And even as he sat there Mablung with a company of Grey-elves came over the Crossings of Teiglin, and he knew Túrin, and hailed him, and was glad indeed to find him yet living; for he had learned of the coming forth of Glaurung and that his path led to Brethil, and also he had heard report that the Black Sword of Nargothrond now dwelt there. Therefore he came to give warning to Túrin, and help if need be; but Túrin said: ‘You come too late. The Dragon is dead.’
Then they marvelled, and gave him great praise; but he cared nothing for it, and said: ‘This only I ask: give me news of my kin, for in Dor-lómin I learned that they had gone to the Hidden Kingdom.’
Then Mablung was dismayed, but needs must tell to Túrin how Morwen was lost, and Nienor cast into a spell of dumb forgetfulness, and how she escaped them upon the borders of Doriath and fled northwards. Then at last Túrin knew that doom had overtaken him, and that he had slain Brandir unjustly; so that the words of Glaurung were fulfilled in him. And he laughed as one fey, crying: ‘This is a bitter jest indeed!’ But he bade Mablung go, and return to Doriath, with curses upon it. ‘And a curse too upon your errand!’ he cried. ‘This only was wanting. Now comes the night.’
Then he fled from them like the wind, and they were amazed, wondering what madness had seized him; and they followed after him. But Túrin far out-ran them; and he came to Cabed-en-Aras, and heard the roaring of the water, and saw that all the leaves fell sere from the trees, as though winter had come. There he drew forth his sword, that now alone remained to him of all his possessions, and he said: ‘Hail Gurthang! No lord or loyalty dost thou know, save the hand that wieldeth thee. From no blood wilt thou shrink. Wilt thou therefore take Túrin Turambar, wilt thou slay me swiftly?’
And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: ‘Yea, I will drink thy blood gladly, that so I may forget the blood of Beleg my master, and the blood of Brandir slain unjustly. I will slay thee swiftly.’
Then Túrin set the hilts upon the ground, and cast himself upon the point of Gurthang, and the black blade took his life. But Mablung and the Elves came and looked on the shape of Glaurung lying dead, and upon the body of Túrin, and they grieved; and when Men of Brethil came thither, and they learned the reasons of Túrin’s madness and death, they were aghast; and Mablung said bitterly: ‘I also have been meshed in the doom of the Children of Húrin, and thus with my tidings have slain one that I loved.’
Then they lifted up Túrin, and found that Gurthang had broken asunder. But Elves and Men gathered there great store of wood, and they made a mighty burning, and the Dragon was consumed to ashes. Túrin they laid in a high mound where he had fallen, and the shards of Gurthang were laid beside him. And when all was done, the Elves sang a lament for the Children of Húrin, and a great grey stone was set upon the mound, and thereon was carven in runes of Doriath:
TÚRIN TURAMBAR DAGNIR GLAURUNGA
and beneath they wrote also:
NIENOR NÍNIEL
But she was not there, nor was it ever known whither the cold waters of Teiglin had taken her.
CHAPTER 22
OF THE RUIN OF DORIATH
So ended the tale of Túrin Turambar; but Morgoth did not sleep nor rest from evil, and his dealings with the house of Hador were not yet ended. Against them his malice was unsated, though Húrin was under his eye, and Morwen wandered distraught in the wild.
Unhappy was the lot of Húrin; for all that Morgoth knew of the working of his malice Húrin knew also, but lies were mingled with the truth, and aught that was good was hidden or distorted. In all ways Morgoth sought most to cast an evil light on those things that Thingol and Melian had done, for he hated them, and feared them. When therefore he judged the time to be ripe, he released Húrin from his bondage, bidding him go whither he would; and he feigned that in this he was moved by pity as for an enemy utterly defeated. But he lied, for his purpose was that Húrin should still further his hatred for Elves and Men, ere he died.
Then little though he trusted the words of Morgoth, knowing indeed that he was without pity, Húrin took his freedom, and went forth in grief, embittered by the words of the Dark Lord; and a year was now gone since the death of Túrin his son. For twenty-eight years he had been captive in Angband, and he was grown grim to look upon. His hair and beard were white and long, but he walked unbowed, bearing a great black staff; and he was girt with a sword. Thus he passed into Hithlum, and tidings came to the chieftains of the Easterlings that there was a great riding of captains and black soldiers of Angband over the sands of Anfauglith, and with them came an old man, as one that was held in high honour. Therefore they did not lay hands on Húrin, but let him walk at will in those lands; in which they were wise, for the remnant of his own people shunned him, because of his coming from Angband as one in league and honour with Morgoth.
Thus his freedom did but increase the bitterness of Húrin’s heart; and he departed from the land of Hithlum and went up into the mountains. Thence he descried far off amid the clouds the peaks of the Crissaegrim, and he remembered Turgon; and he desired to come again to the hidden realm of Gondolin. He went down therefore from Ered Wethrin, and he knew not that the creatures of Morgoth watched all his steps; and crossing over the Brithiach he passed into Dimbar, and came to the dark feet of the Echoriath. All the land was cold and desolate, and he looked about him with little hope, standing at the foot of a great fall of stones beneath a sheer rock-wall; and he knew not that this was all that was now left to see of the old Way of Escape: the Dry River was blocked, and the arched gate was buried. Then Húrin looked up to the grey sky, thinking that he might once more descry the eagles, as he had done long ago in his youth; but he saw only the shadows blown from the east, and clouds swirling about the inaccessible peaks, and he heard only the wind hissing over the stones.
But the watch of the great eagles was now redoubled, and they marked Húrin well, far below, forlorn in the fading light; and straightway Thorondor himself, since the tidings seemed great, brought word to Turgon. But Turgon said: ‘Does Morgoth sleep? You were mistaken.’
‘Not so,’ said Thorondor. ‘If the Eagles of Manwë were wont to err thus, then long ago, lord, your hiding would have been in vain.’
‘Then your words bode ill,’ said Turgon; ‘for they can bear but one meaning. Even Húrin Thalion has surrendered to the will of Morgoth. My heart is shut.’
But when Thorondor was gone, Turgon sat long in thought, and he was troubled, remembering the deeds of Húrin of Dor-lómin; and he opened his heart, and sent to the eagles to seek for Húrin, and to bring him if they might to Gondolin. But it was too late, and they never saw him again in light or in shadow.
For Húrin stood in despair before the silent cliffs of the Echoriath, and the westering sun, piercing the clouds, stained his white hair with red. Then he cried aloud in the wilderness, heedless of any ears, and he cursed the pitiless land; and standing at last upon a high rock he looked towards Gondolin and called in a great voice: ‘Turgon, Turgon, remember the Fen of Serech! O Turgon, will you not hear in your hidden halls?’ But there was no sound save the wind in the dry grasses. ‘Even so they hissed in Serech at the sunset,’ he said; and as he spoke the sun went behind the Mountains of Shadow, and a darkness fell about him, and the wind ceased, and there was silence in the waste.
Yet there were ears that heard the words that Húrin spoke, and report of all came soon to the Dark Throne in the north; and Morgoth smiled, for he knew now clearly in what region Turgon dwelt, though because of the eagles no spy of his could yet come within sight of the land behind the Encircling Mountains. This was the first evil that the freedom of Húrin achieved.
As darkness fell Húrin stumbled from the rock, and fell into a heavy sleep of grief. But in his sleep he heard the voice of Morwen lamenting, and often she spoke his name; and it seemed to him that her voice came out of Brethil. Therefore when he awoke with the coming of day he arose, and went back to the Brithiach; and passing along the eaves of Brethil he came at a time of night to the
Crossings of Teiglin. The night-sentinels saw him, but they were filled with dread, for they thought that they saw a ghost out of some ancient battle-mound that walked with darkness about it; and therefore Húrin was not stayed, and he came at last to the place of the burning of Glaurung, and saw the tall stone standing near the brink of Cabed Naeramarth.
But Húrin did not look at the stone, for he knew what was written there; and his eyes had seen that he was not alone. Sitting in the shadow of the stone there was a woman, bent over her knees; and as Húrin stood there silent she cast back her tattered hood and lifted her face. Grey she was and old, but suddenly her eyes looked into his, and he knew her; for though they were wild and full of fear, that light still gleamed in them that long ago had earned for her the name Eledhwen, proudest and most beautiful of mortal women in the days of old.
‘You come at last,’ she said. ‘I have waited too long.’
‘It was a dark road. I have come as I could,’ he answered.
‘But you are too late,’ said Morwen. ‘They are lost.’
‘I know it,’ he said. ‘But you are not.’
But Morwen said: ‘Almost. I am spent. I shall go with the sun. Now little time is left: if you know, tell me! How did she find him?’
But Húrin did not answer, and they sat beside the stone, and did not speak again; and when the sun went down Morwen sighed and clasped his hand, and was still; and Húrin knew that she had died. He looked down at her in the twilight and it seemed to him that the lines of grief and cruel hardship were smoothed away. ‘She was not conquered,’ he said; and he closed her eyes, and sat unmoving beside her as the night drew down. The waters of Cabed Naeramarth roared on, but he heard no sound, and he saw nothing, and felt nothing, for his heart was stone within him. But there came a chill wind that drove sharp rain into his face; and he was roused, and anger rose in him like smoke, mastering reason, so that all his desire was to seek vengeance for his wrongs and for the wrongs of his kin, accusing in his anguish all those who ever had dealings with them. Then he rose up, and he made a grave for Morwen above Cabed Naeramarth on the west side of the stone; and upon it he cut these words: Here lies also Morwen Eledhwen.
It is told that a seer and harp-player of Brethil named Glirhuin made a song, saying that the Stone of the Hapless should not be defiled by Morgoth nor ever thrown down, not though the sea should drown all the land; as after indeed befell, and still Tol Morwen stands alone in the water beyond the new coasts that were made in the days of the wrath of the Valar. But Húrin does not lie there, for his doom drove him on, and the Shadow still followed him.
Now Húrin crossed over Teiglin and passed southwards down the ancient road that led to Nargothrond; and he saw far off to the eastward the lonely height of Amon Rûdh, and knew what had befallen there. At length he came to the banks of Narog, and ventured the passage of the wild river upon the fallen stones of the bridge, as Mablung of Doriath had ventured it before him; and he stood before the broken Doors of Felagund, leaning upon his staff.
Here it must be told that after the departure of Glaurung Mîm the Petty-Dwarf had found his way to Nargothrond, and crept within the ruined halls; and he took possession of them, and sat there fingering the gold and the gems, letting them run ever through his hands, for none came nigh to despoil him, from dread of the spirit of Glaurung and his very memory. But now one had come, and stood upon the threshold; and Mîm came forth, and demanded to know his purpose. But Húrin said: ‘Who are you, that would hinder me from entering the house of Finrod Felagund?’
Then the Dwarf answered: ‘I am Mîm; and before the proud ones came from over the Sea, Dwarves delved the halls of Nulukkizdîn. I have but returned to take what is mine; for I am the last of my people.’
‘Then you shall enjoy your inheritance no longer,’ said Húrin; ‘for I am Húrin son of Galdor, returned out of Angband, and my son was Túrin Turambar, whom you have not forgotten; and he it was that slew Glaurung the Dragon, who wasted these halls where now you sit; and not unknown is it to me by whom the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin was betrayed.’
Then Mîm in great fear besought Húrin to take what he would, but to spare his life; but Húrin gave no heed to his prayer, and slew him there before the doors of Nargothrond. Then he entered in, and stayed a while in that dreadful place, where the treasures of Valinor lay strewn upon the floors in darkness and decay; but it is told that when Húrin came forth from the wreck of Nargothrond and stood again beneath the sky he bore with him out of all that great hoard but one thing only.
Now Húrin journeyed eastward, and he came to the Meres of Twilight above the Falls of Sirion; and there he was taken by the Elves that guarded the western marches of Doriath, and brought before King Thingol in the Thousand Caves. Then Thingol was filled with wonder and grief when he looked on him, and knew that grim and aged man for Húrin Thalion, the captive of Morgoth; but he greeted him fairly and showed him honour. Húrin made no answer to the King, but drew forth from beneath his cloak that one thing which he had taken with him out of Nargothrond; and that was no lesser treasure than the Nauglamír, the Necklace of the Dwarves, that was made for Finrod Felagund long years before by the craftsmen of Nogrod and Belegost, most famed of all their works in the Elder Days, and prized by Finrod while he lived above all the treasures of Nargothrond. And Húrin cast it at the feet of Thingol with wild and bitter words.
‘Receive thou thy fee,’ he cried, ‘for thy fair keeping of my children and my wife! For this is the Nauglamír, whose name is known to many among Elves and Men; and I bring it to thee out of the darkness of Nargothrond, where Finrod thy kinsman left it behind him when he set forth with Beren son of Barahir to fulfil the errand of Thingol of Doriath!’
Then Thingol looked upon the great treasure, and knew it for the Nauglamír, and well did he understand Húrin’s intent; but being filled with pity he restrained his wrath, and endured Húrin’s scorn. And at the last Melian spoke, and said: ‘Húrin Thalion, Morgoth hath bewitched thee; for he that seeth through Morgoth’s eyes, willing or unwilling, seeth all things crooked. Long was Túrin thy son fostered in the halls of Menegroth, and shown love and honour as the son of the King; and it was not by the King’s will nor by mine that he came never back to Doriath. And afterwards thy wife and thy daughter were harboured here with honour and goodwill; and we sought by all means that we might to dissuade Morwen from the road to Nargothrond. With the voice of Morgoth thou dost now upbraid thy friends.’
And hearing the words of Melian Húrin stood moveless, and he gazed long into the eyes of the Queen; and there in Menegroth, defended still by the Girdle of Melian from the darkness of the Enemy, he read the truth of all that was done, and tasted at last the fullness of woe that was measured for him by Morgoth Bauglir. And he spoke no more of what was past, but stooping lifted up the Nauglamír from where it lay before Thingol’s chair, and he gave it to him, saying: ‘Receive now, lord, the Necklace of the Dwarves, as a gift from one who has nothing, and as a memorial of Húrin of Dor-lómin. For now my fate is fulfilled, and the purpose of Morgoth achieved; but I am his thrall no longer.’
Then he turned away, and passed out from the Thousand Caves, and all that saw him fell back before his face; and none sought to withstand his going, nor did any know whither he went. But it is said that Húrin would not live thereafter, being bereft of all purpose and desire, and cast himself at last into the western sea; and so ended the mightiest of the warriors of mortal Men.
But when Húrin was gone from Menegroth, Thingol sat long in silence, gazing upon the great treasure that lay upon his knees; and it came into his mind that it should be remade, and in it should be set the Silmaril. For as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it, and he liked not to let it rest even behind the doors of his inmost treasury; and he was minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping.
In those days the Dwarves still came on their journeys into Beleriand from their mansions in Ered
Lindon, and passing over Gelion at Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones, they travelled the ancient road to Doriath; for their skill in the working of metal and stone was very great, and there was much need of their craft in the halls of Menegroth. But they came now no longer in small parties as aforetime, but in great companies well armed for their protection in the perilous lands between Aros and Gelion; and they dwelt in Menegroth at such times in chambers and smithies set apart for them. At that very time great craftsmen of Nogrod were lately come into Doriath; and the King therefore summoning them declared his desire, that if their skill were great enough they should remake the Nauglamír, and in it set the Silmaril. Then the Dwarves looked upon the work of their fathers, and they beheld with wonder the shining jewel of Fëanor; and they were filled with a great lust to possess them, and carry them off to their far homes in the mountains. But they dissembled their mind, and consented to the task.
Long was their labour; and Thingol went down alone to their deep smithies, and sat ever among them as they worked. In time his desire was achieved, and the greatest of the works of Elves and Dwarves were brought together and made one; and its beauty was very great, for now the countless jewels of the Nauglamír did reflect and cast abroad in marvellous hues the light of the Silmaril amidmost. Then Thingol, being alone among them, made to take it up and clasp it about his neck; but the Dwarves in that moment withheld it from him, and demanded that he yield it up to them, saying: ‘By what right does the Elvenking lay claim to the Nauglamír, that was made by our fathers for Finrod Felagund who is dead? It has come to him but by the hand of Húrin the Man of Dor-lómin, who took it as a thief out of the darkness of Nargothrond.’ But Thingol perceived their hearts, and saw well that desiring the Silmaril they sought but a pretext and fair cloak for their true intent; and in his wrath and pride he gave no heed to his peril, but spoke to them in scorn, saying: ‘How do ye of uncouth race dare to demand aught of me, Elu Thingol, Lord of Beleriand, whose life began by the waters of Cuiviénen years uncounted ere the fathers of the stunted people awoke?’ And standing tall and proud among them he bade them with shameful words be gone unrequited out of Doriath.
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