Then was he sore afraid of a trap, and this was even what had in truth befallen, for watchers had been set by Melko all about the encircling hills. Yet so many did the valour of the Gondothlim draw off to the assault ere the city could be taken that these were but thinly spread, and were at the least here in the south. Nonetheless one of these had espied the company as they started the upward going from the dale of hazels, and as many bands were got together against them as might be, and devised to fall upon the exiles to front and rear even upon the perilous way of Cristhorn. Now Galdor and Glorfindel held their own despite the surprise of assault, and many of the Orcs were struck into the abyss; but the falling of the rocks was like to end all their valour, and the flight from Gondolin to come to ruin. The moon about that hour rose above the pass, and the gloom somewhat lifted, for his pale light filtered into dark places; yet it lit not the path for the height of the walls. Then arose Thorondor, King of Eagles, and he loved not Melko; for Melko had caught many of his kindred and chained them against sharp rocks to squeeze from them the magic words whereby he might learn to fly (for he dreamed of contending even against Manwë in the air); and when they would not tell he cut off their wings and sought to fashion therefrom a mighty pair for his use, but it availed not.
Now when the clamour from the pass rose to his great eyrie he said: ‘Wherefore are these foul things, these Orcs of the hills, climbed near to my throne; and why do the sons of the Noldoli cry out in the low places for fear of the children of Melko the accursed? Arise O Thornhoth, whose beaks are of steel and whose talons swords!’
Thereupon there was a rushing like a great wind in rocky places, and the Thornhoth, the people of the Eagles, fell on those Orcs who had scaled above the path, and tore their faces and their hands and flung them to the rocks of Thorn Sir far below. Then were the Gondothlim glad, and they made in after days the Eagle a sign of their kindred in token of their joy, and Idril bore it, but Eärendel loved rather the Swan-wing of his father. Now unhampered Galdor’s men bore back those that opposed them, for they were not very many and the onset of the Thornhoth affrighted them much; and the company fared forward again, though Glorfindel had fighting enough in the rear. Already the half had passed the perilous way and the falls of Thorn Sir, when that Balrog that was with the rearward foe leapt with great might on certain lofty rocks that stood into the path on the left side upon the lip of the chasm, and thence with a leap of fury he was past Glorfindel’s men and among the women and the sick in front, lashing with his whip of flame. Then Glorfindel leapt forward upon him and his golden armour gleamed strangely in the moon, and he hewed at that demon that it leapt again upon a great boulder and Glorfindel after. Now there was a deadly combat upon that high rock above the folk; and these, pressed behind and hindered ahead, were grown so close that well nigh all could see, yet was it over ere Glorfindel’s men could leap to his side. The ardour of Glorfindel drove that Balrog from point to point, and his mail fended him from its whip and claw. Now had he beaten a heavy swinge upon its iron helm, now hewn off the creature’s whip-arm at the elbow. Then sprang the Balrog in the torment of his pain and fear full at Glorfindel, who stabbed like a dart of a snake; but he found only a shoulder, and was grappled, and they swayed to a fall upon the crag-top. Then Glorfindel’s left hand sought a dirk, and this he thrust up that it pierced the Balrog’s belly nigh his own face (for that demon was double his stature); and it shrieked, and fell backward from the rock, and falling clutched Glorfindel’s yellow locks beneath his cap, and those twain fell into the abyss.
Now this was a very grievous thing, for Glorfindel was most dearly beloved – and lo! the dint of their fall echoed about the hills, and the abyss of Thorn Sir rang. Then at the death-cry of the Balrog the Orcs before and behind wavered and were slain or fled far away, and Thorondor himself, a mighty bird, descended to the abyss and brought up the body of Glorfindel; but the Balrog lay, and the water of Thorn Sir ran black for many a day far below in Tumladen.
Still do the Eldar say when they see good fighting at great odds of power against a fury of evil: ‘Alas! It is Glorfindel and the Balrog’, and their hearts are still sore for that fair one of the Noldoli. Because of their love, despite the haste and their fear of the advent of new foes, Tuor let raise a great stone-cairn over Glorfindel just there beyond the perilous way by the precipice of Eagle-stream, and Thorondor has let not yet any harm come thereto, but yellow flowers have fared thither and blow ever now about that mound in those unkindly places; but the folk of the Golden Flower wept at its building and might not dry their tears.
Now who shall tell of the wanderings of Tuor and the exiles of Gondolin in the wastes that lie beyond the mountains to the south of the vale of Tumladen? Miseries were theirs and death, colds and hungers, and ceaseless watches. That they won ever through those regions infested by Melko’s evil came from the great slaughter and damage done to his power in that assault, and from the speed and wariness with which Tuor led them; for of a certain Melko knew of that escape and was furious thereat. Ulmo had heard tidings in the far oceans of the deeds that were done, but he could not yet aid them for they were far from waters and rivers – and indeed they thirsted sorely, and they knew not the way.
But after a year and more of wandering, in which many a time they journeyed long tangled in the magic of those wastes only to come again upon their own tracks, once more the summer came, and nigh to its height they came at last upon a stream, and following this came to better lands and were a little comforted. Here did Voronwë guide them, for he had caught a whisper of Ulmo’s in that stream one late summer’s night – and he got ever much wisdom from the sound of waters. Now he led them even till they came down to Sirion which that stream fed, and then both Tuor and Voronwë saw that they were not far from the outer issue of old of the Way of Escape, and were once more in that deep dale of alders. Here were all the bushes trampled and the trees burnt, and the dale-wall scarred with flame, and they wept, for they thought they knew the fate of those who sundered aforetime from them at the tunnel-mouth.
Now they journeyed down that river but were again in fear from Melko, and fought affrays with his Orc-bands and were in peril from the wolfriders, but his firedrakes sought not at them, both for the great exhaustion of their fires in the taking of Gondolin, and the increasing power of Ulmo as the river grew. So came they after many days – for they went slowly and got their sustenance very hardly – to those great heaths and morasses above the Land of Willows, and Voronwë knew not those regions. Now here goes Sirion a very great way under earth, diving at the great cavern of the Tumultuous Winds, but running clear again above the Pools of Twilight, even where Tulkas after fought with Melko’s self. Tuor had fared over these regions by night and dusk after Ulmo came to him amid the reeds, and he remembered not the ways. In places that land is full of deceits and very marshy; and here the host had long delay and was vexed by sore flies, for it was autumn still, and agues and fevers fared amongst them, and they cursed Melko.
Yet came they at last to the great pools and the edges of that most tender Land of Willows; and the very breath of the winds thereof brought rest and peace to them, and for the comfort of that place the grief was assuaged of those who mourned the dead in that great fall. There women and maids grew fair again and their sick were healed, and old wounds ceased to pain; yet they alone who of reason feared their folk living still in bitter thraldom in the Hells of Iron sang not, nor did they smile.
Here they abode very long indeed, and Eärendel was a grown boy ere the voice of Ulmo’s conches drew the heart of Tuor, that his sea-longing returned with a thirst the deeper for years of stifling; and all that host arose at his bidding, and got them down Sirion to the Sea.
Now the folk that had passed into the Eagles’ Cleft and who saw the fall of Glorfindel had been nigh eight hundreds – a large wayfaring, yet was it a sad remnant of so fair and numerous a city. But they who arose from the grasses of the Land of Willows in years after and fared away to sea, when spring s
et celandine in the meads and they had held sad festival in memorial of Glorfindel, these numbered but three hundreds and a score of men and man-children, and two hundreds and three score of women and maid-children. Now the number of women was few because of their hiding or being stowed by their kinsfolk in secret places in the city. There were they burned or slain or taken and enthralled, and the rescue-parties found them too seldom; and it is the greatest ruth to think of this, for the maids and women of the Gondothlim were as fair as the sun and as lovely as the moon and brighter than the stars. Glory dwelt in that city of Gondolin of the Seven Names, and its ruin was the most dread of all the sacks of cities upon the face of Earth. Nor Bablon, nor Ninwi, nor the towers of Trui, nor all the many takings of Rûm that is greatest among Men, saw such terror as fell that day upon Amon Gwareth in the kindred of the Gnomes; and this is esteemed the worst work that Melko has yet thought of in the world.
Yet now those exiles of Gondolin dwelt at the mouth of Sirion by the waves of the Great Sea. There they take the name of Lothlim, the people of the flower, for Gondothlim is a name too sore to their hearts; and fair among the Lothlim Eärendel grows in the house of his father, and the great tale of Tuor is come to its waning.’
Then said Littleheart son of Bronweg: ‘Alas for Gondolin.’
*
THE EARLIEST TEXT
Important elements in the early evolution of the history of the Elder Days are my father’s hurried notes. As I have described them elsewhere, these notes were for the most part pencilled at furious speed, the writing now rubbed and faint and in places after long study scarcely decipherable, on slips of paper, disordered and dateless, or in a little notebook; in these, during the years in which he was composing the Lost Tales, he jotted down thoughts and suggestions – many of them being no more than simple sentences, or mere isolated names, serving as reminders of work to be done, stories to be told, or changes to be made.
Among these notes is found what must be the earliest trace of the story of the fall of Gondolin:
Isfin daughter of Fingolma loved from afar by Eöl (Arval) of the Mole-kin of the Gnomes. He is strong and in favour with Fingolma and with the Sons of Fëanor (to whom he is akin) because he is a leader of the Miners and searches after hidden jewels, but he is illfavoured and Isfin loathes him.
For an explanation of the choice of the word ‘Gnomes’ see (footnote). Fingolma was an early name of the later Finwë (the leader of the second host of the Elves, the Noldor, on the Great Journey from Palisor, the land of their awakening). Isfin appears in the Tale of the Fall of Gondolin as the sister of Turgon King of Gondolin and the mother of Meglin, son of Eöl.
It is obvious that this note is a form of the story told in the Lost Tales, despite the major difference. In the note it is Eöl the miner of the ‘Mole-kin’ who is the suitor for the daughter of Fingolma, Isfin, who rejects him on account of his ugliness. In the ‘Lost Tale’, on the other hand, the rejected – and ugly – suitor is Meglin the son of Eöl and his mother is Isfin – the sister of Turgon King of Gondolin; and it is said expressly (p.61) that the tale of Isfin and Eöl ‘may not here be told’ – presumably because my father thought that it would go too far afield.
I think it most probable that the brief note given above was written before the Tale of the Fall of Gondolin and before the advent of Maeglin, and that the story in its origin had no association with Gondolin.
(Henceforward I shall usually refer to the ‘Lost Tale’ of The Fall of Gondolin (here–here) simply as ‘the Tale’.)
*
TURLIN AND THE EXILES OF GONDOLIN
There is a loose page carrying a short prose piece, unquestionably preserved in its entirety, that bears the title Turlin and the Exiles of Gondolin. It can be placed chronologically after the Tale of the Fall of Gondolin, and was clearly the abandoned start of a new version of the Tale.
My father hesitated much over the name of the hero of Gondolin, and in this text he gave him the name Turlin, but altered it throughout to Turgon. Since this (not rare) interchange of names between characters can be needlessly confusing, I will name him Tuor in my text of the piece that follows.
The anger of the Gods (the Valar) against the Gnomes and the sealing of Valinor against all comers, with which this piece begins, arose from their rebellion and their evil deeds at the Haven of the Swans. This is known as the Kinslaying, and is of importance in the story of the Fall of Gondolin, and indeed of the later history of the Elder Days.
Turlin [Tuor] and the Exiles of Gondolin
‘Then’ said Ilfiniol son of Bronweg ‘know that Ulmo Lord of Waters forgot never the sorrows of the Elven kindreds beneath the power of Melko, but he might do little because of the anger of the other Gods who shut their hearts against the race of the Gnomes, and dwelt behind the veiled hills of Valinor heedless of the Outer World, so deep was their ruth and regret for the death of the Two Trees. Nor did any save Ulmo only dread the power of Melko that wrought ruin and sorrow over all the Earth; but Ulmo desired that Valinor should gather all its might to quench his evil ere it be too late, and it seemed to him that both purposes might perchance be achieved if messengers from the Gnomes should win to Valinor and plead for pardon and for pity upon the Earth; for the love of Palúrien and Oromë her son for those wide realms did but slumber still. Yet hard and evil was the road from the Outer Earth to Valinor, and the Gods themselves had meshed the ways with magic and veiled the encircling hills. Thus did Ulmo seek unceasingly to stir the Gnomes to send messengers unto Valinor, but Melko was cunning and very deep in wisdom, and unsleeping was his wariness in all things that touched the Elven kindreds, and their messengers overcame not the perils and temptations of that longest and most evil of all roads, and many that dared to set forth were lost for ever.
Now tells the tale how Ulmo despaired that any of the Elven race should surpass the dangers of the way, and of the deepest and the latest design that he then fashioned, and of those things which came of it.
In those days the greater part of the kindreds of Men dwelt after the Battle of Unnumbered Tears in that land of the North that has many names, but which the Elves of Kôr have named Hisilómë which is the Twilit Mist, and the Gnomes, who of the Elf-kin know it best, Dor-lómin the Land of Shadows. A people mighty in numbers were there, dwelling about the wide pale waters of Mithrim the great lake that lies in those regions, and other folk named them Tunglin or folk of the Harp, for their joy was in the wild music and minstrelsy of the fells and woodlands, but they knew not and sang not of the sea. Now this folk came into those places after the dread battle, being too late summoned thither from afar, and they bore no stain of treachery against the Elven kin; but indeed many among them clung to such friendship with the hidden Gnomes of the mountains and Dark Elves as might be still for the sorrow and mistrust born of those ruinous deeds in the Vale of Ninniach [the site of the Battle of Unnumbered Tears].
Tuor was a man of that folk, son of Peleg, son of Indor, son of Fengel who was their chief and hearing the summons had marched out of the deeps of the East with all his folk. But Tuor dwelt not much with his kindred, and loved rather solitude and the friendship of the Elves whose tongues he knew, and he wandered alone about the long shores of Mithrim, now hunting in its woods, now making sudden music in the rocks upon his rugged harp of wood strung with the sinews of bears. But he sang not for the ears of Men, and many hearing the power of his rough songs came from afar to hearken to his harping; but Tuor left his singing and departed to lonely places in the mountains.
Many strange things he learned there, broken tidings of far off things, and longing came upon him for deeper lore, but as yet his heart turned not from the long shores and the pale waters of Mithrim in the mists. Yet was he not fated to dwell for ever in those places, for it is said that magic and destiny led him on a day to a cavernous opening in the rocks, down which a hidden river flowed from Mithrim. And Tuor entered that cavern seeking to learn its secret, but having entered the waters of Mithrim drove him forwa
rd into the heart of the rock and he might not win back into the light. This men have said was not without the will of Ulmo, at whose prompting maybe the Gnomes had fashioned that deep and hidden way. Then came the Gnomes to Tuor and guided him along the dark passages amid the mountains until he came out once more into the light.
It will be seen that my father had the text of the Tale in front of him when he wrote this text (which I will call ‘the Turlin version’), for phrases of the one reappear in the other (such as ‘magic and destiny led him on a day to a cavernous opening’, p.37); but in several features there are advances on the earlier text. The original genealogy of Tuor remains (son of Peleg, son of Indor), but more is told of his people: they were Men from the East who came to the aid of the Elves in the vast and ruinous battle against the forces of Melko that came to be known as The Battle of Unnumbered Tears. But they came too late; and they settled in great numbers in Hisilómë ‘Twilit Mist’ (Hithlum), called also Dor-lómin ‘Land of Shadows’. An important and decisive element in the early conception of the history of the Elder Days was the overwhelming nature of the victory of Melko in that battle, so sweeping that a great part of the people named Noldoli became his imprisoned slaves; it is said in the Tale (p.49): ‘Know then that the Gondothlim [the people of Gondolin] were that kin of the Noldoli who alone escaped Melko’s power when at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears he slew and enslaved their folk and wove spells about them and caused them to dwell in the Hells of Iron, faring thence at his will and bidding only.’
The Fall of Gondolin Page 9
