It’s a common thread throughout the series: Though the risk is great, Sam remains steadfast-wary but ever-devoted. Fearing Frodo will be sent off alone, he makes himself known, interjecting the proceedings, and Elrond agrees to send him along on the trek. As the Council of Elrond meets in The Fellowship of the Ring and forms a plan for destroying the Ring once and for all, Sam hides away in a corner, anxiously awaiting to hear what fate awaits his cherished Master Frodo. Though Sam is initially brought along on Frodo’s journey as a kind of punishment for eavesdropping (or dropping eaves, if you’re so inclined), he volunteers for the treacherous journey from Rivendell to Mordor, knowing the dangers inherent in such a quest. He is, in many ways, intended to be a proxy for the fantasy listener, daring to be immersed in something far outside the realm of their day-to-day.īut beyond that, Sam is the type of hero not often celebrated in the great canon of fantasy literature-a hero not just unexpected and underestimated in terms of stature or temperament, but a hero driven solely by friendship, loyalty, and love. Schooled on a steady diet of tales from his tutor Bilbo Baggins, Sam had an ear for songs and poetry and, despite lacking the education afforded higher classes, a mind brimming with wonder and promise. Sam, the youngest of his siblings, grew up dreaming of lands beyond the hills of the Shire, harboring a particular fascination with Elves. Therein lies the wonder of Sam Gamgee, a meek gardener who was swept up into one of greatest battles of good and evil. Though Frodo’s will and perseverance alone is heroic in its own right, it’s undeniable that, without the care, guidance, protection, and encouragement of his dear friend Sam, the journey would’ve been a failure. And when the odds are stacked against them, when Frodo wants to give up and give in to the corrupting power of the One Ring, it’s Sam who keeps the journey on track and drives them toward Mount Doom. He is good, humble, unselfish, and tenderhearted. But Sam represents a kind of heroism that we’re all capable of.

So, what is it about Samwise Gamgee that makes him such a standout in a cast of characters marked by their gallantry? After all, Sam is not of royal lineage nor is he particularly gifted with a broadsword, axe, or mystical abilities. Beyond the Fellowship, there are heroes still: King Theoden, Eowyn, Faramir, Elrond, and Galadriel, to name just a few. And, of course, there's the unlikely quest hero, Frodo Baggins, and his three fellow Hobbits, Merry, Pippin, and Samwise, all setting out on a journey far beyond the reaches of their wildest imaginations-or their grimmest nightmares. The list includes the bold yet diplomatic Aragorn, a born leader and the rightful King of Gondor the skilled warrior Boromir, fully dedicated to his people the wizard Gandalf, whose powers and wisdom were largely unmatched the earnest and battle-ready dwarf Gimli and Legolas, an Elven prince turned compatriot. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings has no shortage of heroic figures. Such steadfast gentleness and compassion demonstrates a dauntlessness all its own: the audacity to believe in, and hope for, a better world. But even still, there is one act of valor that remains largely unsung: remaining relentlessly kind and caring in a culture that routinely champions the loudest and most forceful. And in my own life, I've seen time and again that courage does not have to be loud or overstated-in fact, the bravest folks often ward off unthinkable evils and triumph over tremendous obstacles in complete silence. Communities have survived tumult through the support and guidance of nonprofits and sociopolitical movements, the very embodiment of the notion that leadership is not always synonymous with power or control. We've lived through enough moments of great upheaval to recognize that heroics have little to do with who’s charging headfirst into battle or basking in the glow of glory. In reality, our cultural understanding of heroics has grown past that of myths and legends.

And it's been hard to parse that sense of self when it feels it can never amount to that Herculean expectation of striving, succeeding, and winning-doing it all with an ironclad conviction. I am-and always have been-sensitive, gentle in temperament, and prone to setting aside ambition to weigh doing well with doing good.

If you were to conjure up a mental image of a heroic figure, whatever surefooted warrior you concocted would likely bear little to no resemblance (physical or otherwise) to someone like me.

Sam carrying frodo