The Lays of Beleriand (15 page)

As Turin and Flinding came south down the west bank of Narog the river hastened o'er the feet of the hills (1770), and the fields and orchards through which they passed

ever narrowing

twixt wall and water did wane at last

to blossomy banks by the borders of the way (1812 -- 14) The map likewise shows the Narog drawing steadily closer to the northeastern edge of the Hills of the Hunters. Here the travellers crossed the foaming Ingwil, falling down from the hills, by a slender bridge; this is the first appearance of this stream (cf. The Silmarillion p. 122: 'the short and foaming stream Ringwil tumbled headlong into Narog from the High Faroth'), and the bridge over it is mentioned nowhere else.

The Land of the Dead that Live (Beren and Tinuviel after their return) is now placed in the Hills of the Hunters (1545 -- 6), where it was originally placed also on the map. This land was moved even more often than was Nan Dungorthin. In the Tale of the Nauglafring it was in Hisilome (but with a note on the manuscript saying that it must be placed in 'Doriath beyond Sirion', II. 249); in the Tale of Tinuviel Beren and Tinuviel 'became mighty fairies in the lands about the north of Sirion'

(II. 41). From the Hills of the Hunters it would subsequently be movedse veral times more.

Before leaving the Narog, we meet here for the first time in narrative writing the name Nan-Tathrin (1548), in the Lost Tales always called by its name in Eldarissa, Tasarinan (but Nantathrin occurs in the Gnomish dictionary, I. 265, entry Sirion and Dor-tathrin in the Name-list to The Fall of Gondolin, II. 346).

Far fuller than in any later account is the story in the poem of the sojourn of Turin and his companion at Ivrin, and much that lies behind the passage in The Silmarillion (p. 209) is here revealed. In The Silmarillion Turin drank from the water of Ivrin and was at last able to weep, and his madness passed; then he made a song for Beleg (Laer Cu Beleg, the Song of the Great Bow), 'singing it aloud heedless of peril'; and then he asked Gwindor who he was. In the Lay all these features of the story are present, somewhat differently ordered. Flinding describes to Turin the courses of Narog and Sirion and the protection of Ulmo, and Turin feels some return of hope (1586 -- 7); they hasten down to the lake and drink (1599 -- 1600); and from the meshes of misery his mind was loosed (1602). In the early night, as they sat beside their fire by the pools of Ivrin, Turin asked Flinding his name and fate, and it was Flinding's reply that led Turin at last to weep. Flinding fell asleep, but woke towards the end of the night to hear Turin singing the dirge of Beleg by the edge of the lake (and here the song is called 'the Bowman's Friendship'). Turin then himself fell asleep, and in his sleep he returned tothe terrible place on the edge of Taur-na-Fuin where he slew Beleg, seeking the place of his burial and the lightning-blackened trees, and heard the voice of Beleg far off telling him to seek no longer but to take comfort in courage.

Then he woke in wonder; his wit was healed,

courage him comforted, and he called aloud

Flinding go-Fuilin, to his feet striding. (1699 -- 1701) The structure of the episode in the Lay is firm and clear, the images strong and enduring. I said in the introduction to Unfinished Tales that it was grievous that my father went no further, in the later Tale of Tuor, than the coming of Tuor and Voronwe to the last gate and Tuor's sightof Gondolin across the plain. It is no less grievous that he never retold, in his later prose, the story of Turin and Gwindor at the Lake of Ivrin. The passage in The Silmarillion is no substitute; and it is only from this poem that we can fully grasp the extremity of the disaster for Turin, that he had killed his friend.

The description in the poem of the stealth and secrecy of the defenders of Nargothrond is derived, in concept, from the Tale (II. 81). In the Tale the spies and watchers of the Rodothlim... gave warning of their approach, and the folk withdrew before them, such as were abroad from their dwelling. Then they closed their doors and hoped that the strangers might not discover their caves...

When Flinding and Turin came to the mouths of the caves, the Rodothlim sallied and made them prisoners and drew them within their rocky halls, and they were led before the chief, Orodreth.

All this is taken up into the poem and greatly elaborated; there is also the incident of Turin's stumbling on a root and thus being missed by the arrow aimed at him, and Flinding's cry of reproach to the unseen archers, after which they were not further molested. It is perhaps not so clear in the poem as in the Tale that the farmlands and orchards of Nargothrond were deserted lest the travellers should find the entrance to the caves, especially since a pathway plain by passing feet/was broadly beaten (1808 -- 9) -- though it is said that the throng in the great hallof Nargothrond was waiting for them (1856). Moreover, in the Tale they were not attacked. As the story is told in the poem, one might wonder why the hidden archers in the woods, if they believed Flinding's cry sufficiently to withhold their arrows, did not emerge at that point and conduct them as prisoners to the caves. The new element of the arrow shot in the woods has not, I think, been altogether assimilated to the old account of the timorous withdrawal of the Rodothlim in the hope that Turin and Flinding would not find the entrance. But the passage describing the 'home-fields' of Nargothrond is of great interest in itself, for rarely are there references to the agriculture of the peoples of Middlle-earth in the Elder Days.

The great Doors of Nargothrond are here first described -- the triple doors of timber as my father imagined them are seen in his drawing of the entrance made in Dorset in the summer of 1928, and (in a different conception) their posts and lintels of ponderous stone (1830)in the watercolour of the same period referred to above (Pictures nos 33

34).

In the Tale the fear and suspicion among the Rodothlim of Noldoli who had been slaves is attributed to 'the evil deeds of the Gnomes atC

opas Alqalunten', and this element reappears in the poem (1903 -- 4).

Nevertheless, there is no suggestion in the Tale of any serious question-ing of the identity and goodwill of Flinding, greatly changed in aspect though he was, so that 'few knew him again'. In the poem, on the other hand, Orodreth emerges as hostile and formidable, and his character is carefully outlined: he is quick to anger (1973) but his wrath is cold and long-enduring (2133 -- 4), he is seldom moved to pity (1969, 2134), grim-hearted and deep-counselled (2132 -- 3), but capable of deep love (1970) as also of fierce hate (2135). Afterwards, as the legends developed, Orodreth underwent a steady decline into weakness and insignificance, which is very curious. Many years later, when meditating the development of the Turin saga, my father noted that Orodreth was

'rather a weak character'; cf. the Narn, p. 160: 'he turned as he ever did to Turin for counsel'. Ultimately he was to be displaced as the second King of Nargothrond (Unfinished Tales p. 255, note 20). But all this is a far cry from the hard and grim king in his underground hall depicted in the poem; Felagund had not yet emerged, nor the rebellious power of Celegorm and Curufin in Nargothrond (see further p. 246).

The killing of Orodreth's son Halmir the hunter by Orcs (2137 -- 8; omitted in the C-text, p. 82) is a new element, which will reappear, though not found in The Silmarillion, where the name Halmir is borne by a ruler of the People of Haleth.

In the Tale, as I noticed in my commentary (II. 124), Failivrin is already present, and her unrequited love for Turin, but the complication of her former relation with Gwindor is quite absent, and she is not the daughter of Orodreth the King but of one Galweg (who was to disappear utterly).

In the poem Galweg has already disappeared, and Failivrin has become Orodreth's daughter, loved by Flinding and returning his love before his captivity; and it is her plea to her father before the assembled multitude that sways the king and leads to the admission of Flinding and Turin to Nargothrond. Of this intervention there is probably a trace in the very condensed account in The Silmarillion (p. 209): At first his own people did not know Gwindor, who went out young and strong, and returned now seeming as one of the aged among mortal Men, because of his torments and his labours; but Finduilas daughter of Orodreth the King knew him and welcomed him, for she had loved him before the Nirnaeth, and so greatly did Gwindor love her beauty that he named her Faelivrin, which is the gleam of the sun on the pools of Ivrin.

In the poem she is called Failivrin in A and B as written, emended or not in B to Finduilas (1724, 1938, 2130), but the name Finduilas emerges towards the end in the texts as first written (2175, 2199), and Failivrin (the glimmering sheen on the glassy pools/of Ivrin's lake) is the name by which the Elves renamed Finduilas.

In the Lay as in the Tale there is no hiding of Turin's identity, as there is in The Silmarillion, where he checked Gwindor, when Gwindor would declare his name, saying that he was Agarwaen, the Bloodstained, son of Umarth, Ill-fate (p. 210). Finduilas (Failivrin) asks: But are none yet nigh us that knew of yore

that mighty of Men [Hurin], mark of kinship

to seek and see in these sorrow-laden

form and features?

(1958 -- 61 )

and then

No few were there found who had fought of old where Finweg fell in flame of swords

and Hurin Thalion had hewn the throngs,

the dark Glamhoth's demon legions (1974 -- 7) and they declared that Turin's face was the face of the father new found on earth. Against the second of these passages my father wrote in the margin: 'Not so.' This is a comment on the idea that there were many Gnomes in Nargothrond who had fought in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears (see pp. 84 -- 5); according to the later story scarcely any went from Nargothrond, and of the small company that did none came back, save Flinding/Gwindor himself. -- In The Silmarillion (p. 210) Turin is not said to be the image of his father; on the contrary, he was in truth the son of Morwen Eledhwen to look upon: dark-haired and pale-skinned, with grey eyes.

Cf. also the Narn, p. 161, where Turin said to Arminas: But if my head be dark and not golden, of that I am not ashamed. For I am not the first of sons in the likeness of his mother.

Hurin himself was

shorter in stature than other men of his kin; in this he took after his mother's people, but in all else he was like Hador his grandfather, fair of face and golden-haired, strong in body and fiery of mood (Nant P 57)-

But Turin was already conceived to be dark-haired in the Lay: the black-haired boy from the beaten people (417) and in the second version of the poem Hurin also has dark tresses (p. 97, line 88).

At the feast of welcome in the house of Fuilin Flinding's father, deep in the woods on the slopes of the Hunters' Wold (1989 -- 92), Fuilin filled with mead a great ancient silver cup that had come from Valinor: carved in gladness,

in woe hoarded, in waning hope

when little was left of the lore of old. (2038 -- 40) It was of such things as that cup, carved with images of the folk of Faerie in the first noontide/of the Blissful Realms, of the Two Trees, and of the tower of Ing on the hill of Cor, that my father was thinking when he wrote of the treasures that Finrod Felagund brought put of Tirion (The Silmarillion p. 114); 'a solace and a burden on the road' (ibid. p. 85). -- This is the first reference to the tower of Ing (Ingwe, see p. 28) in the Elvish city, whose

pale pinnacle pierced the twilight,

and its crystal lamp illumined clear

with slender shaft the Shadowy Seas

(2033-5)

as afterwards the silver lamp of.the Mindon Eldalieva 'shone far out into the mists of the sea' (The Silmarillion p. 59).

According to the readings of the A and B texts at lines 2030 -- 2 the hill on which the Elvish city was built, figured on Fuilin's cup, is Tun, þ crowned by the white-walled city of Cor; and this is anomalous, since the name Tun certainly arose as the name of the city (see II. 292), and in the

'Sketch of the Mythology' and the 1930 'Silmarillion' Kor is the hill and Tun the city. In the C-text of the poem, however, these lines were changed, and the city is named Tun (p. 82).

The elaboration at the end of the relationship of Turin and Finduilas is an indication of the large scale on which this work was planned: seeing how much in bare narrative terms is yet to come (the fall of Nargothrond, the Dragon, the loss of Finduilas, Turin's journey to Dor-lomin, Morwen and Nienor in Doriath and the journey to Nargothrond, the enspelling of Nienor, Turin and Nienor among the Woodmen, the coming and death of the Dragon, and the deaths of Nienor and Turin) it must have run to many more thousands of lines.

There remain a few isolated matters. The name, Esgalduin now first appears, but the form in A and B as typed (2164), Esgaduin, is the original name. The C-text has Esgalduin (p. 82).

The Moon is seen in lines 2088 -- 94 as a ship, the Silver Wherry, with mast, hold, and shrouds, sailing from wharves on the margin of the world; but the imagery has no real point of contact with the Ship of the Moon in the Tale of the Sun and Moon (I. 192 -- 3).

Ulmo is now called Ylmir (first appearing by emendation in B at line 1469, but thereafter in both A and B as first written); in the 'Sketch' he first appears as Ulmo (Ylmir), thereafter as Ylmir, suggesting that at this time Ylmir was the Gnomish form of his name (in the Gnomish dictionary it was Gulma, I. 270). He is also called the Dweller in the Deep at line 1565, as he is in the later Tuor (Unfinished Tales pp. 22, 28). Flinding mentions messages from Ulmo that are heard at Ivrin, and says that Ulmo alone remembers in the Lands of Mirth / the need of the Gnomes (153 I ff.); cf. the Tale, II. 77.

Lastly may be noticed Turin's words of parting to Beleg at his burial (1408 -- 11), in which he foresees for him an afterlife in Valinor, in the halls of the Gods, and does not speak of a time of 'waiting'; cf. lines 1283 -- 4, 1696-7.

THE SECOND VERSION

OF

THE CHILDREN OF HURIN.

This version of the poem (II) is extant in a bundle of very rough manuscript notes (IIA), which do not constitute a complete text, and a typescript (IIB) -- the twia of the typescript (IB) of the first version, done with the same distinctive purple ribbon -- based on I I A. That II is a later work than I is obvious from a casual scrutiny -- to give a single example, the name Morwen appears thus both in IIA and I IB. As I have said (p. 4), I do not think that II is significantly later than I, and may indeed have been composed before my father ceased work on I.* Towards the end of II the amount of expansion and change from I becomes very much less, but it seems best to give II in full.