Why Talk About Haldir?
 
I've received a great number of comments from Hollywood Jesus readers about the February feature on The Two Towers. My observations on how Peter Jackson changed Tolkien's story are frequently taken as criticisms. In reality, the article "An Odd Place to End?" is a criticism of my own tastes, as a means to understanding Jackson's intent with The Two Towers. My review of The Two Towers itself makes it plain that I think the movie does a fine job of bringing Tolkien's themes to the screen. It also works very well as a stand-alone movie—though perhaps not as well as The Fellowship of the Ring.

As one E-mail noted, Jackson and his writers not only had the daunting task of presenting the whole of Tolkien's vision (and condensing his books into some nine or so hours of running time), but the three movies also had to be constructed in a way as to make each succeed in its own right. The task is not unprecedented, having been undertaken by each of the Star Wars film trilogies—but it is not simple, either. And the middle movie of the three, lacking, as it does, the proper beginning of the story and the ending, is the hardest to make work.

The changes which Jackson has made to Tolkien's story, then, serve as tremendous tools for understanding precisely what the director felt was essential to communicate within the scope of The Two Towers. So even though Haldir is little more than a footnote within the scope of the movie, a study of the character proves a classic case for gaining insight into Jackson's story.

Elves and Mortality
 
Haldir is, of course, an Elf. In Tolkien's Middle-earth, there are Elves and then there are Elves. Some are wise and noble, like Elrond at Rivendell or Galadriel at Lórien. There are also Elves who are less grand, and even secretive or whimsical. Among these are the Wood-elves of Mirkwood, like the ones whom Bilbo and the Dwarves encounter in The Hobbit. These Elves exhibit almost anti-social characteristics. They are hardly the gregarious, gracious hosts in the manner of Elrond, or serious and imperious as is Galadriel.

There are good reasons for the differences, naturally. Many of the Elves in Mirkwood are Silvan Elves, of a lesser order in lineage and powers. They are also led by Thranduil, a Sindarin Elf. The Sindar—though classed among the Eldar, the "Three Kindred" of the Elves—did not complete the First Age journey to Aman to dwell among the Valar. As a consequence, the Sindar (in general) were not as ennobled as their brethren. In addition, they tended to exhibit the isolationist tendencies of their greatest king, Thingol, an Elf of the original Awakening who wedded the Maia Melian and founded the realm of Doriath.

One of the characteristics of the First Born which distinguished them from the other Children of Eru was their immortality. While the life span of Men rarely exceeded two hundred years in Middle-earth, Elves could literally live forever if they both avoided being slain in battle and retained the will to live. At the time of The Lord of the Rings, for instance, Galadriel was already many thousands of years old.

The Elves did not, however, find immortality to be a blessing, not entirely. Often the exiled Elves of Middle-earth found their ongoing existence trying, and referred to Man's mortality as a "Gift." While the spirits of Elves and Middle-earth's Men all journey to the Halls of Mandos after death, the ultimate end of Elves is tied to the fate of the physical earth, while the spirits of Men may look forward to an infinite future in the presence of Eru.

Elves in The Two Towers
 
Within the scope of Tolkien's novel The Two Towers, the sole Elf appearing in the narrative is Legolas. He is Thranduil's son, an Elf of the Woodland Realm in Mirkwood. If we take The Lord of the Rings as a whole (and the Fellowship of the Ring as a band of individuals) Legolas represents the Elves in general in the joint quest to destroy the Rings; and he is also specifically an emissary of the Woodland Realm, a people rather distinct from those either in Lórien or Rivendell.

Galadriel herself spent many years in Doriath under the tutelage of Melian, and the realm of Lórien is veiled in a similar way. While one of the Noldor herself, the Sindarin influence is still very strong in Galadriel. Her husband Celeborn was a Sindarin Elf of Doriath.

Elrond's people, on the other hand, represent a very different mood and mode of social interaction. Partly Noldorian in heritage, Elrond is also of human blood, and was born after the Noldor's exile from Aman. His ties to the race of Men and his close connection to the soil of Middle-earth account for his more open approach to other peoples. The Last Homely House of Rivendell would be unthinkable in Lórien or Mirkwood. When Hollywood Jesus readers lament the lack of warmth in Jackson's Elves, it is the lightheartedness one finds in Elrond's house that they miss. As Bilbo observed, it was "a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling and singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of both." Alas, the running time of Jackson's films simply allows no opportunity to fully portray this aspect of the Elves.

In fact, when preparing the screenplay for The Two Towers, and attempting to make the narrative hang together while working as a stand-alone film, Jackson's team found themselves in a perplexing position: sure, fans of the books will know that the Elves were fighting their own battles in Mirkwood and Lórien during the War of the Ring; but how will it be clear to those new to the story that the Elves were integrally involved in the struggle to depose Sauron? Yes, there's Legolas—but he has own personal reasons for involvement.

Enter Haldir, and the contigent of Elves he brings to battle.

Elves at Helm's Deep
 
Just prior to the commencement of the Battle of Helm's Deep, Jackson's movie features the arrival of a host of Elvish archers. Since the ranks of the Hornburg's defenders are woefully thin, their arrival is most welcome, their skill and weapons essential to save Rohan from the onslaught of Saruman's Uruk-hai. At their head is Haldir. Curiously, the Elvish contingent is identified by Haldir as coming from Rivendell; but Haldir is an Elf of Lórien—one of Galadriel's people, not Elrond's.

The choice is a curious one, and difficult. If the Elves had arrived from Lórien, their path would have taken them along the shores of the Silverlode and the borders of Fangorn, a route tangential to the road the Orcs must take from Isengard to Helm's Deep. Coming from Rivendell as they have done, though, their path takes them across the Ford of Isen—precisely the path the Fellowship avoided in choosing to travel through Moria! In fact, that route places them on the very road that the Orcs travel, and only a few hours ahead them.

Complicating matters is the fact that Haldir leads them. Viewers not familiar with The Fellowship of the Ring wouldn't know that Haldir was the Fellowship's guide in Lórien; and they also wouldn't know that Haldir, subsequent to the Fellowship's departure from Lórien, would need to find some route over or under the Misty Mountains to Rivendell (no easy task, as the Fellowship found out) and then lead the phalanx from Rivendell to Helm's Deep—all in just over two weeks! Since Frodo and company required two weeks merely to travel from Rivendell to the rear gate of Moria, Haldir's host, traveling on foot, seems to have accomplished the miraculous.

So Jackson and company have not made their choices because they particularly make temporal or geographic sense. Their reasons lay elsewhere.

Haldir's Death
 
More than one HJ reader has noted that Haldir's death still brings tears to the eyes, even after seven-plus viewings. Clearly, the Elves' presence at Helm's Deep—and Haldir's in particular— seems to have raised the stakes of the battle. Jackson's instincts are cinematically correct. But why, exactly?

A couple of reasons suggest themselves. First, even though Jackson's portrait of Middle-earth's Elves is incomplete, his audience clearly perceives the difference between Elves and Men. Jackson's Elves—rather grim and humorless, as one HJ reader has noted, and certainly not the "Merry People" of Tolkien's books—are nonetheless noble, and rather grand. Jackson seems to have effectively utilized reserve and a lofty air as a shorthand method for achieving what Tolkien accomplished in a more complex manner. So the death of an Elf has an amplified tragic element for many viewers.

Second, Haldir's death serves notice that the struggle for Middle-earth is one shared equally by all the peoples of Middle-earth. All of them are willing to lay down their lives in the effort. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend," as the proverb observes (Proverbs 27:6, NASB).

Another HJ reader has even suggested that Haldir's death adds depth to Aragorn's humanity. It is he, after all, who calls to Haldir and distracts him, allowing an Uruk-hai to slay the Elf.

Yet lost in all of this is the fact that for Haldir, as an Elf, death is really no great tragedy. Elves do not share the fallenness of Men; they do not live in doubt as to their fate. Unless they have wittingly rebelled against Eru and allied themselves with the servants of Morgoth, they have no reason to fear death. Of course, a theological dissection of the differences between Elves and Men (which Tolkien packed into his commentary on "The Dialogue of Finrod and Andreth" in Morgoth's Ring) doesn't enter into Jackson's movies, so the point is rather moot for most movie-goers.

So Why Haldir?
 
Clearly, when one elects to depart from Tolkien's meticulously crafted storyline—and thereby, his equally meticulous timeline and geographical consistency—one does so for very deliberate reasons, knowing that the choices will be critiqued (and even howled at) by Tolkien's very loyal and demanding fans.

Just as clearly, then, one does so for very specific reasons. In the case of Haldir and the Elves at Helm's deep, Jackson's reasons are fairly simple. First, as noted above, he uses these Elves as a device to illustrate the scope of the battle for Middle-earth, the unity of its peoples in the struggle, and their willingness to all pay the necessary price. Second, Haldir's death serves to heighten the emotion of the battle sequence, and helps The Two Towers work better as a movie.

Most importantly, Haldir's host helps bring out one of the facets of Tolkien's story which is terribly appealing, whether it's Tolkien's novel or Jackson's movies—Middle-earth is a place, unlike our own, where the struggle of good against evil is fairly clear cut. While modern humans spend much of their time dealing with supposedly "grey" ethical struggles (e.g., If you come to a stop sign in the middle of nowhere, and can see for miles around that no one is coming, do you stop?) the people in Tolkien's world are dealing with something much more concrete, and of far greater consequence: Sauron wants to destroy all that is good; are you going to stand by and let him, or are you going to help do something about it?

For Tolkien, this clarity of thought and sense of urgency was interwoven with his faith, and his understanding of what is at stake in our own world, spiritually. Perhaps it is for Jackson, too.

"He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters." Matthew 12:30, NIV

Since I published this essay, a great number of Hollywood Jesus readers have pointed out that Haldir doesn't actually say that his archers have come from Rivendell. Admittedly, I have interpreted his greetings from Elrond in a way that is only one possibility; but Haldir doesn't mention Galadriel or Lórien, either—so it's less than clear exactly who sent the Elves to Helm's Deep. In any event, it's still evident that Jackson and crew have other priorities than worrying about geographical and temporal details. Thanks for reading!

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