I remember vividly reading stories about Thor and his goat-drawn chariot. He was said to have killed the goats each night and eaten them, only to bring them back to life the next day. I followed the Mighty One on his dangerous adventures against the giants. And there was the story of Beowulf, with his ship-full of brave Geats, to rescue King Hrothgar from the deadly menace of Grendel and his mother. I didn't know then, however, that the interest in Beowulf had been rekindled by a man in England named Tolkien. In fact, at the time, I knew nothing of Tolkien and Hobbits and Elves and Dragons. For some reason, he wasn't included in our unusual curriculum. It was a different world from today. My friends and I all wanted Richard Nixon to be President, because our families believed he would get us out of the Vietnam War. I suppose the country had other things than Hobbits to think about at the time.

"Beowulf" the poem is an appropriate symbol for the generation of Americans who had to live through the Vietnam War. We grew weary of it. Hrothgar's people were weary of the terror which Grendel wreaked upon their lives. His warriors were brave men, but they had reached a point where they refused to go up against the monster. "Sore is my soul to say to any of the race of man what ruth for me in Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought, what sudden harryings," Hrothgar tells Beowulf when the Geats first arrive in Heorot. "Hall-folk fail me, my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them into Grendel's grasp."

Except for the preamble which informs the audience of Beowulf's mission, one would not know from the coastal warden's speech that his people are so oppressed. He is a brave man, who confronts Beowulf's company alone, while his men wait behind him. And he judges Beowulf to be trustworthy and sets his own men to guard Beowulf's ship, while he himself leads the hero and his company to Heorot. If Hrothgar is still served by such men, what sort of men served him before?

Beowulf is an unusual man. He has the grip of thirty men, and he vows to fight the monster without weapons and armor. Unferth, one of Hrothgar's men, challenges Beowulf and accuses him of having lost a contest of strength and endurance to a man named Breca. Beowulf scoffs at the accusation, "What a deal hast uttered, dear my Unferth, drunken with beer, of Breca now, told of his triumph!" He goes on to tell how he and Breca, as mere boys, swam through the sea in full armor (chain shirts), carrying swords with which to defend themselves against whales. They swam for five days and nights, and Beowulf ended up fighting one of the whales.

The best athletes in the world today can't wear a heavy chain shirt, carry a sword, and swim for five days, let alone fight a whale (and kill it). Clearly, Beowulf is a highly unusual man, a hero of epic proportions. He is to the northern world what Samson was to Israel and Judah, what Herakles was to Greece. Beowulf performs impossible feats and men sing his praises. To say he had great P/R is an understatement.

Many people claim (with some justification) that Tolkien was strongly influenced by "Beowulf". The poem's stylistic boasting doesn't carry over to Middle-earth, but something of the imagery does. And yet, there is a distinct difference between the world of Beowulf and the world of Middle-earth. Beowulf, like people today, cannot help but talk about himself. It is not that he is self-absorbed. If anything, he is extremely polite and quite self-sacrificing. But he does ask Hrothgar for a special favor Beowulf wants to be the man who kills Grendel. No one else may have that honor. And Beowulf establishes his claim by reminding all present -- thanks to an opportunity provided by Unferth -- that he is a man capable of achieving great deeds.

Beowulf's boasts are not born of pride so much as of custom. The Roman historian Tacitus (circa 56 CE - 116 CE) notes with some scorn that the ancient Germans loved to boast about their deeds and valor. Tacitus and other Roman writers considered such boasting to be immodest a man's bravery is best celebrated by others. But Beowulf's tales of valor are his resume. A resume is, in fact, the modern world's version of the old barbaric boasts. In a resume, anyone who has written a "Hello, world" program becomes a systems engineer. Anyone who has held the door open for customers is a customer service manager. Anyone who has used a hammer is a certified technician for a manually operated high impact delivery system.

We embellish what we've done, pretty it up, and make it look good. Someone once told me, "It's not lying. It's telling prospective employers what they want to hear." Maybe, but if you lay it on too thickly, all the layers of deception will come dripping off under pressure, and suddenly you're unable to deliver the goods. Still, the resume tells anyone who would hire us what we are capable of doing. If you really have been a data processing manager, then you can tell people that.

Beowulf responds to Unferth by accusing him of cowardice. In short, he lays his life on the line in challenging a mere man before he goes up against the monster. Were Unferth not a coward, were his accusation true, he would stand up to Beowulf and challenge him to a duel to defend his honor. Of course, Unferth has no honor, and the poem establishes Beowulf's credibility by allowing him to put Unferth to shame.

Tolkien's heroes come from a different culture. Call it an Elven culture. Even the Rohirrim are not given to boasting about themselves. There is a subtle understanding among the heroic characters of Middle-earth that you just don't prattle on about how good you are. A man is judged by his deeds, not by his willingness to endure challenger after challenge, duel after duel. When a great hero, like Turin, puts a companion to shame (as he did Gwindor in the councils of Nargothrond), the deed is not remembered kindly.

The restraint we see in Aragorn, Eomer, and others is undoubtedly due to the fact that they have grown up in the shadow of the Elves. Elven culture undoubtedly imparted a set of values to the Edain and other peoples under their influence. But the Edain and their relatives (the Northmen) valued bravery and action. And, despite their reticence, the Elves could be brave and active. Even though Eomer had probably never seen an Elf, he knew of them, had heard tales of them, and feared them or at least respected them. When Eomer threatens Gimli, Legolas quickly draws an arrow, fits it to his bow, and aims it at Eomer. No one doubts the Elf can and will kill Eomer if he gives the order to his men to kill Gimli. And Legolas is never rebuked.

The Elves were not the manliest of men in Middle-earth. Hurin was probably the strongest hero on record. He slew seventy trolls and countless Orcs, yelling out "Aure entuluva! (Day shall come again!)" before he was finally overborne and taken prisoner. His son Turin survived disaster after disaster, walking away from more battles than many long-lived Elven lords had. And Beren faced the depths of Angband, robbing the Dark Lord Morgoth himself.

These names mean little to the first-time reader of The Lord of the Rings but they mean a great deal to Aragorn. And Eomer undoubtedly knows something of the ancient heroes, too, since his grandmother came from Gondor. The deeds of the great heroes cast a long shadow in Middle-earth, and it's difficult for succeeding generations to match them. Isildur, for example, broke into the well-guarded royal palace of Numenor to steal a sapling of the White Tree. That's a pretty significant accomplishment, but does it rival Hurin's stand at the fens of Serech, or Turin's slaying of Glaurung, or Earendil's defeat of Ancalagon (not to mention his years of voyaging to find Valinor)?

Gil-galad was the only Elven king ever to defeat a Dark Lord. Feanor, Fingolfin, Maedhros, and Fingon had briefer reigns, but they figure prominently in the ancient legends. Gil-galad's long, cautious reign over northwestern Middle-earth is nonetheless shrouded in mystery; until we get to the final combat with Sauron on the slopes of Orodruin, there really isn't much in Gil-galad's resume that compares with the accomplishments of his predecessors. One could have stood upon a peak of the Misty Mountains, looked down upon the assembled hosts of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and said, "They just don't make Elven kings like they used to. Feanor would have gone in with only the vanguard."

Of course, Feanor and his vanguard were all killed, so there is something to be said for Gil-galad's strategy of building up massive, overwhelming, superior force. In fact, it was such a good strategy, Sauron borrowed it for the next rematch. But Gil-galad didn't just have the biggest army on the map. He was accompanied by some legendary warriors. And a few fools, I suppose. Oropher's ill-fated assault against Mordor doesn't seem to have been too bright. But then, he wasn't enthusiastic about joining the Last Alliance in the first place. Common sense must have won Oropher over to the cause, but he apparently lost it after seeing his friend (and perhaps relative) Amdir get blistered in the Dead Marshes.

Rash actions are probably the one great failing of the Elves. They are brave, strong, and intelligent. But when they lose control, they lose control. So Feanor rushes ahead of his army, and his company is wiped out. Gwindor succumbs to the provocation of seeing his brother chopped to pieces, and prematurely launches the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Turgon loses all common sense and decides to go down with the tower in Gondolin. Why? What is so heroic about throwing one's life away in a lost cause?

Well, except for Turgon, the Elves who made rash decisions and lost their lives (and battles) didn't really have reason to believe their causes were lost. Maybe Orodreth, watching his army wither away before Glaurung's fire, uttered a final "oops!" before donning his helm for the last time. Perhaps Thingol, pursuing the Dwarves in anger for their theft of the Silmaril (well, that's sort of what Tolkien wanted to happen), suddenly found himself surrounded with few friends by his side, and briefly wondered what he ever saw in the stupid gem anyway.

Middle-earth's heroism is not for the brave and foolish, unless your name is Turin. Turin had a lot going against him, but he managed to pull through every situation anyway. It was only when he came face to face with his own despair that he took his own life. But by then, he had slain Glaurung and removed a terrible evil from the world. There were still dragons left, but Turin couldn't have killed them all. Quite probably, had he lived (with or without Nienor), Turin would never have met another dragon anyway. Morgoth had other plans for them.

It does seem a bit odd, however, that with all the heroic Elves in Gondolin (Ecthelion, Glorfindel, Turgon, et. al.), they didn't wipe the floor with the dragons. It's not like they hadn't been in a fierce battle before. Turgon led ten thousand warriors to the Nirnaeth, and he actually retreated with some remnants of Fingon's army. So how is it that the mighty Elven warriors couldn't do the job? Or maybe they did. The conquest of Gondolin was the last major action Morgoth initiated. He apparently didn't feel threatened by the re-established Doriath, or by Gil-galad's refuge on Balar, or by Arvernien's small population. Or maybe he just didn't have the forces left to go up against any more Elves.

The Noldor of the First Age were tough, fierce, determined, valiant, and just downright hard to kill. They may not have had a chance to defeat Morgoth, but they certainly forced him to go back to the drawing board more than once. Sauron's strategies of the Third Age -- coupling a long, slow buildup of forces with arranging the estrangement of his enemies -- wouldn't have worked had the Noldor of the First Age hung around until the Third Age. They'd have brought together their armies and taken out Angmar rather than let it hang around for 700 years. Dol Guldur would have been surrounded and besieged.

The Noldorin strategists may not have had a plan for destroying Angband, but they certainly weren't afraid of it. The arrogance they displayed in laying siege to Morgoth was only surpassed by the creation of the Rings of Power and Ar-Pharazon's assault on Valinor. But Morgoth eventually beat them down. Legolas said that of all Elf-banes, the Balrogs were the most deadly. And yet, it wasn't until Morgoth had a large force of dragons (well, at least several of them) that he was able to crush the Noldor. He needed the help of treacherous men to win the Nirnaeth, but Glaurung took out Nargothrond, and the dragons made the difference at Gondolin.

In the aftermath of these losses, the fight had been taken out of the Elves. Orodreth's defeat signalled the end of Eldarin initiatives against Morgoth, and Orodreth really wasn't a strategist. Turin was the real mover and shaker in Nargothrond, but he didn't have the power and presence of, say, a Maedhros or Fingon to carry the day against Glaurung. Maybe if Turin hadn't carried Gwindor out of the battle, he could have faced Glaurung and at least given Orodreth's people a chance to escape. But Turin's chief flaw was his incomparable ability to choose his personal priorities over everyone else's.

Maedhros lost his charisma. He slowly settled into petty malice, consumed by the Oath of Feanor. His deeds of valor were among the greatest ever achieved by the Noldor. His suffering on the peaks of Thangorodrim was a much greater endurance test than any faced by Beowulf or Samson. Maedhros was hanging in the wind for a couple of years. That's rough. A lesser Elf might have died. A man probably would have died. Relinquishing his claim to the kingship over the Noldor was a gallant act, and not the last one Maedhros would make. But after the Nirnaeth, he no longer dreamed of defeating Angband. He was willing to settle for one Silmaril, and to get that Silmaril he destroyed the Kingdom of Doriath and the people of Arvernien.

Something of the special heroism which Maedhros helped to forge died in the last century of the First Age. It's not like the Eldar and Edain had lost their spirit. The Edain, when given the chance, turned against Morgoth, and in so doing earned a special reward from the Valar. But tales of individual heroism became few and far between after the First Age. The occasional dragonslayer -- Fram, Bard -- might have been renowned for a time, but they didn't really achieve anything lasting in the fight against the Dark Lord. The sacrifices of Fingolfin, Fingon, Turgon, Hurin, and others were also only briefly celebrated.

The Greeks looked back to Herakles and noted that despite all his flaws, he had changed their world. Beowulf, too, changed the world. Both heroes removed monsters which had terrorized mankind. They reduced the amount of overwhelmingly powerful evil in the world a great deal. They couldn't remove the evil from men's hearts, but the normal evils we face we can deal with ourselves.

The Elvish and Edainic heroes, however, engaged in superhuman efforts which often proved fruitless, or the results of which were undone by subsequent foolish decisions. The Noldor didn't defeat Morgoth, but they did force him to concentrate his thoughht on the northwestern regions of Middle-earth. The rest of the world consequently benefitted from a relative withdrawal of evil, as Morgoth concentrated his forces in and around Angband. That made the Valar's task in overthrowing Morgoth much easier. But more than a thousand years later, the Noldor of Eregion unwittingly paved the way for Sauron's ascendancy.

Gil-galad, Elendil, and many of their allies, made the ultimate sacrifice to defeat Sauron. His forces were destroyed or scattered, his kingdom conquered, and Sauron himself was overthrown. But Isildur succumbed to the lure of the One Ring and took it. Thus, Middle-earth was given a respite which only lasted about 1,000 years. And then Sauron returned, and things started looking evil again.

Given that the greatest heroes of Middle-earth seemed to accomplish so little, it seems little wonder that men like Aragorn and Eomer seldom if ever boasted of their deeds. In the long history of wars and quests, great deeds might amount to little. Individual men, like Baldor son of Brego, might squander their valor on ridiculous quests. Or they might establish great nations. But each generation inherited the consequences of the previous generation's mistakes. That is the true difference between heroes like Beowulf and heroes like Aragorn. We don't remember Beowulf because of his boasting. We remember him because of his accomplishments and the love his people bore him. Aragorn was remembered for his accomplishments and the love his people bore him as well. But when Aragorn was challenged, he did not roll out his resume to prove his credentials. He took action, and let his valor speak for itself.

In so much, the manly men of Middle-earth were a bit humbler than the manly men of myth and folklore. We model our heroes on ourselves, and we still engage in boasting. But Tolkien's heroes were nobler and more Elvish than are men today. They understood that words are free and easy, but lasting deeds are hard to come by.

Citations from "Beowulf" were taken from the translation available at Medieval Sourcebook Beowulf. Visit the Boar's Helm Pub Beowulf, Wiglaf & Associates, Proprietors to discuss the poem and related topics.

Michael Martinez is the author of Visualizing Middle-earth, which may be purchased directly from Xlibris Corp. or through any online bookstore. You may also special order it from your local bookstore. The ISBN is 0-7388-3408-4.