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Authors: J. R. R. Tolkien

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BOOK: The Lays of Beleriand
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better die in the dark dazed, forwandered,

than wilfully woo that woe and anguish!

I know not the way.' 'Are the knees then weak of Flinding go-Fuilin? Shall free-born Gnome

thus show himself a shrinking slave,

who twice entrapped has twice escaped?

Remember the might and the mirth of yore,

the renown of the Gnomes of Nargothrond! '

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Thus Beleg the bowman quoth bold-hearted,

but Flinding fought the fear of his heart,

and loosed the light of his lamp of blue,

now brighter burning. In the black mazes

enwound they wandered, weary searching;

by the tall tree-boles towering silent

oft barred and baffled; blindly stumbling

over rock-fast roots writhing coiled;

and drowsed with dreams by the dark odours,

till hope was hidden. 'Hark thee, Flinding;

viewless voices vague and distant,

a muffled murmur of marching feet

that are shod with stealth shakes the stillness.'

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'No noise I hear', the Gnome answered,

'thy hope cheats thee.' 'I hear the chains

clinking, creaking, the cords straining,

and wolves padding on worn pathways.

I smell the blood that is smeared on blades

that are cruel and crooked; the croaking laughter --

now, listen! louder and louder comes,'

the hunter said. 'I hear no sound',

quoth Flinding fearful. 'Then follow after! '

with bended bow then Beleg answered,

'my cunning rekindles, my craft needs not

thy lamp's leading.' Leaping swiftly

he shrank in the shadows; with shrouded lantern Flinding followed him, and the forest-darkness and drowsy dimness drifted slowly

unfolding from them in fleeing shadows,

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and its magic was minished, till they marvelling saw they were brought to its borders. There black-gaping an archway opened. By ancient trunks

it was framed darkly, that in far-off days

the lightning felled, now leaning gaunt

their lichen-leprous limbs uprooted.

There shadowy bats that shrilled thinly

flew in and flew out the air brushing

as they swerved soundless. A swooning light

faint filtered in, for facing North

they looked o'er the leagues of the lands of mourning, o'er the bleak boulders, o'er the blistered dunes and dusty drouth of Dor-na-Fauglith;

o'er that Thirsty Plain, to the threatening peaks, now glimpsed grey through the grim archway,

of the marching might of the Mountains of Iron, and faint and far in the flickering dusk

the thunderous towers of Thangorodrim.

But backward broad through the black shadows

from that darkling door dimly wandered

the ancient Orc-road; and even as they gazed

the silence suddenly with sounds of dread

was shaken behind them, and shivering echoes

from afar came fleeting. Feet were tramping;

trappings tinkling; and the troublous murmur

of viewless voices in the vaulted gloom

came near and nearer. 'Ah! now I hear',

said Flinding fearful; 'flee we swiftly

from hate and horror and hideous faces,

from fiery eyes and feet relentless!

Ah! woe that I wandered thus witless hither!'

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Then beat in his breast, foreboding evil,

with dread unwonted the dauntless heart

of Beleg the brave. With blanched cheeks

in faded fern and the feathery leaves

-- of brown bracken they buried them deep,

where dank and dark a ditch was cloven

on the wood's borders by waters oozing,

dripping down to die in the drouth below.

Yet hardly were they hid when a host to view

round a dark turning in the dusky shadows

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came swinging sudden with a swift thudding

of feet after feet on fallen leaves.

In rank on rank of ruthless spears

that war-host went; weary stumbling

countless captives, cruelly laden

with bloodstained booty, in bonds of iron

they haled behind them, and held in ward

by the wolf-riders and the wolves of Hell.

Their road of ruin was a-reek with tears:

many a hall and homestead, many a hidden refuge of Gnomish lords by night beleaguered

their o'ermastering might of mirth bereft,

and fair things fouled, and fields curdled

with the bravest blood of the beaten people.

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To an army of war was the Orc-band waxen

that Blodrin Bor's son to his bane guided

to the wood-marches, by the welded hosts

homeward hurrying to the halls of mourning

swiftly swollen to a sweeping plague.

Like a throbbing thunder in the threatening deeps of cavernous clouds o'ercast with gloom

now swelled on a sudden a song most dire,

and their hellward hymn their home greeted;

flung from the foremost of the fierce spearmen, who viewed mid vapours vast and sable

the threefold peaks of Thangorodrim,

it rolled rearward, rumbling darkly,

like drums in distant dungeons empty.

Then a werewolf howled; a word was shouted

like steel on stone; and stiffly raised

their spears and swords sprang up thickly

as the wild wheatfields of the wargod's realm with points that palely pricked the twilight.

As by wind wafted then waved they all,

and bowed, as the bands with beating measured moved on mirthless from the mirky woods,

from the topless trunks of Taur-na-Fuin,

neath the leprous limbs of the leaning gate.

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Then Beleg the bowman in bracken cowering,

on the loathly legions through the leaves peering, saw Turin the tall as he tottered forward

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neath the whips of the Orcs as they whistled o'er him; and rage arose in his wrathful heart,

and piercing pity outpoured his tears.

The hymn was hushed; the host vanished

down the hellward slopes of the hill beyond;

and silence sank slow and gloomy

round the trunks of the trees of Taur-na-Fuin, and nethermost night drew near outside.

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'Follow me, Flinding, from the forest cursed!

Let us haste to his help, to Hell if need be

or to death by the darts of the dread Glamhoth!': and Beleg bounded from the bracken madly,

like a deer driven by dogs baying

from his hiding in the hills and hollow places; and Flinding followed fearful after him

neath the yawning gate, þ through yew-thickets, through bogs and bents and bushes shrunken,

till they reached the rocks and the riven moorlands and friendless fells falling darkly

to the dusty dunes of Dor-na-Fauglith.

In a cup outcarven on the cold hillside,

whose broken brink was bleakly fringed

with bended bushes bowed in anguish

from the North-wind's knife, beneath them far the feasting camp of their foes was laid;

the fiery flare of fuming torches,

and black bodies in the blaze they saw

crossing countlessly, and cries they heard

and the hollow howling of hungry wolves.

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Then a moon mounted o'er the mists riding,

and the keen radiance of the cold moonshine

the shadows sharpened in the sheer hollows,

and slashed the slopes with slanting blackness; in wreaths uprising the reek of fires

was touched to tremulous trails of silver.

Then the fires faded, and their foemen slumbered in a sleep of surfeit. No sentinel watched,

nor guards them girdled -- what good were it

to watch wakeful in those withered regions

neath Eiglir Engrin, whence the eyes of Bauglir gazed unclosing from the gates of Hell?

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Did not werewolves' eyes unwinking gleam

in the wan moonlight -- the wolves that sleep not, that sit in circles with slavering tongues

round camp or clearing of the cruel Glamhoth?

Then was Beleg a-shudder, and the unblinking eyes nigh chilled his marrow and chained his flesh in fear unfathomed, as' flat to earth

by a boulder he lay. Lo! black cloud-drifts

surged up like smoke from the sable North,

and the sheen was shrouded of the shivering moon; the wind came wailing from the woeful mountains, and the heath unhappy hissed and whispered;

and the moans came faint of men in torment

in the camp accursed. His quiver rattled

as he found his feet and felt his bow,

hard horn-pointed, by hands of cunning

of black yew wrought; with bears' sinews

it was stoutly strung; strength to bend it

had nor Man nor Elf save the magic helped him that Beleg the bowman now bore alone.

No arrows of the Orcs so unerring winged

as his shaven shafts that could shoot to a mark that was seen but in glance ere gloom seized it.

Then Dailir he drew, his dart beloved;

howso far fared it, or fell unnoted,

unsought he found it with sound feathers

and barbs unbroken (till it broke at last);

and fleet bade he fly that feather-pinioned

snaketongued shaft, as he snicked the string

in the notch nimbly, and with naked arm

to his ear drew it. The air whistled,

and the tingling string twanged behind it,

soundless a sentinel sank before it --

there was one of the wolves that awaked no more.

Now arrows after he aimed swiftly

that missed not their mark and meted silent

death in the darkness dreadly stinging,

till three of the wolves with throats pierced, and four had fallen with fleet-winged

arrows a-quivering in their quenched eyes.

Then great was the gap in the guard opened,

and Beleg his bow unbent, and said:

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Wilt come to the camp, comrade Flinding,

or await me watchful? If woe betide

thou might win with word through the woods homeward to Thingol the king how throve my quest,

how Turin the tall was trapped by fate,

how Beleg the bowman to his bane hasted.'

-: Then Flinding fiercely, though fear shook him:

-'- 'I have followed thee far, 0 forest-walker, nor will leave thee now our league denying! '

' Then both bow and sword Beleg left there

: with his belt unbound in the bushes tangled of a dark thicket in a dell nigh them,

-' and Flinding there laid his flickering lamp

= and his nailed shoes, and his knife only

. he kept, that uncumbered he might creep silent.

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Thus those brave in dread down the bare hillside wards the camp clambered creeping wary,

', and dared that deed in days long past

whose glory has gone through the gates of earth, and songs have sung unceasing ringig

." wherever the Elves in ancient places

':,: bad light or laughter in the later world.

With breath bated on the brink of the dale

:. they stood and stared through stealthy shadows,

' till they saw where the circle of sleepless eyes e broken; with hearts beating dully

' they passed the places where pierced and bleeding

: the wolves weltered by winged death

unseen smitten; as smoke noiseless

they slipped silent through the slumbering throngs as shadowy wraiths shifting vaguely

from gloom to gloom, till the Gods brought them and the craft and cunning of the keen huntsman to Turin the tall where he tumbled lay

with face downward in the filthy mire,

and his feet were fettered, and fast in bonds anguish enchained his arms behind him.

ere he slept or swooned, as sunk in oblivion

drugs of darkness deadly blended;

he heard not their whispers; no hope stirred him nor the deep despair of his dreams fathomed;

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to awake his wit no words availed.

No blade would bite on the bonds he wore,

though Flinding felt for the forged knife

of dwarfen steel, his dagger prized,

that at waist he wore awake or sleeping,

whose edge would eat through iron noiseless

as a clod of clay is cleft by the share.

It was wrought by wrights in the realms of the East, in black Belegost, by the bearded Dwarves

of troth unmindful; it betrayed him now

from its sheath slipping as o'er shaggy slades and roughhewn rocks their road they wended.

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'We must bear him back as best we may,'

said Beleg, bending his broad shoulders.

Then the head he lifted of Hurin's offspring, and Flinding go-Fuilin the feet clasped;

and doughty that deed, for in days long gone

though Men were of mould less mighty builded

ere the earth's goodness from the Elves they drew, though the Elfin kindreds ere old was the sun were of might unminished, nor the moon haunted faintly fading as formed of shadows

in places unpeopled, yet peers they were not

in bone and flesh and body's fashioning,

and Turin was tallest of the ten races

that in Hithlum's hills their homes builded.

Like a log they lifted his limbs mighty,

and straining staggered with stealth and fear, with bodies bending and bones aching,

from the cruel dreaming of the camp of dread, where spearmen drowsed sprawling drunken

by their moon-blades keen with murder whetted mid their shaven shafts in sheaves piled.

BOOK: The Lays of Beleriand
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