“And it happened that when Arathorn and Gilrean had been married only one year, Arador was taken by hill-trolls in the Coldfells north of Rivendell and was slain…”
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “Here Follows A Part of the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen,” Appendix B, The Lord of the Rings

Dark-haired, light-eyed, dressed in dark clothing, somber and slow to speak to foreigners, feared and shunned by the rustic, pastoral folk to the south. They roam the hills and forests of the bleak north, battling monsters and sorcery, with an ancient heritage of a sunken island kingdom in the distant west all but unknown to most. That might sound suspiciously like the Cimmerians as Robert E. Howard described them: I am actually describing barbarians of Middle-earth. They are the Watchers of Eriador, the Rangers of the North–the Dúnedain of Arnor.

Perhaps as much as his Elves, the Dúnedain are uniquely Tolkien’s own creation. It is not as easy to find allusions to historical peoples as it is for others such as the Rohirrim or Easterlings, nor in mythological races, as with the Elves and Dwarves. To get a full picture of the Dúnedain, one needs to look at their history.

The Edain

The history of the Dúnedain stretches far back to the First Age. While the truly titanic War of the Jewels was mostly a struggle between Morgoth and the Noldor, both belligerents had allies. One of the Noldor’s most trusted allies were the Edain, or Atani: the Second People. The Edain were categorized into three houses. These three houses bear some interesting similarities to Howard’s barbarians. The House of Bëor was the first of these. The folk of Bëor were dark-haired and gray-eyed, some with swarthy skin, and mightily proportioned. Compare Tolkien’s description of the Bëorians in “The War of the Jewels,” to a description of the Cimmerians in “The Hyborian Age”:

“The Men of that house were dark or brown of hair, with grey eyes; and of all Men they were most like to the Noldor and most loved by them; for they were eager of mind, cunning-handed, swift in understanding, long in memory, and they were moved sooner to pity than to laughter.”
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “Of The Coming of Men Into The West,” The Silmarillion

“North of Aquilonia, the western-most Hyborian kingdom, are the Cimmerians, ferocious savages, untamed by the invaders, but advancing rapidly because of contact with them; they are the descendants of the Atlanteans, now progressing more steadily than their old enemies the Picts, who dwell in the wilderness west of Aquilonia.”
–Robert E. Howard, “The Hyborian Age”

The second was the House of Haleth, also known as the Men of Brethil. The Haladin were the shortest of the three peoples, dark-haired, dark-eyed. They were reminiscent of the Bëorings, but shorter. While the houses of Bëor and Hadach were closely related, the Folk of Haleth were more disparate, speaking different languages than the shared language of the other houses, and possibly more akin to their companions, the Drúedain. The Men of Brethil are naturally evocative of the Picts: similar to their fellow barbarians, but shorter, uninterested in history, legend or the arts, more reclusive and less likely to fraternize with their fellow man:

“Like to them were the woodland folk of Haleth, but they were of lesser stature, and less eager for lore. They used few words, and did not love great concourse of men; and many among them delighted in solitude, wandering free in the greenwoods while the wonder of the lands of the Eldar was new upon them.”
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “Of The Coming of Men Into The West,” The Silmarillion

“The Picts had also reverted to flint, but had advanced more rapidly in the matter of population and war-science. They had none of the Atlanteans’ artistic nature; they were a ruder, more practical, more prolific race. They left no pictures painted or carved on ivory, as did their enemies, but they left remarkably efficient flint weapons in plenty.”
–Robert E. Howard, “The Hyborian Age”

To round out the three, the mighty men of the House of Hador are spiritual cousins to Howard’s Æsir. Not surprising, considering that one of their number–Húrin Thalion, the Conan-like warrior pictured above splitting Orc skulls with his axe–was one of the most awesome warriors to ever set foot on Arda. The Men of Hador were the tallest of the three houses, golden-haired (though a minority, such as Húrin’s almost-as-awesome son Túrin Turambar, were dark-haired), fair-skinned, with blue or grey eyes:

“The Men of the Three Houses throve and multiplied, but greatest among them was the house of Hador Goldenhead, peer of Elven-lords. His people were of great strength and stature, ready in mind, bold and steadfast, quick to anger and to laughter, mighty among the Children of Ilúvatar in the youth of Mankind. Yellow-haired they were for the most part, and blue-eyed…”
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “Of The Coming of Men Into The West,” The Silmarillion

“Tall and fair and blue-eyed. Their god is Ymir, the frost-giant, and each tribe has its own king. They are wayward and fierce. They fight all day and drink ale and roar their wild songs all night.”
–Robert E. Howard, “The Phoenix on the Sword”

Much like how tribes of Æsir and Cimmerian admixture became the ancestors of many modern peoples–the Goths, the Cymric Britons, the Cimbri, the Gimmerai–the men of Bëor and Hador intermixed, giving rise to the Rohirrim, the Bree Folk, the people of Dale, and the Númenóreans. Presumably, the darker-haired folk have more Bëorian blood in them, while the lighter-haired Rohirrim must be of primarily Hadorian stock. The Haladin did not mix quite as much, just as the Picts did not mix as much with the Æsir and Cimmerians, resulting in their descendants being far less numerous, and mostly restricted to the wilder places of the earth.

There are differences, of course: the Houses of the Edain were mostly at peace with each other, which one can hardly say for the Cimmerians, Æsir and Picts! The Edain were also much more friendly to other peoples, most notably the elves, which is somewhat anathema to Howard’s barbarians. Still, it’s an interesting coincidence that Tolkien’s Edain and Howard’s three major barbarian peoples leading to modern times had so many things in common.

The Númenoreans

‘The Men of Númenor were settled far and wide on the shores and seaward regions of the Great Lands, but for the most part they fell into evils and follies. Many became enamoured of the Darkness and the black arts; some where given over wholly to idleness and ease, and some fought among themselves, until they were conquered in their weakness by the wild men.”
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Window on the West,” Book IV, The Lord of the Rings

The next stage in Dúnedain history is that of the island kingdom of Númenor. After the defeat of Morgoth, the Edain were rewarded by the Valar with an island to function as a new home. The majority of the Edain moved to the island, and early in the Second Age, the kingdom of Númenor was established. The Númenoreans became powerful, assisting the Elves in the War of the Elves and Sauron, and forming a glorious civilization.

However, just as Howard might have it, the Númenoreans became complacent and decadent. The 25th King, Ar-Pharazôn, was manipulated by Sauron into worshiping Melkor in exchange for eternal life and vitality. Temples to the Dark Lord, human sacrifices, and all manner of dark sorcery followed, while those Númenoreans still faithful to the Elves were persecuted. Finally, Ar-Pharazôn took leave of his senses and made war against the gods themselves, which was as successful as one could probably imagine. Luckily, not all the Númenoreans would join their island on the sea floor: Elendil and his followers foresaw the coming disaster, and escaped on nine ships before the cataclysm, setting up the new kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor. Those Númenoreans who survived mostly fled to Umbar and Harad, where they were forever cursed under the name Black Númenoreans. After the catastrophe, Sauron was truly defeated in the Last Alliance, and the Dúnedain kingdoms prospered.

While Gondor persisted well into the Third Age, Arnor was not so fortunate. The War of the Last Alliance devastated its military power, plagues from the east reduced the population, and the loss of Isildur and their finest warriors at the Gladden Fields set the kingdom down the path of oblivion. The death of Eärendur precipitated a bloody civil war between his three sons, resulting in the kingdom’s division into three new kingdoms: Arthedain, Cardolan and Rhudaur. Arthedain and Cardolan were mostly peaceful outside the occasional border skirmish, but Rhudaur constantly warred with the other two, particularly Cardolan, with which they feuded over control of the Palantir at Amon Sûl.

Things got a lot worse. Sauron’s most faithful servant, the Witch-King, took command of the northeast mountains, establishing his realm Angmar. Rhudaur, which long diluted its Dúnedain blood by admixture with Men of Darkness, became a vassal of Angmar, and Cardolan was soon destroyed. Arthedain was the last vestige of the once mighty Arnor, but it was little more than an echo of the older kingdom’s glory. Angmar eventually crushed with the Witch-King’s capture of Fornost, and it was only with the assistance of Gondor, Lindon, Rivendell, Rhovanion and, surprisingly, the Shire, that the Dúnedain were not utterly wiped out. With the loss of king Arvedui at sea, Arnor was no more.

The Rangers of the North

“In those days no other Men had settled dwellings so far west, or within a hundred leagues of the Shire. But in the wild lands beyond Bree there were mysterious wanderers. The Bree-folk called them Rangers, and knew nothing of their origin. They were taller and darker than the Men of Bree and were believed to have strange powers of sight and hearing, and to understand the languages of beasts and birds.”
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “At The Sign of the Prancing Pony,” Book I, The Lord of the Rings

With no kingdom left, the remaining Dúnedain of Arnor were little more than a tribe. The treasures of the kingdom–Narsil, the Star of Elendil, and the Sceptre of Annúminas–were kept safe by Elrond. Arvedui’s son Aranarth became the first Chieftain of the Dúnedain. Each heir of the Chieftainship would be raised at Ilamdris, learning their history and the arts of warfare from the Noldor, many of the elves of Rivendell having personal experience of battle with Sauron or even Morgoth himself.

Throughout the Third Age, the memory of Arnor dwindled, and the mysterious new stranger known to the folk of Eriador as the Rangers of the North became an entity unto themselves. They were secretive, nomadic, and enigmatic to outsiders. The Rangers took it upon themselves to keep a Watchful Peace over the lands they once ruled. While the more powerful evils like the Great Goblin, the Necromancer and Smaug warred against Rhovanion and Gondor, there were still countless dangers roaming the countryside: packs of wargs and wolves, bands of orcs, bandits and brigands, hill-trolls, and all the other terrors which threaten the good folk of Eriador.

Though the Rangers were mostly aloof and apart from the other folk, there were occassions where they worked with other Eriador folk for their survival. They often worked with Gandalf when dealing with Hobbits, especially during the Long and Fell Winters: this is probably gratitude for the Shire’s contribution to Fornost. Life was rarely peaceful for the Rangers: even during times of relative peace, the likelihood of a Chieftain falling in the line of duty was high. Arador, Aragorn’s grandfather, was captured and slain by hill-trolls: his son Arathorn II was brought down by an arrow through the eye, a demise with shades of Hastings–no doubt Tolkien’s intention.

At the time of The Lord of the Rings, the Rangers are dispersed throughout Eriador to combat Sauron’s forces, but battle has depleted their numbers seriously. Aragorn’s kinsman Halbarad could only muster thirty Rangers to his Chieftain’s aid, though they naturally fought bravely at the Hornburg and the Pelennor Fields. After the War of the Ring, the Rangers were incorporated into the Reunited Kingdom, and presumably continued their duties watching the land, but with the knowledge that it is truly theirs again.

One can easily see comparisons of Dúnedain history with that of the Cimmerians. The Cimmerians too originated on a small continent in the west, feared and viewed with awe by the folk of the larger continent to the east. At some point in their history, there were also two different populations, echoing the division between the Dúnedain and the Black Numenoreans: one composed of the original dark-haired, light-eyed warriors, who were being usurped by a newer force. This second population became decadent and corrupt, tainted by sorcery and worship of foul gods, creating a formidable maritime empire, with the outpost which would become Negari surviving until Elizabethan times. The first populace was starting to settle on the mainland, while the second became ever more bold and depraved. Eventually, a furious god–as revealed in “The Isle of the Eons” and alluded to in “Marchers of Valhalla”–wrought its wrath upon Atlantis, which was drowned under the sea. The Barbaric Atlanteans survived, having left before the cataclysm, and formed their own kingdoms–which were themselves destroyed in the wars against their fellow man, in this case, the Picts.

That said, there are important differences: as with the Edain houses and Howard’s barbarians, there’s a question of their attitude to civilization. There’s no doubt that the Cimmerians wouldn’t be actively protecting fat hobbits and soft-bellied Breemen, certainly not while they’re raiding and pillaging the ripe harvest of the Shire. The association with Elves is also anathema to the Cimmerians, who would keep well away from the Fair Folk, for fear of the creatures putting a geis on them.

As for allusions between fiction, and history and mythology, it’s a little more abstract. The Cimmerians are quite clearly based on the Gaels, even if Howard didn’t make the explicit connection in “The Hyborian Age”: the list of Cimmerian names and gods are undeniably Irish Gaelic, not to mention the name Conan itself. The Dúnedain, however, have no such historical counterpart. There are bits and pieces from mythical, historical and even fictional sources, though: the mysterious, ancient people assisting a younger populace against the dangerous of the untamed land despite being looked down upon reminds me a little of Natty Bumppo. Aragorn’s life story is highly reminiscent of King Alfred’s in many ways.

Another aspect is the liminal nature of the Dúnedain. Part of the reason for their ostracism is their uncomfortable closeness to savagery: the Dúnedain are midway between the civilized and the barbarian. They avoid cities and settlements, show uncanny woodcraft and tracking skill, and their ways are alien to the average townsman. Yet at the same time, they display little of the bloody nature that marks the Dunlending, the Easterling, or the bandit.

Like Conan and the Cimmerians, there’s a hint of the otherworldly with the Rangers: they represent a mid-point between the World of Men, and the World Beyond. Too extraordinary to be Men, not alien enough to be Other. They stalk the borders between the mundane and the supernatural, between history and folklore, reality and unreality. The average Gondorian or Rohirrim could barely conceive of the horrors the Dúnedain face daily, at least until the War of the Ring begins in earnest: I don’t doubt Conan’s assertions of the actuality of goblins, ghosts and other terrors in Cimmeria. Why do the Cimmerians stay in Cimmeria? Why don’t they just move into the more comfortable hills to the south, save themselves the constant hardship of life in Cimmeria? Perhaps, like the Dúnedain, the Cimmerians don’t leave because they can’t. Cimmeria, land of darkness and deep night it may be, is their home, and they’ll die to protect it. Picts, Acheron, Nordheimr, Gundermen, Aquilonians, Hyrkanians–all tried to displace or eradicate Conan’s people, all were sent screaming back whence they came. Likewise, Eriador is the home of the Rangers: it is their duty to protect it, thankless newcomers and all.

The Lion and the Star-Eagle

Perhaps the most striking example of the similarities between the Dúnedain and Cimmerians is in their most famous sons: Aragorn and Conan. Physically, the two are similar: both are tall, dark-haired, light-eyed, beardless, with weathered and rugged features bearing testament to a life of battle, against the elements and foes alike. Tolkien stated in his notes that Aragorn was 6′6″: though Howard never gave Conan an adult height, he’s definitely something over 6′, since that was his height as a fifteen-year-old, and he “lacked much of his full growth.” The two are not far dissimilar in temperament, either:

“Thus he became at last the most hardy of living Men, skilled in their crafts and lore, and was yet more than they; for he was elven-wise, and there was a light in his eyes that when they were kindled few could endure. His face was sad and stern because of the doom that was laid on him, and yet hope dwelt ever in the depths of his heart, from which mirth would arise at times like a spring from the rock.’
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “Here Follows A Part of the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen,” Appendix B, The Lord of the Rings

Just as he became skilled in the ways of swordplay, strategy, tactics and politics, Conan’s barbaric heritage made him somewhat more, with a similar light of bale-fire in his eyes that sparks when enraged. As for the final sentence, anyone else reminded of “gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth”? The similarities continue to mount. Both knew many languages, some quite rare, and both well versed in history and culture, which comes as a surprise to those expecting a gruff dullard. Aragorn and Conan are outsiders, viewed as uncouth and base, beneath even commoner status, compared to the nobility of Gondor and Aquilonia respectively, who nonetheless force their way into kingship–a kingship, by the way, both men seem perfectly suited for. Conan may have no royal blood in his veins, but when clad in royal armor, he puts even kings to shame with his regal impressiveness. Aragorn may have legitimacy to the throne of Gondor by birthright, but that alone is not enough to make him a king–his ability, strength, resolve, grace and presence do.

Both served in other countries’ armies as mercenaries, even the countries they would one day rule, and both being defining factors in any armies they served in. Both used animal-based pseudonyms: Conan was Amra, “The Lion,” while Aragorn went by the name of Thorongil, “Eagle of the Star.” In both men, the pseudonyms were used in maritime circumstances: Aragorn while fighting Corsairs that were ravaging a kingdom, Conan alongside Corsairs that were ravaging a kingdom. Both traveled far frequently throughout their reigns, and became the greatest rulers in the world in their respective ages. It isn’t just Conan, of course: Kull has similarities himself, and Steve Tompkins convincingly demonstrated how Bran Mak Morn shares much with the Dúnedan in his seminal essay “The Shortest Distance Between Two Towers.”

It’s often asserted that Howard was disdainful of civilization, praising barbarism as inherently superior. This is a very simplistic view: as with everything, Howard was ambivalent to civilization and barbarism alike. He recognized the good civilization can do in its prime, but it’s when that civilization becomes complacent and stagnant that it starts to degrade, corruption and decadence setting in, resulting in a barbaric invasion either revitalizing it, or destroying it. Likewise, Howard considered barbarism “the natural state of mankind” in both the best and worst implication of the term: it’s more honest and authentic than the warped sickness of decadent civilization, but it’s as brutish and cruel as nature at its core.

Believe it or not, I think Tolkien had a similar view. Many nations are ancient and prosperous, but there are plenty of fallen ones too. Númenor was a powerful, virile nation for much of its existence, but eventually, it grew complacent. This complacency left it vulnerable to influence from dark forces, and within one ruler’s lifetime, it devolved from a shining example of humanity into a nightmare: human sacrifice, black sorcery, mad kings, and wars against heaven. Even the faithful Dúnedain were not immune: Rhudaur descended into savagery and violence despite being of noble Dúnedain stock, again due to the combined dangers of complacency and decadence. Gondor itself was in serious danger of collapsing as Arnor did, but the injection of barbaric vitality Aragorn provided gave the kingdom the shot it needed to survive. However, Tolkien also shows the more positive side of barbarism in the Dúnedain: the Rangers are solemn, grim and dangerous, but have their own personal honour and an interesting form of altruism. As “no man ever starved in Cimmeria,” so the Rangers make sure that no Hobbit becomes food for a warg.

There are other branches of the Dúnedain apart from the Rangers, but they are not truly barbarians: people of Dol Amroth, and the Rangers of Ithilien. They may once have been barbarians, but as they appear in Tolkien’s work, the are more akin to the Poitanians and Bossonians: hard, ferocious fighters to be sure, but not barbarians.

So, are the Dúnedain barbarians? I’d say so. While they are a good deal more agreeable than the Cimmerians tend to be, they share all the classic hallmarks that marks the barbarian. They are skilled warriors to a man, they shun cities and towns in favor of the wild, they follow a Chieftain, they are viewed as “strange” and “dangerous” by city-dwellers. They display the better side of barbarism: the honest, taciturn, deathless aspect, the strength that comes from a pride in your people, the endurance gained from a lifetime of struggle, the guile attained through a hazardous existence.

Aragorn and Conan had a lot more in common than you’d think.

Where now are the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?
Why do thy kinsfolk wander afar?
Near is the hour when the Lost should come forth,
And the Grey Company ride from the North.
But dark is the path appointed for thee:
The Dead watch the road that leads to the Sea.
–J.R.R. Tolkien, “The White Rider,” Book III, The Lord of the Rings

“I give you life, Olgerd, as you gave it to me,” said Conan tranquilly, “though it was for your own ends that you took me down from the cross. It was a bitter test you gave me then; you couldn’t have endured it; neither could anyone, but a western barbarian.”
–Robert E. Howard, “A Witch Shall Be Born”

Other installments of “The Barbarians of Middle-earth”:

The Lossoth

The Haradrim

Introduction