the story of beren and lúthien ~ finished by geoff zeiger
XI
Once wide and smooth a plain was spread
where King Fingolfin proudly led
his silver armies on the green,
his horses white, his lances keen;
his shields were shining as the moon, 3320
his helmets tall of steel were hewn.
There trumpets sang both long and loud,
and challenge rang unto the cloud
that lay on Angband's northern tower,
while Morgoth waited for his hour. 3325
Rivers of fire at dead of night
in winter lying cold and white
upon the plain burst forth, and high
the red was mirrored in the sky.
From Hithlum's walls they saw the fire, 3330
the steam and smoke in spire on spire
leap up, till in confusion vast
the stars were choked. And so it passed,
the mighty field, and turned to dust,
to drifting sand and yellow rust, 3335
to thirsty dunes where many bones
lay broken among barren stones.
Dor-na-Fauglith, Land of Thirst,
they after named it, waste accursed,
the raven-haunted roofless grave 3340
of many fair and many brave.
Thereon the stony slopes look forth
from Deadly Nightshade falling north,
from sombre pines with pinions vast,
black-plumed and drear, as many a mast 3345
of sable-shrouded ships of death
slow wafted on a ghostly breath.
Thence Beren grim now gazes out
across the dunes and shifting drought,
and sees afar the frowning towers 3350
where thunderous Thangorodrim glowers.
The hungry horse there drooping stood,
proud Gnomish steed; it feared the wood;
upon that ghastly haunted plain
no horse would ever stride again. 3355
"Good steed of master ill," he said,
"farewell now here! Lift up thy head,
and get thee gone to Sirion's vale,
back as we came, past islands pale
where Thû once reigned, to waters sweet 3360
and grasses long about thy feet.
If Curufin no more thou find
grieve not! but free with hart and hind
go wander, leaving work and war,
and dream thee back in Valinor, 3365
whence came of old thy mighty race
from Tavros' mountain-fencéd chase."
There still sat Beren, and he sang,
and loud his lonely singing rang.
Though Orc should hear, or wolf a-prowl, 3370
or any of the creatures foul
within the shade that slunk and stared
of Taur-na-Fuin, naught he cared,
who now took leave of light and day,
grim-hearted, bitter, fierce and fey. 3375
"Farewell now here, ye leaves of trees,
your music in the morning breeze!
Farewell now blade and bloom and grass
that see the changing seasons pass;
ye waters murmuring over stone, 3380
and meres that silent stand alone!
Farewell now mountain, vale, and plain!
Farewell now wind and frost and rain,
and mist and cloud, and heaven's air;
ye star and moon so blinding-fair 3385
that still shall look down from the sky
on the wide earth, though Beren die –
though Beren die not, and yet deep,
deep, whence comes of those that weep
no dreadful echo, lie and choke 3390
in everlasting dark and smoke.
Farewell sweet earth and northern sky,
forever blest, since here did lie,
and here with lissom limbs did run,
beneath the moon, beneath the sun, 3395
Lúthien Tinúviel
more fair than mortal tongue can tell.
Though all to ruin fell the world
and were dissolved and backward hurled
unmade into the old abyss, 3400
yet were its making good for this –
the dawn, the dusk, the sun, the sea –
that Lúthien on a time should be!"
His blade he lifted high in hand,
and challenging alone did stand 3405
before the threat of Morgoth's power;
and dauntless cursed him, hall and tower,
o'ershadowing hand and grinding foot,
beginning, end, and crown and root;
then turned to stride forth down the slope 3410
abandoning fear, forsaking hope.
"A, Beren, Beren," came a sound,
"almost too late have I thee found!
O proud and fearless hand and heart,
not yet farewell, not yet we part! 3415
Not thus do those of elven race
forsake the love that they embrace.
A love is mine, as great a power
as thine, to shake the gate and tower
of death with challenge weak and frail 3420
that yet endures, and will not fail
nor yield, unvanquished were it hurled
beneath the foundations of the world.
Beloved fool! escape to seek
from such pursuit; in might so weak 3425
to trust not, thinking it well to save
from love thy loved, who welcomes grave
and torment sooner than in guard
of kind intent to languish, barred,
wingless and helpless him to aid 3430
for whose support her love was made!"
Thus back to him came Lúthien:
they met beyond the ways of Men;
upon the brink of terror stood
between the desert and the wood. 3435
He looked on her, her lifted face
beneath his lips in sweet embrace:
"Thrice now mine oath I curse," he said,
that under shadow thee hath led!
But where is Huan, mighty hound 3440
to whom I trusted, whom I bound
by love of thee to keep thee well
from deadly wandering into hell?"
"I know not! But good Huan's heart
is wiser, kinder, than thou art, 3445
grim lord, more open unto prayer!
Yet long and long I pleaded there,
until he brought me, as I would,
upon thy trail – a palfrey good
would Huan make, of flowing pace: 3450
thou wouldst have laughed to see us race,
as Orc on werewolf ride like fire
night after night through fen and mire,
through waste and wood! But when I heard
thy singing clear – (yea, every word 3455
of Lúthien one rashly cried,
and listening evil fierce defied) –,
he set me down, and sped away;
but what he would I cannot say."
Ere long they knew, for Huan came, 3460
his great breath panting, eyes like flame,
in fear lest her whom he forsook
to aid some hunting evil took
ere he was nigh. Now there he laid
before their feet, as dark as shade, 3465
two grisly shapes that he had won
from that tall isle in Sirion:
a wolf-hame huge – its savage fell
was long and matted, dark the spell
that drenched the dreadful coat and skin, 3470
the werewolf cloak of Draugluin;
the other was a batlike garb
with mighty-fingered wings, a barb
like iron nail at each joint's end –
such wings as their dark cloud extend 3475
against the moon, when in the sky
from Deadly Nightshade screeching fly
Thû's messengers.
"What hast thou brought,
good Huan? What thy hidden thought? 3480
Of trophy of prowess and strong deed,
when Thû thou vanquishedst, what need
here in the waste?" Thus Beren spoke,
and once more words in Huan woke:
his voice was like the deeptoned bells 3485
that ring in Valmar's citadels;
"Of one fair gem thou must be thief,
Morgoth's or Thingol's, loath or lief;
thou must here choose twixt love and oath!
If vow to break is still thee loath 3490
then Lúthien must either die
alone, or death with thee defy
beside thee, marching on your fate
that hidden before you lies in wait.
Hopeless the quest, but not yet mad, 3495
unless thou, Beren, run thus clad
in mortal raiment, mortal hue,
witless and redeless, death to woo.
Lo! good was Felagund's device,
but could be bettered, if advice 3500
of Huan ye will dare to take,
and swift a hideous change will make
to forms most curséd, foul and vile,
of werewolf of the Wizard's Isle,
of monstrous bat's envermined fell 3505
with ghostly clawlike wings of hell.
To such dark straits, alas! now brought
are ye I love, for whom I fought.
Nor further with you can I go –
whoever did a great hound know 3510
in friendship at a werewolf's side
to Angband's grinning portals stride?
Yet my heart tells that at the gate
what ye there find, 'twill be my fate
myself to see, though to that door 3515
my feet shall bear me nevermore.
Darkened is hope and dimmed my eyes,
I see not clear what further lies;
yet maybe backwards leads your path
beyond all hope to Doriath, 3520
and thither, perchance, we three shall wend,
and meet again before the end."
They stood and marveled thus to hear
his mighty tongue so deep and clear;
then sudden he vanished from their sight 3525
even at the onset of the night.
His dreadful counsel then they took,
and their own gracious forms forsook;
in werewolf fell and batlike wing
prepared to robe them, shuddering. 3530
With elvish magic Lúthien wrought,
lest raiment foul with evil fraught
to dreadful madness drive their hearts;
and there she wrought with elvish arts
a strong defence, a binding power, 3535
singing until the midnight hour.
Swift as the wolvish coat he wore,
Beren lay slavering on the floor,
redtongued and hungry; but there lies
a pain and longing in his eyes, 3540
a look of horror as he sees
a batlike form crawl to its knees
and drag its creased and creaking wings.
Then howling under moon he springs
fourfooted, swift, from stone to stone, 3545
from hill to plain – but not alone:
a dark shape down the slope doth skim,
and wheeling flitters over him.
Ashes and dust and thirsty dune
withered and dry beneath the moon, 3550
under the cold and shifting air
sifting and sighing, bleak and bare;
of blistered stones and gasping sand,
of splintered bones was built that land,
o'er which now slinks with powdered fell 3555
and hanging tongue a shape of hell.
Many parching leagues lay still before
when sickly day crept back once more;
many choking miles yet stretched ahead
when shivering night once more was spread 3560
with doubtful shadow and ghostly sound
that hissed and passed o'er dune and mound.
A second morning in cloud and reek
struggled, when stumbling, blind and weak,
a wolvish shape came stumbling forth 3565
and reached the foothills of the North;
upon its back there folded lay
a crumpled thing that blinked at day.
The rocks were reared like bony teeth,
and claws that grasped from opened sheath, 3570
on either side the mournful road
that onward led to that abode
far up within the mountain dark
with tunnels drear and portals stark.
They crept within a scowling shade, 3575
and cowering darkly down them laid.
Long lurked they there beside the path
and shivered, dreaming of Doriath,
of laughter and music and clean air,
in fluttered leaves birds singing fair. 3580
They woke, and felt the trembling sound,
the beating echo underground
shake beneath them, the rumour vast
of Morgoth's forges; and aghast
they heard the tramp of stony feet 3585
that shod with iron went down that street:
the Orcs went forth to rape and war,
and Balrog captains marched before.
They stirred, and under cloud and shade
at eve stepped forth, and no more stayed; 3590
as dark things on dark errand bent
up the long slopes in haste they went.
Ever the sheer cliffs rose beside,
where birds of carrion sat and cried;
and chasms black and smoking yawned, 3595
whence writhing serpent-shapes were spawned;
until at last in that huge gloom,
heavy as overhanging doom,
that weighs on Thangorodrim's foot
like thunder at the mountain's root, 3600
they came, as to a sombre court
walled with great towers, fort on fort
of cliffs embattled, to that last plain
that opens, abysmal and inane,
before the final topless wall 3605
of Bauglir's immeasurable hall,
whereunder looming awful waits
the gigantic shadow of his gates.