Despite the similarities between the Lord of the Rings (1930s-1950s) and Richard Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen, written nearly a century earlier, J. R. R. Tolkien was known for downplaying the similarities between the two. Understandably so: With Wagner’s operas being hailed by the Nazi regime as the quintessential embodiment of the German spirit, it’s not surprising that Tolkien allegedly referred to their consanguinity as “Both rings were round, and there the resemblance ceases.”
Sure, if you don’t take into account that both stories revolve around cursed rings that grant their bearers absolute power, leading to a multigenerational lust for their possession, the rise of heroes, the re-forging of broken swords, items that bestow invisibility and the slaying of hoarding dragons. While the prime source of both works is demonstrably the cursed ring called Andvaranaut that appears in the Völsunga Saga (late 13th century), the somewhat moralized version of the ring as an allegory of absolute power that corrupts absolutely and needs be destroyed to bring about the end of an era is the epitome of the Wagnerian and Tolkienian mythos.
Among the main features of the cursed ring that both the composer and author elevate in their respective works, is its sense of destiny, applied not just to the object itself, but to its roster of bearers. Here’s a good cheat sheet to remember them by:
Wagner’s ring is forged by dwarf Alberich, stolen by god Wotan, gifted to the giants Fasolt and Fafner, taken by the hero Siegfried after slaying Fafner in dragon form, gifted to his lover Brünnhilde (and then taken back), claimed by Alberich’s son Hagen, reclaimed by Brünnhilde and finally laid to rest by the Rhinemaidens, whose stolen gold was used to forge it in the first place.
Tolkien’s ring is forged by the Dark Lord Sauron, cut off his finger by King Isildur, lost on a riverbed for over two millennia, found by the stoor Déagol, who like Fasolt, is killed by his companion Sméagol (Gollum), found by the hobbit Bilbo, inherited by his nephew Frodo, briefly held by his friend Samwise and finally destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom.
As the ring passes from hand to hand in seemingly accidental ways, one is meant to question the cursed object’s agency; the creation of the extraordinary circumstances by which it is lost and found. And we are reminded that the object’s telos ―remember Tolkien’s ring falling off Gollum’s hand in time for Bilbo to find it―are part of its evil nature, and that the fulfillment of its fate is paved with the destruction of those unfortunate enough to cross its path.
February 1st, 2023
A highly radioactive capsule of Caesium-137 disappeared in the Western Australian desert en route to a mine in Perth. The tiny object, measuring only 8mm by 6mm, is said to have fallen out of its casing after the vibrations from the bumpy road caused the screws that held it to come loose.
The search took on epic proportions, not only because of the immense difficulty of finding such a small object in such a vast emptiness, but because of the burns, acute radiation sickness and death that could befall anyone to find it. It was a race against the object’s mythological vocation: our sought out and toxic Caesium pill desired to be lost in the oddest of ways, and to set in motion a chain of destruction among its future claimants.
After an intense search lasting several days under international media surveillance, the cursed item was found and contained for good. This myth was not meant to be (yet).