly long journey, descends alone into the depths of the Lonely Mountain to face Smaug. Moving on Thorin’s command he looks for the Arkenstone while in contest with Smaug's calculated probing, careful not to reveal too much. When Bilbo suggests the dragon must have made “bitter enemies”, Smaug responds: 

“My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!” (Tolkien, The Hobbit, 75th Anniversary ed. [New York: William Morrow, 2012], 207)

Smaug’s language is more than dialogue. He is composing an image of earned vanity: he’s old, dangerous, and importantly, still alive! His credibility is only verified – he is everything he says he is. The speech becomes a kind of autobiography, a performance of intimidation and self-knowledge. It succeeds. In the following moments, Bilbo is frightened. Tolkien’s choice in letting Smaug present himself gives another layer of insight Beowulf's dragon cannot give us: we expect a formidable beast, but we get a personality. 

Tolkien’s choice to give Smaug a voice runs parallel to the argument he makes in a 1936 lecture, “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics.” Tolkien’s claim is clear and direct:

“A dragon is no idle fancy. Whatever may be his origins, in fact or invention, the dragon in legend is a potent creation of men’s imagination, richer in significance than his barrow is in gold” (Tolkien, “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics”).

Here Tolkien implicitly justifies his own work in The Hobbit, noting the parallels between it and Beowulf. He views such monsters as “essential, fundamentally allied to the underlying ideas… which give it its lofty tone and high seriousness” (Tolkien). Tolkien’s lecture takes a strong position against the critics, stating the dragon is significant full stop – he is more than what he prevents and more than the treasure he guards. He carries meaning beyond that of an obstacle as a beast. In the journey leading to the Lonely Mountain Bilbo has proven capable of outwitting beasts. What he encounters in Smaug is something more unsettling: a creature with vanity, intelligence, and self-awareness. This is not simply an animal to be escaped, but an intelligence to be confronted. For Tolkien, monsters are not incidental to heroic literature; they are the source of their gravity. Without Grendel, Beowulf is only a warrior. Without Smaug, The Hobbit is merely a journey. The monster gives the hero significance. 

The point is that Smaug does not simply oppose the heroes; he exposes them. The dragon gives significance to the story because his presence forces hidden qualities to the surface. Bilbo’s courage only becomes meaningful when measured against genuine terror, while Thorin’s nobility becomes tragic once it collapses into greed. Even after Smaug’s death, the dragon’s influence remains. When Bilbo admits he has given the Arkenstone to Bard, Thorin erupts: 

“You! You!” cried Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with both hands. “You miserable hobbit! You undersized—burglar!” he shouted at a loss for words, and he shook poor Bilbo like a rabbit. (Tolkien, The Hobbit, 75th Anniversary ed. [New York: William Morrow, 2012], 251)

Thorin, the king of Erebor, the formal speaker who proudly sang the “Far over the misty mountains cold” song all the way in Bag End is now at a loss for words after realizing what Bilbo has done. His speech being reduced to “You! You!”, Thorin is completely bewitched by Smaug, even after his death. The treasure, and everything connected to Smaug has now been internalized in Thorin. This internal pressure erupts when Bilbo tells him about the Arkenstone. The authority and restraint are gone from the Thorin we first meet. What we see instead is possession, anger, and fixation on what belongs to him. Smaug’s influence survives even after his death because the treasure itself has become infected by him. Tolkien’s dragon is not simply a beast to be defeated and moved past. Read alongside Psalm 90, which promises the faithful man “shall trample under foot the lion and the dragon” (Psalm 90:13 DRA), The Hobbit tells a different story: the dragon leaves something behind. Thorin carries Smaug out of the mountain with him. The greed that once belonged to the dragon now reshapes the king under the mountain himself.

Bilbo’s revelation under Smaug is quieter, but just as important. By the time he reaches the Lonely Mountain he has already survived trolls, goblins, spiders, and Gollum. Those encounters prove Bilbo can escape danger. Smaug is different. The dragon cannot simply be outrun or tricked in the same straightforward way. He speaks, probes, and attempts to uncover Bilbo’s intentions. The confrontation becomes psychological. What emerges in Bilbo during these exchanges is not sudden heroism, but composure. Bilbo enters the mountain terrified, yet he continues carefully and intelligently in the presence of overwhelming power. He keeps returning to Smaug despite fully understanding what waits for him below. Earlier monsters reveal Bilbo’s resourcefulness; Smaug reveals maturity. By descending alone into the mountain and confronting an intelligence far greater (and older) than himself, Bilbo stops feeling like a lucky hobbit dragged into adventure and begins to stand independently from the dwarves themselves. 

This change becomes fully visible with the Arkenstone. Bilbo ultimately gives it to Bard not because it benefits him, but because he recognizes something Thorin no longer can; treasure has begun to matter more than people. Smaug therefore leaves the opposite mark on the two characters. In Bilbo, the dragon reveals restraint and moral independence. In Thorin, he reveals possession and greed.

            -BN 

The Fallen World and the Fear of Monsters

Tolkien inhabits his world with many different monsters, all with the capability to easily end a person’s life. If this were the extent of the damage these monsters could cause, I think there would be at least some merit to Edmund Wilson’s claim that these creatures are not scary. However, I think Tolkien makes it clear that the true fear his monsters invoke is not merely that of physical harm but of something far deeper, namely the threat of the corruption of the soul.

Nearly every monster I can think of across Tolkien’s legendarium had their beginnings in corruption. Orcs, balrogs, Nazgul, dragons, and many more were all the direct result of Melkor’s corruption. In turn, many of these creatures seem to possess some ability of corruption in their stead. When Frodo and Sam follow Gollum into Shelob’s lair, we’re told that “they walked as it were in a black vapor wrought of veritable darkness itself that, as it was breathed, brought blindness not only to the eyes but to the mind, so that even the memory of colours and of forms and of any light faded out of thought. Night always had been, and always would be, and night was all” (LOTR, Book IV, Chapter IX). Just being in Shelob’s lair coats the mind in darkness, not just removing their ability to see light but even all memory of it in the first place; it’s a corruption of the mind, holding the potential to change the very way a person sees the world, to remove all hope or knowledge of good or joy in the world. That’s the brunt of the fear that Shelob invokes, the fact that she’s also a giant venomous spider being the icing on the cake.

We see this with the Nazgul too when they stab Frodo, the shard of the dagger lodging inside him, threatening to turn him into a wraith, to serve Sauron with no free will of his own. This threat is so advanced that the only thing that can save him is the healing of the elves. If it wasn’t for them, all hope would have been lost. What’s at stake is not just life or death in the physical sense but the spiritual as well, the danger of losing one’s own soul to this corruption, to be doomed past what the physical body can suffer. Even balrogs have a unique sway over people’s souls. When Gandalf attempts to magically seal a door shut in Moria, he notes that “the counter spell [from the balrog] was terrible. It nearly broke me.” (LOTR, Book 2, Chapter 5). Gandalf is not speaking of physical damage here but something more innate, a sorcery that counters his own to nearly break him on a deeper, spiritual level. Yes, not every creature displays such a power in Tolkien’s legendarium, but even if they don’t it remains a consistent theme nonetheless in their creation, and we see the effects of this kind of corruption among them. 

Sauron had put so much of his own will into the One Ring that it served as an extension of himself. We see this most fully when the ring is destroyed, immediately resulting in his own demise. As such, it seems that Tolkien meant for the ring to serve as an extension of Sauron’s will. Gollum, exposed to that ring for centuries, morphs into a creature that can’t even be considered a hobbit anymore. When we see him in The Lord of the Rings he’s a wicked creature, sickly and thin, who cares about nothing except for that ring. This is the danger of the ring and, by proxy, the danger that every monster presents, certainly in their origin and often in their ability, the danger that one’s own soul should be so corrupted that it would be unrecognizable, changed beyond repair. That danger is much more sobering than anything physical.

But what is the significance of this corruption? In Wilson’s critique, and many others, the idea of monsters is taken as a childish one, conjurations of the imagination that serve as nothing more than a means to scare children into behaving. They’re not real, and as such don’t deserve any real study or focus. Tolkien himself dispels this belief in the essay, “The Monsters and the Critics,” maintaining their importance to the story and our study of it. In the essay, he defends Grendel and the dragon as being fitting benchmarks for Beowulf to face, with Grendel being more human and the dragon more elemental. However, Tolkien appears to go beyond this framework in his own view of monsters with the frequent power of corruption they hold. The difference is the framework of sin and the fallen world that sin creates.

Writing with deep Catholic roots, Tolkien fills his world with the Luciferian Melkor, and it is through his corruption that nearly all of the world’s monsters can be traced back to. If Melkor is meant to embody Lucifer, as Tolkien makes clear in the Ainulindalë where Melkor's rebellion against Ilúvatar mirrors Lucifer's rebellion against God, then all of the corruption he inflicts on the world can be read as sin, twisting and changing the nature of different creatures away from what Iluvatar had intended for them. These monsters, then, are proof that Arda is fallen, that sin has entered the world. As such, the danger these monsters impose is that of sin, of bending the mind away from Ilúvatar, away from everything that is good and right within Tolkien’s legendarium. Shelob threatens to make her victim forget all light ever existed, the Nazgul corrupt the soul, the balrog threatens to break Gandalf’s will, and the One Ring succeeds in that endeavor in Gollum. All of these corruptions are a bending of will, a turning of the soul away from light and into the darkness of sin.

In Tolkien's essay, “On Fairy-Stories”, he notes that one of the primary uses of fairy stories is one of recovery, illuminating truths about our world that have been lost or obscured through overfamiliarization by depicting them in a new light. This is the purpose of these monsters, to illuminate the truth of sin Tolkien believes to exist in our world. Wilson critique engages these monsters only at their surface, namely their role as fiction. Monsters aren’t real, but monsters are sin, and that sin, to Tolkien, is very real, and should be feared.

-MC

Spiders, Slinkers & Stinkers

One might argue that Shelob is only comparable to other monsters because of her size: spiders are somewhat scary, but the level of fear they inspire is limited by their small size; in contrast, Shelob is an extremely large spider, so the fear she causes must just be that of a normal spider amplified by her size. I would venture against this opinion—I think Shelob’s size changes the monster’s and victim’s function. When we are afraid of a spider, part of that fear comes from its size: spiders are very hard to spot and one could be near you right now and you wouldn’t know. But Shelob’s size detracts from this part of the fear—Shelob cannot hide as easily or creep up on you without you noticing. 

However, size does matter when it comes to rationalizing this fear. If I see a small spider, I may be afraid, but I am also aware that I probably shouldn’t be afraid. Unless I am in Australia, the spider next to me probably does not contain a deadly amount of venom, and even if it bites me, it is likely no more than a short-term pain, and spider webs are nothing but an annoyance to me. I am more deadly to the spider than the spider is to me; even though I may be afraid, I know I will most likely be fine. This calming aspect doesn’t apply when we increase the size of the monster—since Shelob is very large, her venom is more dangerous to me, her webs are strong enough to catch me, and she is more than capable of eating me if she so chooses (which she would). 

Another aspect of the rationalization of fear is that the victim’s role (what would otherwise be the observer’s role) changes. It is possible that a small spider may try to bite me, but it is clear that I am not the intended typical victim—this would be a small bug, maybe even a smaller spider. To Shelob, Frodo and Sam are “small bugs,” meaning you shift the role of Shelob from a pest to a predator and, therefore, simultaneously shift the role of Frodo and Sam from annoyed or disturbed individuals to credible prey.

I think the reason why we would consider a Shelob a monster while we might not consider a scarier animal—maybe a lion—as such, instead only calling it a “beast,” is that a lion is not a mythological animal, it is simply a lion. But Shelob is not simply a spider, although she is described, among other characteristics, as a spider. In “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” Jeffrey Jerome Cohen describes monsters as “disturbing hybrids” that do not fit into neat categories; they are somewhere between different known forms but are themselves unknown (6). Similarly, Douglass argues in Purity and Danger that transgressing boundaries destroys order and can potentially threaten danger (3), leading one to condemn, ignore, attack, or fear the transgressor (39-41). According to these views, we consider Shelob a monster because she transgresses the boundary of what it means to be a spider (i.e. she is too big to fit under our definition of a spider). Furthermore, Shelob disrupts the preexisting order: Frodo and Sam are no longer simply hobbits but are closer to Shelob’s bug prey. 

It seems to me that this is the same reason why Gollum is considered such an interesting monster and why he tends to make readers or observers so uneasy. Gollum acts in this same way, transgressing known boundaries: he is a hobbit, but we are not aware of him as a hobbit originally (in The Hobbit he is not described as a hobbit); we only learn this from Gandalf’s interrogation. One could argue Gollum transgresses the boundary of a hobbit by being unrecognizable as a hobbit, both physically and culturally—he likes eating his animal food raw. 

On the other hand, one could say Gollum is such a good monster because he transgresses the boundary of what it means to be a monster. On the one hand he is a figurative monster, using his powers for evil and being a generally vile creature.  At the same time, we naturally feel pity for Gollum. Sam divides Gollum into Slinker and Stinker, and while we do think of Stinker as a monster, we also think of Slinker as a hobbit—one could call Gollum part monster and part hobbit. Sam rightfully points out that Stinker becomes the dominant half on the way to Mordor, so it might be that we feel pity for the hobbit half. But it also could be that we feel pity for Gollum because he is not trying to be evil, he just wants the power—he is addicted to it—and on top of that he is not very good at using this power. Gollum has owned the “one ring to rule them all” and has simply been living in a cave, hidden from the world. The ring does not give Gollum any power but has been dampening his power since he found it. Gollum’s love for the ring is so strong that it ends up destroying the thing he loves most in the world (the ring) as well as himself. So, since we know Gollum is destroying himself just as much as he is destroying others, we cannot help but feel sorry for him.

But feeling bad for Gollum does not make him less of a monster, although it does encourage Frodo to let his guard down. While Gollum is powerless over the ring, he does have some self-control that the other monsters don’t possess, which allows him to control his actions so far as they increase his chances of obtaining the ring. This means Gollum does not typically attack—unlike the other monsters that we see—which makes it easier for the hobbits to somewhat trust him—have conversation with him, travel with him—even if they mistrust his intentions. That is, since Gollum is transgressing the boundary of what it means to be a hobbit, the other hobbits may still treat him as if he was more of a hobbit than he really is. Ultimately, this is Gollum’s greatest power, and therefore what makes him such a good monster.

-C.B.

Understanding Monsters With Sin and Familiarity

What are monsters? An element essential for fantasy fiction, supernatural beings that partly resemble animals, or a “sacrifice” in the making of heroes? Perhaps all of the above, with one necessary feature warranted — an evil creature.

In the poem, Beowulf kills three monsters: Grendel, Grendel’s mother, and the dragon. Grendel’s lineage was inherently evil, as it was the decedent of Cain, the biblical character that killed his brother Abel out of jealousy.

On the other hand, the dragon was called “fell” in Tolkien’s translation of Beowulf, but it doesn’t provide much context in understanding the inherent evil in dragons. However, Tolkien discussed the underlying meaning of dragons in his work Beowulf: the Monsters and the Critics, claiming that the dragons in Beowulf “[is] a personification of malice, greed, destruction, and the discriminating cruelty of fortune that distinguishes not good nor bad.” (Beowulf: the Monsters and the Critics, 17.)

Similarly, Shelob was described as the utter manifestation of greed: “she served none but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with endless brooding on her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her food, and her vomit darkness.” (LotR, Book IV, Chapter 9)

It seems that monsters are not just creatures created for entertainment purposes. They actually represent something much deeper - a physical manifestation of a particular form of sin. These sins seem to explain the monsters’ primary motives, and can also shed light on how we can better understand these imaginary creatures that transmit along fantasy stories. It is fascinating to see how the creators of these monsters were able to take something as abstract as a sin, and turn it into a tangible and often terrifying being.

From another perspective, although most monsters borrow some aspects from natural animals (e.g. dragons with lizard bodies, bat wings, and snake eyes), are ethically different from animals. Monsters are described as “fell”, yet we do not usually use the term “good” or “evil” in describing animals, since it is pretty hard to judge animal instincts using ethics. How, then, are we able to judge the monsters from an ethical standpoint? When depicting monsters, Tolkien purposefully made them somewhat intelligible, such that their own will and their agency can be obscurely inferred. Shelob was a great example. If we study only the description of Shelob’s movement, we find that it is precisely the same as any other predatory spider. It is only by adding narratives such as “There agelong she had dwelt, an evil thing in spider-form, even such as once of old had lived in the Land of the Elves in the West that is now under the Sea, such as Beren fought in the Mountains of Terror in Doriath, and so to Luthien upon the green sward amid the hemlocks in the moonlight long ago.” can the readers be convinced that Shelob is, indeed, fell. (LotR, Book IV, Chapter 9)

However, not all of the “monsters” are evil. Tolkien mentions that there are very few good dragons in the stories while creating one himself — Chrysophylax, the dragon in Farmer Giles’ story. The dragon, still fire-breathing and greedy, is no longer intimidating because of its continued bargaining with Farmer Giles. It seems hard for me to consider Chrysophylax as a “monster,” mainly because Chrysophylax seems to be easily understood and easy to communicate. 

One of the key aspects of creating a successful monster character is to find a balance between familiarity and mystique. If a monster is too similar to a human being, it loses its intimidating presence and becomes less effective in its role. On the other hand, if a monster is too unfamiliar, it risks becoming completely unintelligible to the audience, which can lead to a loss of interest.

Therefore, it is crucial for a monster to retain some level of familiarity while still being otherworldly and inspiring fear. Its actions should be partly intelligible and interpretable by a certain kind of sin, but not wholly understood. This creates a sense of mystery and intrigue, which in turn, helps to solidify the monster's position as a powerful and terrifying entity. However, it is important to note that if a monster were to become too understandable, it would lose its need to be killed, which is a core element of the monster trope.

In Beowulf, the hero's act of killing monsters is depicted as a judicial dual, where the side favored by God emerges victorious. This narrative transforms a mere competition of strength into a duel that takes place on the moral ground. By doing so, the hero is not only justified physically, but also proves his "moral superiority" by claiming divine favor. This theme of divine intervention is seen throughout the epic poem and serves to elevate the hero's actions to a higher level of significance. Additionally, the act of slaying a fictional monster not only demonstrates the hero's physical prowess, but also serves as a metaphor for overcoming one's inner demons and fears. Furthermore, the hero's victory over the monster can be seen as a reflection of the triumph of good over evil, and serves as a reminder of the importance of staying true to one's moral convictions, even in the face of great adversity.

-- S.T.

What Makes a Monster

Monsters are unique in that they are not meant to resemble the human qualities of reason, free will, and duality of good and evil. By contrast, monsters are the embodiments of a more vain and unrestrained evil. They serve as a medium for the qualities of evil that the hero must conquer in both their physical appearance and their nature. Monsters are not inherently bad; they do not choose evil over good. Rather, like wild animals, they are instinctual, reactive, and evil by nature. They do not use reason and choice to commit evil acts, but their irrationality and vain nature leads them in the direction of evil. Interestingly, in tales of good versus evil the monsters must reflect the evils present in humanity, but which are carried out in a beast-like manner. I view this as symbolic of the inherent dual nature of humanity, and its quest to rise above its animalistic inheritance. 

Let’s start by examining Tolkien’s creation of the dragon Smaug. Smaug is an isolated dragon that hoards riches in The Lonely Mountain. His appearance is a mixture of beasts present in the modern world such as the lion, the reptile, and the bat. This appearance, as an oversized mixture of wild animals represents his instinctual, irrational, and frightening nature. As it’s described in “The Monsters and Critics”: 

“Monsters became images of the evil spirit, or rather the evil spirits entered into the monsters and took visible shape in the hideous bodies of heathen imagination."

This appearance does two things in my view. It represents a lack of rationality, and it creates the necessity for immense courage in the hero. The appearance is both frightening and bestial. Smaug cannot be reasoned with; he is an embodiment of pure evil that must be overcome through pure courage and will. The victory of willpower and rationality over vain, bestial instincts is essential to the storyline of a human hero. 

Smaug’s irrationality is demonstrated through impulsive quick outbursts of destruction and terror that interrupt his typical sloth-like behavior in The Lonely Mountain. Despite his wit, he does not scheme and plan against humanity through rationality and logic. Rather, he is overconfident and acts through fits of rage rather than calculated attacks. An example of this is the destruction of Esgaroth that was caused by nothing more than indications from Bilbo regarding the theft of his precious cup. He is reactive and instinctual rather than proactive and deliberate. This overconfidence and irrationality are in the end the cause of his demise. 

Furthermore, his main instinct resembles one of the seven deadly sins. Specifically, this instinct is greed. His impulse is a great desire to hoard riches serves as his embodiment of evil by nature. Interestingly, this instinct does not resemble the typical survival instincts of hunger and reproduction that resemble the modern animals that constitute his appearance. Rather, it is a human instinct of evil identified by Christianity. This begs the question: if monsters are not meant to exemplify rationality and free will like humans, why are they given human qualities? In “The Monsters and Critics” Tolkien asks the reader to, “consider how and why monsters become ‘adversaries of God’, and so begin to symbolize the powers of evil.” Not only are monsters evil, but they represent evil through the lens of the Christian story of a battle between good and evil, or demons and gods, which are representative of the duality of human nature.

I must also acknowledge that aside from Smaug’s nature, he has the human qualities of wit and a proud upper-class dialect. Through his speech and specific instincts, he represents the evils of humanity rather than animals. He represents the greedy, lonely man of fortune I believe this is integral to the tale of humanity conquering the evil that is inherent within them. While monsters embody irrational evil, they also acknowledge that these evil instincts are present within humanity itself. The tale of good versus evil is not that of humans against lions, it is a battle that occurs within humanity. Our nature at its core is descendant from vain, irrational animals. The battle for humans to live together peacefully is a battle to overcome the evil instincts that will forever be a part of our nature. It is no coincidence that Christianity gained popularity and influence through Greek philosophy and its religious adaptation in The Roman Empire. This was a time when large groups of individuals were searching for methods of living united and together peacefully. 

One interpretation of religions such as Christianity is that they can serve the purpose of assisting humans in conquering their evil, selfish, and divisive nature. Serving the will of God rather than letting the devil influence us symbolizes the battle of human rationality and empathy with selfishness and vain sin. Monsters embody the evil in this battle. An evil that is irrational, instinctual, and selfish. Smaug is self-serving, vain, and beast-like in this manner. He is a representation of humanity that has fallen victim to sin. Humanity that lets impulses and desires drive their behavior rather than the logic and sympathy that can allow us to rise above our bestial inheritance. The victory of good over evil brings peace and unity to nations and peoples. In order to attain this victory, we must conquer the evil within ourselves through our higher qualities of courage, willpower, and rationality.

However, the embodiment of these evils inside of us is not visually represented by humans themselves. There is no duality in such an appearance. This is why monsters are grotesque, large, and frightening. They are a medium of representation purposed to represent evil instincts. Both by nature and appearance monsters symbolize the enemy of humanity that lies within. An impulse, selfish, and divisive enemy that has long attempted to prevent humanity from achieving unity and peace. 

- WS

Slaying Dragons and Salvation

I wanted to use my wild card to come back to our discussion on jewels, dragons, and heaven because I think it’s very indicative of the type of myth The Lord of the Rings is, a fundamentally Christian one. I waited so long to go back and summarize my readings about jewels and dragons because I needed to meditate on further themes of evil, salvation, and love to get to this more polished conclusion. Dragons and jewels are not just core parts of fantasy as a genre, but they are the core story of the mythos of faery, Lord of the Rings, and Christianity.

So why do dragons guard treasure?

In our discussion regarding monsters and critics, we analyzed dragons from a meta-perspective, the gatekeepers of the treasure of literature, the faery; they are the guardians of the secondary reality. But how do dragons appear within Tolkien’s work itself? 

The history of Dragons that appear in the Silmarillion tell us that it was Morgoth who bred the dragons in the first age, and many of these dragons were used in the battles for the Silmarils, the War of the Jewels.  The connection between dragons and jewels, then, is not just a trope but their purpose. It is not that dragons happen to guard jewels, but they were made for guarding jewels. This purpose tells us a lot already about how they function within the world. As humans were created to be sub-creators, dragons were created to guard jewels, something they fundamentally did not make, something stolen.  

The most potent relationships we see regarding these dragons in the books are dragons and the Dwarves and dragons as the stead of the Witch King. The Dwarves and Smaug make for the most salient comparison where the Dragon hoards the treasure the Dwarves are after, and they are only able to get the arkenstone by defeating the dragon. The dragon the Witch king rides is also hoarding a jewel, the ring, seeking out this treasure in the books.  Here we see dragons fundamentally aligned with greed, but as discussed, they are not mere allegories or personifications of vices such as greed or pride.  

When greed is discussed, I want to remove it from the common conception of greed and focus on the form of greed or greedy-love we have discussed in relation to Feanor and the Silmarils.  To have dragons be representative of greed doesn’t answer the question of why Jesus is the dragon slayer, the hero, because Jesus does much more than slay greed in the Christian tradition; When discussing greed, more importantly greedy-loving, in Tolkiens work, it has been in relation to Feanor’s greedy love of the Silmarils which led to the war, Gollum’s greedy-love for the ring which led to his own demise, an most importantly the Numenoreans greedy-love for life which led to the fall of Numenor.  When we discuss this idea of greedy-love, we are discussing the idea of the origin of sin itself and the evil forces which lead to the fall in the first place.  Therefore, there is a fundamental connection between the dragons and jewels and the salvation of men in a larger sense than just getting the treasure.    

Dragons are greedy-lovers for only jewels, so then what’s up with these jewels? 

Well, I think there are two key aspects of jewels, and they both come together with the fused nature of how Tolkien conceptualizes Jewels as light and flesh while also being rock. This is evident in the literal creation of a jewel (a rock worked by human creativity and skill) but also the mythos of the jewel in Tolkien’s work.   

First, on the idea of the body.  We discussed how Christian tombs would often display bones covered in gems which mirrors two biblical concepts: 1.) the jeweled breastplate of Aaron in Exodus 28 and 2.) the New Jerusalem in Revelation 21.  For Aaron, the value of the jewels are not just in their beauty and skill, but also where it allows him to go, inside of the tabernacle, the house of Adonai and the place of worship for the Israelites.  The jewels allow Aaron’s body to connect with God.  In Revelation, the jewel is New Jerusalem itself, and this is particularly interesting. The jewel is the city which is also named The Bride of Christ, another body that is in communion with God.  Here, it is a city, so the body is collective, and it allows all who inhabit it to be in an eternal relationship with God.  

So to put it simply, dragons hoard jewels, and their greedy-love prevents us from connecting and being with God.  That is why Jesus is the dragon-slayer, he is the Way to God, and no one can get there except through him. This seems to take on the particular meaning for bodily salvation, where people are able to get to heaven and connect to God by means of their connection to jewels, Christ. They cannot find this bodily salvation themselves, but instead have Him slay their dragons for them. 

This is supported by the second idea of the jewel, the jewel as light, which has a really fascinating link into a larger form of salvation in both Tolkien’s work and for the Christian meaning.  Light, in Tolkien’s work is a form of warding off evil, particularly the Phial of Galadriel which carries the light of Earendil, Earendil who also slayed a dragon and is Tolkien’s creation of Christ in his mythology. Outside of Galadreil being akin to Mary, the elves in general are wise because they see the light, the light of the Eldar but also the inner consistency of the universe.  Outside of the bodily salvation, the access one has to the light or wisdom of creation is another, perhaps larger for of salvation that brings about the second coming of Christ. To slay the dragon then is not just to have individual bodily resurrection, but a much more powerful eternal resurrection and salvation for the whole of creation. I’m sure this is the light we might have seen when Jesus fought off Satan.  

This idea of slaying dragons for the eternal salvation of the world comes into conversation with our second day of Jewels and trees, how the living jewel trees are like the cross, and once that great jewel was shared with the world after the dragon was slain, mankind was able to access God fully and for all time.  

Perhaps we can see Melkor as a dragon-like character, the father of dragons, the one who captured light for the Silmarils and whose greedy-love reduced them to be hidden away from the world. This brings a much clearer stake to the battles to get the Silmarils back. What rests on slaying the dragon to retrieve the jewel is not just about restoring our bodies but also our connection to the creator and our purpose in creation, restoring what it originally meant to be sub-creators before the fall. The beauty of the jewels reaffirms our purpose of sub-creation, and our use of the jewels in non-greedy love, after getting them back from the dragon, reaffirms our relationship with the Creator Himself.  

-Gabby Bayness

Of Monsters and Men

 For years, I have been haunted by a recurring nightmare. In it, my friends and I are relentlessly pursued by a horde of monsters. One by one, they succumb to the horde's grasp and are transformed into one of them. As I was running frantically, doubts start to creep into my mind. Are they still my friends or purely monster? The line between them blurs, leaving me with an ominous feeling of uncertainty. As the chase continues, I feel a growing sense of dread. Despite my efforts to outrun the horde, I eventually succumb to their clutches. The feeling of being enveloped by the swarm is suffocating, and I am left wondering if I too will become one of them. This is where the nightmare always ends, leaving me with an unsettling feeling that lingers long after I wake up. Will I be able to resist the transformation and retain my humanity, or will I become just another monster in the horde? The answer remains a mystery to me. 

This dream has left me with a thought-provoking question: what truly differentiates a monster from a human? Is there a clear-cut boundary that separates the two, or is it a blurred line that can be crossed? Could it be that there is no boundary at all, and that monsters and humans are capable of transforming into each other? To explore these questions, I will begin by offering my definitions of monsters, both in a narrow and general sense. Then, I will examine the concept of monsters transforming into humans and vice versa. To illustrate my analysis, I have created an illustration inspired by Professor Brown's lecture, which I will elaborate on.

In my understanding, monsters can be narrowly defined as creatures that are often depicted as physically grotesque, with features such as horns, claws, or skeletal appearances. While they may not necessarily be dangerous, they are meant to be quite spooky in nature. If we adhere to this narrow definition, we can easily understand the first two pictures in the illustration. Sméagol, who lacks any of the monstrous features, can be classified as a human. On the other hand, Jack the Pumpkin King's appearance certainly qualifies him as a monster.

In a broader sense, monsters can be defined as beings that are different from humans, often labeled as "The Other." Therefore, we can define a monster by first defining what it means to be human. In my understanding, human life is complex. We experience a range of emotions, from love and hate to happiness and melancholy. We have the ability to pursue multiple interests, such as being a scientist while also loving art. We can create and appreciate the creations of others. In contrast, monsters like Smaug may spend their entire day sleeping on a hoard of gold with no other thoughts in mind. Their minds are often twisted, and their lives are reduced to a single-minded pursuit.

From this definition, we can say that it was after Sméagol's first sin, murdering for the Ring, that he turned into Gollum, a human into a monster, even though he still looked like a human being at the time. Sméagol's transformation into Gollum is a perfect example of how a human can turn into a monster, if we accept the general definition of a monster. There are many more "Sméagols" in our world, such as Doctor Faustus in Thomas Mann's novel. These cases are well-known and have been extensively discussed, so I will not delve into further detail about them. Later, after I finish introducing cases where monsters can also turn into humans, I will present another case of "human turning into monster," but in a completely different sense than the Sméagol case.

Having established why Sméagol is considered a "monster" in the third picture, the question arises as to why Jack is labeled as a "man." To answer this question, we may benefit from watching a video:

Right after this scene, Sally, the most angelic girl in all worlds, says, “Jack, I know how you feel." I believe that she is not the only one, both inside and outside of the screen, who feels this way. This moment marks the breaking of the boundary between human and monster. No one would deny Jack's humanity, as his thoughts seem to have resonated with many of us. This video illustrates that Jack is quite different from standard monsters such as Smaug and Sméagol, according to our previous definition. While those monsters are often portrayed as having singular, spooky, and monstrous routines, Jack is seeking something beyond his usual routine. This is what evokes our familiar feeling and makes him relatable. In this modern age, many human beings have been reduced to mere tools and pseudo-monsters. Seeking a moment of escape and doing something different is an instinctive response to restore a part of our humanity that has been lost. Returning to the film, despite Jack's bitter and arduous Christmas journey, we begin to perceive a human soul within his hollow bones, especially in the final scene where he realized what is truly precious in his “life”. It is at this point that I believe Jack, the king of monsters, has transcended his monstrous nature and become a fully realized human being, and that this nightmare has transformed into a sweet dream.

In the last part of my discussion, we'll be looking at a sensitive topic - another case of a human “turning” into a "monster." You might have noticed the quotation marks I used here; this means that the terms “turning" and "monster" have a different connotation than in the case of Sméagol. Although it is regrettable to admit, the term "monster" has been used not only to describe actual monsters we mentioned before, but also those who are not. Throughout thousands of years of intolerance, those who hold different ideas from those in authority, and anyone who shows sympathy towards them, have often been labeled as monsters. If their voices are too weak to defend themselves, they would be viewed by those who are unaware of the truth as evil wolves lurking in the forest. Even if they follow the way of the Lamb faithfully, they are deemed to have a wolf's heart beneath their sheepskin.

Stephen King once said, "The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool." While this may explain some cases of how lambs are "turned" into "wolves," it cannot account for all such cases. Recently, through a lecture, I learned that there may be an even more brutal reason behind this “transformation”. During the lecture, we reviewed Mark 5:15-17, which I hadn't paid much attention to before:

And they came to Jesus, and they see him that was troubled with the devil, sitting, clothed, and well in his wits, and they were afraid.

And they that had seen it, told them, in what manner he had been dealt with who had the devil; and concerning the swine.

And they began to pray him that he would depart from their coasts.

After Jesus successfully drove away the demons and turned the "monster" back into a human, he was not met with cheers from the crowd, but instead with fear. Now, Jesus himself became the "unwelcome one" or even worse, the new "monster" in the eyes of the people. I couldn't understand this story before, but after the lecture, everything makes sense: perhaps a monster is what the community needs. People need a scapegoat to blame everything on so that they can feel human. By labeling this scapegoat a “monster”, they absolve themselves of guilt and can easily throw stones at him. Jesus, with his love for humanity, could not bear to witness this tragedy unfold, as those who threw stones at the "monster" were actually throwing stones at their own souls. Therefore, he saved us from it, even at the cost of becoming the new "monster" and being sacrificed for the bloodthirsty nature of humanity. Although the "monster-transforming ritual" may continue, he planted a seed of hope in our hearts, and this hope will never fade as long as we follow his way. For those walking the Way of Sorrows, I have a poem to share:

-Y.P.L.

The Significance of Smaug

        We discussed the issue of dragons, monsters, and why they frighten us, and why they're important, but we ultimately walked away from the discourse without an answer. Thus, I am attempting to discover more about the significance of dragons in Tolkien's mythos. In the spirit of fair warning, I haven't read all of the dragon lore that exists, even in Tolkien's realm, but even within Tolkien, there isn't much of it. I will mostly focus on what I can extrapolate about the role of dragons based on their depiction in The Hobbit. Thus, it is an important caveat that The Hobbit was not originally written as part of the complete saga of Middle-Earth, although it was later modified to fit into the context of The Lord of the Rings. Given this, some aspects of The Hobbit may not be entirely consistent with the rest of Arda's lore; however, since The Hobbit is considered to be canon and treated as such, I will consider it the same way, and mostly just study the dragon Smaug. I have found that Smaug shares many similarities with Fëanor, Morgoth, and Sauron, which implies a connection between them. Ultimately, Smaug, and other dragons in Tolkien's mythos, are a personification of the corrupting force of greed, and an extension of Morgoth's corrupting influence.

        First, let us look at the traits dragons exhibit. Smaug is massive, a scaled flying beast who breathes fire and hoards gold-- very standard dragon traits. There are other physical traits, as well: he has red eyes, is probably slimy, at least on his underbelly, is functionally immortal, and actually glows just a bit (The Hobbit, 348, 378, 52, 338, respectively).* These traits probably aren't as important, however, as Smaug's behavior. Thorin says of Smaug, 

"Dragons steal gold and jewels... from men and elves and dwarves, wherever they can find them; and they guard their plunder as long as they live ... and never enjoy a brass ring of it. Indeed they hardly know a good bit of work from a bad, though they usually have a good notion of the current market value; and they can't make a thing for themselves, not even mend a little loose scale of their armor" (The Hobbit, 52).

This information is very significant, because it frames a fundamental aspect of Smaug, and dragons in general (and it's an aspect that exists outside of Tolkien's mythos as well. The dragon Fafnir and the unnamed dragon from Beowulf both had hoards). It tells us a few important things about Smaug's behavior: first, he steals gold and jewels from men, elves, and dwarves, indiscriminately. Second, he hoards his treasure fiercely, but without appreciation for its actual beauty. He just enjoys the possession of it, the sense of ownership over the thing considered valuable (i.e. things with good market value). In fact, he is actually rather incapable of determining the beauty of an object, since he can't tell "a good bit of work from a bad" (The Hobbit, 52). 

        This behavior is eerily consistent with that exhibited by Fëanor, with the Silmarils. Although Fëanor was once noble, soon after his creation of the Silmarils his admiration of their beauty quickly becomes an obsessive lust. "Fëanor began to love the Silmarils with a greedy love, and grudged the sight of them to all save [a few]... he seldom remembered now that the light within them was not his own" (The Silmarillion, 71). Then, when the Two Trees are killed, Fëanor refuses to destroy the Silmarils to revive the trees (The Silmarillion, 84). Finally, after Morgoth steals the Silmarils, Fëanor vows to slaughter anyone who possesses a Silmaril in bloody vengeance. (The Silmarillion, 90). His traits sound very draconic, including his envious rage over the idea of others possessing or even seeing the Silmarils. Furthermore, at the point where he begins to forget that "the light within [the Silmarils] was not his own" (The Silmarillion, 71), he begins to see them as something other than what they are. This could easily include him forgetting their beauty, and Tolkien writes in his poem "The Hoard" that this is often the case with those who obsess over treasure. In the poem, he describes an old Dwarf who works his whole life over a pile of jewels and precious metals, making beautiful items, but in the end, his obsession for the trinkets overpowers his actual appreciation for their beauty, as well as his pride in their creation ("through his bony claw with a pale sheen / the stony jewels slipped unseen") ("The Hoard," stanza 2). "The Hoard" demonstrates the infectious power of greed, and while the poem includes a dragon, it also features Dwarves, Elves, and Men, showing that "draconic" behavior is not limited to the dragons themselves. Other beings are very much capable of falling prey to greed and gold-lust.

        Smaug actually has a special power in this regard, that essentially corrupts any pile of treasure that a dragon might hoard. The Dwarves, once holed up in the Lonely Mountain, soon find themselves falling prey to this "dragon-sickness," demonstrated through the ominous warnings about "the power that gold has upon which a dragon has long brooded, nor with dwarvish hearts" (The Hobbit, 412).** The Master of Laketown also falls "under the dragon-sickness, and took most of the gold and fled with it" (The Hobbit, 472). Not only does Smaug hoard treasure with a jealous rage, but he also has the power to spread that covetousness to other people. Even Bilbo, who is remarkably level-headed and disinterested in treasure, feels the effects of the dragon-sickness when he first encounters the treasure (The Hobbit, 339-340). This power does not have much significance beyond its ability to spread greed when Smaug is compared with Fëanor, but it suddenly gains much more significance when Smaug is compared with Morgoth, and Sauron.

        One key difference between Smaug and Fëanor is that while Smaug covets the things that others make, Fëanor is possessive over "these things that he himself had made" (The Silmarillion, 70). His evil is much more like Morgoth's, then, whose fall into darkness also lies largely in his greed for other people's creations; when Arda was being formed, Melkor "coveted it, and he said to the other Valar: 'This shall be my own kingdom; and I name it unto myself" (The Silmarillion, 10). Later, the last straw before Melkor wages war against the Valar is when he sees that the Valar have taken beautiful physical form, and "his envy grew then the greater within him" (The Silmarillion, 11). At that point, he no longer appreciates the beauty of Arda. Otherwise, he would not have bent himself to destroying it. Like Fëanor, and like Smaug, Morgoth covets something, and hates the fact that others have it or want it, but unlike Fëanor, Smaug and Morgoth seem ultimately unable to create things for themselves. It's a good thing, too, in the case of Smaug, since an ability to "mend a little loose scale of [his] armor" (The Hobbit, 52) could have saved him from being shot in the heart by Bard the Bowman (The Hobbit, 389-390).

        Thus, in that context of their shared motivation, another key comparison between Smaug and Morgoth is this: at one point, the Dwarves Fíli and Kíli discover musical instruments in Smaug's horde, which are miraculously "untouched by the dragon, who had small interest in music" (The Hobbit, 374). Given the overarching theme of music in Tolkien's mythos, this small detail is actually very significant. Of course, Smaug has no interest in creating music, whereas Morgoth once wished to create music of his own, but Morgoth's priorities and desires have changed. Smaug has, in all likelihood, never been interested in making music at all, which shows a slight difference in their nature. I suspect that this difference is due to the fact that dragons were servants of Morgoth in the Elder Days (The Silmarillion, 229-230). Smaug, while autonomous, is not a creator, and he has never desired to be. His purpose lies in something far different.

        Dragons, including Smaug, have a relatively unique and very dangerous power, known as the "dragon-spell,"*** which Smaug uses on an invisible Bilbo Baggins in an attempt to coerce him to "rush out and reveal himself and tell all the truth" (The Hobbit, 352), and, slightly earlier in the encounter, turn Bilbo against his friends (The Hobbit, 351-352). As a class, we've discussed the corruptive power of the Ring, and the fact that it doesn't really do much to its bearers other than talk to them. The Ring, as an extension of Sauron, has great power in words, just like how Sauron caused Númenor to fall into evil simply through his skill with speech (The Silmarillion, "Akallabêth"). Fëanor, too, is "a master of words, and his tongue had great power over hearts when he would use it... fierce and fell were his words, and filled with anger and pride; and hearing them the Noldor were stirred to madness" (The Silmarillion, 88). He uses his power to convince the Noldor to slay their kin. It is no coincidence that Smaug shares this power, this verbal magic of a kind that causes people to reveal themselves, brings out their worst sides. Smaug is a perpetrator of evil not just in his greed, but in his ability to manipulate, twist, and corrupt both with his words and with his "overwhelming personality" (The Hobbit, 354). 

        All of these details suggest that Smaug, and by extension all dragons, are incarnate extensions of Melkor's corruptive power. The end of The Silmarillion reveals that while Morgoth may be defeated, his lies "will bear dark fruit even unto the latest days" (The Silmarillion, 306). Smaug's significance, then, is that he is the manifestation of Morgoth's lingering power on Middle-Earth. He is an extension of Morgoth's will, even while he is an autonomous being. He is utterly disinterested in creating things of his own, which means he is in a perfect position to serve Melkor's purpose; if dragons were focused on creating their own things, it would be far less likely that they are spreading Melkor's evil, and they would be more their own, separate malevolent entity. That can't be the case, anyway, because no matter how powerful dragons are, they were still part of Morgoth's plans. There is most certainly more to dragons than this facet of their being, but it seems clear now that part of that role includes being an incarnation of that corruptive influence. It would probably take several more papers to explore dragons fully, however.

--GCE

*I am using an ebook version of The Hobbit to cite, so the page numbers may be slightly inconsistent with a print copy. The edition I am using is the ebook version of the "new reset edition" of the 1995 edition.

**The fact that there is an actual title for this affliction, and the assumption that other, more informed people would know about the risks of engaging with a dragon hoard, any dragon hoard, both point to the idea that this is a trait shared by most, if not all, dragons.

***IBID

What Keeps You Up at Night?

When one thinks of the things that inhabit their nightmares, torment their minds, and drive them into deep states of fear, what does that thing look like? In order to truly strike fear into a reader or viewer, one first needs to understand the ways in which to build a perfect villain, or in most cases, a monster. This is one of the key elements that gets analyzed in “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics.” Beowulf itself is one of the first key stories that portrays a monster in its most terrifying way. Grendel, Grendel’s mother, and the dragon are terrifying to the reader, but why? One possible answer is that monsters are mystical and mythical. But a rebuttal to this notion is that in reality monsters are so terrifying to humans because of their earthly traits, not their mystical ones. For example, let’s examine Tolkien’s dragon Smaug in The Hobbit, or There and Back Again. Smaug, unlike some of Tolkien’s other dragons who may have some redeeming or even nonviolent character traits, is a true incarnation of evil and terror amongst those in his domain. Smaug made his home in the lonely mountain, feeding into his greed and desire for power by claiming all the gold, jewels, and precious metals left behind in the mine. Smaug slaughtered the previous dwarven inhabitants, slaying almost all members of Dale and sending those few who did escape into exile (many of whom found a new home in Lake Town), below the mountain. This is the background that is given to readers of The Hobbit, or There and Back Again. But still the question persists, why are we so terrified of Smaug?

In truth, what makes us so terrified of these dragons is the combination of their appearance and their raw and seemingly never ending power. In regards to his appearance, Smaug is so terrifying because as a dragon, he appears to be semi-realistic. Dragons look as if they could be a part of the reptilia class on Earth. Dragons have scales, snake-like eyes, claws like lizards and a tongue like a snake. But what separates them and makes them so truly terrifying is the inclusion of non natural characteristics, which in this case are a dragon's wings. Coupling the introduction of wings with the size of the dragon is what gives it the necessary characteristics to be deemed a monster. A similar monster that Tolkien introduces is Shelob, the giant spider that attacks Frodo and Sam on their journey to Mordor. Since for many people who experience arachnophobia spiders are already terrifying enough, all Tolkien had to introduce to make Shelob the perfect mythical monster was to dramatically increase the size. Through not only reading about the characteristics of Shelob, but also seeing the monster in the movie adaptations of the books, it was easy to be terrified of Shelob.

There are other ways in which to make a monster not only terrifying but intimidating as well. Tolkien demonstrates this through his creation of Orcs. Orcs take on a demonic representation of the human figure. They are ugly, large, dirt, and intimidating versions of humans. Though some overlook them as just pawns in The Lord of the Rings they too are also fearsome monsters. One of the key characteristics of all of these monsters found not only in The Hobbit, or There and Back Again but also in The Lord of the Rings is their unnatural appearance, and thus they become hard for the mind to grasp and understand. It is this that makes them so terrifying. Things that the human mind cannot grasp is what terrifies it the most. So, creating monsters that flirt with that line is extremely powerful. They are earthly enough and contain real world characteristics that make them seem realistic, while also having features that make them seem majestic and otherworldly. Through this dichotomy that was first explored in Beowulf, Tolkien creates his own monsters that dominate the stories and haunt the nightmares of not only the characters but the readers and viewers. 

Monsters and heroes have been prevalent through almost all stages of humanity and storytelling. For example, monsters are deeply rooted in the Christian faith. Many times in the Bible, especially in the book of Jobe, there are depictions of saints and angels fighting demonic monsters and thus saving not only themselves but others. Almost every time in Christian writing, monsters represent sin, and it takes a hero to fight off this sin. Sin is such a powerful tool in the Christian depiction of monsters because for many people who practice the Christian faith, sin and committing sins is something that is greatly feared. Thus, one can even see how Jesus Christ himself is a monster slayer. This epitomizes how drawn humans are to the monster slayer stories, and just like in Tolkien’s stories, the Christian faith has many dragon slayer stories. Take for example St. George and St. Michael, both of whom have stories written about them slaying dragons and becoming a hero. So, what does it take to become a hero? Is the destruction of a monster necessary? These questions have persisted throughout fantasy writing and were closely examined by Tolkien in note only his personal notes and books.

TJG

Build-a-Monster Workshop: What Makes a “Good” Monster?

(Source: https://comicfrontline.com/2020/06/30/top-5-panels-of-the-week-6-24-20/. Art by Dan Mora—who I've met!)

    

The art showcased here is a from a great comic series, Once & Future written by Kieron Gillen and pencilled by Dan Mora. The series is about great literary figures, like the pictured King Arthur and Beowulf, coming to life as monsters, hence their apperances here. 

While I am using this art partially because I am a fan of the series and especially Mora's art (and it's relevance is giving me an excuse to include it!), I also think the irony of turning Beowulf into a monster is very fitting. Beowulf is the monster-slayer, and we've tried to pinpoint why monsters—and their accompaining slayers—are so important for stories. But, we did not discuss the next question: what makes a "good" monster? Good, in this context, meaning fulfilling their role, not being on the side of the Angels.

What I want to try to do is put forth a possible framework for what makes a good monster, supported with examples from the Legendarium. By no means do I think this is entirely "correct" or "definitive" in any way; rather, I want to discuss what makes a monster compelling once we have accepted their overarching role in these stories.

We begin with the first necessary characteristic:

1. Powerful

There is a phenomenon in video games, especially turn-based roleplaying games (most of which are fantasy-themed!), where as you play the game, your characters level up and become more powerful, making early-game enemies much less of a threat. For example, consider the iconic Slimes from Dragon Quest. And while these certainly serve their purpose, the monsters I want to speak of, in the model of Grendel or dragons, must be powerful, like bosses in the aforementioned video games. Tolkien says "But we may remember that the poet of Beowulf saw clearly: the wages of heroism is death" (The Monsters and the Critics, 26). Therefore, heroism and the death heroes face would not mean anything, nor likely would even occur, if monsters were weak. There would be no reason to fight them, or little danger in doing so, since they pose such a small threat.

To see this power, consider Smaug. He is a great dragon, and through his power he nearly decimates Laketown with very little effort. Shelob similarly fits the criteria, a giant spider that attempts to crush Sam undernearth her weight. Additionally, she has webs so strong only elven blades were able to cut them, and a paralyzing venom to stun her prey before she eats them.

2. Terrifying

A monster should strike fear into the hearts of anyone facing them. This does pair with power, since a powerless monster is unlikely to be particularly frightening, but is separate. Power itself is not necessarily inherently scary. Gandalf, for example, is powerful, but not terrifying. Likewise, the Ainur and Valar (minus Melkor) as well as Iluvatar are extremely powerful, but not scary in the way a dragon would be (noting a difference between "fear of God" and "fear of monsters").

In this category, Shelob certainly reigns supreme. Humans already tend to have an aversion to spiders, so a giant, unabashedly-evil one would certainly strike fear into most people. Smaug does have some similar traits, though, with dragons resemblance to snakes and the inherent terror of a hulking beast of immense power.

3. Resilient

This, again, is tied to power, but is not the exact same thing. If a monster was defeated in a single, non-chalant hit, that would make for a very boring threat. There are even stories crafted around this concept, such as One-Punch Man. A monster needs to be hard to defeat, a challenge for the hero, a feat. The dragonslayer is not great because it is easy, but precisely because it is so difficult.

Shelob and Smaug certainly have this, with Shelob and her webs being nigh-impenetrable and Smaug being immune to spears and arrows, but both also have clear and exploitable weaknesses, Shelob's eyes and Smaug's bare patch. This makes them possible to defeat, albeit very difficult.

4. Evil

Finally, a monster should be evil. That is the fundamental difference that separates a monster from just a normal creature. When a lion kills its prey, it is doing so because it is its biological imperative to survive. But a monster acts because of its evil nature.

This can be seen very in both Shelob and Smaug. Shelob is described as 

an evil thing in spider-form... she served none but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with endless brooding on her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her food, and her vomit darkness. Far and wide her lesser broods, bastards of the miserable mates, her own offspring, that she slew, spread from glen to glen, from the Ephel Dúath to the eastern hills, to Dol Guldur and the fastnesses of Mirkwood. But none could rival her, Shelob the Great, last child of Ungoliant to trouble the unhappy world (The Lord of the Rings, 313).

While not as viscerally evil, Smaug destroys Laketown in vengeance and is extremely greedy and proud.

Thus, we have a description of a monster: powerful, terrifying, resilient, and evil. Again, I don't think this is the "definitive description" or anything of the like, and plenty of monsters don't quite fit this definition (the Goblin King is strangely easy to defeat, and Gollum has very monsterous characteristics but is not particularly powerful). But I think this is a good starting point for "great beasts to be slain" type monsters.

Now, having created this definition, I want to show how it characterizes Sauron as a great, if not the greatest, monster, through the use of the Nazgûl. As I showed in my previous blogpost, Tolkien cultivates Sauron as the ultimate evil, so theoretically that should remain the case here.

The first characteristic is powerful, and the Nazgûl certainly qualify there. Just with one stab of the Morgul-knife, Frodo was on his way to becoming a wraith, and "[Frodo] felt that he was commanded urgently to halt. Hatred again stirred in him, but he had no longer the strength to refuse" (The Lord of the Rings, 214). They were able to command after this as well, so they certainly are extremely powerful.

Second is terrifying, and this holds even more true. The imagery alone shows the horror of their appearance:

Soon there could be no doubt: three or four tall black figures were standing there on the slope, looking down on them. So black were they that they seemed like black holes in the deep shade behind them. Frodo thought that he heard a faint hiss as of venomous breath and felt a thin piercing chill. Then the shapes slowly advanced... In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes; under their mantles were long grey robes; upon their grey hairs were helms of silver; in their haggard hands were swords of steel. Their eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him… The third was taller than the others: his hair was long and gleaming and on his helm was a crown. In one hand he held a long sword, and in the other a knife; both the knife and the hand that held it glowed with a pale light (The Lord the Rings, 196).

And, very fittingly, the primary tool of the Nazgûl is fear.

Third is resilient, and this likewise holds true. When initially being pursued by them, Frodo and the others have no ability to fight them, only to hide. On Weathertop, Aragorn attempts to use fire, which seems to help but certainly doesn't defeat them. And though some are swept away by the river, they are certainly not killed. This is not to say they are impossible to defeat, as the Witch-king of Angmar is defeated individually and not with the destruction of the Ring, but it is extremely difficult.

Finally, evil. This feels well summed up in everything before. Their appearance, methods, and weapons are all pure evil. Plus they serve the ultimate evil, so they certainly qualify.

So the Nazgûl are great monsters. But that is not what is particularly important. The Nazgûl serve Sauron. They are chess pieces, albeit powerful ones, that Sauron is controlling, and controlling totally as they have no will of their own. Thus, without actually having to establish much about Sauron concretely, he is established as an extremely credible threat because he controls them. This is why my analysis focuses on Book I, since this is the establishing part before the threat is fully unveiled. The Nazgûl lead into Sauron, making Sauron a great monster.

To end off, some art from Once & Future of Grendel:

(Source: https://www.razorfine.com/comics/once-and-future-9/attachment/once-and-future-9-grendel/. Art by Dan Mora)

-CVB