Sacrifice in season 2 of Rings of Power
- Simina Lungu
- Aug 29
- 9 min read
Sacrifice is a frequent motif in Tolkien’s works, and season two of The Rings of Power offers us many examples of sacrifice, both willing and unwilling, throughout the various storylines. Sacrifice comes in many forms and leads to various outcomes, but a common point is how it offers the characters a chance to truly shine, to show their valor and the lengths they are willing to go to – for themselves, for others, for the good of the world.
I will focus on three examples, each offering their own message and their own spin on the concept of sacrifice. As usual, be wary of spoilers, as I cannot analyze this concept without revealing important plot points for the second season of the series. I do not want to ruin the experience of watching the show, so if you have not watched it yet but think you might want to, perhaps give this essay a miss for now and come back later. It will not be going anywhere.
Celebrimbor
We cannot talk about sacrifice in season two of The Rings of Power without mentioning Celebrimbor. His story is the main highlight of the second season, and the portrayal of his fall from grace and subsequent redemption exceeded even my wildest expectations. If there is something that I find completely unfair, it is that Charles Edwards has received absolutely no nominations whatsoever for his portrayal of Celebrimbor, and I actually dare anyone to tell me that there are better performances in any of the other TV series released in 2024. Edwards gave us a compelling, fraught, and passionate Celebrimbor, one you could root for and feel for, one you could understand through his highs and lows. And such an achievement should have been recognized.
Celebrimbor brings up the idea of sacrifice as early as season one, when he mentions that “True Creation requires sacrifice.” It is rather ironic that the first time he says this is in connection with the silmarils, the jewels his own grandfather wrought, that had brought about not only beauty, but also unspeakable tragedies in the form of wars, mass-murder, and a curse under which Celebrimbor himself still resides at this point in time. And yet, his idea is a common one even outside the world of Tolkien. True creation requires the artists to give up a part of themselves. The best works of art are those that nearly consume the artist. And once these are created, the artist will never be the same again.
Throughout season 2, we see Celebrimbor consumed by his creations. Guided by Annatar’s cunning manipulations, Celebrimbor starts losing more and more of himself to forge the Rings of Power, in an act of creation as twisted as it is perfect. Unknowingly, unwillingly, Celebrimbor sacrifices his city and his people to Sauron – so he can make the Rings of Power, the ultimate works of art, that could place Celebrimbor even above his ambitious grandfather, Feänor.

Yet Celebrimbor’s greatest sacrifice isn’t for the sake of his creations. In fact, Celebrimbor is ready to destroy these. He attempts to throw the nine remaining Rings into the fire, showing that, once the scales have fallen from his eyes, and he can finally see through Sauron’s crafty illusions, his first priority isn’t his supreme creation – it is his city and the people in it. In this way, Celebrimbor indeed bests Feänor, just as Sauron urged him to do a little while back. Because Feänor was ready to sacrifice the entire world, including his sons, for the sake of his creations, while Celebrimbor would sacrifice even his creations to keep alive the people he is responsible for.
In fact, Celebrimbor goes even further. The scene in which he cuts out his thumb in order to free himself from his shackles and try to flee with the Nine Rings is impactful and disturbing (his mockery of Sauron’s previous words: “Whose will is the mightier?” is probably one of my favorite lines in the entire show). Amputation is a recurring motif in Tolkien’s works. The most notable example would be from The Lord of the Rings, when Frodo has his finger bitten off by Gollum. There are other examples as well – Sauron himself has his finger cut off by Isildur, while in the Silmarillion we have Maedhros, who has one hand cut off in order to be freed from Morgoth’s imprisonment, and Beren, whose hand holding the silmaril is bitten off by the wolf Carcaroth.
The symbolism of this recurring motif is extensive and would probably require an entire academic paper to analyze and discuss. I do not have this kind of time here, so I will limit myself only to Celebrimbor. His gesture is made in anger and desperation, because he knows he needs to escape with the Rings before Sauron returns. But it is also a sacrificial gesture. By maiming his hand, Celebrimbor, “the greatest of Elven smiths”, commits the ultimate sacrifice. Even if he does escape, he will never be able to create again. His identity as a true creator – his artist self that he has valued so much – is now no more. Celebrimbor has brutally annihilated it. He had the strength to do what Feänor or Sauron or many others would never have managed to do. He has sacrificed the part of himself that he valued the most. He has killed what defined him. Whose will is the mightier, indeed.
Durin the Third
King Durin the Third is another character that will stay in our minds long after the show ends. Although mostly a secondary character, he was one of the elements that made the Khazad-dûm storyline vibrant and real. In the first season, King Durin the Third is portrayed as the wise, maybe overly-cautious ruler who puts his people first – above wealth, above the safety of others, above even the loyalties of his son.
The conflict between Durin father and son warrants its own essay, so I will not linger much on it right now. Suffice to say that the tumultuous relationship Durin the Third has with his son influences many of his decisions. Despite his stubbornness, King Durin is motivated by the love he has for his people and the love he has for his family.
In the second season, King Durin changes drastically once he obtains one of the Seven Dwarven Rings. With his kingdom in danger, and his people under threat of starvation, King Durin is presented with a solution – magic Rings of Power that will save everyone. How can he not accept this? The rewards, in his view – and in the view of any reasonable leader – far outweigh any potential risks.
The effects of the Ring on Durin the Third are quick to manifest. The Ring helps him save the kingdom, yes, but it also transforms him, looks into the darkest corners of his mind and twists him. In the books, Tolkien says that the Rings do not have the same effect on Dwarves as they do on Men. The Dwarves do not fall under Sauron’s control, and they do not become wraiths. However, the Rings’ effects are no less sinister. They enhance the greed of the bearer – until the accumulation of gold and jewels is all that matters.
King Durin’s descent into the madness of greed, the slow but sure erosion of his self, is difficult to watch. It is a fall, the fall of a great King, and the audience is almost afraid of what might happen and how things might end. The ruler who was once ready to put his people above everything, now puts greed and lust for gold above his people, above his family, above his conscience. The audience looks on, horrified, sensing that, if King Durin is to completely descend into madness, he would take his kingdom down with him.
This almost happens. Almost, because Durin the Third is stubborn and strong-willed, and this turns out to be his saving grace in the end. Even with the Ring, there is still integrity in Durin. Not only that, there is love for his son, who has refused to give up on him even when everyone else was convinced that the king’s soul had been completely consumed by the Ring.
The appearance of the balrog and the threat it presents serve as a wake-up call for Durin the Third. He finally understands the danger he has placed his people in. He has finally realized that he has brought the people he was supposed to lead to the brink of extinction – and the realization comes almost too late.
King Durin is humbled by the realization of his mistakes – so much so that he asks his son for forgiveness, even though he has spent months refusing to be the one to bend and apologize during their previous conflict. He no longer sees himself as untouchable, the lord and master of the mountain. He is frail and vulnerable, and he has made a terrible mistake. But he is determined to fix it – no matter the cost for himself.
As soon as King Durin addresses his son, we know that he is doomed. We anticipate the decision he has made. At the very end, Durin the Third chooses his people. He chooses integrity. He chooses redemption. And the choice is as glorious as it is heartbreaking.
In many ways, King Durin the Third’s fate was sealed as soon as he accepted the Ring. Yet his end did not come with a fall. Our last image of Durin the Third is not of him tumbling down into the abyss with the balrog. It is of him leaping high in the air to meet the enemy. He almost seems to be rising, and the image is symbolic of his own ascension. His sacrifice has averted his downfall. And his death, although tragic, is the death of a hero.

Míriel
Episode 2x06, Where is he?, presents another perfect example of the theme of sacrifice – although, if we are to be precise, we’d say that it presents two examples. We have Elendil, who is ready to give up everything, including his life, when he refuses to accept Pharazôn as the true king of Númenor and deny Míriel’s right to rule. We also have Míriel, who volunteers to take Elendil’s punishment upon herself.
Elendil’s willingness to sacrifice himself rather than offer support to a usurper merits attention (especially given the many “ways out” he is presented with – Ar-Pharazôn himself offers Elendil a chance at repentance, his daughter pleads with him, urging him not to abandon her, and Míriel outright orders him to bow to Pharazôn). Elendil overcomes these temptations and chooses integrity. I shall discuss this at a later time, as it is Míriel’s sacrifice I wish to draw attention to now.
As Elendil is about to be tossed into the sea to face the judgment of the Valar in the form of the Sea Worm, Míriel appears and asks to take the punishment upon herself. She does not beg for this – she demands it: “Given that his crime was committed in my name, I have the right to face the Valar’s judgment in his stead.” This isn’t just about saving Elendil’s life. This is about something much, much deeper. Míriel is the Queen. It is her duty – and her privilege – to sacrifice herself for her people. And she is ready to do just that.
“If we are to walk the path of the Faithful,” she tells Elendil, “It must be me who takes the first step.” Which is logical and fair. You cannot ask others to enter a situation that you would not face yourself. And Míriel has already proven that she is this kind of leader in season one – she has not sent some war general to fight in the Southlands, she has led the army herself. She did not order Valandil and Isildur to enter the burning hut alone and rescue the people trapped there, she led the way and walked into the fire herself. And now, she will lead the way here as well. She will be the first to prove that she is willing to uphold Númenor’s true values – no matter what happens to her.

Míriel’s actions remind me of the myth of the Sacrificial King. In my teenage years, I read Sir James Frazer’s The Golden Bough, and even though his work has become disputed in later years, the idea of the Sacrificial King merits discussion on a mythological and symbolic level, if not on a truly historical one. In short, the Sacrificial King presents the idea of the ruler sacrificing himself – willingly, the sacrifice must be a voluntary one for the sake of his people. This can be a regular occurrence – to mimic the cycle of death and rebirth in nature – or an exceptional one, in times of trouble, as a way of taking on the sins of the people, or of interfering on their behalf with the gods.
The myth has appeared in the works of one of my favorite writers, Rosemary Sutcliff, especially in her novel Sword at Sunset, a fictional, first-person account of King Arthur’s life. Here, the duty of the king to sacrifice himself so that his people may live is a recurring theme.
Regarding Míriel, it has been theorized a few times that her blindness is one of the main reasons why she escaped the Sea Worm and was allowed to live. She was unable to see what was in front of her, so she did not react to it, giving the illusion that she was staring the monster square in the eye. This might have been a factor, but I believe the main reason is because she volunteered to face the Sea Worm. This task was hers alone, and she came out of the water victorious and empowered. The title that Elendil gives her afterwards, “Queen of the Sea”, provides her with an almost mystical, divine status. Or as divine as someone as humble as Míriel would allow.


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