Back in 2002, Canadian journalist and Senator Paula Simons published a column on storybook romance vs. real-life expectations. Since then, her column is shared semi-regularly, particularly around Valentine’s Day.
Here’s an excerpt from the Senator’s Facebook post with the text of her original newspaper column:
“Sam isn’t a warrior by training or inclination. He isn’t looking for glory or adventure.
“He gets dragged into danger because of his love and loyalty for his gentle master, Frodo, the soulful hobbit who’s been given the great task of destroying the Dark Lord’s ring of evil.
“As Frodo’s squire, Sam travels all the way to heart of the Dark Lord’s kingdom, battling orc-goblins, giant spiders and his own fears and frailties. He fights as bravely as any of the story’s flashier knights—more bravely, because he’s no superhero with a magic sword, just an ordinary guy overtaken by extraordinary circumstances.
“But his real heroism lies in his unshakeable loyalty to his best friend, and in his unshakeable loyalty to his hobbit values, his moral code.
When all the battles and quests are over, Sam returns to his prosaic hobbit life, marrying Rose, raising kids, planting trees and nurturing the community he loves.
“The problem is, our culture doesn’t validate the heroism of the Samwise Gamgees of this world. The romantic heroes every teenage girl is taught to pine for are the Byronic brooders like Aragorn.”
I’d like to compare LotR to my favorite Jane Austen novel, Sense and Sensibility. In a way, Sam is the Elinor Dashwood of Middle-Earth: reliable and considerate—and almost completely ignored and/or underappreciated by most of their respective worlds.
While Marianne Dashwood and John Willoughby are the romantic characters in Austen, the story focuses on the two oldest sisters, Elinor and Marianne. While the fellowship are the main dramatis personae in Tolkien, you could argue that in LotR the most important relationship is between Frodo and Sam (perhaps also to a lesser extent between Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli). In S&S, the romantics (especially Marianne) wallow in the throes of Their FeelingsTM that No-One Else can EverTM Hope to FeelTM as Deeply!!!TM. In LotR, the men wrestle with Weight of Their DestinyTM (Frodo and Aragorn, even Boromir to some extent). Behind this turmoil, Elinor and Sam keep the wheels of life turning in the background, quietly and unobtrusively. On one hand, if Elinor hadn’t asked around, the Dashwood ladies might not have found a home (or might have ended up destitute after a few years) after the passing of Mr. Dashwood; if she hadn’t kept up with the demands of polite society, the cash-strapped Dashwood family would’ve been left with even less support than they had. On the other, if Sam hadn’t cooked, carried, and picked up the slack, the ring would’ve ended with Sauron’s forces after Frodo was stung by Shelob at the latest, or it might’ve been left lying on the slopes of Mount Doom (if Frodo even had made that far by himself).
Both Sam and Elinor finish with happy endings, partly because of the conceits of story-telling in the times of their respective creation, but partly because of who they are as characters: down-to-earth, pragmatic people who appreciate the good in what they do have. And they both do have strong feelings, even if we don’t see them paraded. Sam could not have gone as far as he did without some serious courage, nor necessarily carried the torch for Rosie through all the hardships if he didn’t feel strongly. Elinor bore the pragmatic and emotional burdens she did thanks to an enduring love for her family and a firm sense of principles.
You could perhaps try to argue that Elinor and Sam’s happiness stems from them merely being undemanding or indifferent, from not aiming high enough. It’s true that their wishes are more modest in the grand scale of their respective worlds. But I don’t think you can have a satisfyingly grand gesture at the end of your epic story to save the entire world (or whatever) if “the little world” doesn’t exist anymore to be saved. The latter is the foundation of everything else.

The familiar and the sensational in S&S and the commonplace and the epic in LotR provide a contrast to each other like light and darkness do. It takes commitment to save the world. It also takes commitment to keep it going. The latter takes a deliberate and sustained effort—the same kind of intentionality that makes a hero a hero, really, just channeled into making a peaceful everyday life, something that both Sam and Elinor value. If creating something that endures for decades (or longer) isn’t aiming high, I don’t know what is.
At the end of her post, Senator Simons encourages “celebrating the heroism of real love—not ‘romance,’ but the love of friends and family and community, the ‘ordinary’ garden-variety love that conquers darkness. Don’t worry about loving like an elf lord or a princess. Love like a hobbit.”
I definitely mean to. ❤
Senator Paula Simons’s post found via File 770.
In Character looks at some of our favorite characters to see what drives them, what makes them work, and what makes us love them so much.














