"Of Beren and Lúthien"
by J. R. R. Tolkien
Beren seeing their approach was dismayed; and he wondered, for he had heard the voice
of Tinuviel, and he thought it now a phantom for his ensnaring. But they halted and cast aside their disguise, and Lúthien ran towards him. Thus Beren and Lúthien met again between the desert and the wood. For a while he was silent and was glad; but after a space he strove once more to dissuade Lúthien from her journey.
'Thrice now I curse my oath to Thingol,' he said, 'and I would that he had slain me in
Menegroth, rather than I should bring you under the shadow of Morgoth.'
Then for the second time Huan spoke with words; and he counselled Beren, saying: 'From the shadow of death you can no longer save Lúthien, for by her love she is now subject to it. You can turn from your fate and lead her into exile, seeking peace in vain while your life lasts. But if you will not deny your doom, then either Lúthien, being forsaken, must assuredly die alone, or she must with you challenge the fate that lies before you--hopeless, yet not certain. Further counsel I cannot give, nor may I go further on your road. But my heart forebodes that what you find at the Gate I shall myself see. All else is dark to me; yet it may be that our three paths lead back to Doriath, and we may meet before the end.'
Then Beren perceived that Lúthien could not be divided from the doom that lay upon them both, and he sought no longer to dissuade her. By the counsel
of Huan and the arts of Lúthien he was arrayed now in the hame of
Draugluin, and she in the winged fell of Thuringwethil. Beren became in
all things like a werewolf to look upon, save that in his eyes there shone
a spirit grim indeed but clean; and horror was in his glance as he saw upon
his flank a bat-like creature clinging with creased wings. Then howling
under the moon he leaped down the hill, and the bat wheeled and flittered
above him.
They passed through all perils, until they came with the dust of their
long and weary road upon them to the drear dale that lay before the Gate of
Angband. Black chasms opened beside the road, whence forms as of writhing
serpents issued. On either hand the cliffs stood as embattled walls, and
upon them sat carrion fowl crying with fell voices. Before them was the
impregnable Gate, an arch wide and dark at the foot of the mountain; above
it reared a thousand feet of precipice.
There dismay took them, for at the gate was a guard of whom no tidings had yet gone forth. Rumour of he knew not what designs abroad among the princes of the Elves had come to Morgoth, and ever down the aisles of the
forest was heard the baying of Huan, the great
hound of war, whom long ago the Valar unleashed. Then Morgoth recalled the
doom of Huan, and he chose one from among the whelps of the race of
Draugluin; and he fed him with his own hand upon living flesh, and put his
power upon him. Swiftly the wolf grew, until he could creep
into no den, but lay huge and hungry before the feet of Morgoth. There the
fire and anguish of hell entered into him, and he became filled with a
devouring spirit, tormented, terrible, and strong. Carcharoth, the Red
Maw, he is named in the tales of those days, and Anfauglir, the Jaws of
Thirst. And Morgoth set him to lie unsleeping before the doors of Angband,
lest Huan come.
Now Carcharoth espied them from afar, and he was filled with doubt;
for news had long been brought to Angband that Draugluin was dead.
Therefore when they approached he denied them entry, and bade them stand;
and he drew near with menace, scenting something strange
in the air about them. But suddenly some power, descended from of old from
divine race, possessed Lúthien, and casting back her foul raiment she stood
forth, small before the might of Carcharoth, but radiant and terrible.
Lifting up her hand she commanded him to sleep, saying: 'O woe-begotten
spirit, fall now into dark oblivion, and forget for a while the dreadful
doom of life.' And Carcharoth was felled, as though lightning had smitten
him.
Then Beren and Lúthien went through the Gate, and down the labyrinthine stairs; and together wrought the greatest deed that has been
dared by Elves or Men. For they came to the seat of Morgoth in his
nethermost hall that was upheld by horror, lit by fire, and filled with
weapons of death and torment. There Beren slunk in wolf's form beneath his
throne; but Lúthien was stripped of her disguise by the will of Morgoth,
and he bent his gaze upon her. She was not daunted by his eyes; and she
named her own name, and offered her service to sing
before him, after the manner of a minstrel. Then Morgoth looking upon her
beauty conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than
any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he
was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a
while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought. Then suddenly she eluded
his sight, and out of the shadows began a song of such surpassing
loveliness, and of such blinding power, that he listened perforce; and a
blindness came upon him, as his eyes roamed to and fro, seeking her.
All his court were cast down in slumber, and all the fires faded and were quenched; but the Silmarils in the crown on Morgoth's head blazed
forth suddenly with a radiance of white flame; and the burden of that crown and of the jewels bowed down his head, as though the world were set upon it, laden with a weight of care, of fear, and of desire, that even the will of Morgoth could not support. Then
Lúthien catching up her winged robe sprang into the air,
and her voice came dropping down like rain into pools, profound and dark.
She cast her cloak before his eyes, and set upon him a dream, dark as the
outer Void where once he walked alone.
Suddenly he fell, as a hill sliding in avalanche, and hurled like thunder
from his throne lay prone upon the floors of hell. The iron crown rolled
echoing from his head. All things were still.
As a dead beast Beren lay upon the ground; but Lúthien touching him
with her hand aroused him, and he cast aside the wolf-hame. Then he drew
forth the knife Angrist; and from the iron claws that held it he cut a
Silmaril.
As he closed it in his hand, the radiance welled through his living flesh, and his hand became as a shining lamp; but the jewel suffered his touch and hurt him not. It came then into Beren's mind that he would go beyond his vow, and bear out of Angband all three of the Jewels of Feanor; but such was not the
doom of the Silmarils. The knife Angrist snapped, and a shard
of the blade flying smote the cheek of Morgoth. He groaned and stirred,
and all the host of Angband moved in sleep.
Then terror fell upon Beren and Lúthien, and they fled, heedless and
without disguise, desiring only to see the light once more. They were
neither hindered nor pursued, but the Gate was held against their going
out; for Carcharoth had arisen from sleep, and stood now in wrath upon the
threshold of Angband. Before they were aware of him, he saw them, and
sprang upon them as they ran.
Lúthien was spent, and she had not time nor strength to quell the wolf. But Beren strode forth before her, and in his right hand he held
aloft the Silmaril. Carcharoth halted, and for a
moment was afraid. 'Get you gone, and fly!' cried Beren; 'for here is a
fire that shall consume you, and all evil things.' And he thrust the
Silmaril before the eyes of the wolf.
But Carcharoth looked upon that holy jewel and was not daunted, and the devouring spirit within him awoke to sudden fire; and gaping he took
suddenly the hand within his jaws, and he bit it off at the wrist. Then
swiftly all his inwards were filled with a flame of anguish, and the
Silmaril seared his accursed flesh. Howling he led before them, and the
walls of the valley of the Gate echoes with the clamour of his torment. So
terrible did he become in his madness that all the creatures of Morgoth
that abode in that valley, or were upon any of the roads that led thither,
fled far away' for he slew all living things that stood in his path, and
burst from the North with ruin upon the world. Of all the terrors that
came ever into Beleriand ere Angband's fall the madness of Carcharoth was
the most dreadful; for the power of the Silmaril was hidden within him.
Now Beren lay in a swoon within the perilous Gate, and death drew nigh
him for there was venom on the fangs of the wolf. Lúthien with her lips
drew out the venom, and she put forth her failing power to staunch the
hideous wound. But behind her in the depths of Angband the rumour grew of
great wrath aroused. The host of Morgoth were awakened.
Thus the quest of the Silmaril was like to have ended in ruin and
despair; but in that hour above the wall of the valley three mighty birds
appeared, flying northward with wings swifter
than the wind. Among all birds and beasts the wandering and need of Beren
had been noised, and Huan himself had bidden all things watch, that they
might bring him aid. High above the realm of Morgoth Thorondor and his
vassals soared, and seeing now the madness of the Wolf and Beren's fall
they came swiftly down, even as the powers of Angband were released from
the toils of sleep.
Then they lifted up Lúthien and Beren from the earth, and bore them
aloft into the clouds. Below them suddenly thunder rolled, lightnings
leaped upward, and the mountains
quaked. Fire and smoke belched forth from Thangorodrim, and flaming bolts
were hurled far abroad, falling ruinous upon the lands; and the Noldor in
Hithlum trembled. But Thorondor
took his way far above the earth, seeking the high roads of heaven, where
the sun daylong shines unveiled and the moon walks amid the cloudless
stars. Thus they passed swiftly over
Dor-nu-Fauglith, and over Taur-nu-Fuin, and came above the hidden valley of
Tumladen. No cloud nor mist lay there, and looking down Lúthien saw far
below, as a white light starting from
a green jewel, the radiance of Gondolin the fair where Turgon dwelt. But
she wept, for she thought that Beren would surely die, he spoke no word,
nor opened his eyes, and knew thereafter nothing of his flight. And at the
last the eagles set them down upon the borders of Doriath; and they were
come to that same dell whence Beren had stolen in despair and left
Lúthien asleep.
There the eagles laid her at Beren's side and returned to the peaks of
Crissaegrim and their high eyries; but Huan came to her, and together they
tended Beren, even as before when she healed him of the wound that Curufin
gave to him. But this wound was fell and poisonous.
Long Beren lay, and his spirit wandered upon the dark borders of death,
knowing every an anguish that pursued him from dream to dream. Then
suddenly, when her hope was almost
spent, he woke again, and looked up, seeing leaves against the sky; and he
heard beneath the leaves singing soft and slow beside him Lúthien Tinuviel.
And it was spring again.
Thereafter Beren was named Erchamion, which is the One-handed; and
suffering was graven in his face. But at last he was drawn back to life by
the love of Lúthien, and he arose, and together they walked in the woods
once more. And they did not hasten from that place, for it seemed fair to
them. Lúthien indeed was willing to wander in the wild without returning,
forgetting house and people and all the glory of the Elf-kingdoms, and for
a time Beren was
content; but he could not for long forget his oath to return to Menegroth,
nor would he withhold Lúthien from Thingol for ever. For he held by the
law of Men, deeming it perilous to set at
naught the will of the father, save at the last need; and is seemed also to
him unfit that one so royal and fair as Lúthien should live always in the
woods, as the rude hunters among Men,
without home or honour or the fair things which are the delight of the
queens of the Eldalie. Therefore after a while he persuaded her, and their
footsteps forsook the houseless lands; and he passed into Doriath, leading
Lúthien home. So their doom willed it.
Upon Doriath evil days had fallen. Grief and silence had come upon all its people when Lúthien was lost. Long they had sought for her in
vain. And it is told that in that time Daeron
the minstrel of Thingol strayed from the land, and was seen no more. He it
was that made music for the dance and song of Lúthien, before Beren came to
Doriath; and he had loved her,
and set all his thought of her in his music. He became the greatest of all
the minstrels of the Elves east of the Sea, named even before Maglor son of
Feanor. But seeking for Lúthien in despair he wandered upon strange paths,
and passing over the mountains he came into the East of Middle-earth, where
for many ages he made lament beside dark waters for Lúthien, daughter of
Thingol, most beautiful of all living things.
In that time Thingol turned to Melian; but now she withheld her counsel from him, saying that the doom that he had devised must work to its
appointed end, and that he must wait
now upon time. But Thingol learned that Lúthien had journeyed far from
Doriath, for messages came secretly from Celegorm, as has been told, saying
that Felagund was dead, and Beren was
dead, but Lúthien was in Nargothrond, and that Celegorm would wed her.
Then Thingol was wrathful, and he sent forth spies, thinking to make war
upon Nargothrond; and thus he learned
that Lúthien was again fled, and that Celegorm and Curufin were driven from
Nargothrond. Then his counsel was in doubt, for he had not the strength to
assail the seven sons of Feanor;
but he sent messengers to Himring to summon their aid in seeking for
Lúthien, since Celegorm had not sent her to the house of her father, nor
had he kept her safely.
But in the north of his realm his messengers met with a peril sudden
and unlooked for:
the onslaught of Carcharoth, the Wolf of Angband. In his madness he had
run ravening from the north, and passing at length over Taur-nu-Fuin upon
its eastern side he came down from the
sources of Esgalduin like a destroying fire. Nothing hindered him, and the
might of Melian upon the borders of the land stayed him not; for fate drove
him, and the power of the Silmaril that he bore to his torment. Thus he
burst into the inviolate woods of Doriath, and all fled away
in fear. Alone of the messengers Mablung, chief captain of the King,
escaped, and he brought the dread tidings to Thingol.
Even in that dark hour Beren and Lúthien returned, hastening from the west, and the news of their coming went before them like a sound of music borne by the wind into dark houses where men sit sorrowful. They came at
last to the gates of Menegroth, and a great host
followed them. Then Beren led Lúthien before the throne of Thingol her
father; and he looked in wonder upon Beren, whom he had thought dead; but
he loved him not, because of the woes
that he had brought upon Doriath. But Beren knelt before him, and said: 'I
return according to my word. I am come now to claim my own.'
And Thingol answered: 'What of your quest, and of your vow?'
But Beren said: 'It is fulfilled. Even now a Silmaril is in my hand.'
Then Thingol said: 'Show it to me!'
And Beren put forth his left hand, slowly opening its fingers; but it
was empty. Then he held up his right arm; and from that hour he named
himself Camlost, the Empty-handed.
Then Thingol's mood was softened; and Beren sat before his throne upon
the left, and Lúthien upon the right, and they told all the tale of the
Quest, while all there listened and were
filled with amazement. And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was unlike
all other mortal Men, and among the great in Arda, and the love of Lúthien
a thing new and strange; and he
perceived that their doom might not be withstood by any power of the world.
Therefore at the last he yielded his will, and Beren took the hand of
Lúthien before the throne of her father.
But now a shadow fell upon the joy of Doriath at the return of Lúthien
the fair; for learning of the cause of the madness of Carcharoth the people
grew the more afraid, perceiving that his danger was fraught with dreadful
power because of the holy jewel, and hardly might be overthrown. And
Beren, hearing of the onslaught of the Wolf, understood that the Quest was
not yet fulfilled.
Therefore, since daily Carcharoth drew nearer to Menegroth, they prepared the Hunting of the Wolf; of all pursuits of beasts whereof tales tell the most perilous. To that chase went
Huan the Hound of Valinor, and Mablung of the Heavy Hand, and Beleg
Strongbow, and Beren Erchamion, and Thingol King of Doriath. They rode
forth in the morning and passed over the River Esgalduin; but Lúthien
remained behind at the gates of Menegroth. A dark shadow fell
upon her and it seemed to her that the sun had sickened and turned black.
The hunters turned east and north, and following the course of the river they came at last upon Carcharoth the Wolf in a dark valley, down the
northern side whereof Esgalduin fell in a torrent over steep falls. At the
foot of the falls Carcharoth drank to ease his consuming thirst,
and he howled, and thus they were aware of him, But he, espying their
approach, rushed not suddenly to attack them. It may be that the devil's
cunning of his heart awoke, being for a moment eased of his pain by the
sweet waters of Esgalduin; and even as they rode towards him he slunk aside
into a deep brake, and there lay hid. But they set a guard about all that
place, and waited, and the shadows grew long in the forest.
Beren stood beside Thingol, and suddenly they were aware that Huan had left their side. Then a great baying awoke in the thicket; for Huan
becoming impatient and desiring to look
upon this wolf had gone in alone to dislodge him. But Carcharoth avoided
him, and bursting form the thorns leaped suddenly upon Thingol. Swiftly
Beren strode before him with a spear, but Carcharoth swept it aside and
felled him, biting at his breast. In that moment Huan leaped
from the thicket upon the back of the Wolf, and they fell together fighting
bitterly; and no battle of wolf and hound has been like to it, for in the
baying of Huan was heard the voice of the horns of Orome and the wrath of
the Valar, but in the howls of Carcharoth was the hate of Morgoth and
malice crueller than teeth of steel; and the rocks were rent by their
clamour and fell from on high and choked the falls of Esgalduin. There
they fought to the death; but Thingol gave no heed, for he knelt by Beren,
seeing that he was sorely hurt.
Huan in that hour slew Carcharoth; but there in the woven woods of Doriath his own doom long spoken was fulfilled, and he was wounded
mortally, and the venom of Morgoth entered into him. Then he came, and
falling beside Beren spoke for the third time with words; and he bade Beren
farewell before he died. Beren spoke not, but laid his hand upon the head
of the hound, and so they parted.
Mablung and Beleg came hastening to the King's aid, but when they
looked upon what was done they cast aside their spears and wept. Then
Mablung took a knife and ripped up the
belly of the Wolf; and within he was wellnigh all consumed as with a fire,
but the hand of Beren that held the jewel was yet incorrupt. But when
Mablung reached forth to touch it, the hand was
no more, and the Silmaril lay there unveiled, and the light of it filled
the shadows of the forest all about hem. Then quickly and in fear Mablung
took it and set it in Beren's living hand; and
Beren was aroused by the touch of the Silmaril, and held it aloft, and bade
Thingol receive it. 'Now is the Quest achieved,' he said, 'and my doom
full-wrought'; and he spoke no more.
They bore back Beren Camlost son of Barahir upon a bier of branches
with Huan the wolfhound at his side; and night fell ere they returned to
Menegroth. At the feet of Hirilorn the great beech Lúthien met them
walking slow, and some bore torches beside the bier. There she set her
arms about Beren, and kissed him bidding him await her beyond the Western
Sea; and he looked upon her eyes ere the spirit left him. But the
starlight was quenched and darkness had fallen even upon Lúthien Tinuviel.
Thus ended the Quest of the Silmaril; but the Lay of Leithian, Release form
Bondage does not end.
For the spirit of Beren at her bidding tarried in the halls of Mandos,
unwilling to leave the world, until Lúthien came to say her last farewell
upon the dim shores of the Outer Sea, whence Men that die set out never to
return. But the spirit of Lúthien fell down into darkness, and at the last
it fled, and her body lay like like a flower that is suddenly cut off and
lies for a while unwithered on the grass.
Then a winter, as it were the hoar age of mortal Men, fell upon Thingol. But Lúthien came to the halls of Mandos, where are the appointed
places of the Eldalie, beyond the mansions of the West upon the confines of
the world. There those that wait sit in the shadow of their thought. But
her beauty was more than their beauty, and her sorrow deeper than their
sorrows; and she knelt before Mandos and sang to him.
The song of Lúthien before Mandos was the song most fair that ever in words was woven, and the song most sorrowful that ever the world shall ever hear. Unchanged, imperishable, it is sung still in Valinor beyond the
hearing of the world, and the listening the Valar grieved. For Lúthien wove
two themes of words, of the sorrow of the Eldar and the grief of Men, of
the Two Kindreds that were made by Iluvatar to dwell in Arda, the Kingdom
of Earth amid the the innumerable stars. And as she knelt before him her
tears fell upon his feet like rain upon stones; and Mandos was moved to
pity, who never before was so moved, nor has been since.
Therefore he summoned Beren, and even as Lúthien had spoken in the hour
of his death they met again beyond the Western Sea. But Mandos had no
power to withhold the spirits of Men that were dead within the confines of
the world, after their time of waiting; nor could he change the fates of
the Children of Iluvatar. He went therefore to Manwe, Lord of the Valar,
who governed the world under the hand of Iluvatar; and Manwe sought counsel
in his inmost thought, where the will of Iluvatar was revealed.
These were the choices that he gave to Lúthien Because of her labors and her sorrow, she should be released from Mandos, and go to Valimar,
there to dwell until the world's end among the Valar, forgetting all griefs
that her life had known. Thither Beren could not come. For it was not
permitted to the Valar to withhold Death from him, which is the gift of
Iluvatar to Men. But the other choice was this: that she might return to
Middle-earth, and take with her Beren, there to dwell again, but without
certitude of life or joy. Then She would become mortal, land subject to a
second death, even as he; and ere long she would leave the world for ever,
and her beauty become only a memory in song.
This doom she chose, forsaking the Blessed Realm, and putting aside all claim to kinship with those that dwell there; that thus whatever grief
might lie in wait, the fates of Beren and Lúthien might be joined, and
their paths lead together beyond the confines of the world. So it was that
alone of the Eldalie she has died indeed, and left the world long ago. Yet
in her choice the Two Kindreds have been joined; and she is the forerunner
of many in whom the Eldar see yet, thought all the world is changed, the
likeness of Lúthien the beloved, whom they have lost.
The End