6. Lothlórien; 7. The Mirror of Galadriel
After Moria, the fellowship passes a mirror-like lake and follows a river for several miles toward Lothlórien. (Where Galadriel’s Mirror plays an entirely central role; note how symbols repeatedly ricochet throughout the tale, as a result of Tolkien’s associative writing.) In general, the fellowship trace streams, cross rivers, note waterfalls, and so forth. In connection with the Ford, we had reason to discuss how water is associated with elves. On the way to Galadriel’s realm, this connection is amplified, as she is tied to the element of water. Moreover, this marks the third and final time Frodo receives food, rest, and shelter from the elves, so everything elvish is in fact amplified.
However, one member of the fellowship objects to going to Lothlórien, and that is, of course, Boromir, the warrior from Minas Tirith who also protested against Moria. Whether they are heading toward the domain of the Terrible Mother or the Good Mother, he feels aversion. The feminine is entirely alien to him. He prefers any other path, “even if it leads through a thicket of swords,” he says. The image he paints of an alternative route illustrates his readiness to face any masculine dangers; it is the feminine encounters he shuns, as he does not know how to handle them.
Aragorn states that those who bring no evil into Lothlórien have nothing to fear, perhaps with a pointed undertone. But Aragorn fails to grasp that the feminine is, to Boromir – unlike himself – utterly foreign, and Boromir wishes it to remain so. We tend to identify with our prejudices and defend our attitudes until they harden into an institutionalized, unconscious psychological structure that largely dictates our lives. From Boromir’s perspective, it is obvious to avoid both Moria and Lothlórien, whether they represent evil or good. He readily reminds them that he hails from Minas Tirith, which, to him, is sufficient to define his character. This is not a disparaging judgment of Boromir; like everyone else, he is shaped by his culture and its values.
After wading across a stream, they encounter elves who had remained hidden in the trees. The elves allowed the fellowship to cross the river because Legolas was with them. Thus, this ford, too, presented a danger, as discussed earlier.
The elves invite Legolas and Frodo to their platform in the tree, where Haldir explains that they avoid contact with “other folk.” Later, he reveals that they “fear and mistrust” the outside world. They isolate themselves in the good forest. While monsters lurk at their borders, “no shadow lies over the land of Lórien.” This reminds us of the mother-bound hobbits and their Shire. In the land of the Good Mother, no disturbance is desired, and withdrawal is always close at hand when one occurs.
Due to historical conflicts with dwarves, these elves initially refuse to let Gimli proceed into the forest. Symbolically, the conflict stems from the elves being “tree-beings” while the dwarf is an “earth-being.” (In The Hobbit, spiders were significantly the tree-dwelling creatures, and we can also note that Gollum climbed up a tree and disappeared; it is the creatures of the Great Mother that live in trees, according to the story.) Elrond had no objections to dwarves like Glóin and Gimli participating in his councils and feasts, but the elves of Rivendell lived in houses. After some debate, the matter is resolved.
In any case, they are given food, blankets (warmth), and fall asleep under the stars. Frodo is “lulled” to sleep by the wind rustling through the branches and the murmur of the stream’s waterfall. The imagery of the Great Mother recurs in every visit to the elves.
As they venture deeper into the forest, they reach ever-green regions that bloom even in winter. They experience a sense of timelessness, in Lothlórien a recurring motif. This feeling arises because they are, so to speak, in an archetypal world; they have left the mundane world and stepped into eternal time. The text notes that because “Frodo the wanderer from the Shire” has once walked this land, he will always walk there.
Goodness knows no bounds in Lothlórien: “No blemish or sickness or deformity … On the land of Lórien, there is no stain.” This one-sidedness reaches its peak, and we understand that Mordor’s evil must be proportionally bottomless. This is the elven heart of the earth, Aragorn tells Frodo, which – one might add – is mirrored by Barad-dûr in Mordor.
7. The Mirror of Galadriel
Despite the above, there is a greater degree of the union of opposites in Lothlórien than in Rivendell. We saw hints of coniunctio in Rivendell, in the form of fire and water, silver and gold, but we also noted that Elrond lacks a spouse.[1] The imagery of silver and gold is significantly strengthened in Lothlórien with its golden trees, and Galadriel has her husband, Celeborn, by her side. This is the first time we encounter a married couple with children. (Arwen, for example, is Galadriel’s granddaughter.) In general, Lothlórien is characterized by the highest values, but it is essentially a paradisiacal world that, by necessity, is counterbalanced by Mordor.
To meet Galadriel and Celeborn, the fellowship is led up an immense tree, as if to emphasize the point, to a platform shaped like a ship. Earlier, on a hill in Lórien, Frodo thought he heard the waves of the sea. Though the place is far from the ocean, this imagery recurs because Galadriel is something of a water-spirit, and the sea is the mother of all things. As a personification of the Good Mother, it is, both mythologically and within the framework of the story’s symbols, fitting that they meet Galadriel in a tree; the Good Mother is often associated with and personified by trees. Neumann writes:
“In symbolic equations of a Feminine that nourishes, generates, and transforms, tree, … tree of heaven, and cosmic tree belong together.”[2]
A wise woman at the top of a tree (e.g., Sophia) is an archetypal image known from shamanism, alchemy, folktales, and even contemporary dreams.[3] The sea motif surrounding the tree symbol in our saga also echoes ancient imaginations. In alchemy, the tree was said to “stand in water,” be planted on an island, or even “grow in the sea.” This image is tied to saltwater; for instance, the tree grows from a fountain of saltwater (compare the fountain at this tree’s roots). Saltwater represented, for some alchemists, the maternal Sophia, from whose breast they drank. “As we have seen, trees have a special relationship to water, salt, and the sea,” says Jung.[4] The unexpected and seemingly peculiar images of a wise woman high in a tree together with the sea represented by the ship’s form are thus in line with ancient notions, a repetition of now-forgotten archetypal ideas.
The beautiful couple graciously receives their guests. “They bore no signs of old age,” as nothing ages in the unconscious or in the sea. What is submerged beneath the surface falls out of time and aging, becoming formless and eternal, but when brought to the surface, it takes form and becomes subject to the conditions of life.[5] Resistance to consciousness is understandable. One might imagine Galadriel as formless and eternal when Frodo does not see her, but when he arrives in Lothlórien, the place rises from the sea, takes on this beautiful form, and sinks again when it passes out of sight. Through this thought experiment, it becomes expected that the elves are so passive in the tale, despite their world being threatened by Mordor’s hordes and Sauron’s devilry.
It may seem like unfair criticism, but neither Elrond, and especially not Celeborn, truly lives up to their reputation as ancient and profoundly wise. It becomes almost comical when Celeborn, who may be ten thousand years old, bristles slightly and airs his bitterness toward the fellowship when they recount the balrog, as if it were their fault it appeared. Galadriel, on the other hand, is genuinely wise, as we shall see later in this chapter. “To say so would indeed be rash,” she gently corrects her husband, but as if to preserve their marriage, she takes care to call Celeborn wise on several occasions.
Galadriel speaks of the dwarves’ proud history and their beautiful places, as if to pour oil on troubled waters while looking tenderly at Gimli. When he meets her gaze, it feels “as if he suddenly looked into the heart of an enemy and found love and understanding.” She truly embodies the Good Mother. While Frodo was still in the Shire, the Good Mother was ever-present, but more as a spirit that invisibly permeated the place. He had no conscious relationship with her. In Lothlórien, as a result of Frodo’s adventures, or individuation process, this content becomes concretized, and he meets her personified, which means he establishes a conscious relationship with this content.
Galadriel says she understands that the Fellowship of the Ring has come to seek counsel from her “wise” husband (which seems more like a compliment to her spouse than a reflection of reality, as no one actually asks Celeborn anything), but she maintains that they cannot give advice on what to do, only provide knowledge. She reiterates this later to Frodo at her mirror, and we will return to the meaning of her words.
Galadriel gazes upon them all, one by one, as if peering into their hearts. Each feels they face a choice between the perilous darkness that lies ahead and something they deeply desire; they could simply leave the task and the war against Sauron to others and fulfill their personal cravings. This is a matter of the ego and its complexes versus the daimon or calling – or, to use a bolder term, the soul. With her gaze, Galadriel seeks to discern which force is stronger when the path grows dark. Those who follow their personal desires are motivated, or risk being motivated, by an unconscious complex – be it a lust for power, a desire for revenge, ambition, or something else. This creates an opening for the Ring’s influence, as it is generally understood to grant the power to satisfy one’s desires (which, incidentally, is tied to the mother complex). But those who are instead driven by the soul, this inner force independent of the ego’s self-centered strivings, have these doors closed to the Ring’s temptations.
“Tonight you shall sleep in peace,” Galadriel says, and they are shown to a pavilion at the foot of the tree, with “soft cushions,” beside the flowing fountain.
But they do not fall asleep immediately; instead, they discuss Galadriel’s scrutiny. Boromir is skeptical, and this is the first time he has spoken since entering Lothlórien (according to the text). He “almost feels she was tempting us. … Of course, I refused to listen. The Men of Minas Tirith keep their word. … I do not feel too sure of this Elvish Lady and her purposes.”
As we have already touched upon, one might conclude that Boromir, who has neither mother, wife, sister, nor daughter – seen through a symbolic lens – lacks any relationship with the feminine; that in the stone city at the frontier where he grew up, there are only men, masculine values, and masculinity. This one-sidedness creates a void on the other side, which the Ring can fill.
Days and nights passes in the realm of the Good Mother, so “they seemed to do little else but eat, drink, and rest…” Sam remarks that “nothing seems to happen, and nobody seems to want it to, either,” and “I hardly think the Elves will be much help to us,” conclusions we could already have drawn. But it is interesting that Sam, who once longed to see the elves at the start of the adventure and was like an enchanted child when he first saw them, now seems somewhat resigned in his view of these beings. Nobody does anything. This, too, suggests a kind of maturation: when they first met the elves in the woods, they seemed somewhat childish; then they met Elrond, who was certainly not childish but still rather unremarkable; and now, finally, Galadriel, who must be regarded as truly wise. We have discussed how the figures in the tale mirror the protagonist’s own inner development, much like dream figures do in our own lives. In psychological terms, it seems clear that Sam has withdrawn his projection onto the elves, indicating a significant broadening of his consciousness.
The time is drawing near, and Frodo grows restless again. He has this calling, after all; he cannot remain with the Mother, whether in the Shire, Rivendell, or Lothlórien. His daimon stirs within him. But he tells Sam that he fervently hopes to meet Galadriel before they depart. Just then, as if by chance, she appears and beckons them to her. She leads them to a secluded garden. The evening star shines in the sky. She descends a long staircase to a green hollow where the stream from the fountain flows, and further to a low, wide silver basin, beside which stands a silver ewer. She fills the basin to the brim and breathes upon it. “Not a breath of wind stirred in the dark hollow.”
Once again, we see how the elves are something of spirit-beings – spirit, breath, and wind are symbolically synonymous. Just as the wind stilled when Tom Bombadil appeared with his feather in his hat, now the wind stills as Galadriel breathes upon the water (and thus gives it life). As noted, she is something of a water-spirit, but this motif has developed significantly since Goldberry at Tom Bombadil’s, and consider all the adventures Frodo has experienced since then! Frodo was not even initiated when he first encountered the water-spirit, which gave her somewhat infantile traits. Now, after all these adventures, she appears as a wise old woman (albeit youthful in appearance), and this manifestation signifies a profound development in Frodo.
They gather around the silver basin, “Galadriel’s Mirror.” She asks if they wish to look into it. She explains that the mirror can show what one desires it to show, what one craves. But it shows more than that, “things that may be more powerful and useful than what we wish for.” While she previously searched the fellowship’s eyes in silence to discern what drove each of them, she now says that, yes, you may see what you desire, but what we do not desire may be far more useful – for our soul, one might add.
She says that one does not know whether the mirror shows something that will happen, has happened, is happening, or neither has happened nor will happen. She states, “The Mirror is a perilous guide for our actions.”
She describes the mirror’s images in a way Jung might describe dreams, as largely illustrating something potential – one often does not know until months later whether a dream shows something that has happened, is happening, or will happen. (In a symbolic sense, not as Galadriel’s mirror does literally.) Our dreams come from the inner world, often beyond our conscious desires and the cravings of our complexes; but as Galadriel suggests, this may be far more useful to us, even if we feel challenged, perhaps even frightened.
Moreover, she reiterates that “the Mirror is a perilous guide for our actions.” It is notable that she repeats that they cannot come to her, or to her mirror, for answers about what to do. She does not know what they should do. Robert A. Johnson, a prominent Jungian analyst and author, discusses this in an interview, describing how young men come to him with their troubles, and after he reflects on what they’ve said, they always ask, “Okay, but what should I do?” Johnson recounts that in that moment, he is defeated – he does not know what they should do.[6]
This, one might say, is feminine wisdom. Our masculine-oriented consciousness always wants to act, to do something, to solve the problem, overcome obstacles, and get it out of the way. If we don’t know what to do, we might seek out someone who seems to know and ask her. But if she is wise, she does not know what we should do either. We must learn to be receptive, to pay attention to what is happening, perhaps to listen to our dreams and notice our own reactions, and so forth; to try to embody what the Daoists call wu wei, a form of non-action. The problem is often the ego and its desires, and we try to solve it with the ego and its desires. That simply does not work. Galadriel or a Jungian analyst would rather wait and see what emerges from within, while being actively passive, tending to what grows like a gardener. In other words, letting go of our one-sided yang attitude and allowing yin into our lives.
When they first met, Galadriel said that she and her husband could only offer knowledge. Now, she reiterates that the mirror is a poor guide for one’s actions. Similarly, Jung advises against using dreams in this way – dreams do not tell us what we should do; they rarely offer advice. But they provide knowledge and understanding. He says:
“Dreams … don’t give advice. The dream is not a sort of well-meaning teacher … who tells you what you ought to do. The dream is a symptom, a manifestation, a natural event. It is like, as a matter of fact very much like, the compass. The compass doesn’t tell you to which goal you have to sail. … It is just a natural phenomenon, and if you learn to make the right use of it, it is useful. But there is no ‘ought to’.”[7]
So when Frodo asks his, let us say, inner wise woman whether she advises him to look into the mirror, Galadriel replies that she neither advises nor discourages. “I do not give advice,” she says, “but you may learn something,” whether what Frodo sees feels good or evil. Galadriel, more than any other figure in the tale, represents the wisdom of the unconscious. (Gandalf plays a similar role, as is well known, but he is more of a driving and often acting figure, thus representing the daimon; or, put differently, he embodies a yang-wisdom, while Galadriel embodies a yin-wisdom.)
When first Sam and then Frodo look into the mirror, the sequence of images indeed resembles dreams, appearing as random scenes that blend into one another. But what Sam reacts to is that trees have been cut down in the Shire, which greatly upsets him. Even when looking into Galadriel’s mirror, he remains down-to-earth; one could say that even his soul is down-to-earth.
Frodo’s inner life is more complex. The most striking image he sees is a solitary “Eye,” rimmed with fire, yellow as a cat’s eye, with “the black slit of its pupil” like “a window into nothingness.” It is, of course, Sauron’s eye searching for him. Just as Sauron’s Nazgûl belong to nothingness, as we have seen, so too is Sauron’s inner essence nothingness. The fire represents the destructive energy of opposition.
But what is surprising about the Eye is that it resembles a cat’s eye. Only smaller felines have this characteristic eye with a slit pupil that changes with the surrounding light. Larger, and thus more terrifying, felines like lions and tigers do not. As a symbol, the common cat is feminine. We understand that the author chose, or perhaps even saw this eye in his inner vision, because it appears dangerous and inhuman, but it is still noteworthy that Sauron has a feminine “cat’s eye.” Tolkien almost says it explicitly. One might otherwise think of snake eyes – some nocturnal snakes have similar pupils. But Tolkien chooses to liken Sauron’s eye to a cat’s rather than a snake’s. This is quite remarkable. We are running out of space in this commentary, so we will limit ourselves to the speculation that the author tends to skirt the heart of the matter, as we also touched upon in “The Old Forest.”
Frodo tears himself away from the horrifying vision. Galadriel knows what he saw. She tells him that she knows what the Dark Lord is thinking, but he cannot yet see her thoughts. This, too, is a remarkable detail. If she knows what he is thinking, there is a relationship between Galadriel and Sauron. This should not, of course, be taken literally, but if Sauron has an opposite in the tale, it must be Galadriel (in this context). He is evil, she is good; he is fire, she is water; he is active, she is passive; he is darkness, she is light, and so forth. It is also worth noting that Galadriel was the one who first convened the White Council when Sauron returned. When Galadriel is offered the Ring by Frodo, she describes herself – if she had accepted it – as the world’s new, malevolent ruler, a new Sauron. Indeed, Tolkien suggests, for instance in his letters, that Galadriel is powerful enough to stand against Sauron herself.[8] If we recall that she can read Sauron’s thoughts but he cannot read hers, we understand that Galadriel’s power matches his, and this, combined with the above, makes them each other’s opposites. Thus, it is symbolically consistent that Frodo sees Sauron in Galadriel’s mirror.
In the light of the evening star, Frodo notices the ring Nenya on Galadriel’s finger. (It is, of course, one of the three Elven rings, specifically the ring of water, though this is not mentioned in the tale.) We wish to highlight the significance of his seeing it now, just after seeing Sauron’s eye and hearing Galadriel speak of what would happen if she took the One Ring. Nenya contains an “adamant,” the same material as Barad-dûr.[9] This connection between Sauron, the One Ring, the Elven ring, and Galadriel reinforces their relationship. But because Galadriel represents yin, being passive and receptive, and Sauron a distorted form of yang, active and goal-oriented, Galadriel does not do much in this cosmic conflict, while Sauron relentlessly fights and spreads his shadow over the world. Galadriel leaves it to Frodo, who represents the goal-oriented, masculine consciousness, to act: “Do you not see now that your coming means we stand on the threshold of judgment day? For if you fail, we are laid bare to the enemy.”
But symbolically and psychologically, what could she do? Without Frodo, there would be neither the cosmic struggle nor Galadriel. She belongs to the unconscious, with which one can establish a relationship and learn something from, but action must be carried out by the conscious. For her part, she says: “Lothlórien will fade and be swept away by the waves of time. We must journey to the West or dwindle to a rustic folk living in caves and dells, slowly forgetting all we know and being forgotten by others.”
An unexpected description. Now that the time of Men is at hand, the elves must slowly fade, just as our myths, tales, and beliefs faded with industrialization, urbanization, and technological progress. (This was surely what Tolkien had in mind.) If the elves do not journey across the sea to the Undying Lands, they will dwindle into a rustic folk living in caves. They become forgotten savages in the wilderness because they no longer have a place in the emerging civilization, just as we have relegated our fairies to the recesses of the subconscious. But this bleak outlook is also the foundation of the elves’ preservation – for this is their fate when they are no longer preserved.
Finally, she says that the sorrow of the elves is endless and can never be fully assuaged. We see her again in her role as the Good Mother. How great, indeed, must be the sorrow of the Great Mother?
Footnotes
[1] It is not mentioned in the saga, but as a result of wounds inflicted by orcs, she sailed across the sea, according to other Tolkien sources (tolkiengateway.net, 2025).
[2] Neumann, The Great Mother, p. 243.
[3] This paragraph is based on Jung, "The Philosophical Tree," CW 13.
[4] Jung, "The Philosophical Tree," par. 409.
[5] Cf. Mircea Eliade, Patterns of Comparative Religion, trans. Rosemary Sheed (Lincoln: Bison Books, 1996), p. 212.
[6] “Dr. Robert A. Johnson – Buddha and the Nanic Process,” Hopkins Archives, YouTube video posted April 7, 2023, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OECjxlH3vSk.
[7] Jung, Dream Symbols, p. 293-294.
[8] See, for example, Tolkien, Letters, p. 332.