(ii) Orcs and Balrogs
Despite the reference to ‘the wandering bands of the goblins and the Orcs’ (p. 14, retained in the typescript version), the terms are certainly synonymous in the Tale of Turambar. The Orcs are described in the present tale (ibid.) as ‘foul broodlings of Melko’. In the second version (p. 44) wolf-rider Orcs appear.
Balrogs, mentioned in the tale (p. 15), have appeared in one of the outlines for Gilfanon’s Tale (I. 241); but they had already played an important part in the earliest of the Lost Tales, that of The Fall of Gondolin (see pp. 212–13).
(iii) Tinúviel’s ‘lengthening spell’
Of the ‘longest things’ named in this spell (pp. 19–20, 46) two, ‘the sword of Nan’ and ‘the neck of Gilim the giant’, seem now lost beyond recall, though they survived into the spell in the Lay of Leithian, where the sword of Nan is itself named, Glend, and Gilim is called ‘the giant of Eruman’. Gilim in the Gnomish dictionary means ‘winter’ (see I. 260, entry Melko), which does not seem particularly appropriate: though a jotting, very difficult to read, in the little notebook used for memoranda in connection with the Lost Tales (see I. 171) seems to say that Nan was a ‘giant of summer of the South’, and that he was like an elm.
The Indravangs (Indrafangs in the typescript) are the ‘Longbeards’ this is said in the Gnomish dictionary to be ‘a special name of the Nauglath or Dwarves’ (see further the Tale of the Nauglafring, p. 247).
Karkaras (Carcaras in the typescript) ‘Knife-fang’ is named in the spell since he was originally conceived as the ‘father of wolves, who guarded the gates of Angamandi in those days and long had done so’ (p. 21). In The Silmarillion (p. 180) he has a different history: chosen by Morgoth ‘from among the whelps of the race of Draugluin’ and reared to be the death of Huan, he was set before the gates of Angband in that very time. In The Silmarillion (ibid.) Carcharoth is rendered ‘the Red Maw’, and this expression is used in the text of the tale (p. 34): ‘both hand and jewel Karkaras bit off and took into his red maw’.
Glorund is the name of the dragon in the Tale of Turambar (Glaurung in The Silmarillion).
In the tale of The Chaining of Melko there is no suggestion that Tulkas had any part in the making of the chain (there in the form Angaino): I. 100.
(iv) The influence of the Valar
There is frequent suggestion that the Valar in some way exercised a direct influence over the minds and hearts of the distant Elves in the Great Lands. Thus it is said (p. 15) that the Valar must have inspired Beren’s ingenious speech to Melko, and while this may be no more than a ‘rhetorical’ flourish, it is clear that Tinúviel’s dream of Beren is meant to be accepted as ‘a dream of the Valar’ (p. 19). Again, ‘the Valar set a new hope in her heart’ (p. 47); and later in Vëannë’s tale the Valar are seen as active ‘fates’, guiding the destinies of the characters—so the Valar ‘brought’ Huan to find Beren and Tinúviel in Nan Dumgorthin (p. 35), and Tinúviel says to Tinwelint that ‘the Valar alone saved Beren from a bitter death’ (p. 37).
II
TURAMBAR AND THE FOALÓKË
The Tale of Turambar, like that of Tinúviel, is a manuscript written in ink over a wholly erased original in pencil. But it seems certain that the extant form of Turambar preceded the extant form of Tinúviel. This can be deduced in more ways than one, but the order of composition is clearly exemplified in the forms of the name of the King of the Woodland Elves (Thingol). Throughout the manuscript of Turambar he was originally Tintoglin (and this appears also in the tale of The Coming of the Elves, where it was changed to Tinwelint, I. 115, 131). A note on the manuscript at the beginning of the tale says: ‘Tintoglin’s name must be altered throughout to Ellon or Tinthellon = Q. Ellu’, but the note was struck out, and all through the tale Tintoglin was in fact changed to Tinwelint.
Now in the Tale of Tinúviel the king’s name was first given as Ellu (or Tinto Ellu), and once as Tinthellon (pp. 50–1); subsequently it was changed throughout to Tinwelint. It is clear that the direction to change Tintoglin to ‘Ellon or Tinthellon = Q. Ellu’ belongs to the time when the Tale of Tinúviel was being, or had been, rewritten, and that the extant Tale of Turambar already existed.
There is also the fact that the rewritten Tinúviel was followed, at the same time of composition, by the first form of the ‘interlude’ in which Gilfanon appears (see I. 203), whereas at the beginning of Turambar there is a reference to Ailios (who was replaced by Gilfanon) concluding the previous tale. On the different arrangement of the tale-telling at this point that my father subsequently introduced but failed to carry through see I. 229–30. According to the earlier arrangement, Ailios told his tale on the first night of the feast of Turuhalmë or the Logdrawing, and Eltas followed with the Tale of Turambar on the second.
There is evidence that the Tale of Turambar was in existence at any rate by the middle of 1919. Humphrey Carpenter discovered a passage, written on a scrap of proof for the Oxford English Dictionary, in an early alphabet of my father’s devising; and transliterating it he found it to be from this tale, not far from the beginning. He has told me that my father was using this version of the ‘Alphabet of Rúmil’ about June 1919 (see Biography, p. 100).
When then Ailios had spoken his fill the time for the lighting of candles was at hand, and so came the first day of Turuhalmë to an end; but on the second night Ailios was not there, and being asked by Lindo one Eltas began a tale, and said:
‘Now all folk gathered here know that this is the story of Turambar and the Foalókë, and it is,’ said he, ‘a favourite tale among Men, and tells of very ancient days of that folk before the Battle of Tasarinan when first Men entered the dark vales of Hisilómë.
In these days many such stories do Men tell still, and more have they told in the past especially in those kingdoms of the North that once I knew. Maybe the deeds of other of their warriors have become mingled therein, and many matters beside that are not in the most ancient tale—but now I will tell to you the true and lamentable tale, and I knew it long ere I trod Olórë Mallë in the days before the fall of Gondolin.
In those days my folk dwelt in a vale of Hisilómë and that land did Men name Aryador in the tongues they then used, but they were very far from the shores of Asgon and the spurs of the Iron Mountains were nigh to their dwellings and great woods of very gloomy trees. My father said to me that many of our older men venturing afar had themselves seen the evil worms of Melko and some had fallen before them, and by reason of the hatred of our people for those creatures and of the evil Vala often was the story of Turambar and the Foalókë in their mouths—but rather after the fashion of the Gnomes did they say Turumart and the Fuithlug.
For know that before the Battle of Lamentation and the ruin of the Noldoli there dwelt a lord of Men named Úrin, and hearkening to the summons of the Gnomes he and his folk marched with the Ilkorindi against Melko, but their wives and children they left behind them in the woodlands, and with them was Mavwin wife of Úrin, and her son remained with her, for he was not yet war-high. Now the name of that boy was Túrin and is so in all tongues, but Mavwin do the Eldar call Mavoinë.
Now Úrin and his followers fled not from that battle as did most of the kindreds of Men, but many of them were slain fighting to the last, and Úrin was made captive. Of the Noldoli who fought there all the companies were slain or captured or fled away in rout, save that of Turondo (Turgon) only, and he and his folk cut a path for themselves out of that fray and come not into this tale. Nonetheless the escape of that great company marred the complete victory that otherwise had Melko won over his adversaries, and he desired very greatly to discover whither they had fled; and this he might not do, for his spies availed nothing, and no tortures at that time had power to force treacherous knowledge from the captive Noldoli.
Knowing therefore that the Elves of Kôr thought little of Men, holding them in scant fear or suspicion for their blindness and lack of skill, he would constrain Úrin to take up his employ and go seek after
Turondo as a spy of Melko. To this however neither threats of torture nor promises of rich reward would bring Úrin to consent, for he said: “Nay, do as thou wilt, for to no evil work of thine wilt thou ever constrain me, O Melko, thou foe of Gods and Men.”
“Of a surety,” said Melko in anger, “to no work of mine will I bid thee again, nor yet will I force thee thereto, but upon deeds of mine that will be little to thy liking shalt thou sit here and gaze, nor be able to move foot or hand against them.” And this was the torture he devised for the affliction of Úrin the Steadfast, and setting him in a lofty place of the mountains he stood beside him and cursed him and his folk with dread curses of the Valar, putting a doom of woe and a death of sorrow upon them; but to Úrin he gave a measure of vision, so that much of those things that befell his wife and children he might see and be helpless to aid, for magic held him in that high place. “Behold!” said Melko, “the life of Turin thy son shall be accounted a matter for tears wherever Elves or Men are gathered for the telling of tales” but Urin said: “At least none shall pity him for this, that he had a craven for father.”
Now after that battle Mavwin got her in tears into the land of Hithlum or Dor Lómin where all Men must now dwell by the word of Melko, save some wild few that yet roamed without. There was Nienóri born to her, but her husband Úrin languished in the thraldom of Melko, and Túrin being yet a small boy Mavwin knew not in her distress how to foster both him and his sister, for Úrin’s men had all perished in the great affray, and the strange men who dwelt nigh knew not the dignity of the Lady Mavwin, and all that land was dark and little kindly.
The next short section of the text was struck through afterwards and replaced by a rider on an attached slip. The rejected passage reads:
At that time the rumour [written above: memory] of the deeds of Beren Ermabwed had become noised much in Dor Lómin, wherefore it came into the heart of Mavwin, for lack of better counsel, to send Túrin to the court of Tintoglin,1 begging him to foster this orphan for the memory of Beren, and to teach him the wisdom of fays and of Eldar; now Egnor2 was akin to Mavwin and he was the father of Beren the One-handed.
The replacement passage reads:
Amended passage to fit better with the story of Tinúviel and the afterhistory of the Nauglafring:
The tale tells however that Úrin had been a friend of the Elves, and in this he was different from many of his folk. Now great had his friendship been with Egnor, the Elf of the greenwood, the huntsman of the Gnomes, and Beren Ermabwed son of Egnor he knew and had rendered him a service once in respect of Damrod his son; but the deeds of Beren of the One Hand in the halls of Tinwelint3 were remembered still in Dor Lómin. Wherefore it came into the heart of Mavwin, for lack of other counsel, to send Túrin her son to the court of Tinwelint, begging him to foster this orphan for the memory of Úrin and of Beren son of Egnor.4
Very bitter indeed was that sundering, and for long [?time] Túrin wept and would not leave his mother, and this was the first of the many sorrows that befell him in life. Yet at length when his mother had reasoned with him he gave way and prepared him in anguish for that journey. With him went two old men, retainers aforetime of his father Úrin, and when all was ready and the farewells taken they turned their feet towards the dark hills, and the little dwelling of Mavwin was lost in the trees, and Túrin blind with tears could see her no more. Then ere they passed out of earshot he cried out: “O Mavwin my mother, soon will I come back to thee”—but he knew not that the doom of Melko lay between them.
Long and very weary and uncertain was the road over the dark hills of Hithlum into the great forests of the Land Beyond where in those days Tinwelint the hidden king had his abode; and Túrin son of Úrin5 was the first of Men to tread that way, nor have many trodden it since. In perils were Túrin and his guardians of wolves and wandering Orcs that at that time fared even thus far from Angband as the power of Melko waxed and spread over the kingdoms of the North. Evil magics were about them, that often missing their way they wandered fruitlessly for many days, yet in the end did they win through and thanked the Valar therefor—yet maybe it was but part of the fate that Melko wove about their feet, for in after time Túrin would fain have perished as a child there in the dark woods.
Howso that may be, this was the manner of their coming to Tinwelint’s halls; for in the woodlands beyond the mountains they became utterly lost, until at length having no means of sustenance they were like to die, when they were discovered by a wood-ranger, a huntsman of the secret Elves, and he was called Beleg, for he was of great stature and girth as such was among that folk. Then Beleg led them by devious paths through many dark and lonely forestlands to the banks of that shadowed stream before the cavernous doors of Tinwelint’s halls. Now coming before that king they were received well for the memory of Úrin the Steadfast, and when also the king heard of the bond tween Úrin and Beren the One-handed6 and of the plight of that lady Mavwin his heart became softened and he granted her desire, nor would he send Túrin away, but rather said he: “Son of Úrin, thou shalt dwell sweetly in my woodland court, nor even so as a retainer, but behold as a second child of mine shalt thou be, and all the wisdoms of Gwedheling and of myself shalt thou be taught.”
After a time therefore when the travellers had rested he despatched the younger of the two guardians of Túrin back unto Mavwin, for such was that man’s desire to die in the service of the wife of Úrin, yet was an escort of Elves sent with him, and such comfort and magics for the journey as could be devised, and moreover these words did he bear from Tinwelint to Mavwin: “Behold O Lady Mavwin wife of Úrin the Steadfast, not for love nor for fear of Melko but of the wisdom of my heart and the fate of the Valar did I not go with my folk to the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, who now am become a safety and a refuge for all who fearing evil may find the secret ways that lead to the protection of my halls. Perchance now is there no other bulwark left against the arrogance of the Vala of Iron, for men say Turgon is not slain, but who knoweth the truth of it or how long he may escape? Now therefore shall thy son Túrin be fostered here as my own child until he is of age to succour thee—then, an he will, he may depart.” More too he bid the Lady Mavwin, might she o’ercome the journey, fare back also to his halls, and dwell there in peace; but this when she heard she did not do, both for the tenderness of her little child Nienóri, and for that rather would she dwell poor among Men than live sweetly as an almsguest even among the woodland Elves. It may be too that she clung to that dwelling that Úrin had set her in ere he went to the great war, hoping still faintly for his return, for none of the messengers that had borne the lamentable tidings from that field might say that he was dead, reporting only that none knew where he might be—yet in truth those messengers were few and half-distraught, and now the years were slowly passing since the last blow fell on that most grievous day. Indeed in after days she yearned to look again upon Túrin, and maybe in the end, when Nienóri had grown, had cast aside her pride and fared over the hills, had not these become impassable for the might and great magic of Melko, who hemmed all Men in Hithlum and slew such as dared beyond its walls.
Thus came to pass the dwelling of Túrin in the halls of Tinwelint; and with him was suffered to dwell Gumlin the aged who had fared with him out of Hithlum, and had no heart or strength for the returning. Very much joy had he in that sojourn, yet did the sorrow of his sundering from Mavwin fall never quite away from him; great waxed his strength of body and the stoutness of his feats got him praise wheresoever Tinwelint was held as lord, yet he was a silent boy and often gloomy, and he got not love easily and fortune did not follow him, for few things that he desired greatly came to him and many things at which he laboured went awry. For nothing however did he grieve so much as the ceasing of all messengers between Mavwin and himself, when after a few years as has been told the hills became untraversable and the ways were shut. Now Túrin was seven years old when he fared to the woodland Elves, and seven years he dwelt there while tidings came ever and anon to him f
rom his mother, so that he heard how his sister Nienóri grew to a slender maid and very fair, and how things grew better in Hithlum and his mother more in peace; and then all words ceased, and the years passed.
To ease his sorrow and the rage of his heart, that remembered always how Úrin and his folk had gone down in battle against Melko, Túrin was for ever ranging with the most warlike of the folk of Tinwelint far abroad, and long ere he was grown to first manhood he slew and took hurts in frays with the Orcs that prowled unceasingly upon the confines of the realm and were a menace to the Elves. Indeed but for his prowess much hurt had that folk sustained, and he held the wrath of Melko from them for many years, and after his days they were harassed sorely, and in the end must have been cast into thraldom had not such great and dread events befallen that Melko forgot them.
Now about the courts of Tinwelint there dwelt an Elf called Orgof, and he, as were the most of that king’s folk, was an Ilkorin, yet he had Gnome-blood also. Of his mother’s side he was nearly akin to the king himself, and was in some favour being a good hunter and an Elf of prowess, yet was he somewhat loose with his tongue and overweening by reason of his favour with the king; yet of nothing was he so fain as of fine raiment and of jewels and of gold and silver ornament, and was ever himself clad most bravely. Now Túrin lying continually in the woods and travailing in far and lonely places grew to be uncouth of raiment and wild of locks, and Orgof made jest of him whensoever the twain sat at the king’s board; but Túrin said never a word to his foolish jesting, and indeed at no time did he give much heed to words that were spoken to him, and the eyes beneath his shaggy brows oftentimes looked as to a great distance—so that he seemed to see far things and to listen to sounds of the woodland that others heard not.
The Book of Lost Tales, Part 2 Page 10
