The Book of Lost Tales, Part Two

by J. R. R. Tolkien

  ‘Turamhar here set out from the head of the falls with six companions, all of whom proved in the end fainthearted, whereas later he had only two, Dorlas and Hunthor, and Hunthor remained staunch, though killed by a falling stone in the gorge. But the result is the same, in that Turambar must climb the further cliff of the gorge alone. Here the dragon remained where he lay near the brink of the cliff all night, and only moved with the dawn, so that his death and the events that immediately followed it took place by daylight. But in other respects the killing of the dragon remained even in many details much as it was originally written, more especially if comparison is made with the Narn (p. 134), where there reappears the need for Turambar and his companion(s) to move from their first station in order to come up directly under the belly of the beast (this is passed over in The Silmarillion).

  Two notable points in this section remain to be mentioned; both are afterthoughts pencilled into the manuscript. In the one we meet for the first time Mîm the Dwarf as the captain of Glorund’s guard over his treasure during his absence—a strange choice for the post, one would think. On this matter see p. 137 below. In the other it is said that Níniel conceived a child by Turambar, which, remarkably enough, is not said in the text as originally written; on this see p. 135.

  (x) The deaths of Túrin and Nienóri (pp. 108–12)

  In the conclusion of the story the structure remained the same from the old tale to the Narn: the moonlight, the tending of Turambar’s burnt hand, the cry of Níniel that stirred the dragon to his final malice, the accusation by the dragon that Turambar was a stabber of foes unseen, Turambar’s naming Tamar/Brandir ‘Club-foot’ and sending him to consort with the dragon in death, the sudden withering of the leaves at the place of Nienor’s leap as if it were already the end of autumn, the invocation of Nienor to the waters and of Turambar to his sword, the raising of Túrin’s mound and the inscription in ‘strange signs’ upon it. Many other features could be added. But there are also many differences; here I refer only to some of the most important.

  Mablung being absent from the old story, it is only Turambar’s intuition (‘being free now of blindness’—the blindness that Melko ‘wove of old’, p. 83)* that informs him that Tamar was telling the truth. The slaying of Glaurung and all its aftermath is in the late story compassed in the course of a single night and the morning of the next day, whereas in the tale it is spread over two nights, the intervening day, and the morning of the second. Turambar is carried back to the people on the hill-top by the three deserters who had left him in the ravine, whereas in the late story he comes himself. (Of the slaying of Dorlas by Brandir there is no trace in the tale, and the taking of a sword by Tamar has no issue.)

  Particularly interesting is the result of the changing of the place where Túrin and Nienóri died. In the tale there is only one river, and Níniel follows the stream up through the woods and casts herself over the falls of Silver Bowl (in the place afterwards called Nen Girith), and here too, in the glade above the falls, Turambar slew himself; in the developed story her death-leap was into the ravine of Teiglin at Cabed-en-Aras, the Deer’s Leap, near the spot where Turambar lay beside Glaurung, and here Turambar’s death took place also. Thus Níniel’s sense of dread when she first came to Silver Bowl with the Woodmen who rescued her (p. 101) foreboded her own death in that place, but in the changed story there is less reason for a foreknowledge of evil to come upon her there. But while the place was changed, the withering of the leaves remained, and the awe of the scene of their deaths, so that none would go to Cabed-en-Aras after, as they would not set foot on the grass above Silver Bowl.

  The most remarkable feature of the earliest version of the story of Turambar and Níniel is surely that as my father first wrote it he did not say that she had conceived a child by him (note 25); and thus there is nothing in the old story corresponding to Glaurung’s words to her: ‘But the worst of all his deeds thou shalt feel in thyself’ (Narn p. 138). The fact that above all accounts for Nienor’s utter horror and despair was added to the tale later.

  In concluding this long analysis of the Tale of Turambar proper the absence of place-names in the later part of it may be remarked. The dwelling of the Rodothlim is not named, nor the river that flowed past it; no name is given to the forest where the Woodmen dwelt, to their village, or even to the stream of such central importance at the end of the story (contrast Nargothrond, Narog, Tumhalad, Amon Ethir, Brethil, Amon Obel, Ephel Brandir, Teiglin, Celebros of the later narratives).

  §2. The further narrative of Eltas

  (after the death of Tútin)

  My father struck out the greater part of this continuation, allowing it to stand only as far as the words ‘by reason of her great unhappiness’ on p. 113 (see note 31). From the brief passage that was retained it is seen that the story of Morwen’s coming to the stone on Túrin’s mound goes back to the beginning, though in the later story she met Húrin there (The Silmarillion, p. 229).

  The rejected part continues as follows:

  Yet it is said also that when the doom of his folk was utterly fulfilled then was Úrin released by Melko, and bowed with age he fared back into the better lands. There did he gather some few to him, and they went and found the caverns of the Rothwarin [earlier form for Rodothlim, see p. 119] empty, and none guarded them, and a mighty treasury lay there still for none had found it, in that the terror of the drake lived longer than he and none had ventured thither again. But Úrin let bear the gold even before Linwë [i.e. Tinwelint], and casting it before his feet bade him bitterly to take his vile reward, naming him a craven by whose faint heart had much evil fallen to his house that might never have been; and in this began a new estrangement between Elves and Men, for Linwë was wroth at Úrin’s words and bid him begone, for said he: “Long did I foster Túrin thy son and forgave him the evil of his deeds, and afterward thy wife I succoured, giving way against my counsel to her wild desires. Yet what is it to me—and wherefore dost thou, O son of the uncouth race of Men, endure to upbraid a king of the Eldalië, whose life began in Palisor ages uncounted before Men were born?” And then Úrin would have gone, but his men were not willing to leave the gold there, and a dissension arose between them and the Elves, and of this grew bitter blows, and Tintoglin [i.e. Tinwelint] might not stay them.

  There then was Úrin’s band slain in his halls, and they stained with their blood the dragon’s hoard; but Úrin escaped and cursed that gold with a dread curse so that none might enjoy it, and he that held any part of it found evil and death to come of it. But Linwë hearing that curse caused the gold to be cast into a deep pool of the river before his doors, and not for very long did any see it again save for the Ring of Doom [emended to: the Necklace of the Dwarves], and that tale belongs not here, although therein did the evil of the worm Glorund find its last fulfilment.

  (The last phrase is an addition to the text.) The remainder of this rejected narrative, concerning the final fates of Úrin and Mavwin and their children, is essentially the same as in the replacement text given on p. 115 (‘Then Úrin departed…’) and need not be given.

  Immediately following the rejected narrative there is a short outline headed ‘Story of the Nauglafring or the Necklace of the Dwarves’, and this also was struck through. Here there is no mention of Úrin at all, but it is told that the Orcs (emended from Gongs, see I.245 note 10) who guarded the treasury of Glorund went in search of him when he did not come back to the caves, and in their absence Tintoglin (i.e. Tinwelint), learning of Glorund’s death, sent Elves to steal the hoard of the Rothwarin (i.e. Rodothlim). The Orcs returning cursed the thieves, and they cursed the gold also.

  Linwë (i.e. Tinwelint) guarded the gold, and he had a great necklace made by certain Úvanimor (Nautar or Nauglath). (Úvanimor have been defined in an earlier tale as ‘monsters, giants, and ogres’, see I.75, 236; Nauglath are Dwarves, I.236). In this Necklace the Silmaril was set; but the curse of the gold was on him, and he defrauded them of part of their reward. The Nau
glath plotted, and got aid of Men; Linwë was slain in a raid, and the gold carried away.

  There follows another rejected outline, headed ‘The Necklace of the Dwarves’, and this combines features of the preceding outline with features of the rejected ending of Eltas’ narrative (pp. 135–6). Here Úrin gathers a band of Elves and Men who are wild and fierce, and they go to the caves, which are lightly guarded because the ‘Orqui’ (i.e. Orcs) are abroad seeking Glorund. They carry off the treasure, and the Orcs returning curse it. Úrin casts the treasure before the king and reproaches him (saying that he might have sent a greater company to the caves to secure the treasure, if not to aid Mavwin in her distress); ‘Tintoglin would not touch it and bid Úrin hold what he had won, but Úrin would depart with bitter words’. Úrin’s men were not willing to leave it, and they sneaked back; there was an affray in the king’s halls, and much blood was spilt on the gold. The outline concludes thus:

  The Gongs sack Linwë’s halls and Linwë is slain and the gold is carried far away. Beren Ermabwed falls upon them at a crossing of Sirion and the treasure is cast into the water, and with it the Silmaril of Fëanor. The Nauglath that dwell nigh dive after the gold but only one mighty necklace of gold (and that Silmaril is on it) do they find. This becomes a mark of their king.

  These two outlines are partly concerned with the story of the Nauglafring and show my father pondering that story before he wrote it; there is no need to consider these elements here. It is evident that he was in great doubt as to the further course of the story after the release of Úrin—what happened to the dragon’s hoard? Was it guarded or unguarded, and if guarded by whom? How did it come at last into Tinwelint’s hands? Who cursed it, and at what point in the story? If it was Úrin and his band that seized it, were they Men or Elves or both?

  In the final text, written on slips placed in the manuscript book and given above pp. 113–16, these questions were resolved thus: Úrin’s band was at first Men, then changed to Elves (see note 33); the treasure was guarded by the dwarf Mîm, whom Úrin slew, and it was he who cursed the gold as he died; Úrin’s band became a baggage-train to carry the treasure to Tinwelint in sacks and wooden boxes (and they got it to the bridge before the king’s door in the heart of the forest without, apparently, any difficulty). In this text there is no hint of what happened to the treasure after Úrom’s departure (because the Tale of the Nauglafring begins at that point).

  Subsequent to the writing of the Tale of Turambar proper, my father inserted Mîm into the text at an earlier point in the story (see pp. 103, 118 note 26), making him the captain of the guard appointed by Glorund to watch the treasure in his absence; but whether this was written in before or after the appearance of Mîm at the end (pp. 113–14)—whether it represents a different idea, or is an explanation of how Mîm came to be there—I cannot say.

  In The Silmarillion (pp. 230–2) the story is wholly changed, in that the treasure remained in Nargothrond, and Húrin after the slaying of Mîm (for a far better reason than that in the early narrative) brought nothing from it to Doriath save the Necklace of the Dwarves.

  Of the astonishing feature at the end of Eltas’ narrative (pp. 115–16) of the ‘deification’ of Túrin Turambar and Nienóri (and the refusal of the Gods of Death to open their doors to them) it must be said that nowhere is there any explanation given—though in much later versions of the mythology Túrin Turambar appears in the Last Battle and smites Morgoth with his black sword. The purifying bath into which Túrin and Nienóri entered, called Fôs’Almir in the final text, was in the rejected text named Fauri; in the Tale of the Sun and Moon it has been described (I. 187), but is there given other names: Tanyasalpë, Faskalanúmen, and Faskalan.

  There remains one further scrap of text to be considered. The second of the rejected outlines given above (pp. 136–7) was written in ink over a pencilled outline that was not erased, and I have been able to disinter a good deal of it from beneath the later writing. The two passages have nothing to do with each other; for some reason my father did not trouble in this case to erase earlier writing. The underlying text, so far as I can make it out, reads:

  Tirannë and Vainóni fall in with the evil magician Kurúki who gives them a baneful drink. They forget their names and wander distraught in the woods. Vainóni is lost. She meets Turambar who saves her from Orcs and aids in her search for her mother. They are wed and live in happiness. Turambar becomes lord of rangers of the woods and a harrier of the Orcs. He goes to seek out the Foalókë which ravages his land. The treasure-heap—and flight of his band. He slays the Foalókë and is wounded. Vainóni succours him, but the dragon in dying tells her all, lifting the veil Kurúki has set over them. Anguish of Turambar and Vainóni. She flees into the woods and casts herself over a waterfall. Madness of Turambar who dwells alone………. Úrin escapes from Angamandi and seeks Tirannë. Turambar flees from him and falls upon his sword………………………. Úrin builds a cairn and…………doom of Melko. Tirannë dies of grief and Úrin reaches Hisilómë…………………………………. Purification of Turambar and Vainóni who fare shining about the world and go with the hosts of Tulkas against Melko.

  Detached jottings follow this, doubtless written at the same time:

  Úrin escapes. Tirannë learns of Túrin. Both wander distraught…in the wood.

  Túrin leaves Linwë for in a quarrel he slew one of Linwë’s kin (accidentally).

  Introduce Failivrin element into the story?

  Turambar unable to fight because of Foalókë’s eyes. Sees Failivrin depart.

  This can only represent some of my father’s very earliest meditations on the story of Túrin Turambar. (That it appears in the notebook at the end of the fully-written Tale may seem surprising, but he clearly used these books in a rather eccentric way.) Nienóri is here called Vainóni, and Mavwin Tirannë; the spell of forgetfulness is here laid by a magician named Kurúki, although it is the dragon who lifts the veil that the magician set over them. Túrin’s two encounters with the dragon seem to have emerged from an original single one.

  As I have mentioned before, the Tale of Turambar, like others of the Lost Tales, is written in ink over a wholly erased pencilled text, and the extant form of the tale is such that it could only be derived from a rougher draft preceding it; but the underlying text is so completely erased that there is no clue as to what stage it had reached in the development of the legend. It may well be—I think it is extremely probable—that in this outline concerning Vainóni, Tirannë, and Kurúki we glimpse by an odd chance a ‘layer’ in the Túrin-saga older even than the erased text underlying the extant version.

  § Miscellaneous Matters

  (i) Beren

  The rejected passage given on p. 71, together with the marginal note ‘If Beren be a Gnome (as now in the story of Tinúviel) the references to Beren must be altered’ (note 4), is the basis for my assertion (p. 52) that in the earliest, now lost, form of the Tale of Tinúviel Beren was a Man. I have shown, I hope, that the extant form of the Tale of Turambar preceded the extant form of the Tale of Tinúviel (p. 69). Beren was a Man, and akin to Mavwin, when the extant Turambar was written; he became a Gnome in the extant Tinúviel; and this change was then written into Turambar. What the replacement passage on p. 72 does is to change the relation of Egnor and Beren from kinship with Úrin’s wife to friendship with Úrin. (A correction to the typescript version of Tinúviel, p. 45, is later: making the comradeship of Úrin with Beren rather than with Egnor.) Two further changes to the text of Turambar consequent on the change in Beren from Man to Elf are given in notes 5 and 6.—It is interesting to observe that in the developed genealogy of The Silmarillion, when Beren was of course again a Man, he was also again akin to Morwen: for Beren was first cousin to Morwen’s father Baragund.

  In the rejected passage on p. 71 my father wrote against the name Egnor ‘Damrod the Gnome’ (note 2), and in the amended passage he wrote that Úrin had known Beren ‘and had rendered him a service once in respect of
Damrod his son’. There is no clue anywhere as to what this service may have been; but in the second of the ‘schemes’ for The Book of Lost Tales (see I.233–4) the outline for the Tale of the Nauglafring refers to the son of Beren and Tinúviel, the father of Elwing, by the name Daimord, although in the actual tale as written the son is as he was to remain Dior. Presumably Daimord is to be equated with Damrod. I cannot explain the insertion of ‘Damrod the Gnome’ against ‘Egnor’ in the rejected passage—possibly it was no more than a passing idea, to give the name Damrod to Beren’s father.

  It may be noticed here that both the rejected and the replacement passages make it very clear that the events of the story of Beren and Tinúviel took place before the Battle of Unnumbered Tears; see pp. 65–6.

  (ii) The Battle of Tasarinan

  It is said at the beginning of the present tale (p. 70) that it ‘tells of very ancient days of that folk [Men] before the Battle of Tasarinan when first Men entered the dark vales of Hisilómë’.

  On the face of it this offers an extreme contradiction, since it is said many times that Men were shut in Hisilómë at the time of the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, and the Tale of Turambar takes place—must take place—after that battle. The solution lies, however, in an ambiguity in the sentence just cited. My father did not mean that this was a tale of Men in ancient days of that folk before they entered Hisilómë he meant ‘this is a tale of the ancient days when Men first entered Hisilómë—long before the Battle of Tasarinan’.