If you’ve spent any time scouring Tolkien forums or deep-diving into the messy etymology of Middle-earth, you’ve probably seen it. Someone mentions "Wormwood Lord of the Rings" and suddenly half the thread is arguing about whether J.R.R. Tolkien was referencing a bitter herb, a biblical prophecy, or if they just have the character's name flat-out wrong.
Let's clear the air immediately. There is no character actually named "Wormwood" in the published legendarium.
You’re thinking of Gríma Wormtongue.
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The confusion is honestly understandable. Between the "Worm" prefix and the botanical vibes of the name, it's a common mental slip. But the distinction matters. It matters because Tolkien, a man who literally breathed philology, didn't choose words by accident. When you look at the overlap between the real-world herb wormwood and the character of Gríma, you find a layer of subtext that makes the King of Rohan’s advisor even more loathsome—and tragic—than he appears in the Peter Jackson films.
The Gríma Problem: Not Just a Bad Advisor
Gríma is the quintessential "whisperer in the ear." He’s the physical manifestation of gaslighting. In The Two Towers, we find him slumped at the feet of King Théoden, a pale, shriveled figure draining the vitality out of the Golden Hall.
Why do people call him Wormwood?
It’s likely a linguistic ghost. Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) is a plant known for its extreme bitterness. In the Bible, specifically the Book of Revelation, "Wormwood" is a star that falls to earth and turns a third of the waters bitter, killing many. Gríma does exactly this to Rohan. He is the bitter poison that turns the "waters" of the King's mind into a stagnant, hopeless pool. He isn't a warrior. He doesn't use a sword until the very end. He uses speech.
Tolkien was a master of Old English. The name Gríma itself comes from words meaning "mask," "spectre," or "helmet." He is literally a "masked" presence, hiding his true allegiance to Saruman behind a veneer of "official" advice. The "Wormtongue" epithet, given to him by the people of Edoras, is the public’s way of acknowledging the venom he spits.
He’s a parasite. Plain and simple.
The Botany of Betrayal: Is Wormwood a Real Influence?
While Tolkien never explicitly stated, "I based Gríma on the plant wormwood," the thematic parallels are too sharp to ignore. In medieval lore, wormwood was used to ward off spirits but was also synonymous with sorrow.
Think about the state of Théoden when Gandalf arrives. The King is bent, his eyes are filmed over, and he’s repeating the nihilistic scripts Gríma has fed him for years. This is the "bitterness" of the wormwood plant applied to statecraft. Gríma’s role was to make the world seem so dark and pointless that surrender to Saruman was the only logical choice.
Most people forget that Gríma wasn't always a monster. He was a man of Rohan. He had a father, Galm, who was presumably a respected man. Gríma’s fall is a cautionary tale about the corrosive nature of power and the desire for things—and people—that don't belong to us. His obsession with Éowyn is the ultimate proof of his degradation. He didn't want to serve Rohan; he wanted to possess its crown jewel while the rest of the kingdom burned.
The Scouring of the Shire: Where the "Wormwood" Vibe Peaks
If you’ve only seen the movies, you missed Gríma’s actual ending. It’s significantly darker than falling off a tower. In the books, Saruman and Gríma end up in the Shire, having reduced themselves to petty thugs.
This is where the bitterness—the "wormwood" element—really takes over.
Saruman, stripped of his power, takes out his frustration on Gríma. He treats him like a dog. He mocks him. He tells the Hobbits that Gríma murdered Lotho Sackville-Baggins—and possibly ate him. It is a level of depravity that feels a world away from the high-fantasy battles of Minas Tirith.
Gríma eventually snaps. He slits Saruman’s throat in the middle of the Shire and is immediately killed by Hobbit arrows.
It’s a pathetic, bitter end for a man who chose to be a parasite. There was no redemption arc. No grand sacrifice. Just a small, broken man reacting to a lifetime of being treated like the "worm" he was named for. This is the "Wormwood Lord of the Rings" fans are subconsciously searching for: the bitter dregs of a story that started with kings and ended in a muddy ditch.
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Addressing the Common Misconceptions
We should probably talk about why search engines keep grouping these terms together.
- The C.S. Lewis Connection: Tolkien’s best friend, C.S. Lewis, famously used the name "Wormwood" for the junior demon in The Screwtape Letters. Since the two authors are forever linked in the public consciousness (The Inklings), people often swap the names.
- The Biblical Imagery: As mentioned, the "Star of Wormwood" is a herald of doom. Many readers see Gríma as a herald of Saruman’s industrial doom, leading to the mental association.
- Translation Issues: In some non-English translations of The Lord of the Rings, the name "Wormtongue" is adapted using local words for bitter herbs or snakes, further blurring the lines.
Honestly, if you called him Gríma Wormwood in a room full of Tolkien scholars, you’d get some side-eye, but they’d know exactly who you meant. He is the personification of the word.
Why Gríma Still Matters in 2026
We live in an era of misinformation. Gríma is the 1950s version of a "bad actor" spreading a narrative to weaken a population. He didn't need an army to take down Rohan; he just needed the King's ear.
He convinced a brave man that he was weak.
He convinced a proud people that their allies had abandoned them.
He used truth—like the death of Théoden’s son, Théodred—to tell a larger lie.
That’s why the character persists. We all know a Gríma. We’ve all seen how one "wormwood" voice can turn a community bitter and stagnant.
Actionable Insights for the Tolkien Fan
If you're looking to dive deeper into the actual lore of Gríma and the Rohan court, don't just stop at the movies. The films make him look like a vampire from day one. In the books, his "poison" is much more subtle.
- Read "The King of the Golden Hall" (The Two Towers): Pay attention to the dialogue. Notice how Gríma uses "logical" arguments to discourage action. It’s a masterclass in psychological manipulation.
- Compare the names: Look up the Old English roots of the characters in Rohan. You’ll find that nearly every name—Théoden (King), Éomer (Grand Horse), Éowyn (Horse Joy)—is literal. Gríma (Mask) is the only one that suggests deception.
- Check out The Unfinished Tales: There is more background on how Gríma was captured by the Nazgûl and how his fear of them shaped his betrayal of Saruman. It adds a layer of "the enemy of my enemy" complexity that the main books lack.
Gríma isn't just a villain. He’s a reminder that the tongue is often more dangerous than the sword. Whether you call him Wormtongue or mistakenly call him Wormwood, his legacy in The Lord of the Rings is the same: he is the bitterness that precedes the fall.
Next time you’re watching the scene where Gandalf "exorcises" him (which, in the book, is more of a verbal dressing-down than a magical blast), remember that the real battle was for Théoden’s mind. Gríma had already won that battle years prior. It took the return of a wizard to break the spell of the "Wormwood" advisor.
To truly understand the political landscape of Rohan, one must look at how easily a kingdom can be dismantled from the inside. It doesn't take an Orc army. It just takes one well-placed advisor with a very bitter tongue.