Moreover in the history of the history of Middle-earth the development was seldom by outright rejection -- far more often it was by subtle transformation in stages. THE HISTORY OF MIDDLE-EARTH. Volume The Later Silmarillion. Part One. The Legends of Aman. Edited by Christopher Tolkien. HarperCollinsPublishers. The History of Middle-earth is a volume series of books published between and .. Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version.
|Language:||English, Spanish, German|
|ePub File Size:||19.64 MB|
|PDF File Size:||14.31 MB|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Regsitration Required]|
The History of Middle Earth - reviewed by Franco Manni - teshimaryokan.info J.R.R. Tolkien, The History of Middle-Earth,. HarperCollins, London, 12 volumes. HISTORY OF MIDDLE-EARTH CONTENTS Foreword I THE COTTAGE OF LOST PLAY Notes and Commentary II THE MUSIC OF THE AINUR. CONTENTS. Preface page x I THE TALE OF TINUVIEL. Notes and Commentary. II TURAMBAR AND THE FOALOKE. Notes and Commentary. III THE FALL OF.
When therefore Beren was led away to the halls of Tevildo, and these were not utterly distant from the place of Melko's throne, he was much afraid, for he had not looked for such a turn in things, and those halls were ill-lighted and were full of growling and of monstrous purrings in the dark. Yet even as they approach they find fear and tumult among that people such as had not been for a long age, and asking some that wept before their doors they learned that ever since the day of Tinuviel's secret flight ill-fortune had befallen them. In The Silmarillion pp. As a result of the interpolation 'but turned towards Palisor' Palisor is placed in the south of the world. The distinction made here between the Elves who call the queen Wendelin and, by implication, the Gnomes who call her 3. The O. Now sinks the sun and fades beyond the western trees and darkness is creeping down from Hisilome so that the light of the forest dies.
These last approach at times a comic conception, and me delivered in a rapid and lively language that did not survive in the gravity of my father's later 'Silmarillion' prose so Osse 'fares about in a foam of business' as he anchors the islands to the sea-bed, the cliffs of Tol Eressea new-filled with the first sea-birds 'are full of a chattering and a smell of fish, and great conclaves are held upon its ledges', and when the Shoreland Elves am at last drawn over the sea to Valinor Ulmo marvellously 'fares at the rear in his fishy car and trumpets loudly for the discomfiture of Osse'.
The Lost Tales never reached or even approached a form in which my father could have considered their publication before he abandoned them; they were experimental and provisional, and the tattered notebooks in which they were written were bundled away and left unlooked at as the years passed. To present them in a printed book has raised many thorny editorial problems.
In the first place, the manuscripts are intrinsically very difficult: But also in some of the Tales my father erased the original pencilled text and wrote a revised version over it in ink -- and since at this period he used bound notebooks rather than loose sheets, he was liable to find himself short of space: Secondly, the Lost Tales were not all written progressively one after the other in the sequence of the narrative; and inevitably my father began a new arrangement and revision of the Tales while the work was still in progress.
The Fall of Gondolin was the first of the tales told to Eriol to be composed, and the Tale of Tinuviel the second, but the events of those tales take place towards the end of the history; on the other hand the extant texts are later revisions.
In some cases nothing earlier than the revised form can now be read; in some both forms are extant for all, or a part, of their length; in some there is only a preliminary draft; and in some there is no formed narrative at all, but only notes and projections. After much experimentation I have found that no method of presentation is feasible but to set out the Tales in the sequence of the narrative. And finally, as the writing of the Tales progressed, relations were changed, new conceptions entered, and the development of the languages pari passu with the narrative led to continual revision of names.
An edition that takes account of such complexities, as this does, rather than attempt to smooth them artificially away, is liable to be an intricate and crabbed thing, in which the reader is never left alone for a moment. I have attempted to make the Tales themselves accessible and uncluttered while providing a fairly full account, for those who want it, of the actual textual evidences. To achieve this I have drastically reduced the quantity of annotation to the texts in these ways: In this way the numbered notes are very largely restricted to variants and divergences found in other texts, and the reader who does not wish to trouble with these can read the Tales knowing that that is almost all that he is missing.
I have eschewed parallels, sources, influences; and have mostly-avoided the complexities of the development between the Lost Tales and the published work since to indicate these even cursorily would, I think, be distracting , treating the matter in a simplified way, as between two fixed points.
The commentaries am limited in their scope, being mostly concerned to discuss the implications of what is said within the context of the Tales themselves, and to compare them with the published Silmarillion. I do not suppose for one moment that my analyses will prove either altogether just or altogether accurate, and there must be clues to the solution of puzzling features in the Tales which I have failed to observe.
There is also included a short glossary of words occurring in the Tales and poems that are obsolete, archaic, or The texts are given in a form very close to that of the original manuscripts.
Only the most minor and obvious slips have been silently corrected; where sentences fall awkwardly, or where there is a lack of grammatical cohesion, as is sometimes the case in the parts of the Tales that never got beyond a first rapid draft, I have let them stand. I have allowed myself greater freedom in providing punctuation, for my father when writing at speed often punctuated erratically or not at all; and I have gone further than he did in consistency of capitalisation.
I have adopted, though hesitantly, a consistent system of accentuation for Elvish names. I have used the acute accent for macron, circumflex, and acute and occasional grave accents of the original texts, but the circumflex on monosyllables -- thus Palurien, Onen, Kor: Lastly, the division of this edition into two. The edition is conceived as a whole, and I hope that the second part will appear within a year of the first; but each part has its own Index and Appen- dix on Names.
The second part contains what am in many respects the most interesting of the Tales: The Cottage of Lost Play, which introduceth [the] Book of Lost Tales; and on the cover is also written, in my mother's hand, her initials, E. In this book the tale was written out by my mother; and it is a fair copy of a very rough pencilled manuscript of my father's on loose sheets, which were placed inside the cover.
Thus the date of the actual composition of this tale could have been, but probably was not, earlier than the winter of The fair copy follows the original text precisely; some further changes, mostly slight other than in the matter of names , were then made to the fair copy.
The text follows here in its final form. Now it happened on a certain time that a traveller from far countries, a man of great curiosity, was by desire of strange lands and the ways and dwellings of unaccustomed folk brought in a ship as far west even as the Lonely Island, Tol Eressea in the fairy speech, but which the Gnomes' call Dor Faidwen, the Land of Release, and a great tale hangs thereto.
Now one day after much journeying he came as the lights of evening were being kindled in many a window to the feet of a hill in a broad and woody plain. He was now near the centre of this great island and for many days had wandered its roads, stopping each night at what dwelling of folk he might chance upon, were it hamlet or good town, about the hour of eve at the kindling of candles.
Now at that time the desire of new sights is least, even in one whose heart is that of an explorer; and then even such a son of Earendel as was this wayfarer turns his thoughts rather to supper and to rest and the telling of tales before the time of bed and sleep is come. Now as he stood at the foot of the little hill there came a faint breeze and then a flight of rooks above his head in the clear even light. The sun had some time sunk beyond the boughs of the elms that stood as far as eye could look about the plain, and some time had its last gold faded through the leaves and slipped across the glades to sleep beneath the roots and dream till dawn.
Now these rooks gave voice of home-coming above him, and with a swift turn came to their dwelling in the tops of some high elms at the summit of this hill. Then thought Eriol for thus did the people of the island after call him, and its purport is 'One who dreams alone', but of his former names the story nowhere tells: To me it has the air of holding many secrets of old and wonderful and beautiful things in its treasuries and noble places and in the hearts of those that dwell within its walls.
Through them as he climbed the road he could see the first stars shine forth, even as he afterwards sang in the song which he made to that fair city. Now was he at the summit of the hill amidst its houses, and stepping as if by chance he turned aside down a winding lane, till, a little down the western slope of the hill, his eye was arrested by a tiny dwelling whose many small windows were curtained snugly, yet only so that a most warm and delicious light, as of hearts content within, looked forth.
Then his heart yearned for kind company, and the desire for wayfaring died in him -- and impelled by a great longing he turned aside at this cottage door, and knocking asked one who came and opened what might be the name of this house and who dwelt therein. And it was said to him that this was Mar Vanwa Tyalieva, or the Cottage of Lost Play, and at that name he wondered greatly.
There dwelt within, 'twas said, Lindo and Vaire who had built it many years ago, and with them were no few of their folk and friends and children.
And at this he wondered more than before, seeing the size of the cottage; but he that opened to him, perceiving his mind, said: Then said the other, 'Enter,' and Eriol stepped in, and behold, it seemed a house of great spaciousness and very great delight, and the lord of it, Lindo, and his wife, Vaire, came forth to greet him; and his heart was more glad within him than it had yet been in all his wanderings, albeit since his landing in the Lonely Isle his joy had been great enough.
And when Vaire had spoken the words of welcome, and Lindo had asked of him his name and whence he came and whither he might be seeking, and he had named himself the Stranger and said that he came from the Great Lands,' and that he was seeking whitherso his desire for travel led him, then was the evening meal set out in the great hall and Eriol bidden thereto.
Now in this hall despite the summertide were three great fires -- one at the far end and one on either side of the table, and save for their light as Eriol entered all was in a warm gloom. But at that moment many folk came in bearing candles of all sizes and many shapes in sticks of strange pattern: At that same moment a great gong sounded far off in thehouse with a sweet noise, and a sound followed as of the laughter of many voices mingled with a great pattering of feet.
Then Vaire said to Eriol, seeing his face filled with a happy wonderment: And the sounding of the three strokes is the happiest moment in the day of Littleheart the Gong-warden, as he himself declares who has known happiness enough of old; and ancient indeed is he beyond count in spite of his merriness of soul. He sailed in Wingilot with Earendel in that last voyage wherein they sought for Kor. Then he looked up, and lo, the hall and all its benches and chairs were filled with children of every aspect, kind, and size, while sprinkled among them were folk of all manners and ages.
In one thing only were all alike, that a look of great happiness lit with a merry expectation of further mirth and joy lay on every face. The soft light of candles too was upon them all; it shone on bright tresses and gleamed about dark hair, or here and there set a pale fire in locks gone grey.
Even as he gazed all arose and with one voice sang the song of the Bringing in of the Meats. Then was the food brought in and set before them, and thereafter the bearers and those that served and those that waited, host and hostess, children and guest, sat down: As they ate Eriol fell into speech with Lindo and his wife, telling them tales of his old days and of his adventures, especially those he had encountered upon the journey that had brought him to the Lonely Isle, and asking in return many things concerning the fair land, and most of all of that fair city wherein he now found himself.
Lindo said to him: Now this region is accounted the centre of the island, and its fairest realm; but above all the towns and villages of Alalminore is held Koromas, or as some call it, Kortirion, and this city is the one wherein you now find yourself.
Both because it stands at the heart of the island, and from the height of its mighty tower, do those that speak of it with love call it the Citadel of the Island, or of the World itself. More reason is there thereto than even great love, for all the island looks to the dwellers here for wisdom and leadership, for song and lore; and here in a great korin of elms dwells Meril-i-Turinqi.
Now a korin is a great circular hedge, be it of stone or of thorn or even of trees, that encloses a green sward. Meril comes of the blood of Inwe, whom the Gnomes call Inwithiel, he that was King of all the Eldar when they dwelt in Kor. That was in the days before hearing the lament of the world Inwe led them forth to the lands of Men: He was of Aule's kindred, but had dwelt long with the Shoreland Pipers, the Solosimpi, and so came among the earliest to the island.
Thurinqi only may give it to those not of the Eldar race, and those that drink must dwell always with the Eldar of the Island until such time as they fare forth to find the lost families of the kindred.
Then sounded the Gong of the Children thrice, and a glad clamour arose in the hall, and some swung back big oaken doors at the hall's end -- at that end which had no hearth.
Then many seized those candles that were set in tall wooden sticks and held them aloft while others laughed and chattered, but all made a lane midmost of the company down which went Lindo and Vaire and Eriol, and as they passed the doors the throng followed them.
Eriol saw now that they were in a short broad corridor whose walls half-way up were arrassed; and on those tapestries were many stories pictured whereof he knew not at that time the purport. Above the tapestries it seemed there were paintings, but he could not see for gloom, for the candlebearers were behind, and before him the only light came from an open door through which poured a red glow as of a big fire.
Then all that company came laughing and talking into the room whence came the red glow. A fair room it was as might be felt even by the fire-flicker which danced upon the walls and low ceiling, while deep shadows lay in the nooks and corners.
Round the great hearth was a multitude of soft rugs and yielding cushions strewn; and a little to one side was a deep chair with carven arms and feet. And so it was that Eriol felt at that time and at all others whereon he entered there at the hour of tale-telling, that whatso the number of the folk and children the room felt ever just great enough but not large, small enough but not overthronged.
Then all sat them down where they would, old and young, but Lindo in the deep chair and Vaire upon a cushion at his feet, and Eriol rejoicing in the red blaze for all that it was summer stretched nigh the hearthstone.
Then said Lindo: Shall they be of the Great Lands, and of the dwellings of Men; of the Valar and Valinor; of the West and its mysteries, of the East and its glory, of the South and its untrodden wilds, of the North and its power and strength; or of this island and its folk; or of the old days of Kor where our folk once dwelt?
For that this night we entertain a guest, a man of great and excellent travel, a son meseems of Earendel, shall it be of voyaging, of beating about in a boat, of winds and the sea?
Now this place was near the confines of the realm but not far from Kor, yet by reason of its distance from the sun-tree Lindelos there was a light there as of summer evening, save only when the silver lamps werekindled on the hill at dusk, and then little lights of white would dance and quiver on the paths, chasing black shadow-dapples under the trees. This was a time of joy to the children, for it was mostly at this hour that a new comrade would come down the lane called Olore Malle or the Path of Dreams.
It has been said to me, though the truth I know not, that that lane ran by devious routes to the homes of Men, but that way we never trod when we fared thither ourselves. It was a lane of deep banks and great overhanging hedges, beyond which stood many tall trees wherein a perpetual whisper seemed to live; but not seldom great glow-worms crept about its grassy borders. Of what it was built, nor when, no one knew, nor now knows, but it was said to me that it shone with a pale light, as it was of pearl, and its roof was a thatch, but a thatch of gold.
But in the lilacs every bird that ever sang sweetly gathered. Now the walls of the cottage were bent with age and its many small lattice windows were twisted into strange shapes. No one, 'tis said, dwelt in the cottage, which was however guarded secretly and jealously by the Eldar so that no harm came nigh it, and that yet might the children playing therein in freedom know of no guardianship.
This was the Cottage of the Children, or of the Play of Sleep, and not of Lost Play, as has wrongly been said in song among Men -- for no play was lost then, and here alas only and now is the Cottage of Lost Play. Nay, some even who wandered on to the edge of the rocks of Eldamar and there strayed, dazzled by the fair shells and the fishes of many colours, the blue pools and the silver foam, they drew back to the cottage, alluring them gently with the odour of many flowers.
Yet even so there were a few who heard on that beach the sweet piping of the Solosimpi afar off and who played not with the other children but climbed to the upper windows and gazed out, straining to see the far glimpses of the sea and the magic shores beyond the shadows and the trees.
And many children have there become comrades, who after met and loved in the lands of Men, but of such things perchance Men know more than I can tell you. Yet some there were who, as I have told, heard the Solosimpi piping afar off, or others who straying again beyond the garden caught a sound of the singing of the Telelli on the hill, and even some who reaching Kor afterwards returned home, and their minds and hearts were full of wonder.
Of the misty aftermemories of these, of their broken tales and snatches of song, came many strange legends that delighted Men for long, and still do, it may be; for of such were the poets of the Great Lands.
But seeing that no children came there for refreshment and delight, sorrow and greyness spread amongst them and Men ceased almost to believe in, or think of, the beauty of the Eldar and the glory of the Valar, till one came from the Great Lands and besought us to relieve the darkness.
Now Lindo and I, Vaire, had taken under our care the children -the remainder of those who found Kor and remained with the Eldar for ever: Ever and anon our children fare forth again to find the Great Lands, and go about among the lonely children and whisper to them at dusk in early bed by night-light and candle-flame, or comfort those that weep.
Some I am told listen to the complaints of those that are punished or chidden, and hear their tales and feign to take their part, and this seems to me a quaint and merry service.
Yet the most come back hither and tell us many stories and many sad things of their journeys -and now I have told most of what is to tell of the Cottage of Lost Play. It had long, said he, been a tradition in our kindred that one of our father's fathers would speak of a fair house and magic gardens, of a wondrous town, and of a music full of all beauty and longing -and these things he said he had seen and heard as a child, though how and where was not told.
Now all his life was he restless, as if a longing half-expressed for unknown things dwelt within him; and 'tis said that he died among rocks on a lonely coast on a night of storm -- and moreover that most of his children and their children since have been of a restless mind -- and methinks I know now the truth of the matter. For the use of the word Gnomes see p. The term 'Middle-earth' is never used in the Lost Tales, and in fact does not appear until writings of the s.
Changes made to names in The Cottage of Lost Play The names were at this time in a very fluid state, reflecting in part the rapid development of the languages that was then taking place. Changes were made to the original text, and further changes, at different times, to the second text, but it seems unnecessary in the following notes to go into thedetail of when and where the changes weremade.
The names are given in the order of their occurrence in the tale. Wingilot name Goldriel; Goldriel was changed to Golthadriel, and then the reference to the Gnomish name was struck out, leaving only Noldorin. Tulkastor on the 'Eriol' or 'English' element is that of short outlines, in which salient narrative features, often without clear connection between them, are set down in the manner of a list; and they vary constantly among themselves.
In what must be, at any rate, among the very earliest of outlines, found in this little pocket-book, and headed 'Story of Eriol's Life', the mariner who came to Tol Eressea is brought into relation with the tradition of the invasion of Britain by Hengest and Horsa in the fifth century A. This was a matter to which my father gave much time and thought; be lectured on it at Oxford and developed certain original theories, especially in connection with the appearance of Hengest in Beowulf.
Tolkien, Finn and Hengest, ed. Alan Bliss, Old English poetic vocabulary meaning 'horse' ; and Eoh was slain by his brother Beorn in Old English 'warrior', but originally meaning 'bear', as does the cognate word bjorn in Old Norse; cf. Beorn the shape-changer in The Hobbit.
Eoh and Beorn were the sons of Heden 'the leather and fur clad', and Heden like many heroes of Northern legend traced his ancestry to the god Woden. In other notes there are other connections and combinations, and since none of this story was written as a coherent narrative these names are only of significance as showing the direction of my father's thought at that time.
Then sea-longing gripped Ottor Waefre: If a beam from Earendel fall on a child new-born he becomes 'a child of Earendel' and a wanderer. After the death of Cwen Ottor left his young children. Hengest and Horsa avenged Eoh and became great chieftains; but Ottor Waefre set out to seek, and find, Tol Eressea, here called in Old English se uncu pa holm, 'the unknown island'.
Various things are told in these notes about Eriol's sojourn in Tol Eressea which do not appear in The Book of Lost Tales, but of these I need here only refer to the statements that 'Eriol adopted the name of Angol' and that he was named by the Gnomes the later Noldor, see p. This certainly refers to the ancient homeland of the 'English' before their migration across the North Sea to Britain: Old English Angel, Angul, modern German Angeln, the region of the Danish peninsula between the Flensburg fjord and the river Schlei, south of the modern Danish frontier.
From the west coast of the peninsula it is no very great distance to the island of Heligoland. In another place Angol is given as the Gnomish equivalent of Eriollo, which names are said to be those of 'the region of the northern part of the Great Lands, "between the seas", whence Eriol came'.
On these names see further under Eriol in the Appendix on Names. It is not to be thought that these notes represent in all respects the story of Eriol as my father conceived it when he wrote The Cottage of Lost Play -- in any case, it is said expressly there that Eriol means 'One who dreams alone', and that 'of his former names the story nowhere tells' p. But what is important is that according to the view that I have formed of the earliest conceptions, apparently the best explanation of the very difficult evidence this was still the leading idea when it was written: He belongs to the period preceding the Anglo-Saxon invasions of Britain as my father, for his purposes, wished to represent it.
Later, his name changed to AElfwine 'Elf-friend' , the mariner became an Englishman of the 'Anglo-Saxon period' of English history, who sailed west over sea to Tol Eressea -- he sailed from England out into the Atlantic Ocean; and from this later conception comes the very remarkable story of AElfwine of England, which will be given at the end of the Lost Tales. But in the earliest conception he was not an Englishman of England: England in the sense of the land of the English did not yet exist; for the cardinal fact made quite explicit in extant notes of this conception is that the Elvish isle to which Eriol came was England -- that is to say, Tol Eressea would become England, the land of the English, at the end of the story.
The great tower or tirion that Ingil son of Inwe built p. None of this is explicit in the written Tales, and is only found in notes independent of them; but it seems certain that it was still present when The Cottage of Lost Play was written and indeed, as I shall try to show later, underlies all the Tales. The fair copy that my mother made of it was dated February From until her marriage in March she lived in Warwick and my father visited her them from Oxford; after their marriage she lived for a while at Great Haywood east of Stafford , since it was near the camp where my father was stationed, and after his return from France he was at Great Haywood in the winter of -- Thus the identification of Tol Eressean Tavrobel with Great Haywood cannot be earlier than , and the fair copy of The Cottage of Lost Play and quite possibly the original composition of it was actually done there.
In November my father wrote a poem entitled Kortirion among the Trees which was dedicated to Warwick. Now on a time the fairies dwelt in the Lonely Isle after the great wars with Melko and the ruin of Gondolin; and they builded a fair city amidmost of that island, and it was girt with trees. Now this city they called Kortirion, both in memory of their ancient dwelling of Kor in Valinor, and because this city stood also upon a hill and had a great tower tall and grey that Ingil son of Inwe their lord let raise.
Very beautiful was Kortirion and the fairies loved it, and it became rich in song and poesy and the light of laughter; but on a time the great Faring Forth was made, and the fairies had rekindled once more the Magic Sun of Valinor but for the treason and faint hearts of Men.
See Letters, p. And it seems to the fairies and it seems to me who know that town and have often trodden its disfigured ways that autumn and the falling of the leaf is the season of the year when maybe here or there a heart among Men may be open, and an eye perceive how is the world's estate fallen from the laughter and the loveliness of old.
Think on Kortirion and be sad -yet is there not hope? Both here and in The Cottage of Lost Play there are allusions to events still in the future when Eriol came to Tol Eressea; and though the full exposition and discussion of them must wait until the end of the Tales it needs to be explained here that 'the Faring Forth' was a great expedition made from Tol Eressea for the rescue of the Elves who were still wandering in the Great Lands -- cf.
Lindo's words pp. At that time Tol Eressea was uprooted, by the aid of Ulmo, from the seabottom and dragged near to the western shores of the Great Lands. In the battle that followed the Elves were defeated, and fled into hiding in Tol Eressea; Men entered the isle, and the fading of the Elves began.
The subsequent history Of Tol Eressea is the history of England; and Warwick is 'disfigured Kortirion', itself a memory of ancient Kor the later Tirion upon Tuna, city of the Elves in Aman; in the Lost Tales the name Kor is used both of the city and the hill. Later in the Tales it is said to Eriol by Meril-i-Turinqi that 'Inwe was the eldest of the Elves, and had lived yet in majesty had he not perished in that march into the world; but Ingil his son went long ago back to Valinor and is with Manwe'.
In The Silmarillion, on the other hand, it is said of Ingwe that 'he entered into Valinor [in the beginning of the days of the Elves] and sits at the feet of the Powers, and all Elves revere his name; but he came never back, nor looked again upon Middle-earth' p.
Lindo's words about the sojourn of Ingil in Tol Eressea 'after many days', and the interpretation of the name of his town Koromas as 'the Resting of the Exiles of Kor', refer to the return of the Eldar from the Great Lands after the war on Melko Melkor, Morgoth for the deliverance of the enslaved Noldoli. His words about his father Valwe 'who went with Noldorin to find the Gnomes' refer to an element in this story of the expedition from Kor.
This latter element was soon lost in its entirety from the developing mythology. Later in the Lost Tales, however, there are again references to Olore Malle. After the description of the Hiding of Valinor, it is told that at the bidding of Manwe who looked on the event with sorrow the Valar Orome and Lorien devised strange paths from the Great Lands to Valinor and the way of Lorien'sdevising was Olore Malle, the Path of Dreams; by this road, when 'Men were yet but.
There are two further mentions in tales to be given in Part II: There is also a poem on the subject of the Cottage of Lost Hay, which has many of the details of the description in the prose text. This poem, according to my father's notes, was composed at 59 St John's Street, Oxford, his undergraduate lodgings, on April when he was It exists as is constantly the case with the poems in several versions, each modified in detail from the preceding one, and the end of the poem was twice entirely rewritten.
I give it here first in the earliest form, with changes made to this in notes at the foot of the page, and then in the final version, the date of Which cannot be certainly determined. I suspect that it was very much later -- and may indeed have been one of the revisions made to old poems when the collection The Adven-ture s of Tom Bombadil was being prepared, though it not mentioned in my father's correspondence on that subThe original title was: Mar Vanwa Tyalieva.
The verse-lines are in- dented as in the original texts.
We wandered shyly hand in hand, 15 Or rollicked in the fairy sand And gathered pearls and shells in pails, While all about the nightingales Were singing in the trees. We dug for silver with our spades 20 By little inland sparkling seas, Then ran ashore through sleepy glades And down a warm and winding lane We never never found again Between high whispering trees.
And all the paths were full of shapes, Of tumbling happy white-clad shapes, And with them You and Me. Two children did we stray and talk Wise, idle, childish things. And with his grey hand led us back; 60 And why we never found the same Old cottage, or the magic track That leads between a silver sea And those old shores and gardens fair Where all things are, that ever were We know not, You and Me.
This is the final version of the poem: We wandered shyly hand in hand, 15 small footprints in the golden sand, and gathered pearls and shells in pails, while all about the nightingales Though long we looked, and high would climb, Or gaze from many a seaward shore To find the path between sea and sky To those old gardens of delight; And how it goes now in that land, If there the house and gardens stand, Still filled with children clad in white -We know not, You and I.
We dug for silver with our spades, and caught the sparkle of the seas, then ran ashore to greenlit glades, and found the warm and winding lane that now we cannot find again, between tall whispering trees. New-built it was, yet very old, white, and thatched with straws of gold, and pierced with peeping lattices that looked toward the sea; and our own children's garden-plots were there: There all the borders, trimmed with box, were filled with favourite flowers, with phlox, with lupins, pinks, and hollyhocks, beneath a red may-tree; and all the gardens full of folk that their own little language spoke, but not to You and Me.
And some were clambering on the roof; some crooning lonely and aloof; some dancing round the fairy-rings all garlanded in daisy-strings, while some upon their knees before a little white-robed king crowned with marigold would sing their rhymes of long ago. But side by side a little pair with heads together, mingled hair, l went walking to and fro 60 still hand in hand; and what they said, ere Waking far apart them led, that only we now know. I shall not attempt any analysis or offer any elucidation of the ideas embodied in the 'Cottages of the Children'.
The reader, however he interprets them, will in any case not need to be assisted in his perception of the personal and particular emotions in which all was still anchored. As I have said, the conception of the coming of mortal children in sleep to the gardens of Valinor was soon to be abandoned in its entirety, and in the developed mythology there would be no place for it -- still less for the idea that in some possible future day 'the roads through Arvalin to Valinor shall be thronged with the sons and daughters of Men'.
Likewise, all the 'elfin' diminutiveness soon disappeared. The idea of the Cottage of the Children was aIready in being in , as the poem You and Me shows; and it was in the same year, indeed on the same days of April, that Goblin Feet or Cumap pa Nihtielfas was written, concerning which my father said in See Humphrey Carpenter, Biography, p.
In this connection, the diminutiveness of the Cottage is very strange since it seems to be a diminutiveness peculiar to itself: Eriol, who has travelled for many days through Tol Eressea, is astonished that the dwelling can hold so many, and he is told that all who enter it must be, or must become, very small. But Tol Eressea is an island inhabited by Elves. The prose introduction to the early form has been cited on pp.
A major revision was made in ; and another much later; by this time it was almost a different poem. Since my father sent it to Rayner Unwin in February as a possible candidate for inclusion in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, it seems virtually certain that the final version dates from that time.
In one of the earliest copies it bears a title in Old English: Cor Tirion pAElfwinera paera beama on middes, and is 'dedicated to Warwick'; but in another the second title is in Elvish the second word is not perfectly legible: Narquelion la.. This is not precisely accurate, since letters to my mother survive that were written from the camp on November 25 and 26, in the second of which he says that he has 'written out a pencil copy of "Kortirion" '.
In his letter my father said: Sing of thy trees, old, old Kortirion! Thine oaks, and maples with their tassels on, 25 Thy singing poplars; and the splendid yews That crown thine aged walls and muse Of sombre grandeur all the day -Until the twinkle of the early stars Is tangled palely in their sable bars; 30 Until the seven lampads of the Silver Bear Swing slowly in their shrouded hair And diadem the fallen day.
When bannered summer is unfurled 35 Most full of music am thine elms -A gathered sound that overwhelms The voices of all other trees. Sing then of elms, belov'd Kortirion, How summer crowds their full sails on, 40 Like clothed masts of verdurous ships, A fleet of galleons that proudly slips Across long sunlit seas.
The holy fairies and immortal elves That dance among the trees and sing themselves A wistful song of things that were, and could be yet. They pass and vanish in a sudden breeze, A wave of bowing grass -- and we forget Their tender voices like wind-shaken bells Of flowers, their gleaming hair like golden asphodels.
Spring still hath joy: A sad and haunting magic note, A strand of silver glass remote. Strange sad October robes her dewy furze In netted sheen of gold-shot gossamers, 80 85 And then the wide-umbraged elm begins to fail; Her mourning multitudes of leaves go pale. Seeing afar the icy shears Of Winter, and his blue-tipped spears Marching unconquerable upon the sun Of bright All-Hallows.
Very polite. Most novels including The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings pick a character to put in the foreground, like Frodo and Bilbo, and then tell the story as it happens to him.
The novelist of course is inventing the story, and so retains omniscience: These is, then, and very evidently, a question of literary 'taste' or literary 'habituation' involved; and also a question of literary 'disappointment' -- the ' mistaken disappointment in those who wanted a second Lord of the Rings' to which Professor Shippey refers.
This has even produced a sense of outrage -- in one case formulated to me in the words 'It's like the Old Testament! Of course, 'The Silmarillion' was intended to move the heart and the imagination, directly, and without peculiar effort or the possession of unusual faculties; but its mode is inherent, and it may be doubted whether any 'approach' to it can greatly aid those who find it unapproachable.
There is a third consideration which Professor Shippey does not indeed advance in the same context: One quality which [The Lord of the Rings] has in abundance is the Beowulfian 'impression of depth', created just as in the old epic by songs and digressions like Aragorn's lay of Tinuviel, Sam Gamgee's allusions to the Silmaril and the Iron Crown, Elrond's account of Celebrimbor, and dozens more.
This, however, is a quality of The Lord of the Rings, not of the inset stories.
To tell these in their own right and expect them to retain the charm they got from their larger setting would be a terrible error, an error to which Tolkien would be more sensitive than any man alive. As he wrote in a revealing letter dated 20 September I am doubtful myself about the undertaking [to write The Silmarillion].
Part of the attraction of The L. To go them is to destroy the magic, unless new unattainable vistas are again revealed. Letters, p. As for the revealing of 'new unattainable vistas', the problem there -- as Tolkien must have thought many times -- was that in The Lord of the Rings Middle-earth was already old, with a vast weight of history behind it.
The Silmarillion, though, in its longer form, was bound to begin at the beginning. How could 'depth' be created when you had nothing to reach further back to? The letter quoted here certainly shows that my father felt this, or perhaps rather one should say, at times felt this, to be a problem.
Nor was it a new thought: A story must be told or there'll be no story, yet it is the untold stories that are most moving. I think you are moved by Celebrimbor because it conveys a sudden sense of endless untold stories: This matter is perfectly illustrated for me by Gimli's song in Moria, where great names out of the ancient world appear utterly remote: In Moria, in Khazad-dum.
But it makes the darkness seem heavier, thinking of all those lamps. Professor Shippey says that 'to tell [the stories that are only alluded to in The Lord of the Rings] in their own right and expect them to retain the charm they got from their larger setting would be a terrible error'. The 'error' presumably lies in the holding of such an expectation, if the stories were told, not in the telling of the stories at all; and it is apparent that Professor Shippey sees my father as wondering, in , whether he should or should not put pen to paper, for he expands the words of the letter, 'I am doubtful myself about the undertaking', to mean 'the undertaking to write The Silmarillion'.
But when my father said this he was not -- most emphatically not -- referring to the work itself, which was in any case already written, and much of it many times over the allusions in The Lord of the Rings are not illusory: I am afraid all the same that the presentation will need a lot of work, and I work so slowly. The legends have to be worked over they were written at different times, some many years ago and made consistent; and they have to be integrated with The L. No simple device, like a journey and a quest, is available.
I am doubtful myself about the undertaking When after his death the question arose of publishing 'The Silmarillion' in some form, I attached no importance to this doubt. The effect that 'the glimpses of a large history in the background' have in The Lord of the Rings is incontestable and of the utmost importance, but I did not think that the 'glimpses' used there with such art should preclude all further knowledge of the 'large history'. The literary 'impression of depth Nor should the device of a backward movement in imagined time to dimly apprehended events, whose attraction lies in their very dimness, be understood mechanically, as if a fuller account of the mighty kings of Nargothrond and Gondolin would imply a dangerously near approach to the bottom of the well, while an account of the Creation would signify the striking of the bottom and a definitive running-out of 'depth' -- 'nothing to reach further back to'.
This, surely, is not how things work, or at least not how they need work. Provided that the reader has a place, a point of vantage, in the imagined time from which to look back, the extreme oldness of the extremely old can be made apparent and made to be felt continuously. Now then Tinuviel pondered much what she might do, and going to Dairon she begged him to aid her, or indeed to fare away with her to Angamandi an he would; but Dairon thought with little love of Beren, and he said: Indeed I have no love for him, for he has destroyed our play together, our music and our dancing.
Now' when Tinwelint heard this he called Tinuviel and said: But Tinuviel said that the first she would not promise and the second only in part, for she would not tempt any of the folk of the woodlands to go with her.
Then was her father mightily angry, and beneath his anger not a little amazed and afraid, for he loved Tinuviel; but this was the plan he devised, for he might not shut his daughter far ever in the caverns where only a dim and flickering light ever came.
Now above the portals of his cavernous hall was a steep slope falling to the river, and there grew mighty beeches; and one there was that was named Hirilorn, the Queen of Trees, for she was very mighty, and so deeply cloven was her bole that it seemed as if three shafts sprang from the ground together and they were of like size, round and straight, and their grey rind was smooth as silk, unbroken by branch or twig for a very great height above men's heads.
Now Tinwelint let build high up in that strange tree, as high as men could fashion their longest ladders to reach, a little house of wood, and it was above the first branches and was sweetly veiled in leaves. Now that house had three corners and three windows in each wall, and at each corner was one of the shafts of Hirilorn.
There then did Tinwelint bid Tinuviel dwell until she would consent to be wise, and when she fared up the ladders of tall pine these were taken from beneath and no way had she to get down again.
All that she required was brought to her, and folk would scale the ladders and give her food or whatever else she wished for, and then descending again take away the ladders, and the king promised death to any who left one leaning against the tree or who should try by stealth to place one there at night. A guard therefore was set nigh the tree's foot, and yet came Dairon often thither in sorrow at what he had brought to pass, for he was lonely without Tinuviel; but Tinuviel had at first much pleasure in her house among the leaves, and would gaze out of her little window while Dairon made his sweetest melodies beneath.
But one night a dream of the Valar came to Tinuviel and she dreamt of Beren, and her heart said: Now Tinuviel daughter of Gwendeling was not ignorant of magics or of spells, as may well be believed, and after much thought she devised a plan. The next day she asked those who came to her to bring, if they would, some of the clearest water of the stream below, "but this," she said, "must be drawn at midnight in a silver bowl, and brought to my hand with no word spoken," and after that she desired wine to be brought, "but this," she said, "must be borne hither in a flagon of gold at noon, and he who brings it must sing as he comes," and they did as they were bid, but Tinwelint was not told.
Then said Tinuviel, "Go now to my mother and say to her that her daughter desires a spinning wheel to pass her weary hours," but Dairon secretly she begged fashion her a tiny loom, and he did this even in the little house of Tinuviel in the tree.
Now Tinuviel took the wine and water when she was alone, and singing a very magical song the while, she mingled them together, and as they lay in the bowl of gold she sang a song of growth, and as they lay in the bowl of silver she sang another song, and the names of all the tallest and longest things upon Earth were set in that song; the beards of the Indravangs, the tail of Karkaras, the body of Glorund, the bole of Hirilorn, and the sword of Nan she named, nor did she forget the chain Angainu that Aule and Tulkas made or the neck of Gilim the giant, and last and longest of all she spake of the hair of Uinen the lady of the sea that is spread through all the waters.
Then did she lave her head with the mingled water and wine, and as she did so she sang a third song, a song of uttermost sleep, and the hair of Tinuviel which was dark and finer than the most delicate threads of twilight began suddenly to grow very fast indeed, and after twelve hours had passed it nigh filled the little room, and then Tinuviel was very pleased and she lay down to rest; and when she awoke the room was full as with a black mist and she was deep hidden under it, and lo!
Then with difficulty she found her little shears and cut the threads of that growth nigh to her head, and after that her hair grew only as it was wont before. Then was the labour of Tinuviel begun, and though she laboured with the deftness of an Elf long was she spinning and longer weaving still, and did any come and hail her from below she bid them be. Now of that cloudy hair Tinuviel wove a robe of misty black soaked with drowsiness more magical far than even that one that her mother had worn and danced in long long ago before the Sun arose, and therewith she covered her garments of shimmering white, and magic slumbers filled the airs about her; but of what remained she twisted a mighty strand, and this she fastened to the bole of the tree within her house, and then was her labour ended, and she looked out of her window westward to the river.
Already the sunlight was fading in the trees, and as dusk filled the woods she began a song very soft and low, and as she sung she cast out her long hair from the window so that its slumbrous mist touched the heads and faces of the guards below, and they listening to her voice fell suddenly into a fathomless sleep. Then did Tinuviel clad in her garments of darkness slip down that rope of hair light as a squirrel, and away she danced to the bridge, and before the bridgewards could cry out she was among them dancing; and as the hem of her black robe touched them they fell asleep, and Tinuviel fled very far away as fast as her dancing feet would flit.
Now when the escape of Tinuviel reached the ears of Tinwelint great was his mingled grief and wrath, and all his court was in uproar, and all the woods ringing with the search, but Tinuviel was already far away drawing nigh to the gloomy foothills where the Mountains of Night begin; and 'tis said that Dairon following after her became utterly lost, and came never back to Elfinesse, but turned towards Palisor, and there plays' subtle magic musics still, wistful and lonely in the woods and forests of the south.
Yet ere long as Tinuviel went forward a sudden dread overtook her at the thought of what she had dared to do and what lay before; then did she turn back for a while, and she wept, wishing Dairon was with her, and it is said that he indeed was not far off, but was wandering lost in the great pines, the Forest of Night, where afterward Turin slew Beleg by mishap.
Now is it to be told to thee, Eriol, that in those days Tevildo had but one trouble in the world, and that was the kindred of the Dogs. Many indeed of these were neither friends nor foes of the Cats, for they had become subject to Melko and were as savage and cruel as any of his animals; indeed from the most cruel and most savage he bred the race of wolves, and they were very dear indeed to him. Was it not the great grey wolf Karkaras Knife-fang, father of wolves, who guarded the gates of Angamandi in those days and long had done so?
Many were there however who would neither bow to Melko nor live wholly in fear of him, but dwelt either in the dwellings of Men and guarded them from much evil that had otherwise befallen them or roamed the woods of Hisi1ome or passing the mountainous places fared even at times into the region of Artanor and the lands beyond and to the south.
Did ever any of these view Tevildo or any of his thanes or subjects, then there was a great baying and a mighty chase, and albeit seldom was any cat slain by reason of their skill in climbing and in hiding and because of the protecting might of Melko, yet was great enmity between them, and some of those hounds were held in dread among the cats.
None however did Tevildo fear, for he was as strong as any among them, and more agile and more swift save only than Huan Captain of Dogs. So swift was Huan that on a time he had tasted the fur of Tevildo, and though Tevildo had paid him for that with a gash from his great claws, yet was the pride of the Prince of Cats unappeased and he lusted to do a great harm to Huan of the Dogs.
Great therefore was the good fortune that befell Tinuviel in meeting with Huan in the woods, although at first she was mortally afraid and fled. But Huan overtook her in two leaps, and speaking soft and deep the tongue af the Lost Elves he bid her be not afraid, and "Wherefore," said he, "do I see an Elfin maiden, and one most fair, wandering alone so nigh to the abodes of the Ainu of Evil?
Knowst thou not these are very evil places to be in, little one, even with a companion, and they are death to the lonely? Now is he gone, and my mother Gwendeling says of her wisdom that he is a thrall in the cruel house of Tevildo Prince of Cats; and whether this be true or yet worse be now befallen him I do not know, and I go to discover him -- though plan I have none.
Rest thee now with me a while within the shadows of the wood, and I will think deeply. But after a while awakening she said: Come, what is thy thought, 0 Huan? Creep now if thou hast the heart to the abiding place of that Prince while the sun is high, and Tevildo and the most of his household drowze upon the terraces before his gates. There discover in what manner thou mayst whether Beren be indeed within, as thy mother said to thee. Now I will lie not far hence in the woods, and thou wilt do me a pleasure and aid thy own desires an going before Tevildo, be Beren there or be he not, thou tellest him how thou hast stumbled upon Huan of the Dogs lying sick in the woods at this place.
Do not indeed direct him hither, for thou must guide him, if it may be, thyself. Then wilt thou see what I contrive for thee and for Tevildo. Methinks that bearing such tidings Tevildo will not entreat thee ill within his halls nor seek to hold thee there. Indeed hearing the name of Gwendeling and knowing thereby that this maiden was a princess of the woodland fairies he was eager to aid her, and his heart warmed to her sweetness.
Now Tinuviel taking heart' stole near to the halls of Tevildo, and Huan wondered much at her courage, following unknown to her, as far as he might for the success of his design. At length however she passed beyond his sight, and leaving the shelter of the trees came to a region of-long grass dotted with bushes that sloped ever upward toward a shoulder of the hills. Now upon that rocky spur the sun shone, but over all the hills and mountains at its back a black cloud brooded, for there was Angamandi; and Tinuviel fared on not daring to look up at that gloom, for fear oppressed her, and as she went the ground rose and the grass grew more scant and rock-strewn until it came even to a cliff, sheer of one side, and there upon a stony shelf was the castle of Tevildo.
No pathway led thereto, and the place where it stood fell towards the woods in terrace after terrace so that none might reach its gates save by many great leaps, and those became ever steeper as the castle drew more nigh. Few were the windows of the house and upon the ground there were none -- indeed the very gate was in the air where in the dwellings of Men are wont to be the windows of the upper floor; but the roof had many wide and flat spaces open to the sun.
Now does Tinuviel wander disconsolate upon the lowest terrace and look in dread at the dark house upon the hill, when behold, she came at a bend in the rock upon a lone cat lying in the sun and seemingly asleep. As she approached he opened a yellow eye and blinked at her, and thereupon rising and stretching he stepped up to her and said: Lead me to him, my lord," she pleaded, and thereat the cat purred so loudly that she dared to stroke his ugly head, and this was much larger than her own, being greater than that of any dog that is now on Earth.
Thus entreated, Umuiyan, for such was his name, said: There he stopped, and as Tinuviel scrambled from his back he said: Going up to him the doorcat Umuiyan spoke in his ear softly, saying: Now was Tinuviel in the sorest dread, for having gained what she desired, a chance of entering Tevildo's stronghold and maybe of discovering whether Beren were there, she had no plan more, and knew not what would become of her -- indeed had she been able she would have fled; yet now do those cats begin to ascend the terraces towards the castle, and one leap does Umuiyan make bearing Tinuviel upwards and then another, and at the third he stumbled so that Tinuviel cried out in fear, and Tevildo said: It is time that thou left my employ if age creeps on thee so swiftly.
But Umuiyan said: Then with a mighty leap he sprang within, and bidding that maiden alight he set up a yell that echoed fearsomely in the dark ways and passages. Forthwith they hastened to him from within, and some he bid descend to Umuiyan and bind him and cast him from the rocks "on the northern side where they fall most sheer, for he is of no use more to me," he said, "for age has robbed him of his sureness of foot"; and Tinuviel quaked to hear the ruthlessness of this beast.
But even as he spake he himself yawned and stumbled as with a sudden drowziness, and he bid others to lead Tinuviel away to a certain chamber within, and that was the one where Tevildo was accustomed to sit at meat with his greatest thanes. It was full of bones and smelt evilly; no windows were there and but one door; but a hatchway gave from it upon the great kitchens, and a red light crept thence and dimly lit the place.
Now so adread was Tinuviel when those catfolk left her there that she stood a moment unable to stir, but soon becoming used to the darkness she looked about and espying the hatchway that had a wide sill she sprang thereto, for it was not over high and she was a nimble Elf.
Now gazing therethrough, for it was ajar, she saw the wide vaulted kitchens and the great fires that burnt there, and those that toiled always within, and the most were cats -- but behold, there by a great fire stooped Beren, and he was grimed with labour, and Tinuviel sat and wept, but as yet dared nothing. Indeed even as she sat the harsh voice of Tevildo sounded suddenly within that chamber: Melko rid me of such folk" -- yet Tinuviel, guessing that Beren-had heard and been smitten with astonishment, put aside her fears and repented her daring no longer.
Tevildo nonetheless was very wroth at her haughty words, and had he not been minded first to discover what good he might get from her tale, it had fared ill with Tinuviel straightway. Indeed from that moment was she in great peril, for Melko and all his vassals held Tinwelint and his folk as outlaws, and great was their joy to ensnare them and cruelly entreat them, so that much favour would Tevildo have gained had he taken Tinuviel before his lord.
Indeed, so soon as she named herself, this did he purpose to do when his own business had been done, but of a truth his wits were drowzed that day, and he forgot to marvel more why Tinuviel sat perched upon the sill of the hatchway; nor did he think more of Beren, for his mind was bent only to the tale Tinuviel bore to him.
Wherefore said he, dissembling his evil mood, "Nay, Lady, be not angry, but come, delay whetteth my desire -- what is it that thou hast for my ears, for they twitch already.
Now with this perhaps I would not have troubled your ears, had not the brute when I approached to succour him snarled upon me and essayed to bite me, and meseems that such a creature deserves whatever come to him. Tevildo however, himself a great and skilled liar, was so deeply versed in the lies and subtleties of all the beasts and creatures that he seldom knew whether to believe what was said to him or not, and was wont to disbelieve all things save those he wished to believe true, and so was he often deceived by the more honest.
Now the story of Huan and his helplessness so pleased him that he was fain to believe it true, and determined at least to test it; yet at first he feigned indifference, saying this was a small matter for such secrecy and might have been spoken outside without further ado.
But Tinuviel said she had not thought that Tevildo Prince of Cats needed to learn that the ears of Huan heard the slightest sounds a league away, and the voice of a cat further than any sound else. Now therefore Tevildo sought to discover from Tinuviel under pretence of mistrusting her tale where exactly Huan might be found, but she made only vague answers, seeing in this her only hope of escaping from the castle, and at length Tevildo, overcome by curiosity and threatening evil things if she should prove false, summoned two of his thanes to him, and one was Oikeroi, a fierce and warlike cat.
Then did the three set out with Tinuviel from that place, but Tinuviel took off her magical garment of black and folded it, so that for all its size and density it appeared no more than the smallest kerchief for so was. Now crept they through the woods in the direction she had named, and soon does Tevildo smell dog and bristles and lashes his great tail, but after he climbs a lofty tree and looks down from thence into that dale that Tinuviel had shown to them.
There he does indeed see the great form of Huan lying prostrate groaning and moaning, and he comes down in much glee and haste, and indeed in his eagerness he forgets Tinuviel, who now in great fear for Huan lies hidden in a bank of fern.
The design of Tevildo and his two companions was to enter that dale silently from different quarters and so come all suddenly upon Huan unawares and slay him, or if he were too stricken to make fight to make sport of him and torment him.
This did they now, but even as they leapt out upon him Huan sprang up into the air with a mighty baying, and his jaws closed in the back close to the neck of that cat Oikeroi, and Oikeroi died; but the other thane fled howling up a great tree, and so was Tevildo left alone face to face with Huan, and such an encounter was not much to his mind, yet was Huan upon him too swiftly for flight, and they fought fiercely in that glade, and the noise that Tevildo made was very hideous; but at length Huan had him by the throat, and that cat might well have perished had not his claws as he struck out blindly pierced Huan's eye.
Then did Huan give tongue, and Tevildo screeching fearsomely got himself loose with a great wrench and leapt up a tall and smooth tree that stood by, even as his companion had done. Despite his grievous hurt Huan now leaps beneath that tree baying mightily, and Telvido curses him and casts evil words upon him from above.
Then said Huan: But if neither are to thy liking, then tell me where is Tinuviel Princess of Fairies and Beren son of Egnor, for these are my friends.
Now these shall be set as ransom against thee -- though it be valuing thee far over thy worth. Nay, I am no fool; rather shalt thou give Tinuviel a token and she shall fetch Beren, or thou shalt stay here if thou likest not the other way.
So was it that in the end weariness and hunger and fear prevailed upon that proud cat, a prince of the service of Melko, to reveal the secret of the cats and the spell that Melko had entrusted to him; and those were words of magic whereby the stones of his evil house were held together, and whereby he held all beasts of the catfolk under his sway, filling them with an evil power beyond their nature; for long has it been said that Tevildo was an evil fay in beastlike shape.
When therefore he had told it Huan laughed till the woods rang, for he knew that the days of the power of the cats were over. Now sped Tinuviel with the golden collar of Tevildo back to the lowest terrace before the gates, and standing she spake the spell in her clear voice.
Then behold, the air was filled with the voices of cats and the house of Tevildo shook; and there came therefrom a host of indwellers and they were shrunk to puny size and were afeared of Tinuviel, who waving the collar of Tevildo spake before them certain of the words that Tevildo had said in her hearing to Huan, and they cowered before her.
But she said: Gimli came leaning upon a stick and Beren aided him, but Beren was clad in rags and haggard, and he had in his hand a great knife he had caught up in the kitchen, fearing some new ill when the house shook and all the voices of the cats were heard; but when he beheld Tinuviel standing amid the host of cats that shrank from her and saw the great collar of Tevildo, then was he' amazed utterly, and knew not what to think.
But Tinuviel was very glad, and spoke saying: This indeed they rued afterward when Tevildo returned home followed by his trembling comrade, for Tevildo's wrath was terrible, and he lashed his tail and dealt blows at all who stood nigh. Now Huan of the dogs, though it might seem a folly, when Beren and Tinuviel came to that glade had suffered that evil Prince to return without further war, but the great collar of gold he had set about his own neck, and at this was Tevildo more angry than all else, for a great magic of strength and power lay therein.
Little to Huan's liking was it that Tevildo lived still, but now no longer did he fear the cats, and that tribe has fled before the dogs ever since, and the dogs hold them still in scorn since the humbling of Tevildo in the woods nigh Angamandi; and Huan has not done any greater deed.
Indeed afterward Melko heard all and he cursed Tevildo and his folk and banished them, nor have they since that day had lord or master or any friend, and their voices wail and screech for their hearts are very lonely and bitter and full of loss, yet there is only darkness therein and no kindliness. At the time however whereof the tale tells it was Tevildo's chief desire to recapture Beren and Tinuviel and to slay Huan, that he might regain the spell and magic he had lost, for he was in great fear of Melko, and he dared not seek his master's aid and reveal his defeat and the betrayal of his spell.
Unwitting of this Huan feared those places, and was in great-dread lest those doings come swiftly to Melko's ear, as did most things that came to pass in the world; wherefore now Tinuviel and Beren wandered far away with Huan, and they became great in friendship with him, and in that life Beren grew strong again and his thraldom fell from him, and Tinuviel loved him.
Yet wild and rugged and very lonely were those days, for never a face of Elf or of Man did they see, and Tinuviel grew at last to long sorely for Gwendeling her mother and the songs of sweet magic she was used to sing to her children as twilight fell in the woodlands by their ancient halls. Often she half fancied she heard the flute of Dairon her brother, in pleasant glades' wherein they sojourned, and her heart grew heavy. At length she said to Beren and to Huan: Nonetheless said he: So sat she a great while in sad thought and she spoke not, but Beren sat nigh and at length said: Yet in the end Tinuviel begged of him the fell of Oikeroi that he slew in the affray of the glade; now Oikeroi was a very mighty cat and Huan carried that fell with him as a trophy.
Now doth Tinuviel put forth her skill and fairy-magic, and she sews Beren into this fell and makes him to the likeness of a great cat, and she teaches him how to sit and sprawl, to step and bound and trot in the semblance of a cat, till Huan's very whiskers bristled at the sight, and thereat Beren and Tinuviel laughed.
Never however could Beren learn to screech or wail or to purr like any cat that ever walked, nor could Tinuviel awaken a glow in the dead eyes of the catskin -- "but we must put up with that," said she, "and thou hast the air of a very noble cat if thou but hold thy tongue. At length however they drew near to Angamandi, as indeed the rumblings and deep noises, and the sound of mighty hammerings of ten thousand smiths labouring unceasingly, declared to them.
Nigh were the sad chambers where the thrall-Noldoli laboured bitterly under the Orcs and goblins of the hills, and here the gloom and darkness was great so that their hearts fell, but Tinuviel arrayed her once more in her dark garment of deep sleep. Now the gates of Angamandi were of iron wrought hideously and set with knives and spikes, and before them lay the greatest wolf the world has ever seen, even Karkaras Knife-fang who had never slept; and Karkaras growled when he saw Tinuviel approach, but of the cat he took not much heed, for he thought little of cats and they were ever passing in and out.
Therefore straightway did Tinuviel begin a magic dance, and the black strands of her dark veil she cast in his eyes so that his legs shook with a drowziness and he rolled over and was asleep. But not until he was fast in dreams of great chases in the woods of Hisilome when he was yet a whelp did Tinuviel cease, and then did those twain enter that black portal, and winding down many shadowy ways they stumbled at length into the very presence of Melko.
In that gloom Beren passed well enough as a very thane of Tevildo, and indeed Oikeroi had aforetime been much about the halls of Melko, so that none heeded him and he slunk under the very chair of the Ainu unseen, but the adders and evil things there lying set him in great fear so that he durst not move.
Now all this fell out most fortunately, for had Tevildo been with Melko their deceit would have been discovered -- and indeed of that danger they had thought, not knowing that Tevildo sat now in his halls and knew not what to do should his discomfiture become noised in Angamandi; but behold, Melko espieth Tinuviel and saith: How camest thou in, for of a surety thou dost not belong here? Knowest thou not that I am Tinuviel daughter of Tinwelint the outlaw, and he hath driven me from his halls, for he is an overbearing Elf and I give not my love at his command.
Behold, I have a skill of subtle dances, and 1 would dance now before you, my lord, for then methinks I might readily be granted some humble corner of your halls wherein to dwell until such times as you should eall for the little dancer Tinuviel to lighten your cares.
Then did Tinuviel begin such a dance as neither she nor any other sprite or fay or elf danced ever before or has done since, and after a while even Melko's gaze was held in wonder.
Round the hall she fared, swift as a swallow, noiseless as a bat, magically beautiful as only Tinuviel ever was, and now she was at Melko's side, now before him, now behind, and her misty draperies touched his face and waved before his eyes, and the folk that sat about the walls or stood in that place were whelmed one by one in sleep, falling down into deep dreams of all that their ill hearts desired.
Beneath his chair the adders lay like stones, and the wolves before his feet yawned and slumbered, and Melko gazed on enchanted, but he did not sleep.
Then began Tinuviel to dance a yet swifter dance before his eyes, and even as she danced she sang in a voice very low and wonderful a song which Gwendeling had taught her long ago, a song that the youths and maidens sang beneath the cypresses of the gardens of Lorien when the Tree of Gold had waned and Silpion was gleaming.
The voices of nightingales were in it, and many subtle odours seemed to fill the air of that noisome place as she trod the floor lightly as a feather in the wind; nor has any voice or sight of such beauty ever again been seen there, and Ainu Melko for all his power and majesty succumbed to the magic of that Elf-maid, and indeed even the eyelids of Lorien had grown heavy had he been there to see.
Then did Melko fall forward drowzed, and sank at last in utter sleep down from his chair upon the floor, and his iron crown rolled away. Suddenly Tinuviel ceased.
In the hall no sound was heard save of slumbrous breath; even Beren slept beneath the very seat of Melko, but Tinuviel shook him so that he awoke at last. Then in fear and trembling he tore asunder his disguise and freeing himself from it leapt to his feet.
Now does he draw that knife that he had from Tevildo's kitchens and he seizes the mighty iron crown, but Tinuviel could not move it and scarcely might the thews of Beren avail to turn it. Great is the frenzy of their fear as in that dark hall of sleeping evil Beren labours as noiselessly as may be to prise out a Silmaril with his knife. Now does he loosen the great central jewel and the sweat pours from his brow, but even as he forces it from the crown lo! Tinuviel smothers a cry thereat and Beren springs away with the one Silmaril in his hand, and the sleepers stir and Melko groans as though ill thoughts disturbed his dreams, and a black look comes upon his sleeping face.
Content now with that one lashing gem those twain fled desperately from the hall, stumbling wildly down many dark passages till from the glimmering of grey light they knew they neared the gates -- and behold! Karkaras lies across the threshold, awake once more and watchful. Straightway Beren thrust himself before Tinuviel although she said him nay, and this proved in the end ill, for Tinuviel had not e to cast her spell of slumber over the beast again, ere seeing Beren he bared his teeth and growled angrily.
Then Karkaras seized that hand in his dreadful jaws, and it was the hand wherein Beren clasped the blazing Silmaril, and both hand and jewel Karkaras bit off and took into his red maw. Great was the agony of Beren and the fear and anguish of Tinuviel, yet even as they expect to feel the teeth of the wolf a new thing strange and terrible comes to pass. Behold now that Silmaril blazeth with a white and hidden fire of its own nature and is possessed of a fierce and holy magic -- for did it not come from Valinor and the blessed realms, being fashioned with spells of the Gods and Gnomes before evil came there; and it doth not tolerate the touch of evil flesh or of unholy hand.
Now cometh it into the foul body of Karkaras, and suddenly that beast is burnt with a terrible anguish and the howling of his pain is ghastly to hear as it echoeth in those rocky ways, so that all that sleeping court within awakes. Then did Tinuviel and Beren flee like the wind from the gates, yet was Karkaras far before them raging and in madness as a beast pursued by Balrogs; and after when they might draw breath Tinuviel wept over the maimed arm of Beren kissing it often, so that behold it bled not, and pain left it, and was healed by the tender healing of her love; yet was Beren ever after surnamed among all folk Ermabwed the One-handed, which in the language of the Lonely Isle is Elmavoite.
Now however must they bethink them of escape -- if such may be their fortune, and Tinuviel wrapped part of her dark mantle about Beren, and so for a while flitting by dusk and dark amid the hills they were seen by none, albeit Melko had raised all his Orcs of terror against them; and his fury at the rape of that jewel was greater than the Elves had ever seen it yet.
Even so it seems soon to them that the net of the hunters drew ever more tightly upon them, and though they had reached the edge of the more familiar woods and passed the glooms of the forest of Taurfuin, still were there many leagues of peril yet to pass between them and the caverns of the king, and even did they reach ever there it seemed like they would but draw the chase behind them thither and Melko's hate upon all that woodland folk.
So great indeed was the hue and cry that Huan learnt of it far away, and he marvelled much at the daring of those twain, and still more that ever they had escaped from Angamandi. Now goes he with many dogs through the woods hunting Orcs and thanes of Tevildo, and many hurts he got thus, and many of them he slew or put to fear and flight, until one even at dusk the Valar brought him to a glade in that northward region of Artanor that was called afterward Nan Dumgorthin, the land of the dark idols, but that is a matter that concerns not this tale.
Howbeit it was even then a dark land and gloomy and foreboding, and dread wandered beneath its lowering trees no less even than in Taurfuin; and those two Elves Tinuviel and Beren were lying therein weary and without hope, and Tinuviel wept but Beren was fingering his knife.
Now when Huan saw them he would not suffer them to speak or to tell any of their tale, but straightway took Tinuviel upon his mighty back and bade Beren run as best he could beside him, , "for," said he, "a great company of the Orcs are drawing swiftly hither, and wolves are their trackers and their scouts. Thus was it that they eluded the host of their enemies, but had nonetheless many an encounter afterward with wandering things of evil, and Beren slew an Orc that came nigh to dragging off Tinuviel, and that was a good deed.
Seeing then that the hunt still pressed them close, once more did Huan lead them by winding ways, and dared not yet straightly to bring them to the land of the woodland fairies. So cunning however was his leading that at last after many days the chase fell far away, and no longer did they see or hear anything of the bands of Orcs; no goblins waylaid them nor did the howling of any evil wolves come upon the airs at night, and belike that was because already they had stepped within the circle of Gwendeling's magic that hid the paths from evil things and kept harm from the regions of the woodelves.
Then did Tinuviel breathe freely once more as she had not done since she fled from her father's halls, and Beren rested in the sun far from the glooms of Angband until the last bitterness of thraldom left him. Because of the light falling through green leaves and the whisper of clean winds and the song of birds once more are they wholly unafraid.
At last came there nevertheless a day whereon waking out of a deep slumber Beren started up as one who leaves a dream of happy things coming suddenly to his mind, and he said: This only I beg of thee, get thee now straight to the safety of thy home, and may good Huan lead thee. But I -- lo, I must away into the solitude of the woods, for I have lost that Silmaril which I had, and never dare I draw near to Angamandi more, wherefore neither will I enter the halls of Tinwelint.
Indeed she reasoned with him, saying it would be folly to be stubborn, and that her father would greet them with nought but joy, being glad to see his daughter yet alive -- and "maybe," said she, "he will have shame that his jesting has given thy fair hand to the jaws of Karkaras.
Yet even as they approach they find fear and tumult among that people such as had not been for a long age, and asking some that wept before their doors they learned that ever since the day of Tinuviel's secret flight ill-fortune had befallen them.
Lo, the king had been distraught with grief and had relaxed his ancient wariness and cunning; indeed his warriors had been sent hither and thither deep into the unwholesome woods searching for that maiden, and many had been slain or lost for ever, and war there was with Melko's servants about all their northern and eastern borders, so that the folk feared mightily lest that Ainu upraise his strength and come utterly to crush them and Gwendeling's magic have not the strength to withhold the numbers of the Orcs.
Behold now the crown of all our evil tidings, for know that there has broken upon us raging from the halls of Evil a great grey wolf filled with an evil spirit, and he fares as though lashed by some hidden madness, and none are safe. Already has he slain many as he runs wildly snapping and yelling through the woods, so that the very banks of the stream that flows before the king's halls has become a lurking-place of danger.
There comes the awful wolf oftentimes to drink, looking as the evil Prince himself with bloodshot eyes and tongue lolling out, and never can he slake his desire for water as though some inward fire devours him. Yet could she not wish Beren had come never to the lands of Artanor, and together they made haste to Tinwelint; and already to the Elves of the wood it seemed that the evil was at an end now that Tinuviel was come back among them unharmed.
Indeed they scarce had hoped for that. In great gloom do they find King Tinwelint, yet suddenly is his sorrow melted to tears of gladness, and Gwendeling sings again for joy when Tinuviel enters there and casting away her raiment of dark mist she stands before them in her pearly radiance of old.
For a while all is mirth and wonder in that hall, and yet at length the king turns his eyes to Beren and says: Methinks 'twould rather befit a king of the Eldar to reward him than revile him.
Lord," said he, "I have a Silmaril in my hand even now. Then was the king's heart turned to him by reason of his stout and courteous demeanour, and he bade Beren and Tinuviel relate to him all that had befallen either of them, and he was eager to hearken, for he did not fully comprehend the meaning of Beren's words. When however he had heard all yet more was his heart turned to Beren, and he marvelled at the love that had awakened in the heart of Tinuviel so that she had done greater deeds and more daring than any of the warriors of his folk.
Huan indeed was with Beren now in the halls, and when those twain spoke of a chase and a great hunt he begged to be in that deed; and it was granted gladly.
Now do those three prepare themselves to harry that beast, that all the folk be rid of the terror of the wolf, and Beren kept his word, bringing a Silmaril to shine once more in Elfinesse. King Tinwelint himself led that chase, and Beren was beside him, and Mablung the heavy-handed, chief of the king's thanes, leaped up and grasped a spear" -- a mighty weapon captured in battle with the distant Orcs -- and with those three stalked Huan mightiest of dogs, but others they would not take according to the desire of the king, who said: About the hour of sunrise they set forth, and soon after Huan espied a new slot beside the stream, not far from the king's doors, "and," quoth he, "this is the print of Karkaras.
Now sinks the sun and fades beyond the western trees and darkness is creeping down from Hisilome so that the light of the forest dies. Even so come they to a place where the spoor swerves from the stream or perchance is lost in its waters and Huan may no longer follow it; and here therefore they encamp, sleeping in turns beside the stream, and the early night wears away. Suddenly in Beren's watch a sound of great terror leaped up from far away -- a howling as of seventy maddened wolves -- then lo!
Scarce had he time to rouse the others, and they were but just sprung up and half-awake, when a great form loomed in the wavering moonlight filtering there, and it was fleeing like one mad, and its course was bent towards the water. Thereat Huan gave tongue, and straightway the beast swerved aside towards them, and foam was dripping from his jaws and a red light shining from his eyes, and his face was marred with mingled terror and with wrath. No sooner did he leave the trees than Huan rushed upon him fearless of heart, but he with a mighty leap sprang right over that great dog, for all his fury was kindled suddenly against Beren whom he recognized as he stood behind, and to his dark mind it seemed that there was the cause of all his agony.
Then Beren thrust swiftly upward with a spear into his throat, and Huan leapt again and had him by a hind leg, and Karkaras fell as a stone, for at that same moment the ting's spear found his heart, and his evil spirit gushed forth and sped howling faintly as it fared over the dark hills to Mandos'; but Beren lay under him crushed beneath his weight. Now they roll back that carcase and fall to cutting it open, but Huan licks Beren's face whence blood is flowing. Soon is the truth of Beren's words made clear, for the vitals of the wolf are half-consumed as though an inner fire had long been smouldering there, and suddenly the night is filled with a wondrous lustre, shot with pale and secret colours, as Mablung" draws forth the Silmaril.
Then holding it out he said: Therefore now they raised Beren gently up and tended him and washed him, and he breathed, but he spoke not nor opened his eyes, and when the sun arose and they had rested a little they bore him as softly as might be upon a bier of boughs back through the woodlands; and nigh midday they drew near the homes of the folk again, and then were they deadly weary, and Beren had not moved nor spoken, but groaned thrice. There did all the people flock to meet them when their approach was noised among them, and some bore them meat and cool drinks and salves and healing things for their hurts, and but for the harm that Beren had met great indeed had been their joy.
Now then they covered the leafy boughs whereon he lay with soft raiment, and they bore him away to the halls of the king, and there was Tinuviel awaiting them in great distress; and she fell upon Beren's breast and wept and kissed him, and he awoke and knew her, and after Mablung gave him that Silmaril, and he lifted it above him gazing at its beauty, ere he said slowly and with pain: Now her beauty and tender loveliness touched even the cold heart of Mandos, so that he suffered her to lead Beren forth once more into the world, nor has this ever been done since to Man or Elf, and many songs and stories are there of the prayer of Tinuviel before the throne of Mandos that I remember not right well.
Yet said Mandos to those twain: For those twain it is that stories name i-Cuilwarthon, which is to say the dead that live again, and they became mighty fairies in the lands about the north of Sirion.