returnoftheshadow72

by Miguel

  There was a hollow dell beneath the north-west shoulder of Weathertop, right under the long ridge that joined it to the hills behind. There Odo and Frodo had been left to wait for them. They had found the signs of a recent camp and fire, and, a great (and most unexpected) boon, behind a large rock was piled a small store of fire-wood. Better still, under the fuel they found a wooden case with some food in it. It was mostly cram-cakes, but there was some bacon, and some dried fruits. There was also some tobacco!

  Cram was, as you may remember, a word in the language of the men of Dale and the Long-lake - to describe a special food they made for long journeys. It kept good indefinitely and was very sustaining, but not entertaining, as it took a lot of chewing and had no particular taste. Bilbo Baggins brought back the recipe - he used cram after he got home on some of his long and mysterious walks. Gandalf also took to using it on his perpetual journeys. He said he liked it softened in water (but that is hard to believe). But cram was not to be despised in the wilderness, and the hobbits were extremely grateful for Gandalf's thoughtfulness. They were still more grateful when the three others came down with their alarming news, and they all realized that they had a long journey still ahead, before they could expect to get help. They immediately held a council, and found it hard to decide what to do. It was the presence of the fire-wood (of which they could not have carried much away) that finally decided them to go no further that day, and to camp for that night in the dell.(1) It seemed unsafe, not to say desperate, to go on at once, or until they found out whether their arrival at the hill was known or expected. For, unless they were to make a long detour back north-west along the hills, and abandon the direction of Rivendell altogether for a while, it would not be easy to find any cover or concealment. The Road itself was impossible; but they must at least cross it, if they were to get into the more broken land, full of bushy thickets, immediately to the south of it. To the north of the Road, beyond the hills, the land was bare and flat for many miles.

  'Can the - er - enemy see?' asked Merry. 'I mean, they seem usually to have smelt rather than seen, at least in the daytime. But you made us lie down flat.'

  'I don't know,' said Trotter, 'how they perceive what they seek; but I fear them. And their horses can see.'(2)

  It was now already late afternoon. They had had no food since breakfast. In spite of their fear and uncertainty they were very hungry. So down in the dell where all was still and quiet they made a meal - as good a meal as they dared take, after they had examined their stores. But for Gandalf's present they would not have dared to have more than a bite. They had left behind the countries where inns or villages could be found. There were Big People (so Trotter said) away to the South of them. But North and East the neighbouring lands were empty of all save birds and beasts, unfriendly places deserted by all the races of the world: Elves, Men, Dwarves, or Hobbits, and even by goblins. The more adventurous Rangers journeyed occasionally into those regions, but they passed and did not stay. Other wanderers were rare, and of no good sort: Trolls might stray at times down out of the further hills and Mountains. Only on the Road would travellers be found, Big People rarely in those days, Elves perhaps sometimes, most often Dwarves hurrying along on business, and with no help and few words to spare for strangers.

  So now - since Gandalf had gone - they had to depend on what they carried with them - probably until they found their way at last to Rivendell. For water they were obliged to trust to chance. For food they could perhaps just have managed to go ten or eleven days; and now with Gandalf's additions they could with economy probably hold out for more than a fortnight. It might have been worse. But starving was not their only fear.

  It became very cold as evening fell. There was some mist again over the distant marshes; but the sky above cleared again, and the clouds were blown away by a chill east wind. Looking out from the lip of the dale [read dell] they could see nothing but a grey land quickly vanishing in shadows, under an open sky filling slowly with twinkling stars.

  They lit a small fire down at the lowest point in the hollow, and sat round it clothed and wrapped in every garment and blanket they possessed: at least Bingo and his companions did so. Trotter seemed content with a single blanket, and sat some little way from the fire puffing his short pipe. They took it in turns to sit on guard on the edge of the dell, at a point where the steep sides of Weathertop Hill, and the gentler slope down from the ridge, could be seen - as far as anything could be seen in the gathering dusk.

  As the evening deepened Trotter began to tell them tales to keep their minds from fear. He knew much lore concerning wild animals, and claimed to speak some of their languages; and he had strange stories to tell of their lives and little known adventures. He knew also many histories and legends of the ancient days, of hobbits when the Shire was still wild, and of things beyond the mists of memory out of which the hobbits came. They wondered where he had learned all his lore.

  'Tell us of Gil-galad!' said Frodo - 'you spoke that name not long ago,(3) and it is still ringing in my ears. Who was he?'

  'Don't you know!' said Trotter. 'Gil-galad was the last of the great Elf-kings: Gil-galad is Starlight in their tongue. He overthrew the Enemy, but he himself perished. But I will not tell that tale now; though you will hear it, I think, in Rivendell, when we get there. Elrond should tell it, for he knows it well. But I will tell you the tale of Tinuviel - in brief, for in full it is a long tale of which the end is not known, and there is no one that remembers it in full as it was told of old, unless it be Elrond. But even in brief it is a fair tale - the fairest that has come out of the oldest days.' He fell silent for a moment, and then he began not to speak, but to chant softly:

  Put in Light on Linden Tree. [sic] emended. Or the alliterative lines. Follow with brief Tinuviel story.

  My father then went straight on in the manuscript to the beginning of a prose resume of the story of Beren and Luthien. He had not gone far with this, however, when he abandoned it, and returning to Trotter's words about the story changed the end of them to: 'It is a fair tale, though it is sad as are the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may lift up the hearts of the enemies of the Enemy.' He then wrote:

  Lo Beren Gamlost the boldhearted (4)

  but struck this out also. He had suggested just above that 'the alliterative lines' might be used. He was referring to the passage of alliterative verse that preceded Light as Leaf on Lindentree as published in The Gryphon (Leeds University) in 1925,(5) a passage itself closely related to lines in the second version of the alliterative Lay of the Children of Hurin, 355 ff., where Halog, one of Turin's guides on the journey to Doriath, sang this song 'for hearts' uplifting' as they wandered in the forest. But he now decided against the alliterative lines for this place, and wrote in the manuscript a new version of Light as Leaf on Lindentree. This text of the poem moves it far towards the final version in FR pp. 204 - 5, but has elements surviving from the old poem that were afterwards lost, and elements common to neither. There are many later emendations to the text, and many alternative readings (mostly taken up into the final version) written at the time of composition; but here I give the primary text without variants or later corrections.

  The leaves mere long, the grass was thin,

  The fall of many years lay thick,

  The tree-mots twisted out and in,

  The rising moon was glimmering.

  Her feet ment lilting light and quick

  To the silver flute oflleerin:(6)

  Beneath the hemlock-umbels thick

  Tinuviel was shimmering.

  The noiseless moths their wings did fold,

  The light was lost among the leaves,

  As Beren there from mountains cold

  Came wandering and sorrowing.

  He peered between the hemlock leaves

  And saw in wonder flowers of gold

  Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

  And her hair like shadow following.

  Enchantment took his weary feet,

&
nbsp; That over stone mere doomed to mam,

  And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,

  And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

  Through woven woods of Elvenhome

  They fled on swiftly dancing feet,

  And left him lonely still to mam,

  In the silent forest listening.

  He heard at times the flying sound

  Of feet as light as linden leaves,

  Or music welling underground

  In the hidden halls of Doriath.

  But withered were the hemlock sheaves,

  And one by one with sighing sound

  Whispering fell the beechen leaves

  In the wintry woods of Doriath.

  He sought her ever, wandering far

  Where leaves of years mere thickly strewn,

  By light of moon and ray of star

  In frosty heavens shivering.

  Her mantle glistened in the moon,

  As on a hill-top high and far

  She danced, and at her feet was strewn

  A mist of silver quivering.

  When minter passed she came again,

  And her song released the sudden spring,

  Like rising lark, and falling rain,

  And melting water bubbling.

  There high and clear he heard her sing,

  And from him fell the minter's chain;

  No more he feared by her to spring

  Upon the grass untroubling.

  Again she fled, but clear he called:

  Tinuviel, Tinuviel.

  She halted by his voice enthralled

  And stood before him shimmering.

  Her doom at last there on her fell,

  As in the hills the echoes called;

  Tinuviel, Tinuviel,

  In the arms of Beren glimmering.

  As Beren looked into her eyes

  Within the shadows of her hair

  The trembling starlight of the skies

  He saw there mirrored shimmering.

  Tinuviel! O elven-fair!

  Immortal maiden elven-wise,

  About him cast her shadowy hair

  And white her arms were glimmering.

  Long was the way that fate them bore

  O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

  Through halls of iron and darkling door

  And woods of night-shade morrowless.

  The Sundering Seas between them lay

  And yet at last they met once more,

  And long ago they passed away

  In the forest singing sorrowless.

  He paused before he spoke again. 'That is a song,' he said, 'that tells of the meeting of Beren the mortal and Luthien Tinuviel, which is but the beginning of the tale.

  'Luthien was the daughter of the elven-king Thingol of Doriath in the West of the Middle-world, when the earth was young. Her mother was Melian, who was not of the Elf-race but came out of the Far West from the land of the Gods and the Blessed Realm of Valinor. It is said that the daughter of Thingol and Melian was the most fair maiden that ever was or shall be among all the children of the world. No limbs so fair shall again run upon the green earth, no face so beautiful shall look upon the sky, till all things are changed.

  The passage in praise of Luthien that follows is almost word for word the same as that in the Quenta Silmarillion (1937), largely retained in the published work (p. 165, 'Blue was her raiment...').

  'But Beren was son of Barahir the Bold. In those days the fathers of the fathers of Men came out of the East; and some there were that journeyed even to the West of Middle-earth, and there they met the Elves, and were taught by them, and became wise, but they were mortal and shortlived, for such is their fate. Yet many of them aided the Elves in their wars. For in that time the Elves besieged the Enemy in his dreadful fortress in the North. Angband it was called, the Halls of Iron beneath the thunderous towers of the black mountain Thangorodrim.

  'But he broke the siege, and drove Elves and Men ever southward; and Barahir was slain. Ruin came upon the West-lands, but Doriath long endured because of the power and enchantment of Melian the Queen that fenced it about so that no evil could come within. In the song it is told (7) how Beren flying southward through many perils came at last into the hidden kingdom and beheld Luthien. Tinuviel he called her, which is Nightingale, for he did not yet know her name.

  'But Thingol the Elven-king was wroth, despising him as a mortal, and a fugitive; and he sent Beren upon a hopeless quest were he could win Luthien. For he commanded him to bring him one of the three jewels from the crown of the King of Angband, out of the deeps of the Iron Halls. These were the Silmarils renowned in' song, filled with power and a holy light, for they had been made by the Elves in the Blessed Realm, but the Enemy had stolen them, and guarded them with all his strength. Yet Beren achieved that Quest, for Luthien fled from her father's realm and followed after him; and with the aid of Huan hound of the Gods, who came out of Valinor, she found him once again; and together thereafter they passed through peril and darkness; and they came even to Angband and beguiled the Enemy, and overthrew him, and took a Silmaril and fled.

  'But the wolf-warden of the dark gate of Angband bit off the hand of Beren that held the Silmaril, and he came near to death. Yet it is told that at length Luthien and Beren escaped and returned to Doriath, and the king and all his people marvelled. But Thingol reminded Beren that he had vowed not to return save with a Silmaril in his hand.

  '"It is in my hand even now," he answered.

  '"Show it to me!" said the king.

  '"That I cannot do," said Beren, "for my hand is not here," and he held up his maimed arm. And from that hour he was named Beren Erhamion the Onehanded.

  'Then the tale of the Quest was told in the king's hall and his mood was softened, and Luthien laid her hand in Beren's before the throne of her father.

  'But soon fear came upon Doriath. For the dread wolf-warden of Angband, being maddened by the fire of the Silmaril that consumed his evil flesh within, roamed through the world, wild and terrible. And by fate and the power of the jewel he passed the guarded borders and came ravening even into Doriath; and all things fled before him. Thus befell the Wolf-hunt of Doriath, and to that hunt went King Thingol, and Beren Erhamion, and Beleg the Bowman and Mablung the heavy-handed, and Huan the hound.

  'And the great wolf leaped upon Beren and felled him and grievously wounded him; and Huan slew the wolf but himself was slain. And Mablung cut the Silmaril from the belly of the wolf, and gave it to Beren, and Beren gave it to Thingol. Then they bore Beren back with Huan at his side to the king's hall. And Luthien bade him farewell before the gates, bidding him await her beyond the Great Seas; and he died in her arms.

  'But the spirit of Luthien fell down into darkness, for such was the doom upon the elven-maid for her love of a mortal man; and she faded slowly, as the Elves do under the burden of a grief unbearable. Her fair body lay like a flower that is suddenly cut off and lies for a while unwithered on the grass;(8) but her spirit journeyed over the Great Seas. And it is said that she sang before the Gods, and her song was made of the sorrows of the two kindreds, of Elves and Men. So fair was she and so moving was her song that they were moved to pity. But they had not the power long to withhold within the confines of the world the spirits of mortal men that died; nor to change the sundered fate of the two kindreds.

  'Therefore they gave this choice to Luthien. Because of her sorrow and of the Silmaril that was regained from the Enemy, and because her mother Melian came from Valinor, she should be released from the Halls of Waiting, and return not to the woes of Middle-earth, but go to the Blessed Realm and dwell with the Gods until the world's end, forgetting all sadness that her life had known. Thither Beren could not come. The other choice was this. She might return to earth, and take with her Beren for a while, there to dwell with him again, but without certitude of life or joy. Then she would become mortal even as he; and ere long she should leave the world for ever, and her beauty become only a
memory of song, until that too faded. This doom she chose, forsaking the Blessed Realm, and thus they met again, Beren and Tinuviel, beyond the Great Seas, as she had said; and their paths led together, and passed long ago beyond the confines of the world. So it was that Luthien alone of all the Elven-kin has died indeed. But by her choice the Two Kindreds were joined, and she is the fore-mother of many in whom the Elves see yet, though the world changeth, the likeness of Luthien the beloved whom they have lost.'(9)

  As Trotter was speaking, the darkness closed in; night fell on the world. They could see his queer eager face dimly lit in the glow of the red wood-fire. Above him was a black starry sky. Suddenly a pale light appeared behind the crown of Weathertop behind him. The moon, now nearly half-full, was climbing slowly above the hill that overshadowed them. The stars above its top grew pale. The story ended. The hobbits moved and stretched. 'Look!' said Merry. 'The moon is rising. It must be getting late.' The others looked up. Even as they did so they saw something small and dark on the hill-top against the glimmer of the moonlight. It was perhaps only a large stone or jutting rock shown up by the pale light.

  At that moment Odo, who had been on guard (being less reluctant than the others to miss Trotter's tale-telling) came hurrying down to the fire. 'I don't know what it is,' he said, 'but I feel that something is creeping up the hill. And I thought (I couldn't be sure) that away there, westwards, where the moonlight is falling, there were two or three black shapes. They seemed to be moving this way.'