The Peoples of Middle-earth (74 page)

cited on p. 410 he said 'about 100 years after the Downfall', and in that of 1972 (ibid.) 'about 100 years after the death of Aragorn'. We thus have, in chronological order of their appearance, the following dates after the fall of the Dark Tower: less than 120 years (original opening of the story); nearly 110 years (A and B);

about 100 years (letter of 1964);

nearly 110 years (first copy of the opening page of C, c.1968); 105 years (second copy of the opening page of C).

The fall of the Dark Tower took place in the year 3019 of the Third Age, and that Age was held to have been concluded at the end of 3021; thus the dates from the fall of the Tower (in the same order, and making them for brevity definite rather than approximate) are Fourth Age 118, 108, 98, 108, 103. Thus every date given in the texts (and that in the letter of 1964) places the story before the death of Aragorn - which took place in Fourth Age 120 = Shire Reckoning 1541 (Appendix B, at end); yet every one of the texts refers it to the days of his son Eldarion.

The solution of this must lie in the fact that in the First Edition of The Lord of the Rings (ibid.) Aragorn's death was placed twenty years earlier, in Shire Reckoning 1521, i.e. Fourth Age 100. The date given in the letter of 1964 ('about 100 years after the Downfall') is indeed too early even according to the dating of the First Edition, but that is readily explained as being a rough approximation appropriate in the context. More puzzling are the dates given in the two versions of the first page of the late text C"

which do not agree with the date of Aragorn's death in the Second Edition (1966). The first of these ('nearly 110 years') can be explained as merely taking up the reading of text B, which my father was following; but in the second version he evidently gave thought to the date, for he changed it to '105 years': that is, Fourth Age 103. I am at a loss to explain this.

In the letter of 1972 he gave a much later date, placing the story in about Fourth Age 220 (and giving to Eldarion a reign of at least 100 years).

8. See The Return of the King (chapter The Steward and the King), p. 247.

9. Both A and B have 'sons' for 'son', and they do not have the words 'in his loneliness'. With the latter difference cf. the last sentence of the C text and its difference from B (note 14).

10. This passage in the argument was expressed rather differently in B (which was following A almost exactly):

'A man,' said Borlas, 'who tends a tree and guards it from blights, and eats its fruit - which it produces more abundantly than its mere life-need; not that eating the fruit need destroy the seed - does not act like a canker, nor like an Orc.

'But as for the cankers, I wonder. They live, it might be said, and yet their life is death. I do not believe that they were part of the Music of the Ainur, unless in the discords of Melkor. And so with Orcs.'

'And what of Men?' said Arthael.

'Why do you ask?' said Borlas. 'You know, surely, what is taught? They were not at first in the Great Music, but they did not enter with the discords of Melkor: they came from Iluvatar himself, and therefore they are called the Children of God. And all that is in the Music they have a right to use - rightly: which is with reverence, not with pride or wantonness.'

11. The name Herumor is found in Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age (The Silmarillion p. 293) as that of a renegade Numenorean who became powerful among the Haradrim in the time before the war of the Last Alliance.

12. B (exactly repeating A) has here: 'No, Master Borlas, in such a matter one cannot judge words by the shape they are spoken in.'

13. A has here 'his father Duilin'. This, like Egalmoth, is another name from the story of Gondolin: Duilin was the leader of the people of the Swallow, who fell from the battlements when 'smit-ten by a fiery bolt of the Balrogs' (II.178). It was also the original name of the father of Flinding, later Gwindor, of Nargothrond (II.79, etc.): Duilin > Fuilin > Guilin.

14. At this point C comes to an end, at the foot of a page. B has here:

'He had not been in good health since the spring; old age was gaining upon him' (see note 9). From here onwards, as noted earlier, I follow text B, changing the name Arthael to Saelon. -

The passage written on an envelope postmarked 8 January 1968, referred to on pp. 409-10, would follow from this point in C; it reads (the last phrases being very difficult to make out): For he lived now with only two old servants, retired from the Prince's guard, in which he himself had once held office. Long ago his daughter had married and now lived in distant parts of the realm, and then ten years ago his wife had died. Time had softened his grief, while Berelach [his son] was still near home.

He was his youngest child and only son, and was in the King's ships; for several years he had been stationed at the Harlond within easy reach by water, and spent much time with his father. But it was three years now since he had been given a high command, and was often long at sea, and when on land duty still held him at Pelargir far away. His visits had been few and brief. Saelon, who formerly came only when Berelach

[? ... been his old friend] was with Borlas, but had been most attentive when he was in Emyn Arnen. Always in to talk or bring news, or [?run] any service he could

For the site of 'the quays and landings of the Harlond' see The Return of the King (chapter Minas Tirith), p. 22.

15. Borlas is described at the beginning of the story as the younger son of Beregond, and he was thus the brother of Bergil son of Beregond who was Pippin's companion in Minas Tirith. In A Borlas gave the name Bergil to his own son (preceded by Berthil ).

16. For Othrondir A has Othrondor.

XVII.

TAL-ELMAR.

The tale of Tal-Elmar, so far as it went, is preserved in a folded paper, bearing dates in 1968, on which my father wrote the following hasty note:

Tal-Elmar.

Beginnings of a tale that sees the Numenoreans from the point of view of the Wild Men. It was begun without much consideration of geography (or the situation as envisaged in The Lord of the Rings).

But either it must remain as a separate tale only vaguely linked with the developed Lord of the Rings history, or - and I think so - it must recount the coming of the Numenoreans (Elf-friends) before the Downfall, and represent their choice of permanent havens. So the geography must be made to fit that of the mouths of Anduin and the Langstrand.

But that was written thirteen years after he had abandoned the story, and there is no sign that he returned to it in his last years. Brief as it is, and (as it seems) uncertain of direction, such a departure from all other narrative themes within the compass of Middle-earth will form perhaps a fitting conclusion to this History.

The text is in two parts. The first is a typescript of six sides that breaks off in the middle of a sentence (p. 432); but the first part of this is extant also in a rejected page, part typescript and part manuscript (see note 5). Beyond this point the entire story is in the first stage of composition. The second part is a manuscript on which my father wrote 'Continuation of Tal-Elmar' and the date January 1955; there is no indication of how long a time elapsed between the two parts, but I believe that the typescript belongs also to the 1950s. It is remarkable that he should have been working on it during the time of extreme pressure between the publication of The Two Towers and that of The Return of the King. This manuscript takes up the story from the point where it was left in the typescript, but does not complete the unfinished sentence; it becomes progressively more difficult, and in one section is at the very limit of legibility, with some words uninterpretable. Towards the end the narrative breaks up into experimental passages and questionings. With a few exceptions I do not record corrections to the text and give only the later reading; and in one or two cases I have altered inconsistent uses of 'thou' and 'you'.

In the days of the Dark Kings, when a man could still walk dryshod from the Rising of the Sun to the Sea of its setting, there lived in the fenced town of his people in the green hills of Agar an old man, by name Hazad Longbeard.(1) Two prides he had: in the number of his sons (seventeen in all), and in the length of his beard (five feet without stretching); but his joy in his beard was the greater. For it remained with him, and was soft, and ruly to his hand, whereas his sons for the most part were gone from him, and those that remained, or came ever nigh, were neither gentle nor ruly. They were indeed much as Hazad himself had been in the days of his youth: broad, swarthy, short, tough, harsh-tongued, heavy-handed, and quick to violence.

Save one only, and he was the youngest. Tal-elmar Hazad his father named him. He was yet but eighteen years of age, and lived with his father, and the two of his brothers next elder. He was tall, and white-skinned, and there was a light in his grey eyes that would flash to fire, if he were wroth; and though that happened seldom, and never without great cause, it was a thing to remember and be ware of. Those who had seen that fire called him Flint-eye, and respected him, whether they loved him or no. For Tal-elmar might seem, among that swart sturdy folk, slender-built and lacking in the strength of leg and neck that they praised, but a man that strove with him soon found him strong beyond guess, and sudden and swift, hard to grapple and harder to elude.

A fair voice he had, which made even the rough tongue of that people more sweet to hear, but he spoke not over much; and he would stand often aloof, when others were chattering, with a look on his face that men read rightly as pride, yet it was not the pride of a master, but rather the pride of one of alien race, whom fate has cast away among an ignoble people, and there bound him in servitude. For indeed Tal-elmar laboured hard and at menial tasks, being but the youngest son of an old man, who had little wealth left save his beard and a repute for wisdom. But strange to say (in that town) he served his father willingly, and loved him, more than all his brothers in one, and more than was the wont of any sons in that land. Indeed it was most often on his father's behalf that the flint-flash was seen in his eyes.

For Tal-elmar had a strange belief (whence it came was a wonder) that the old should be treated kindly and with courtesy, and should be suffered to live out their life-days in such ease as they could. 'If ye must gainsay them,' he said, 'let it be done with respect; for they have seen many years, and many times, maybe, have they faced the evils which we come to untried. And grudge not their food and their room, for they have laboured longer than have ye, and do but receive now, belatedly, part of the payment that is due to them.' Such plain folly had no effect on the manners of his people, but it was law in his house; and it was now two years since either of his brothers had dared to break it.(2)

Hazad loved this youngest son dearly, in return for his love, yet even more for another cause which he kept in his heart: that his face and his voice reminded him of another that he long had missed. For Hazad also had been the youngest son of his mother, and she died in his boyhood; and she was not of their people. Such was the tale that he had overheard, not openly spoken indeed, for it was held no credit to the house: she came of the strange folk, hateful and proud, of which there was rumour in the west-lands, coming out of the East, it was said.

Fair, tall, and flint-eyed they were, with bright weapons made by demons in the fiery hills. Slowly they were thrusting towards the shores of the Sea, driving before them the ancient dwellers in the lands.

Not without resistance. There were wars on the east-marches, and since the older folk were yet numerous, the incomers would at times suffer great loss and be flung back.

Indeed little had been heard of them in the Hills of Agar, far to the west, for more than a man's life, since that great battle of which songs were yet sung. In the valley of Ishmalog it had been fought, the wise in lore told, and there a great host of the Fell folk had been ambushed in a narrow place and slaughtered in heaps. And in that day many captives were taken; for this had been no affray on the borders, or fight with advance guards: a whole people of the Fell Folk had been on the move, with their wains and their cattle and their women.

Now Buldar, father of Hazad, had been in the army of the North King (3) that went to the muster of Ishmalog,(4) and he brought back from the war as booty a wound, and a sword, and a woman. And she was fortunate; for the fate of the captives was short and cruel, but Buldar took her as his wife. For she was beautiful, and having looked on her he desired no woman of his own folk. He was a man of wealth and power in those days, and did as he would, scorning the scorn of his neighbours. But when his wife, Elmar, had learned at length enough of the speech of her new kin, she said to Buldar on a day: I have much to thank thee for, lord; but think not ever to get my love so. For thou hast torn me from my own people, and from him that I loved and from the child that I bore him. For them ever shall I yearn and grieve, and give love to none else. Never again shall I be glad, while I am held captive among a strange folk that I deem base and unlovely.'