War of the Rohirrim and Shieldmaidens of Scripture

“There are older tales—tales that light a path through the dark.”

So begins the recent animated feature The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim, directed by Kenji Kamiyama. Rohirrim takes us to Rohan, nearly 200 years before the events of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. With plenty of origin story Easter eggs, the film tells the tale of King Helm Hammerhand (voiced by Brian Cox) and his daughter, Héra (Gaia Wise), whose faithfulness and courage carry on the heritage of the fabled shieldmaidens of Rohan.

It’s a story about forebears in faith, a story that hums with scriptural resonance. Scripture, too, is shot through with tales of could-have-been-forgotten women who set the stage for a wider redemption. Rohirrim won’t be for every fan of LOTR (full disclosure: it wasn’t for me). It certainly doesn’t reach the bright depth of Tolkien (a difficult task). But as a story about how an obscure history preserves light for others—and leads to it—the film succeeds.

Let’s go back (or, forward) for a moment, to the valiant but self-doubting princess of Rohan in Peter Jackson’s film version of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King—a figure who is also the narrator of Rohirrim. Facing grim battle in Return of the King, Éowyn (Miranda Otto) makes her way to the front lines against the Dark Lord Sauron, disguised in male armor and accompanied by a hobbit, Merry (Dominic Monaghan). As they make their desperate stand, the Witch-king of Angmar towers against her with hair-raising menace, declaring, “No man can kill me.” Éowyn strikes the satanic creature dead while answering, “I am no man.” Hers is a key role in the salvation of Middle-earth.

The War of the Rohirrim traces the journey of one of Éowyn’s forebears, Héra, another princess of Rohan in her own battle with evil and doubt. Neighboring tribes covet the throne of Rohan. Wulf (Luca Pasqualino), prince of one of these tribes, plots to take it at a bloody cost. As treachery becomes increasingly plain (and gory), Héra is nearly consumed in the fray, buffeted by confusion, capture, and despair. She seems always on the verge of being lost to one darkness or another. In one scene, even the clear, shining, exaggerated figures of the traditional anime style are blurred and washed out by a snowstorm, bringing in a different animated aesthetic altogether. This marks a turning point.

Héra finally turns to the shieldmaidens of Rohan, warriors and protectors of the past, for inspiration. As she takes up the calling, confusion dissipates like the melting snow. She herself has no ambition for power, royal marriage, or to be remembered; she only wishes for herself and her people to be free. In a final scene, wearing a bridal gown and wielding a sword and shield, Héra pleads for her people, then makes an all-or-nothing stand. (Spoilers ahead.)

Héra’s story—as Rohirrim’s narrator, Éowyn, tells us—will be lost in the shadows of time: “Do not look for tales of her in the old songs.” After winning the battle, it’s Héra’s male cousin who inherits the throne. But she doesn’t mind. Free in her own courage, she now goes on to assist the wizard Gandalf in some mysterious business about . . . rings. Her humility and courage sow more good than she can know.

As in Scripture—especially the Old Testament—kings and queens, alliances, succession, battles, betrayal, bloodshed, and court intrigue make up much of the plot of War of the Rohirrim, along with themes of wisdom, decision-making, self-doubt, and the victory of holy women who shine out of the darkness of the past by being humble and faithful. These women win the day’s victory, but unknowingly pave the way for others in an even greater story.

Miriam leads Israel at the Red Sea in a song of God’s rescue through water, a testimony brimming with gospel imagery. Hannah sings a battle-victory song when she becomes the mother of Samuel, the prophet who anoints the Messianic line of kings. The widow of Zarephath supports the embattled Elijah and receives a taste of resurrection. Deborah defeats an enemy army, pointing to God’s ultimate victory over injustice.

As Héra makes way for Éowyn, so these scriptural forebears make way for the gospel. There’s an intriguing parallel, in fact, between Éowyn and Mary, the mother of Jesus. Both strike a deadly blow to a tempting serpent; both reverse an ancient curse by accepting their mission. Mary may not be disguised in Rohirrim armor, but she’s depicted like a conquering warrior in the Gospel of Luke: “My soul glorifies the Lord . . . he has performed mighty deeds with his arm . . . he has brought down rulers from their thrones . . .”

To enter the dark fray, to not look back, to not scorn the weak and small—whether it’s a slim chance, a small seed of redemption, or a small hobbit by your side—takes the purity, faith, and strength of a true shieldmaiden. It’s what the angel Gabriel recognizes in Mary when he greets her, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” It’s what Aragon recognizes in Éowyn when he says in wonder, “You are a shieldmaiden of Rohan!” It’s what Héra finally recognizes in herself. Sweet skills with a blade don’t hurt. But they aren’t what win victory over the spell of evil.

Shieldmaidens may still have dark paths to tread, as we see at the end of War of the Rohirrim. The prophet Simeon hints the same to Mary after Christ’s birth, when he tells her, “. . . a sword will pierce your own soul too.” The battle’s not over yet. But the “older tales” give us a light here too. Like Éowyn, like Héra, Mary may not know all she has yet to face. But she knows from her forebears that the path of faithfulness lies through, not around, the dark. And the dark will not overcome it.

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At Think Christian, we encourage careful cultural discernment. We recognize and respect that many Christians choose not to engage with pop culture that contains particular content, such as abuse, sex, violence, alcohol or drug use, or that employs the use of coarse language. To that end, we suggest visiting Common Sense Media for detailed information regarding the content of the particular pieces of pop culture discussed in this article.