The Lays of Beleriand (52 page)

nearby a marching legion go 370

with clink of mail and clash of shields

up towards the stony mountain-fields.

He slipped then into darkness down,

until, as man that waters drown

strives upwards gasping, it seemed to him 375

he rose through slime beside the brim

of sullen pool beneath dead trees.

Their livid boughs in a cold breeze

trembled, and all their black leaves stirred: each leaf a black and croaking bird, 380

whose neb a gout of blood let fall.

He shuddered, struggling thence to crawl

through winding weeds, when far away

he saw a shadow faint and grey

gliding across the dreary lake. 385

Slowly it came, and softly spake:

'Gorlim I was, but now a wraith

of will defeated, broken faith,

traitor betrayed. Go! Stay not here!

Awaken, son of Barahir, 390

and haste! For Morgoth's fingers close

upon thy father's throat; he knows

your trysts, your paths, your secret lair.'

Then he revealed the devil's snare

in which he fell, and failed; and last 395

begging forgiveness, wept, and passed

out into darkness. Beren woke,

leapt up as one by sudden stroke

with fire of anger filled. His bow

and sword he seized, and like the roe 400

hotfoot o'er rock and heath he sped

before the dawn. Ere day was dead

to Aeluin at last he came,

as the red sun westward sank in flame;

but Aeluin was red with blood, 405

red were the stones and trampled mud.

Black in the birches sat a-row

the raven and the carrion crow;

wet were their nebs, and dark the meat

that dripped beneath their griping feet. 410

One croaked: 'Ha, ha, he comes too late! '

'Ha, ha! ' they answered, 'ha! too late! '

There Beren laid his father's bones

in haste beneath a cairn of stones;

no graven rune nor word he wrote 415

o'er Barahir, but thrice he smote

the topmost stone, and thrice aloud

he cried his name. 'Thy death', he vowed,

'I will avenge. Yea, though my fate

should lead at last to Angband's gate.' 420

And then he turned, and did not weep:

too dark his heart, the wound too deep.

Out into night, as cold as stone,

loveless, friendless, he strode alone.

Of hunter's lore he had no need 425

the trail to find. With little heed

his ruthless foe, secure and proud,

marched north away with blowing loud

of brazen horns their lord to greet,

trampling the earth with grinding feet. 430

Behind them bold but wary went

now Beren, swift as hound on scent,

until beside a darkling well,

where Rivil rises from the fell

down into Serech's reeds to flow, 435

he found the slayers, found his foe.

From hiding on the hillside near

he marked them all: though less than fear,

too many for his sword and bow

to slay alone. Then, crawling low 440

as snake in heath, he nearer crept.

There many weary with marching slept,

but captains, sprawling on the grass,

drank and from hand to hand let pass

their booty, grudging each small thing 445

raped from dead bodies. One a ring

held up, and laughed: 'Now, mates,' he cried

'here's mine! And I'll not be denied,

though few be like it in the land.

For I 'twas wrenched it from the hand 450

of that same Barahir I slew,

the robber-knave. If tales be true,

he had it of some elvish lord,

for the rogue-service of his sword.

No help it gave to him - he's dead. 455

They're parlous, elvish rings, 'tis said;

still for the gold I'll keep it, yea

and so eke out my niggard pay.

Old Sauron bade me bring it back,

and yet, methinks, he has no lack 460

of weightier treasures in his hoard:

the greater the greedier the lord!

So mark ye, mates, ye all shall swear

the hand of Barahir was bare!'

And as he spoke an arrow sped 465

from tree behind, and forward dead

choking he fell with barb in throat;

with leering face the earth he smote.

Forth, then as wolfhound grim there leapt

Beren among them. Two he swept 470

aside with sword; caught up the ring;

slew one who grasped him; with a spring

back into shadow passed, and fled

before their yells of wrath and dread

of ambush in the valley rang. 475

Then after him like wolves they sprang,

howling and cursing, gnashing teeth,

hewing and bursting through the heath,

shooting wild arrows, sheaf on sheaf,

at trembling shade or shaken leaf. 480

In fateful hour was Beren born:

he laughed at dart and wailing horn;

fleetest of foot of living men,

tireless on fell and light on fen,

elf-wise in wood, he passed away, 485

defended by his hauberk grey

of dwarvish craft in Nogrod made,

where hammers rang in cavern's shade.

As fearless Beren was renowned:

when men most hardy upon ground 490

were reckoned folk would speak his name,

foretelling that his after-fame

would even golden Hador pass

or Barahir and Bregolas;

but sorrow now his heart had wrought 495

to fierce despair, no more he fought

in hope of life or joy or praise,

but seeking so to use his days

only that Morgoth deep should feel

the sting of his avenging steel, 500

ere death he found and end of pain:

his only fear was thraldom's chain.

Danger he sought and death pursued,

and thus escaped the doom he wooed,

and deeds of breathless daring wrought 505

alone, of which the rumour brought

new hope to many a broken man.

They whispered 'Beren', and began

in secret swords to whet, and soft

by shrouded hearths at evening oft 510

songs they would sing of Beren's bow,

of Dagmor his sword: how he would go

silent to camps and slay the chief,

or trapped in his hiding past belief

would slip away, and under night 515

by mist or moon, or by the light

of open day would come again.

Of hunters hunted, slayers slain

they sang, of Gorgol the Butcher hewn,

of ambush in Ladros, fire in Drun, 520

of thirty in one battle dead,

of wolves that yelped like curs and fled,

yea, Sauron himself with wound in hand.

Thus one alone filled all that land

with fear and death for Morgoth's folk; 525

his comrades were the beech and oak

who failed him not, and wary things

with fur and fell and feathered wings

that silent wander, or dwell alone

in hill and wild and waste of stone 530

watched o'er his ways, his faithful friends.

Yet seldom well an outlaw ends;

and Morgoth was a king more strong

than all the world has since in song

recorded: dark athwart the land 535

reached out the shadow of his hand,

at each recoil returned again;

two more were sent for one foe slain.

New hope was cowed, all rebels killed;

quenched were the fires, the songs were stilled, 540

tree felled, heath burned, and through the waste marched the black host of Orcs in haste.

Almost they closed their ring of steel

round Beren; hard upon his heel

now trod their spies; within their hedge 545

of all aid shorn, upon the edge

of death at bay he stood aghast

and knew that he must die at last,

or flee the land of Barahir,

his land beloved. Beside the mere 550

beneath a heap of nameless stones

must crumble those once mighty bones,

forsaken by both son and kin,

bewailed by reeds of Aeluin.

In winter's night the houseless North 555

he left behind, and stealing forth

the leaguer of his watchful foe

he passed - a shadow on the snow,

a swirl of wind, and he was gone,

the ruin of Dorthonion, 560

Tarn Aeluin and its water wan,

never again to look upon.

No more shall hidden bowstring sing,

no more his shaven arrows wing,

no more his hunted head shall lie 565

upon the heath beneath the sky.

The Northern stars, whose silver fire

of old Men named the Burning Briar,

were set behind his back, and shone

o'er land forsaken: he was gone. 570

Southward he turned, and south away

his long and lonely journey lay,

while ever loomed before his path

the dreadful peaks of Gorgorath.

Never had foot of man most bold 575

yet trod those mountains steep and cold,

nor climbed upon their sudden brink,

whence, sickened, eyes must turn and,shrink

to see their southward cliffs fall sheer

in rocky pinnacle and pier 580

down into shadows that were laid

before the sun and moon were made.

In valleys woven with deceit

and washed with waters bitter-sweet

dark magic lurked in gulf and glen; 585

but out away beyond the ken

of mortal sight the eagle's eye

from dizzy towers that pierced the sky

might grey and gleaming see afar,

as sheen on water under star, 590

Beleriand, Beleriand,

the borders of the Elven-land.

4. OF THE COMING OF BEREN TO DORIATH; BUT FIRST IS TOLD OF

THE MEETING OF MELIAN AND THINGOL.

There long ago in Elder-days

ere voice was heard or trod were ways,

the haunt of silent shadows stood 595

in starlit dusk Nan Elmoth wood.

In Elder-days that long are gone

a light amid the shadows shone,

a voice was in the silence heard:

the sudden singing of a bird. 600

There Melian came, the Lady grey,

and dark and long her tresses lay

beneath her silver girdle-seat

and down unto her silver feet.

The nightingales with her she brought, 605

to whom their song herself she taught,

who sweet upon her gleaming hands

had sung in the immortal lands.

Thence wayward wandering on a time

from Lorien she dared to climb 610

the everlasting mountain-wall

of Valinor, at whose feet fall

the surges of the Shadowy Sea.

Out away she went then free,

to gardens of the Gods no more 615

returning, but on mortal shore,

a glimmer ere the dawn she strayed,

singing her spells from glade to glade.

A bird in dim Nan Elmoth wood

trilled, and to listen Thingol stood 620

amazed; then far away he heard

a voice more fair than fairest bird,

a voice as crystal clear of note

as thread of silver glass remote.

Here the manuscript C ends. Of the next short section there are no less than five rough drafts, with endless small variations of wording (and the first ten lines of it were written onto the B-text). The final form was then added, in type, to the D typescript:

Of folk and kin no more he thought; 625

of errand that the Eldar brought

from Cuivienen far away,

of lands beyond the Seas that lay

no more he recked, forgetting all,

drawn only by that distant call 630

till deep in dim Nan Elmoth wood

lost and beyond recall he stood.

And there he saw her, fair and fay:

Ar-Melian, the Lady grey,

as silent as the windless trees, 635

standing with mist about her knees,

and in her face remote the light

of Lorien glimmered in the night.

No word she spoke; but pace by pace,

a halting shadow, towards her face 640

forth walked the silver-mantled king,

tall Elu Thingol. In the ring

of waiting trees he took her hand.

One moment face to face they stand

alone, beneath the wheeling sky, 645

while starlit years on earth go by

and in Nan Elmoth wood the trees

grow dark and tall. The murmuring seas

rising and falling on the shore

and Ulmo's horn he heeds no more. 650

But long his people sought in vain

their lord, till Ulmo called again,

and then in grief they marched away,

leaving the woods. To havens grey

upon the western shore, the last 655

long shore of mortal lands, they passed,

and thence were borne beyond the Sea

in Aman, the Blessed Realm, to be

by evergreen Ezellohar

in Valinor, in Eldamar. 66o 52. On one of the copies of D Dungorthin was changed to Dungortheb, but this belongs to a later layer of nomenclature and I have not introduced it into the text.