Thus Gorlim died a bitter death
and cursed himself with dying breath,
85and Barahir was caught and slain,
and all good deeds were made in vain.
But Morgoth’s guile for ever failed,
nor wholly o’er his foes prevailed;
and some were ever that still fought
90unmaking that which malice wrought.
Thus Men believed that Morgoth made
the fiendish phantom that betrayed
the soul of Gorlim, and so brought
the lingering hope forlorn to nought
95that lived amid the lonely wood;
yet Beren had by fortune good
long hunted far afield that day,
and benighted in strange places lay
far from his fellows. In his sleep
100he felt a dreadful darkness creep
upon his heart, and thought the trees
were bare and bent in mournful breeze;
no leaves they had, but ravens dark
sat thick as leaves on bough and bark,
105and croaked, and as they croaked each neb
let fall a gout of blood; a web
unseen entwined him hand and limb,
until worn out, upon the rim
of stagnant pool he lay and shivered.
110There saw he that a shadow quivered
far out upon the water wan,
and grew to a faint form thereon
that glided o’er the silent lake
and coming slowly, softly spake
115and sadly said; ‘Lo! Gorlim here,
traitor betrayed, now stands! Nor fear,
but haste! For Morgoth’s fingers close
upon thy father’s throat. He knows
your secret tryst, your hidden lair’,
120and all the evil he laid bare
that he had done and Morgoth wrought.
Then Beren waking swiftly sought
his sword and bow, and sped like wind
that cuts with knives the branches thinned
125of autumn trees. At last he came,
his heart afire with burning flame,
where Barahir his father lay;
he came too late. At dawn of day
he found the homes of hunted men,
130a wooded island in the fen
and birds rose up in sudden cloud—
no fen-fowl were they crying loud.
The raven and the carrion-crow
sat in the alders all a-row;
135one croaked: ‘Ha! Beren comes too late’,
and answered all: ‘Too late! Too late!’
There Beren buried his father’s bones,
and piled a heap of boulder-stones,
and cursed the name of Morgoth thrice,
140but wept not, for his heart was ice.
Then over fen and field and mountain
he followed, till beside a fountain
upgushing hot from fires below
he found the slayers and his foe,
145the murderous soldiers of the king.
And one there laughed, and showed a ring
he took from Barahir’s dead hand.
‘This ring in far Beleriand,
now mark ye, mates,’ he said, ‘was wrought.
150Its like with gold could not be bought,
for this same Barahir I slew,
this robber fool, they say, did do
a deed of service long ago
for Felagund. It may be so;
155for Morgoth bade me bring it back,
and yet, methinks, he has no lack
of weightier treasure in his hoard.
Such greed befits not such a lord,
and I am minded to declare
160the hand of Barahir was bare!’
Yet as he spake an arrow sped;
with riven heart he crumpled dead.
Thus Morgoth loved that his own foe
should in his service deal the blow
165that punished the breaking of his word.
But Morgoth laughed not when he heard
that Beren like a wolf alone
sprang madly from behind a stone
amid that camp beside the well,
170and seized the ring, and ere the yell
of wrath and rage had left their throat
had fled his foes. His gleaming coat
was made of rings of steel no shaft
could pierce, a web of dwarvish craft;
175and he was lost in rock and thorn,
for in charméd hour was Beren born;
their hungry hunting never learned
the way his fearless feet had turned.
As fearless Beren was renowned,
180as man most hardy upon ground,
while Barahir yet lived and fought;
but sorrow now his soul had wrought
to dark despair, and robbed his life
of sweetness, that he longed for knife,
185or shaft, or sword, to end his pain,
and dreaded only thraldom’s chain.
Danger he sought and death pursued,
and thus escaped the fate he wooed,
and deeds of breathless wonder dared
190whose whispered glory widely fared,
and softly songs were sung at eve
of marvels he did once achieve
alone, beleaguered, lost at night
by mist or moon, or neath the light
195of the broad eye of day. The woods
that northward looked with bitter feuds
he filled and death for Morgoth’s folk;
his comrades were the beech and oak,
who failed him not, and many things
200with fur and fell and feathered wings;
and many spirits, that in stone
in mountains old and wastes alone,
do dwell and wander, were his friends.
Yet seldom well an outlaw ends,
205and Morgoth was a king more strong
than all the world has since in song
recorded, and his wisdom wide
slow and surely who him defied
did hem and hedge. Thus at the last
210must Beren flee the forest fast
and lands he loved where lay his sire
by reeds bewailed beneath the mire.
Beneath a heap of mossy stones
now crumble those once most mighty bones.
215but Beren flees the friendless North
one autumn night, and creeps him forth;
the leaguer of his watchful foes
he passes—silently he goes.
No more his hidden bowstring sings,
220no more his shaven arrow wings,
no more his hunted head doth lie
upon the heath beneath the sky.
The moon that looked amid the mist
upon the pines, the wind that hissed
225among the heather and the fern
found him no more. The stars that burn
about the North with silver fire
in frosty airs, the Burning Briar
that men did name in days long gone,
230were set behind his back, and shone
o’er land and lake and darkened hill,
forsaken fen and mountain rill.
His face was South from the Land of Dread
whence only evil pathways led,
235and only the feet of men most bold
might cross the Shadowy Mountains cold.
Their northern slopes were filled with woe,
with evil and with mortal foe;
their southern faces mounted sheer
240in rocky pinnacle and pier,
whose roots were woven with deceit
and washed with waters bitter-sweet.
There magic lurked in gulf and glen,
for far away beyond the ken
245of searching eyes, unless it were
from dizzy towe
r that pricked the air
where only eagles lived and cried,
might grey and gleaming be descried
Beleriand, Beleriand,
250the borders of the faëry land.
THE QUENTA NOLDORINWA
After the Sketch of the Mythology this text, which I will refer to as ‘the Quenta’, was the only complete and finished version of ‘The Silmarillion’ that my father achieved: a typescript that he made in (as seems certain) 1930. No preliminary drafts or outlines, if there were any, survive; but it is plain that for a good part of its length he had the Sketch before him. It is longer than the Sketch, and the ‘Silmarillion style’ has clearly appeared, but it remains a compression, a compendious account. In the sub-title it is said that it is ‘the brief history of the Noldoli or Gnomes’, drawn from the Book of Lost Tales which Eriol [Ælfwine] wrote. The long poems were of course now in being, substantial but massively unfinished, and my father was still working on The Lay of Leithian.
In the Quenta there emerges the major transformation of the legend of Beren and Lúthien by the entry of the Noldorin prince, Felagund, son of Finrod. To explain how this could come about I will give here a passage from this text, but a note on names is needed. The leader of the Noldor in the great journey of the Elves from Cuiviénen, the Water of Awakening in the furthest East, was Finwë; his three sons were Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finrod, who was the father of Felagund. (Later the names were changed: The third son of Finwë became Finarfin, and Finrod the name of his son; but Finrod was also Felagund. This name meant ‘Lord of Caves’ or ‘Cave-hewer’ in the language of the Dwarves, for he was the founder of Nargothrond. The sister of Finrod Felagund was Galadriel.)
A PASSAGE EXTRACTED FROM THE QUENTA
This was the time that songs call the Siege of Angband. The swords of the Gnomes then fenced the earth from the ruin of Morgoth, and his power was shut behind the walls of Angband. The Gnomes boasted that never could he break their leaguer, and that none of his folk could ever pass to work evil in the ways of the world . . .
In those days Men came over the Blue Mountains into Beleriand, bravest and fairest of their race. Felagund it was that found them, and he was ever their friend. On a time he was the guest of Celegorm in the East, and rode a-hunting with him. But he became separated from the others, and at a time of night he came upon a dale in the western foothills of the Blue Mountains. There were lights in the dale and the sound of rugged song. Then Felagund marvelled, for the tongue of those songs was not the tongue of Eldar or of Dwarves. Nor was it the tongue of Orcs, though this at first he feared. There were camped the people of Bëor, a mighty warrior of Men, whose son was Barahir the bold. They were the first of Men to come into Beleriand . . .
That night Felagund went among the sleeping men of Bëor’s host and sat by their dying fires where none kept watch, and he took a harp which Bëor had laid aside, and he played music on it such as mortal ear had never heard, having learned the strains of music from the Dark-elves alone. Then men woke and listened and marvelled, for great wisdom was in that song, as well as beauty, and the heart grew wiser that listened to it. Thus came it that Men called Felagund, whom they met first of the Noldoli, Wisdom, and after him they called his race the Wise, whom we call the Gnomes.
Bëor lived till death with Felagund, and Barahir his son was the greatest friend of the sons of Finrod.
Now began the time of the ruin of the Gnomes. It was long before this was achieved, for great was their power grown, and they were very valiant, and their allies were many and bold, Dark-elves and Men.
But the tide of their fortune took a sudden turn. Long had Morgoth prepared his forces in secret. On a time of night at winter he let forth great rivers of flame that poured over all the plain before the Mountains of Iron and burned it to a desolate waste. Many of the Gnomes of Finrod’s sons perished in that burning, and the fumes of it wrought darkness and confusion among the foes of Morgoth. In the train of the fire came the black armies of the Orcs in numbers such as the Gnomes had never before seen or imagined. In this way Morgoth broke the leaguer of Angband and slew by the hands of the Orcs a great slaughter of the bravest of the besieging hosts. His enemies were scattered far and wide, Gnomes, Ilkorins and Men. Men he drove for the most part over the Blue Mountains, save the children of Bëor and of Hador who took refuge in Hithlum beyond the Shadowy Mountains, where as yet the Orcs came not in force. The Dark-elves fled south to Beleriand and beyond, but many went to Doriath, and the kingdom and power of Thingol grew great in that time, till he became a bulwark and a refuge of the Elves. The magics of Melian that were woven about the borders of Doriath fenced evil from his halls and realm.
The pine-forest Morgoth took and turned it into a place of dread, and the watchtower of Sirion he took and made it into a stronghold of evil and of menace. There dwelt Thû the chief servant of Morgoth, sorcerer of dreadful power, the lord of wolves. Heaviest had the burden of that dreadful battle, the second battle and the first defeat of the Gnomes, fallen upon the sons of Finrod. There were Angrod and Egnor slain. There too would Felagund have been taken or slain, but Barahir came up with all his men and saved the Gnomish king and made a wall of spears about him; and though grievous was their loss they fought their way from the Orcs and fled to the fens of Sirion to the South. There Felagund swore an oath of undying friendship and aid in time of need to Barahir and all his kin and seed, and in token of his vow he gave to Barahir his ring.
Then Felagund went South, and on the banks of Narog established after the manner of Thingol a hidden and cavernous city and a realm. Those deep places were called Nargothrond. There came Orodreth [son of Finrod, brother of Felagund] after a time of breathless flight and perilous wanderings, and with him Celegorm and Curufin, the sons of Fëanor, his friends. The people of Celegorm swelled the strength of Felagund, but it would have been better if they had gone rather to their own kin, who fortified the hill of Himling east of Doriath and filled the Gorge of Aglon with hidden arms . . .
In these days of doubt and fear, after the [Battle of Sudden Flame], many dreadful things befell of which but few are here told. It is told that Bëor was slain and Barahir yielded not to Morgoth, but all his land was won from him and his people scattered, enslaved or slain, and he himself went in outlawry with his son Beren and ten faithful men. Long they hid and did secret and valiant deeds of war against the Orcs. But in the end, as is told in the beginning of the lay of Lúthien and Beren, the hiding place of Barahir was betrayed, and he was slain and his comrades, all save Beren who by fortune was that day hunting afar. Thereafter Beren lived an outlaw alone, save for the help he had from birds and beasts which he loved; and seeking for death in desperate deeds found it not, but glory and renown in the secret songs of fugitives and hidden enemies of Morgoth, so that the tale of his deeds came even to Beleriand, and was rumoured in Doriath. At length Beren fled south from the ever-closing circle of those that hunted him, and crossed the dreadful Mountains of Shadow, and came at last worn and haggard into Doriath. There in secret he won the love of Lúthien daughter of Thingol, and he named her Tinúviel, the nightingale, because of the beauty of her singing in the twilight beneath the trees; for she was the daughter of Melian.
But Thingol was wroth and he dismissed him in scorn, but did not slay him because he had sworn an oath to his daughter. But he desired nonetheless to send him to his death. And he thought in his heart of a quest that could not be achieved, and he said: If thou bring me a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth, I will let Lúthien wed thee, if she will. And Beren vowed to achieve this, and went from Doriath to Nargothrond bearing the ring of Barahir. The quest of the Silmaril there aroused the oath from sleep that the sons of Fëanor had sworn, and evil began to grow from it. Felagund, though he knew the quest to be beyond his power, was willing to lend all his aid to Beren, because of his own oath to Barahir. But Celegorm and Curufin dissuaded his people and roused up rebellion against him. And evil thoughts awoke in their hearts, and they thought to usurp the
throne of Nargothrond, because they were sons of the eldest line. Rather than a Silmaril should be won and given to Thingol, they would ruin the power of Doriath and Nargothrond.
So Felagund gave his crown to Orodreth and departed from his people with Beren and ten faithful men of his own board. They waylaid an Orc-band and slew them, and disguised themselves by the aid of Felagund’s magic as Orcs. But they were seen by Thû from his watchtower, which once had been Felagund’s own, and were questioned by him, and their magic was overthrown in a contest between Thû and Felagund. Thus they were revealed as Elves, but the spells of Felagund concealed their names and quest. Long were they tortured in the dungeons of Thû, but none betrayed the other.
The oath referred to at the end of this passage was sworn by Fëanor and his seven sons, in the words of the Quenta, ‘to pursue with hate and vengeance to the ends of the world Vala, Demon, Elf, or Man, or Orc who hold or take or keep a Silmaril against their will.’ See pp. 117–18, lines 171–80.
A SECOND EXTRACT FROM THE LAY OF LEITHIAN
I give now a further passage of The Lay of Leithian (see pp. 91, 93) telling the story that has just been given in its very compressed form in the Quenta. I take up the poem where the Siege of Angband was ended in what was later called the Battle of Sudden Flame. According to the dates that my father wrote on the manuscript the whole passage was composed in March–April 1928. At line 246 Canto VI of the Lay ends and Canto VII begins.
An end there came, when fortune turned
and flames of Morgoth’s vengeance burned,
and all the might which he prepared
in secret in his fastness flared
5and poured across the Thirsty Plain;
and armies black were in his train.
The leaguer of Angband Morgoth broke;
his enemies in fire and smoke
were scattered, and the Orcs there slew,
10and slew, until the blood like dew
dripped from each cruel and crooked blade.
Then Barahir the bold did aid
with mighty spear, with shield and men,
Felagund wounded. To the fen
15escaping, there they bound their troth,
and Felagund deeply swore an oath
of friendship to his kin and seed
of love and succour in time of need.
Beren and Lúthien Page 8
