It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three for the Elves, wisest of all beings. Seven for the Dwarf-lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else, desire power. The legendarium of J.R.R. Tolkien is a work beloved by millions, a tapestry woven with created languages, mythological references, and profound philosophical questions. It forces us to consider the nature of power, how we define evil, whether it's possible to resist temptation, and why the heroes of our favorite stories can feel more real than we do.

The Ring as a Symbol

Why a ring? In our world, as in Middle-earth, this object is more than mere jewelry. It is a multifaceted symbol of infinity, commitment, or authority. Tolkien did not choose this artifact by chance. The French philosopher Roland Barthes explained how an ordinary object becomes a sign. A sign has two parts: the signifier (the physical object) and the signified (the meaning we attach to it). A simple stone is just a stone. But if we agree that the stone signifies a death sentence in a secret vote, it becomes a powerful sign.

The ring gained its meaning of power in ancient times. Rings were used as seals to give legal force to documents, expressing the will of a ruler and acting as his guarantee. Some suggest a prototype for the One Ring might be the Ring of Senicianus, a historical artifact found by a farmer in the 18th century near Silchester, Hampshire. It bore the inscription, "Senicianus, live well in God." Later, a plaque discovered at Lydney—a site of a Roman temple—told of a man named Silvianus who had lost a ring, and it cursed Senicianus until he returned it to the temple. Tolkien was consulted on this very site shortly before he finished writing The Hobbit.

Other inspirations may exist, like the Ring of Gyges from Plato's Republic, which granted invisibility to its wearer, or Draupnir from Norse mythology, a ring that created endless wealth. Whatever the specific inspiration, Tolkien forged his own Ring of Power in the fires of Mount Doom, and like all powerful symbols, it carries a weight of many meanings—some that even the author may not have consciously intended, but that readers can clearly see.

The Nature of Evil and Choice

The Ring of Power was created by Sauron, who poured his own malice and will to dominate into it. He was its master, yet he was also dependent on it. No one else could truly wield the Ring; instead, it wielded them. So, what is its power, if it cannot be used for good?

The Ring’s power is tied to the essence of its creator. Sauron is, fundamentally, evil. This quality defines him, much like a character in a myth is defined by a single trait. But what is evil? It is often seen as that which causes suffering, leads to degradation, and contradicts our ideals of morality and reason. Philosophers have long argued that things are not inherently good or evil; they acquire these properties through our actions and intentions.

This is what we see with the Ring. It cannot commit evil on its own, not until it is placed on a finger. Of course, its magic calls out, tempting and corrupting the mind. But the choice to wear it remains. In Plato’s Republic, the philosopher Glaucon tells the story of Gyges, a shepherd who finds a ring of invisibility. He uses its power to seduce the queen, kill the king, and seize the throne. Glaucon argues that any person, no matter how just, would eventually succumb to such a temptation if they could act without consequence.

Yet, in Tolkien's world, some characters refuse this temptation outright. Aragorn and Legolas never consider taking the Ring, fearing its power to subjugate their will. They see how it twisted Bilbo and how, even at the very end, Frodo could not bring himself to destroy it. It becomes clear that true power isn't found in using the Ring for good, but in the strength to renounce it entirely. As Socrates replies to Glaucon, the person who refuses the ring is the truly powerful one, for they have mastered their own desires. The one who wears it becomes a slave.

The Reality of Myth

"I wonder what people will say," Samwise Gamgee muses. "Let's hear about Frodo and the Ring!" And another will add, "Yes, that's one of my favorite stories. Frodo was very brave, wasn't he, Dad?"

The Lord of the Rings is structured like a myth. There is no single main character in the modern sense; each has a role to play in a grander destiny. Frodo would not have made it far without Sam. The entire Fellowship was essential. Here, the events are often more important than the individual psychology of the characters. Fate guides them toward a moment that will become a legend, a story to be told and retold.

The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche might say such myths belong to the Apollonian principle—a drive toward order, harmony, and form, which he contrasted with the chaotic, emotional Dionysian principle. Tolkien himself believed that myth was deeply connected to language. His entire world began when he scribbled a single sentence on a blank page: "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit." The word "hobbit" appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and he felt compelled to discover what, exactly, a hobbit was. From that one word, a universe was born.

In this sense, The Lord of the Rings is not a true myth that arose from a collective culture, but what the philosopher Jean Baudrillard would call a simulacrum. It is not a parody, but a beautiful and intricate stylization that makes us believe in Middle-earth. Baudrillard wrote that a simulacrum can become so detailed and pervasive that it replaces the original, creating a "hyperreality"—an artificial world that feels more real than our own.

For many, Frodo has become more real than the people next door. Millions know his story, have felt his fear, and have cried for his struggle. We mourned when Boromir died and felt relief when Merry and Pippin were found alive. Though these characters are a figment of one man's imagination, our collective belief in them gives them a reality of their own. All it takes is opening a book to step back into that world, a world that teaches us about our own.

References

• Plato. Republic. (Translated by G.M.A. Grube, Revised by C.D.C. Reeve). Hackett Publishing Company, 1992.

  The story of the Ring of Gyges is presented by the character Glaucon to challenge Socrates's argument that justice is inherently better than injustice. He uses it as a thought experiment to argue that anyone with the power to act without consequence would do so. This directly relates to the article's discussion of temptation and moral choice regarding the One Ring. (See Book II, 359d-360d).

• Barthes, Roland. Mythologies. (Translated by Annette Lavers). Hill and Wang, 2012.

  This collection of essays deconstructs modern myths. The final essay, "Myth Today," explains Barthes's theory of myth as a "second-order semiological system," where a sign (the union of a signifier and signified) becomes the mere signifier for a new, broader concept. This provides the theoretical framework for the article's analysis of how the physical ring becomes a symbol of power.

• Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. (Translated by Sheila Faria Glaser). University of Michigan Press, 1994.

  Baudrillard's work explores the relationship between reality, symbols, and society. He argues that in a postmodern world, we are surrounded by simulations and simulacra that have become more real than reality itself (hyperreality). This concept is used in the article to explain the powerful and "real" existence that fictional characters like Frodo have in our collective consciousness. (See particularly Chapter 1, "The Precession of Simulacra").