When Turambar spoke of his hope that Glaurung would go straight and not swerve, he meant that if the Dragon went up along Teiglin to the Crossings he would be able to enter Brethil without having to pass over the gorge, where he would be vulnerable: see his words to the men at Nen Girith, p. 167.
26 I have found no map to illustrate my father’s conception of the lie of the land in detail, but this sketch seems at least to fit the references in the narrative:
27 The phrases ‘fled wildly from that place’ and ‘sped on before him’ suggest that there was some distance between the place where Túrin lay beside Glaurung’s corpse and the edge of the ravine. It may be that the Dragon’s death-leap carried him some way beyond the further brink.
28 Later in the narrative (p. 186) Túrin himself, before his death, called the place Cabed Naeramarth, and it may be supposed that it was from the tradition of his last words that the later name was derived.
The apparent discrepancy that, although Brandir is said (both here and in The Silmarillion) to have been the last man to look on Cabed-en-Aras, Túrin came there soon afterwards, and indeed the Elves also and all those who raised the mound over him, may perhaps be explained by taking the words of the Narn concerning Brandir in a narrow sense: he was the last man actually to ‘look down into its darkness’. It was indeed my father’s intention to alter the narrative so that Túrin slew himself not at Cabed-en-Aras but on the mound of Finduilas by the Crossings of Teiglin; but this never received written form.
29 It seems from this that ‘The Deer’s Leap’ was the original name of the place, and indeed the meaning of Cabeden-Aras.
APPENDIX
From the point in the story where Túrin and his men established themselves in the ancient dwelling of the Petty-dwarves on Amon Rûdh there is no completed narrative on the same detailed plan, until the Narn takes up again with Túrin’s journey northwards after the fall of Nargothrond. From many tentative or exploratory outlines and notes, however, some further glimpses can be gained beyond the more summary account in The Silmarillion, and even some short stretches of connected narrative on the scale of the Narn.
An isolated fragment describes the life of the outlaws on Amon Rûdh in the time that followed their settlement there, and gives some further description of Bar-en-Danwedh.
For a long while the life of the outlaws went well to their liking. Food was not scarce, and they had good shelter, warm and dry, with room enough and to spare; for they found that the caves could have housed a hundred or more at need. There was another smaller hall further in. It had a hearth at one side, above which a smoke-shaft ran up through the rock to a vent cunningly hidden in a crevice on the hillside. There were also many other chambers, opening out of the halls or the passage between them, some for dwelling, some for works or for stores. In storage Mîm had more arts than they, and he had many vessels and chests of stone and wood that looked to be of great age. But most of the chambers were now empty: in the armouries hung axes and other gear rusted and dusty, shelves and aumbries were bare; and the smithies were idle. Save one: a small room that led out of the inner hall and had a hearth which shared the smoke-vent of the hearth in the hall. There Mîm would work at times, but would not allow others to be with him.
During the rest of that year they went on no more raids, and if they stirred abroad for hunting or gathering of food they went for the most part in small parties. But for a long while they found it hard to retrace their road, and beside Túrin not more than six of his men became ever sure of the way. Nonetheless, seeing that those skilled in such things could come to their lair without Mîm’s help, they set a watch by day and night near to the cleft in the north-wall. From the south they expected no enemies, nor was there fear of any climbing Amon Rûdh from that quarter; but by day there was at most times a watchman set on the top of the crown, who could look far all about. Steep as were the sides of the crown, the summit could be reached, for to the east of the cave-mouth rough steps had been hewn leading up to slopes where men could clamber unaided.
So the year wore on without hurt or alarm. But as the days drew in, and the pool became grey and cold and the birches bare, and great rains returned, they had to pass more time in shelter. Then they soon grew weary of the dark under hill, or the dim halflight of the halls; and to most it seemed that life would be better if it were not shared with Mîm. Too often he would appear out of some shadowy corner or doorway when they thought him elsewhere; and when Mîm was near unease fell on their talk. They took to speaking one to another ever in whispers.
Yet, and strange it seemed to them, with Túrin it went otherwise; and he became ever more friendly with the old Dwarf, and listened more and more to his counsels. In the winter that followed he would sit for long hours with Mîm, listening to his lore and the tales of his life; nor did Túrin rebuke him if he spoke ill of the Eldar. Mîm seemed well pleased, and showed much favour to Túrin in return; him only would he admit to his smithy at times, and there they would talk softly together. Less pleased were the Men; and Andróg looked on with a jealous eye.
The text followed in The Silmarillion gives no indication of how Beleg found his way into Bar-en-Danwedh: he ‘appeared suddenly among them’ ‘in the dim dusk of a winter’s day’. In other brief outlines the story is that through the improvidence of the outlaws food became short in Bar-en-Danwedh during the winter, and Mîm begrudged them the edible roots from his store; therefore in the beginning of the year they went out on a hunting foray from the stronghold. Beleg, approaching Amon Rûdh, came upon their tracks, and either trailed them to a camp which they were forced to make in a sudden snowstorm, or followed them back to Bar-en-Danwedh and slipped in after them.
At this time Andróg, seeking for Mîm’s secret store of food, became lost in the caves, and found a hidden stair that led out on to the flat summit of Amon Rûdh (it was by this stair that some of the outlaws fled from Bar-en-Danwedh when it was attacked by the Orcs: The Silmarillion p. 206). And either during the foray just mentioned, or on a later occasion, Andróg, having taken up again bow and arrows in defiance of Mîm’s curse, was wounded by a poisoned shaft – in one only of several references to the event said to have been an Orc-arrow.
Andróg was cured of this wound by Beleg, but it seems that his dislike and distrust of the Elf was not thereby mitigated; and Mîm’s hatred of Beleg became all the fiercer, for he had thus ‘undone’ his curse upon Andróg. ‘It will bite again,’ he said. It came into Mîm’s mind that if he also ate the lembas of Melian he would renew his youth and grow strong again; and since he could not come at it by stealth he feigned sickness and begged it of his enemy. When Beleg refused it to him the seal was set upon Mîm’s hatred, and all the more because of Túrin’s love for the Elf.
It may be mentioned here that when Beleg brought out the lembas from his pack (see The Silmarillion pp. 202, 204) Túrin refused it:
The silver leaves were red in the firelight; and when Túrin saw the seal his eyes darkened. ‘What have you there?’ he said.
‘The greatest gift that one who loves you still has to give,’ answered Beleg. ‘Here is lembas, the waybread of the Eldar, that no Man yet has tasted.’
‘The Helm of my fathers I take,’ said Túrin, ‘with good will for your keeping; but I will not receive gifts out of Doriath.’
‘Then send back your sword and your arms,’ said Beleg. ‘Send back also the teaching and fostering of your youth. And let your men die in the desert to please your mood. Nonetheless, this waybread was a gift not to you but to me, and I may do with it as I will. Eat it not, if it sticks in your throat; but others here may be more hungry and less proud.’
Then Túrin was abashed, and in that matter overcame his pride.
Some slight further indications are found concerning Dor-Cúarthol, the Land of Bow and Helm, where Beleg and Túrin for a time became from their stronghold on Amon Rûdh the leaders of a strong force in the lands south of Teiglin (The Silmarillion p. 205).
Túrin received
gladly all who came to him, but by the counsel of Beleg he admitted no newcomer to his refuge upon Amon Rûdh (and that was now named Echad i Sedryn, Camp of the Faithful); the way thither only those of the Old Company knew and no others were admitted. But other guarded camps and forts were established round about: in the forest eastward, or in the highlands, or in the southward fens, from Methed-en-glad (‘the End of the Wood’) to Bar-erib some leagues south of Amon Rûdh; and from all these places men could see the summit of Amon Rûdh, and by signals receive tidings and commands.
In this way, before the summer had passed, the following of Túrin was swelled to a great force; and the power of Angband was thrown back. Word of this came even to Nargothrond, and many there grew restless, saying that if an Outlaw could do such hurt to the Enemy, what might not the Lord of Narog do. But Orodreth would not change his counsels. In all things he followed Thingol, with whom he exchanged messengers by secret ways; and he was a wise lord, according to the wisdom of those who considered first their own people, and how long they might preserve their life and wealth against the lust of the North. Therefore he allowed none of his people to go to Túrin, and he sent messengers to say to him that in all that he might do or devise in his war he should not set foot in the land of Nargothrond, nor drive Orcs thither. But help other than in arms he offered to the Two Captains, should they have need (and in this, it is thought, he was moved by Thingol and Melian).
It is several times emphasized that Beleg remained throughout opposed to Túrin’s grand design, although he supported him; that it seemed to him that the Dragon-helm had worked otherwise with Túrin than he had hoped; and that he foresaw with a troubled mind what the days to come would bring. Scraps of his words with Túrin on these matters are preserved. In one of these, they sat in the stronghold of Echad i Sedryn together, and Túrin said to Beleg:
‘Why are you sad, and thoughtful? Does not all go well, since you returned to me? Has not my purpose proved good?’
‘All is well now,’ said Beleg. ‘Our enemies are still surprised, and afraid. And still good days lie before us; for a while.’
‘And what then?’
‘Winter. And after that another year, for those who live to see it.’
‘And what then?’
‘The wrath of Angband. We have burned the finger tips of the Black Hand – no more. It will not withdraw.’
‘But is not the wrath of Angband our purpose and delight?’ said Túrin. ‘What else would you have me do?’
‘You know full well,’ said Beleg. ‘But of that road you have forbidden me to speak. But hear me now. The lord of a great host has many needs. He must have a secure refuge; and he must have wealth, and many whose work is not in war. With numbers comes the need of food, more than the wild will furnish; and there comes the passing of secrecy. Amon Rûdh is a good place for a few – it has eyes and ears. But it stands alone, and is seen far off; and no great force is needed to surround it.’
‘Nonetheless, I will be the captain of my own host,’ said Túrin; and if I fall, then I fall. Here I stand in the path of Morgoth, and while I so stand he cannot use the southward road. For that in Nargothrond there should be some thanks; and even help with needful things.’
In another brief passage of speech between them Túrin replied to Beleg’s warnings of the frailty of his power in these words:
‘I wish to rule a land; but not this land. Here I desire only to gather strength. To my father’s land in Dor-lómin my heart turns, and thither I shall go when I may.’
It is also asserted that Morgoth for a time withheld his hand and made mere feints of attack, ‘so that by easy victory the confidence of these rebels might become overweening; as it proved indeed’.
Andróg appears again in an outline of the course of the assault on Amon Rûdh. It was only then that he revealed to Túrin the existence of the inner stair; and he was one of those who came by that way to the summit. There he is said to have fought more valiantly than any, but he fell at last mortally wounded by an arrow; and thus the curse of Mîm was fulfilled.
To the tale in The Silmarillion of Beleg’s journey in pursuit of Túrin, his meeting with Gwindor in Taur-nu-Fuin, the rescue of Túrin, and Beleg’s death at Túrin’s hands, there is nothing of any moment to add. For Gwindor’s possession of one of the blue-shining ‘Fëanorian lamps’ and the part that this lamp played in a version of the story see p. 67 above, Note 2.
It may be noted that it was my father’s intention to extend the history of the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin into the period of Túrin’s sojourn in Nargothrond and even beyond; but this was never incorporated into the narratives. In the existing versions the Helm disappears with the end of Dor-Cúarthol, in the destruction of the outlaws’ stronghold on Amon Rûdh; but in some way it was to reappear in Túrin’s possession at Nargothrond. It could only have come there if it had been taken by the Orcs that carried Túrin off to Angband; but its recovery from them at the time of Túrin’s rescue by Beleg and Gwindor would have required some development of the narrative at that point.
An isolated scrap of writing tells that in Nargothrond Túrin would not wear the Helm again ‘lest it reveal him’, but that he wore it when he went to the Battle of Tumhalad (The Silmarillion p. 212, where he is said to have worn the dwarf-mask that he found in the armouries of Nargothrond). This note continues:
For fear of that helm all foes avoided him, and thus it was that he came off unhurt from that deadly field. It was thus that he came back to Nargothrond wearing the Dragon-helm, and Glaurung, desiring to rid Túrin of its aid and protection (since he himself feared it), taunted him, saying that surely Túrin claimed to be his vassal and retainer, since he bore his master’s likeness on the crest of his helm.
But Túrin answered: ‘Thou liest, and knowest it. For this image was made in scorn of thee; and while there is one to bear it doubt shall ever assail thee, lest the bearer deal thee thy doom.’
‘Then it must await a master of another name,’ said Glaurung; ‘for Túrin son of Húrin I do not fear. Otherwise is it. For he has not the hardihood to look me in the face, openly.’
And indeed so great was the terror of the Dragon that Túrin dared not look straight upon his eye, but had kept the visor of his helmet down, shielding his face, and in his parley had looked no higher than Glaurung’s feet. But being thus taunted, in pride and rashness he thrust up the visor and looked Glaurung in the eye.
In another place there is a note that it was when Morwen heard in Doriath of the appearance of the Dragon-helm at the Battle of Tumhalad that she knew that the tale was true that the Mormegil was indeed Túrin her son.
Finally, there is a suggestion that Túrin was to wear the Helm when he slew Glaurung, and would taunt the Dragon at his death with his words at Nargothrond about ‘a master of another name’; but there is no indication of how the narrative was to be managed to bring this about.
There is an account of the nature and substance of Gwindor’s opposition to Túrin’s policies in Nargothrond, which in The Silmarillion is only very briefly referred to (p. 211). This account is not fully formed into narrative, but may be represented thus:
Gwindor spoke ever against Túrin in the council of the King, saying that he had been in Angband, and knew somewhat of the might of Morgoth, and of his designs. ‘Petty victories will prove profitless at the last,’ he said; ‘for thus Morgoth learns where the boldest of his enemies are to be found, and gathers strength great enough to destroy them. All the might of the Elves and the Edain united sufficed only to contain him, and to gain the peace of a siege; long indeed, but only so long as Morgoth bided his time before he broke the leaguer; and never again can such a union be made. In secrecy only lies now any hope; until the Valar come.’
‘The Valar!’ said Túrin. ‘They have forsaken you, and they hold Men in scorn. What use to look westward across the endless Sea? There is but one Vala with whom we have to do, and that is Morgoth; and if in the end we cannot overcome him, at the least we can hurt hi
m and hinder him. For victory is victory, however small, nor is its worth only in what follows from it. But it is expedient also; for if you do nothing to halt him, all Beleriand will fall beneath his shadow before many years are passed, and then one by one he will smoke you out of your earths. And what then? A pitiable remnant will fly south and west, to cower on the shores of the Sea, caught between Morgoth and Ossë. Better then to win a time of glory, though it be shortlived; for the end will be no worse. You speak of secrecy, and say that therein lies the only hope; but could you ambush and waylay every scout and spy of Morgoth to the last and least, so that none came ever back with tidings to Angband, yet from that he would learn that you lived and guess where. And this also I say: though mortal Men have little life beside the span of the Elves, they would rather spend it in battle than fly or submit. The defiance of Húrin Thalion is a great deed; and though Morgoth slay the doer he cannot make the deed not to have been. Even the Lords of the West will honour it; and is it not written into the history of Arda, which neither Morgoth nor Manwë can unwrite?’
‘You speak of high things,’ Gwindor answered, ‘and plain it is that you have lived among the Eldar. But a darkness is on you if you set Morgoth and Manwë together, or speak of the Valar as the foes of Elves or Men; for the Valar scorn nothing, and least of all the Children of Ilúvatar. Nor do you know all the hopes of the Eldar. It is a prophecy among us that one day a messenger from Middle-earth will come through the shadows to Valinor, and Manwë will hear, and Mandos relent. For that time shall we not attempt to preserve the seed of the Noldor, and of the Edain also? And Círdan dwells now in the South, and there is building of ships; but what know you of ships, or of the Sea? You think of yourself and of your own glory, and bid us each do likewise; but we must think of others beside ourselves, for not all can fight and fall, and those we must keep from war and ruin, while we can.’
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