Sinful Sunday: Agony, Abuse, and the Heartbreaking Queer Spectacle of Celembrimbor and Annatar in "The Rings of Power"
The second season of the hit Amazon series has a deeply toxic queer(ish) relationship at its center, one that is doomed to end in tragedy and heartbreak.
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Welcome to “Sinful Sundays,” where I explore and analyze some of the most notorious queer villains of film and TV (and sometimes literature, depending on my mood). These are the characters that entrance and entertain and revolt us, sometimes all three at the same time. As these queer villains show, very often it’s sweetly good to be bitterly bad.
If, like me, you spend an inordinate amount of time on social media, you’re no doubt aware that there are quite a few people out there who have–somewhat humorously, it’s true–begun to view the relationship between Celebrimbor and Sauron in Amazon’s The Rings of Power through a very queer lens. This is, of course, not a particularly surprising turn of events, given the extent to which many of the other notable male/male relationships within Tolkien, including but not limited to Frodo and Sam and Thorin and Bilbo, have been reinterpreted by audiences as being gay couples. Indeed, I remain fascinated by the extent to which queer audiences of all kinds find new kinds of queer meaning and value in Tolkien’s characters.
Now, I want to be clear about something. I’m not saying that the creators of the show intended these queer subtextual meanings, because I most certainly do not think that’s the case. However, if you know anything about my own approach and thoughts about popular culture, you’ll also know that I don’t think authorial intention–either that of Tolkien himself or the creators of The Rings of Power–exhausts the types of meaning and significance that can emerge from a given TV show. In fact, the mark of a truly rich piece of fiction lies in its ability to encourage audiences of all kinds to invest a bit of themselves in what they are watching.
So, now that that little caveat is out of the way, let’s take a closer look at Sauron and Celembrimbor, social media’s favorite queer dysfunctional couple and examine just what it is that makes them so queerly resonant.
To begin with, there’s the fact that this season has seen Sauron take on a new guise, masquerading as Annatar, a supposed messenger from the Valar, in which persona he manipulates a willing Celebrimbor into continuing the practice of forging the other Rings of Power. This new disguise is, I think it’s safe to say, very much a glow-up for this already ruggedly handsome baddie, with his long locks (and their signature bow) and his flowing green robes. One can see why the older Celebrimbor would find himself drawn into Annatar’s orbit because, after all, who among us hasn’t been seduced by a handsome young fellow claiming to be an emissary from the gods?
From the very beginning, however, it was clear to those in the know that things were not at all what they seemed, and that Celebrimbor was getting in way over his head. If Sauron could manage to deceive even Galadriel, who had committed her entire existence to hunting him down and ridding the world of his presence forever, then what chance did Celebrimbor have? After all he, like so many of his line, is proud and yearns to create something that will last the test of time, something that will make him worthy of being the heir of Fëanor, the greatest of Elven smiths. Like so many other characters in Tolkien’s mythos, however, it’s his pride and his ambition that open him up to the blandishments of Annatar/Sauron and ultimately pave the way to his own demise.
Indeed, as the season has advanced, the dynamic of their relationship has become very much that of a dysfunctional marriage, one in which Annatar/Sauron wields all of the power and Celebrimbor is led to doubt his own sanity and become ever more reliant on his companion for a sense of stability and purpose. One scene in particular stands out in my mind in this regard. After Celebrimbor has an audience with the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm he goes to speak with Annatar, only for the latter to give him the cold shoulder and to make him feel foolish and bad about himself. Anyone who has ever been in an abusive or manipulative relationship will recognize right away the mechanisms of an abuser, someone who can’t stand the idea that the person in their power might find a measure of independence and start weaning themselves off of their influence. As this season has gone on Sauron has gone to even greater lengths to ensure that Celebrimbor remains in thrall to his own designs, even going so far as to create an entire alternate reality that his accomplice is forced to inhabit. This is, of course, a literalization of the dynamic that has been at play all season, and queer audiences have understandably seen more than a little of their own haunting experiences reflected in the toxic relationship between these two characters.
This all came to a head during the most recent episode, in which Celebrimbor at last realizes the truth and confronts his boyfriend/husband/abuser about what he’s been doing. The air practically crackles with sinister energy as Elf and Maia confront one another, their animosity so palpable you can almost feel it through your TV screen. As if his manipulation and imprisonment of Celebrimbor weren’t enough, Sauron straight-up admits that he’s been torturing him all along, enacting the very same sort of sinister mind-games that Morgoth (supposedly) used to inflict upon him. It’s really quite striking the extent to which this powerful being at last lets the mask fall to reveal the rottenness and corruption beneath, all of his beauty and subtle words merely a masquerade. It is, in its own way, a little heartbreaking, for all that we in the audience have known the truth of matters from the beginning.
Moreover, it’s easy to see why many on social media would find something queerly resonant in this story. Who amongst us hasn’t been in a relationship that was as toxic as this one, after all? I know that I, for one, have been in a relationship with someone who was more than happy to tear me down and manipulate me, who isolated me from my friends, all under the guise of supposed love and affection. Seeing Sauron and Celebrimbor through the prism of queerness allows for a more nuanced–and, arguably, terrifying–appreciation of the emotional dynamics at work here. The tragic irony of all this is that they truly are two of a kind: both smiths learned in the craft of making, both proud and stubborn, both beautiful and doomed. In other words: they’re a queer couple right out of a sad gay novel.
They’re perfect.
Those who have read the Appendices to The Lord of the Rings knows how this relationship ends: Sauron eventually turns against his erstwhile companion (lover?) and then, not content with this, ends up using his brutalized body as a standard for his legions. Though I doubt that this series will quite that far in depicting this gruesome end, given that Sauron has already shown himself willing to throw Mirdania to her grisly death among the invading Orcs, it certainly does seem as if there is little that he won’t do when it comes to destroying those who stand in his way.
The Rings of Power continues to show just how extraordinary it is as an adaptation of Tolkien’s work, and its exploration of the queer relationship between Celebrimbor and Annatar/Sauron makes for a wrenching and heartbreaking addition to the already existing Silvergifting ship. Given how much I enjoy getting my heart broken by fictions, it probably goes without saying that I’ll be waiting with bated breath for what comes next.