But there of Finrod’s children four
20were Angrod slain and proud Egnor.
Felagund and Orodreth then
gathered the remnant of their men,
their maidens and their children fair;
forsaking war they made their lair
25and cavernous hold far in the south.
On Narog’s towering bank its mouth
was opened; which they hid and veiled,
and mighty doors, that unassailed
till Túrin’s day stood vast and grim,
30they built by trees o’ershadowed dim.
And with them dwelt a long time there
Curufin, and Celegorm the fair;
and a mighty folk grew neath their hands
in Narog’s secret halls and lands.
35Thus Felagund in Nargothrond
still reigned, a hidden king whose bond
was sworn to Barahir the bold.
And now his son through forests cold
wandered alone as in a dream.
40Esgalduin’s dark and shrouded stream
he followed, till its waters frore
were joined to Sirion, Sirion hoar,
pale silver water wide and free
rolling in splendour to the sea.
45Now Beren came unto the pools,
wide shallow meres where Sirion cools
his gathered tide beneath the stars,
ere chafed and sundered by the bars
of reedy banks a mighty fen
50he feeds and drenches, plunging then
into vast chasms underground,
where many miles his way is wound.
Umboth-Muilin, Twilight Meres,
those great wide waters grey as tears
55the Elves then named. Through driving rain
from thence across the Guarded Plain
the Hills of the Hunters Beren saw
with bare tops bitten bleak and raw
by western winds, but in the mist
60of streaming rains that flashed and hissed
into the meres he knew there lay
beneath those hills the cloven way
of Narog, and the watchful halls
of Felagund beside the falls
65of Ingwil tumbling from the wold.
An everlasting watch they hold,
the Gnomes of Nargothrond renowned,
and every hill is tower-crowned,
where wardens sleepless peer and gaze
70guarding the plain and all the ways
between Narog swift and Sirion pale;
and archers whose arrows never fail
there range the woods, and secret kill
all who creep thither against their will.
75Yet now he thrusts into that land
bearing the gleaming ring on hand
of Felagund, and oft doth cry:
‘Here comes no wandering Orc or spy,
but Beren son of Barahir
80who once to Felagund was dear.’
So ere he reached the eastward shore
of Narog, that doth foam and roar
o’er boulders black, those archers green
came round him. When the ring was seen
85they bowed before him, though his plight
was poor and beggarly. Then by night
they led him northward, for no ford
nor bridge was built where Narog poured
before the gates of Nargothrond,
90and friend nor foe might pass beyond.
To northward, where that stream yet young
more slender flowed, below the tongue
of foam-splashed land that Ginglith pens
when her brief golden torrent ends
95and joins the Narog, there they wade.
Now swiftest journey thence they made
to Nargothrond’s sheer terraces
and dim gigantic palaces.
They came beneath a sickle moon
100to doors there darkly hung and hewn
with posts and lintels of ponderous stone
and timbers huge. Now open thrown
were gaping gates, and in they strode
where Felagund on throne abode.
105Fair were the words of Narog’s king
to Beren, and his wandering
and all his feuds and bitter wars
recounted soon. Behind closed doors
they sat, while Beren told his tale
110of Doriath; and words him fail
recalling Lúthien dancing fair
with wild white roses in her hair,
remembering her elven voice that rung
while stars in twilight round her hung.
115He spake of Thingol’s marvellous halls
by enchantment lit, where fountain falls
and ever the nightingale doth sing
to Melian and to her king.
The quest he told that Thingol laid
120in scorn on him; how for love of maid
more fair than ever was born to Men,
of Tinúviel, of Lúthien,
he must essay the burning waste,
and doubtless death and torment taste.
125This Felagund in wonder heard,
and heavily spoke at last this word:
‘It seems that Thingol doth desire
thy death. The everlasting fire
of those enchanted jewels all know
130is cursed with an oath of endless woe,
and Fëanor’s sons alone by right
are lords and masters of their light.
He cannot hope within his hoard
to keep this gem, nor is he lord
135of all the folk of Elfinesse.
And yet thou saist for nothing less
can thy return to Doriath
be purchased? Many a dreadful path
in sooth there lies before thy feet—
140and after Morgoth, still a fleet
untiring hate, as I know well,
would hunt thee from heaven unto hell.
Fëanor’s sons would, if they could,
slay thee or ever thou reached his wood
145or laid in Thingol’s lap that fire,
or gained at least thy sweet desire.
Lo! Celegorm and Curufin
here dwell this very realm within,
and even though I, Finrod’s son,
150am king, a mighty power have won
and many of their own folk lead.
Friendship to me in every need
they yet have shown, but much I fear
that to Beren son of Barahir
155mercy or love they will not show
if once thy dreadful quest they know.’
True words he spoke. For when the king
to all his people told this thing,
and spake of the oath to Barahir,
160and how that mortal shield and spear
had saved them from Morgoth and from woe
on Northern battlefields long ago,
then many were kindled in their hearts
once more to battle. But up there starts
165amid the throng, and loudly cries
for hearing, one with flaming eyes,
proud Celegorm with gleaming hair
and shining sword. Then all men stare
upon his stern unyielding face,
170and a great hush falls upon that place.
‘Be he friend or foe, or demon wild
of Morgoth, Elf, or mortal child,
or any that here on earth may dwell,
no law, nor love, nor league of hell,
175no might of Gods, no binding spell,
shall him defend from hatred fell
of Fëanor’s sons, whoso take or steal
or finding keep a Silmaril.
These we alone do claim by right,
180our thrice enchanted jewels bright.’
Many wild and potent words he spoke,
and as before in Tûn awoke
>
his father’s voice their hearts to fire,
so now dark fear and brooding ire
185he cast on them, foreboding war
of friend with friend; and pools of gore
their minds imagined lying red
in Nargothrond about the dead,
did Narog’s host with Beren go;
190or haply battle, ruin, and woe
in Doriath where great Thingol reigned,
if Fëanor’s fatal jewel he gained.
And even such as were most true
to Felagund his oath did rue,
195and thought with terror and despair
of seeking Morgoth in his lair
with force or guile. This Curufin
when his brother ceased did then begin
more to impress upon their minds;
200and such a spell he on them binds
that never again till Túrin’s day
would Gnome of Narog in array
of open battle go to war.
With secrecy, ambush, spies and lore
205of wizardry, with silent leaguer
of wild things wary, watchful, eager,
of phantom hunters, venomed darts,
and unseen stealthy creeping arts,
with padding hatred that its prey
210with feet of velvet all the day
followed remorseless out of sight
and slew it unawares at night—
thus they defended Nargothrond,
and forgot their kin and solemn bond
215for dread of Morgoth that the art
of Curufin set within their heart.
So would they not that angry day
King Felagund their lord obey,
but sullen murmured that Finrod
220nor yet his son were as a god.
Then Felagund took off his crown
and at his feet he cast it down,
the silver helm of Nargothrond:
‘Yours ye may break, but I my bond
225must keep, and kingdom here forsake.
If hearts here were that did not quake,
or that to Finrod’s son were true,
then I at least should find a few
to go with me, not like a poor
230rejected beggar scorn endure,
turned from my gates to leave my town,
my people, and my realm and crown!’
Hearing these words there swiftly stood
beside him ten tried warriors good,
235men of his house who had ever fought
wherever his banners had been brought.
One stooped and lifted up his crown,
and said: ‘O king, to leave this town
is now our fate, but not to lose
240thy rightful lordship. Thou shalt choose
one to be steward in thy stead.’
Then Felagund upon the head
of Orodreth set it: ‘Brother mine,
till I return this crown is thine.’
245Then Celegorm no more would stay,
and Curufin smiled and turned away.
******
Thus twelve alone there ventured forth
from Nargothrond, and to the North
they turned their silent secret way,
250and vanished in the fading day.
No trumpet sounds, no voice there sings,
as robed in mail of cunning rings
now blackened dark with helmets grey
and sombre cloaks they steal away.
255Far-journeying Narog’s leaping course
they followed till they found his source,
the flickering falls, whose freshets sheer
a glimmering goblet glassy-clear
with crystal waters fill that shake
260and quiver down from Ivrin’s lake,
from Ivrin’s mere that mirrors dim
the pallid faces bare and grim
of Shadowy Mountains neath the moon.
Now far beyond the realm immune
265from Orc and demon and the dread
of Morgoth’s might their ways had led.
In woods o’er shadowed by the heights
they watched and waited many nights,
till on a time when hurrying cloud
270did moon and constellation shroud,
and winds of autumn’s wild beginning
soughed in the boughs, and leaves went spinning
down the dark eddies rustling soft,
they heard a murmur hoarsely waft
275from far, a croaking laughter coming;
now louder; now they heard the drumming
of hideous stamping feet that tramp
the weary earth. Then many a lamp
of sullen red they saw draw near,
280swinging, and glistening on spear
and scimitar. There hidden nigh
they saw a band of Orcs go by
with goblin faces swart and foul.
Bats were about them, and the owl,
285the ghostly forsaken night-bird cried
from trees above. The voices died,
the laughter like clash of stone and steel
passed and faded. At their heel
the Elves and Beren crept more soft
290than foes stealing through a croft
in search of prey. Thus to the camp
lit by flickering fire and lamp
they stole, and counted sitting there
full thirty Orcs in the red flare
295of burning wood. Without a sound
they one by one stood silent round,
each in the shadow of a tree;
each slowly, grimly, secretly
bent then his bow and drew the string.
300Hark! how they sudden twang and sing,
when Felagund lets forth a cry;
and twelve Orcs sudden fall and die.
Then forth they leap casting their bows.
Out their bright swords, and swift their blows!
305The stricken Orcs now shriek and yell
as lost things deep in lightless hell.
Battle there is beneath the trees
bitter and swift, but no Orc flees;
there left their lives that wandering band
310and stained no more the sorrowing land
with rape and murder. Yet no song
of joy, or triumph over wrong,
the Elves there sang. In peril sore
they were, for never alone to war
315so small an Orc-band went, they knew.
Swiftly the raiment off they drew
and cast the corpses in a pit.
This desperate counsel had the wit
of Felagund for them devised:
320as Orcs his comrades he disguised.
The poisoned spears, the bows of horn,
the crooked swords their foes had borne
they took; and loathing each him clad
in Angband’s raiment foul and sad.
325They smeared their hands and faces fair
with pigment dark; the matted hair
all lank and black from goblin head
they shore, and joined it thread by thread
with Gnomish skill. As each one leers
330at each dismayed, about his ears
he hangs it noisome, shuddering.
Then Felagund a spell did sing
of changing and of shifting shape;
their ears grew hideous, and agape
335their mouths did start, and like a fang
each tooth became, as slow he sang.
Their Gnomish raiment then they hid
and one by one behind him slid,
behind a foul and goblin thing
340that once was elven-fair and king.
Northward they went; and Orcs they met
who passed, nor did their going let,
but hailed them in greeting; and more bold
they grew as past the long miles rolled.
345
At length they came with weary feet
beyond Beleriand. They found the fleet
young waters, rippling, silver-pale
of Sirion hurrying through that vale
where Taur-na-Fuin, Deadly Night,
350the trackless forest’s pine-clad height,
falls dark forbidding slowly down
upon the east, while westward frown
the northward-bending Mountains grey
and bar the westering light of day.
355An isléd hill there stood alone
amid the valley, like a stone
rolled from the mountains vast
when giants in tumult hurtled past.
Around its feet the river looped
360a stream divided, that had scooped
the hanging edges into caves.
There briefly shuddered Sirion’s waves
and ran to other shores more clean.
An elven watchtower had it been,
365and strong it was, and still was fair;
but now did grim with menace stare
one way to pale Beleriand,
the other to that mournful land
beyond the valley’s northern mouth.
370Thence could be glimpsed the fields of drouth,
the dusty dunes, the desert wide;
and further far could be descried
the brooding cloud that hangs and lowers
on Thangorodrim’s thunderous towers.
375Now in that hill was the abode
of one most evil; and the road
that from Beleriand thither came
he watched with sleepless eyes of flame.
Men called him Thû, and as a god
380in after days beneath his rod
bewildered bowed to him, and made
his ghastly temples in the shade.
Not yet by Men enthralled adored,
now was he Morgoth’s mightiest lord,
385Master of Wolves, whose shivering howl
for ever echoed in the hills, and foul
enchantments and dark sigaldry
did weave and wield. In glamoury
that necromancer held his hosts
390of phantoms and of wandering ghosts,
of misbegotten or spell-wronged
monsters that about him thronged,
working his bidding dark and vile:
the werewolves of the Wizard’s Isle.
395From Thû their coming was not hid
and though beneath the eaves they slid
of the forest’s gloomy-hanging boughs,
he saw them afar, and wolves did rouse:
‘Go! fetch me those sneaking Orcs,’ he said,
400‘that fare thus strangely, as if in dread,
and do not come, as all Orcs use
and are commanded, to bring me news
of all their deeds, to me, to Thû.’
From his tower he gazed, and in him grew
405suspicion and a brooding thought,
waiting, leering, till they were brought.
Now ringed about with wolves they stand,
and fear their doom. Alas! the land,
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