Beren and Lúthien

by J. R. R. Tolkien

  There remains the aspect of the story that is also the end of it, and of primary significance, as I believe, in the mind of its author. The earliest reference to the fates of Beren and Lúthien after Beren’s death in the hunt of Carcharoth is in The Tale of Tinúviel; but at that time both Beren and Lúthien were Elves. There it was said (p. 87):

  ‘Tinúviel crushed with sorrow and finding no comfort or light in all the world followed him swiftly down those dark ways that all must tread alone. 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 . . . Yet said Mandos to those twain: “Lo, O Elves, it is not to any life of perfect joy that I dismiss you, for such may no longer be found in all the world where sits Melko of the evil heart—and know that ye will become mortal even as Men, and when ye fare hither again it will be for ever . . . .”’

  That Beren and Lúthien had a further history in Middle-earth is made plain in this passage (‘their deeds afterward were very great, and many tales are told thereof’), but no more is said there than that they are i-Cuilwarthon, the Dead that Live Again, and ‘they became mighty fairies in the lands about the north of Sirion.’

  In another of the Lost Tales, The Coming of the Valar, there is an account of those who came to Mandos (the name of his halls as well as that of the God, whose true name was Vê):

  Thither in after days fared the Elves of all the clans who were by illhap slain with weapons or did die of grief for those who were slain—and only so might the Eldar die, and then it was only for a while. There Mandos spake their doom, and there they waited in the darkness, dreaming of their past deeds, until such time as he appointed when they might again be born into their children, and go forth to laugh and sing again.

  With this may be compared the unplaced verses for The Lay of Leithian given on pp. 216–7, concerning ‘the Land of the Lost . . . where the Dead wait, while ye forget’:

  No moon is there, no voice, no sound

  of beating heart; a sigh profound

  once in each age as each age dies

  alone is heard. Far, far it lies,

  the Land of Waiting where the Dead sit,

  in their thought’s shadow, by no moon lit.

  The conception that the Elves died only from wounds of weapons, or from grief, endured, and appears in the published Silmarillion:

  For the Elves die not till the world dies, unless they are slain or waste in grief (and to both these seeming deaths they are subject); neither does age subdue their strength, unless one grow weary of ten thousand centuries; and dying they are gathered to the halls of Mandos in Valinor, whence they may in time return. But the sons of Men die indeed, and leave the world; wherefore they are called the Guests, or the Strangers. Death is their fate, the gift of Ilúvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy.

  It seems to me that the words of Mandos in The Tale of Tinúviel cited above, ‘ye will become mortal even as Men, and when ye fare hither again it will be for ever’, imply that he was uprooting their destiny as Elves: having died as Elves could die, they would not be reborn, but be permitted—uniquely—to leave Mandos still in their own particular being. They would pay a price, nevertheless, for when they died a second time there would be no possibility of return, no ‘seeming death’, but the death that Men, of their nature, must suffer.

  Later, in the Quenta Noldorinwa it is told (pp. 140–1) that ‘Lúthien failed and faded swiftly and vanished from the earth . . . . And she came to the halls of Mandos, and she sang to him a tale of moving love so fair that he was moved to pity, as never has befallen since.’

  Beren he summoned, and thus, as Lúthien had sworn as she kissed him at the hour of death, they met beyond the western sea. And Mandos suffered them to depart, but he said that Lúthien should become mortal even as her lover, and should leave the earth once more in the manner of a mortal woman, and her beauty become but a memory of song. So it was, but it is said that in recompense Mandos gave to Beren and to Lúthien thereafter a long span of life and joy, and they wandered knowing thirst nor cold in the fair land of Beleriand, and no mortal Man thereafter spoke to Beren or his spouse.

  In the draft text of the story of Beren and Lúthien prepared for the Quenta Silmarillion, referred to on p. 218, there enters the idea of the ‘choice of fate’ proposed to Beren and Lúthien before Mandos:

  And this was the choice that he decreed for Beren and Lúthien. They should dwell now in Valinor until the world’s end in bliss, but in the end Beren and Lúthien must each go unto that appointed to their kind, when all things are changed: and of the mind of Ilúvatar concerning Men Manwë [Lord of the Valar] knows not. Or they might return unto Middle-earth without certitude of joy or life; then Lúthien should become mortal even as Beren, and subject to a second death, and in the end she should leave the earth for ever and her beauty become only a memory of song. And this doom they chose, that thus, whatsoever sorrow lay before them, their fates might be joined, and their paths lead together beyond the confines of the world. So it was that alone of the Eldalië Lúthien died and left the world long ago; yet by her have the Two Kindreds been joined, and she is the foremother of many.

  This conception of the ‘Choice of Fate’ was retained, but in a different form, as seen in The Silmarillion: the choices were imposed on Lúthien alone, and they were changed. Lúthien may still leave Mandos and dwell until the end of the world in Valinor, because of her labours and her sorrow, and because she was the daughter of Melian; but thither Beren cannot come. Thus if she accepts the former, they must be separated now and for ever: because he cannot escape from his own destiny, cannot escape Death, which is the Gift of Ilúvatar and cannot be refused.

  The second choice remained, and this she chose. Only so could Lúthien become united with Beren ‘beyond the world’: she herself must change the destiny of her being: she must become mortal, and die indeed.

  As I have said, the story of Beren and Lúthien did not end with the judgement of Mandos, and some account of it, of its aftermath, and of the history of the Silmaril that Beren cut from the iron crown of Morgoth, must be given. There are difficulties in doing so in the form that I have chosen for this book, largely because the part played by Beren in his second life hinges on aspects of the history of the First Age that would cast the net too widely for the purpose of this book.

  I have remarked (p. 103) of the Quenta Noldorinwa of 1930, which followed from and was much longer than the Sketch of the Mythology, that it remained ‘a compression, a compendious account’: it is said in the title of the work to be ‘the brief history of the Noldoli or Gnomes, drawn from the Book of Lost Tales’. Of these ‘summarising’ texts I wrote in The War of the Jewels (1994): ‘In these versions my father was drawing on (while also of course continually developing and extending) long works that already existed in prose or verse, and in the Quenta Silmarillion he perfected that characteristic tone, melodious, grave, elegiac, burdened with a sense of loss and distance in time, which resides partly, as I believe, in the literary fact that he was drawing down into a brief compendious history what he could also see in far more detailed, immediate, and dramatic form. With the completion of the great ‘intrusion’ and departure of The Lord of the Rings it seems that he returned to the Elder Days with a desire to take up again the far more ample scale with which he had begun long before, in The Book of Lost Tales. The completion of the Quenta Silmarillion remained an aim; but the ‘great tales’, vastly developed from their original forms—from which its later chapters should be derived—were never achieved.’

  We are here concerned with a story that goes back to the latest written of the Lost Tales, where it bore the title The Tale of the Nauglafring: that being the original name of the Nauglamír, the Necklace of the Dwarves. But we come here to the furthest point in my father’s work on the Elder Days in the time following the completion of The Lord of the Rings: there is no new narrative. To c
ite my discussion in The War of the Jewels again, ‘it is as if we come to the brink of a great cliff and look down from highlands raised in some later age onto an ancient plain far below. For the story of the Nauglamír and the destruction of Doriath . . . we must return through more than a quarter of a century to the Quenta Noldorinwa or beyond.’ To the Quenta Noldorinwa (see p. 103) I will now turn, giving the relevant text in a very slightly shortened form.

  The tale begins with the further history of the great treasure of Nargothrond that was taken by the evil dragon Glómund. After the death of Glómund, slain by Túrin Turambar, Húrin father of Túrin came with a few outlaws of the woods to Nargothrond, which as yet none, Orc, Elf, or Man, had dared to plunder, for dread of the spirit of Glómund and his very memory. But they found there one Mîm the Dwarf.

  THE RETURN OF BEREN AND LÚTHIEN ACCORDING TO THE QUENTA NOLDORINWA

  Now Mîm had found the halls and treasure of Nargothrond unguarded; and he took possession of them, and sat there in joy fingering the gold and gems, and letting them run ever through his hands; and he bound them to himself with many spells. But the folk of Mîm were few, and the outlaws filled with the lust of the treasure slew them, though Húrin would have stayed them; and at his death Mîm cursed the gold.

  [Húrin went to Thingol and sought his aid, and the folk of Thingol bore the treasure to the Thousand Caves; then Húrin departed.]

  Then the enchantment of the accursed dragon gold began to fall even upon the king of Doriath, and long he sat and gazed upon it, and the seed of the love of gold that was in his heart was waked to growth. Wherefore he summoned the greatest of all craftsmen that now were in the western world, since Nargothrond was no more (and Gondolin was not known), the Dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost, that they might fashion the gold and silver and the gems (for much was as yet unwrought) into countless vessels and fair things; and a marvellous necklace of great beauty they should make, whereon to hang the Silmaril.*

  But the Dwarves coming were stricken at once with the lust and desire of the treasure, and they plotted treachery. They said one to another: ‘Is not this wealth as much the right of the Dwarves as of the Elvish king, and was it not wrested evilly from Mîm?’ Yet also they lusted for the Silmaril. And Thingol, falling deeper into the thraldom of the spell, for his part scanted his promised reward for their labour; and bitter words grew between them, and there was battle in Thingol’s halls. There many Elves and Dwarves were slain, and the howe wherein they were lain in Doriath was named Cûm-nan-Arasaith, the Mound of Avarice. But the remainder of the Dwarves were driven forth without reward or fee.

  Therefore gathering new forces in Nogrod and in Belegost they returned at length, and aided by the treachery of certain Elves on whom the lust of the accursed treasure had fallen they passed into Doriath secretly.

  There they surprised Thingol upon a hunt with but small company of arms; and Thingol was slain, and the fortress of the Thousand Caves taken at unawares and plundered; and so was brought well nigh to ruin the glory of Doriath and but one stronghold of the Elves [Gondolin] against Morgoth now remained, and their twilight was nigh at hand.

  Queen Melian the Dwarves could not seize or harm, and she went forth to seek Beren and Lúthien. Now the Dwarf-road to Nogrod and Belegost in the Blue Mountains passed through East Beleriand and the woods about the River Gelion, where aforetime were the hunting grounds of Damrod and Díriel, sons of Fëanor. To the south of those lands between the river Gelion and the mountains lay the land of Ossiriand, and there lived and wandered still in peace and bliss Beren and Lúthien, in that time of respite which Lúthien had won, ere both should die; and their folk were the Green Elves of the South. But Beren went no more to war, and his land was filled with loveliness and a wealth of flowers, and Men called it oft Cuilwarthien, the Land of the Dead that Live.

  To the north of that region is a ford across the river Ascar, and that ford is named Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones. This ford the Dwarves must pass ere they reached the mountain passes that led unto their homes; and there Beren fought his last fight, warned of their approach by Melian. In that battle the Green Elves took the Dwarves unawares as they were in the midst of their passage, laden with their plunder; and the Dwarvish chiefs were slain, and well nigh all their host. But Beren took the Nauglamír, the Necklace of the Dwarves, whereon was hung the Silmaril; and it is said and sung that Lúthien wearing that necklace and that immortal jewel on her white breast was the vision of greatest beauty and glory that has ever been seen outside the realms of Valinor, and that for a while the Land of the Dead that Live became like a vision of the land of the Gods, and no places have been since so fair, so fruitful, or so filled with light.

  Yet Melian warned them ever of the curse that lay upon the treasure and upon the Silmaril. The treasure they had drowned indeed in the river Ascar, and named it anew Rathlorion, Goldenbed, yet the Silmaril they retained. And in time the brief hour of loveliness of the land of Rathlorion departed. For Lúthien faded as Mandos had spoken, even as the Elves of later days faded and she vanished from the world;* and Beren died, and none know where their meeting shall be again.’

  Thereafter was Dior Thingol’s heir, child of Beren and Lúthien, king in the woods: most fair of all the children of the world, for his race was threefold: of the fairest and goodliest of Men, and of the Elves, and of the spirits divine of Valinor; yet it shielded him not from the fate of the oath of the sons of Fëanor. For Dior went back to Doriath and for a time a part of its ancient glory was raised anew, though Melian no longer dwelt in that place, and she departed to the land of the Gods beyond the western sea, to muse on her sorrows in the gardens whence she came.

  But Dior wore the Silmaril upon his breast and the fame of that jewel went far and wide; and the deathless oath was waked once more from sleep.

  For while Lúthien wore that peerless gem no Elf would dare assail her, and not even Maidros dared ponder such a thought. But now hearing of the renewal of Doriath and Dior’s pride, the seven gathered again from wandering; and they sent unto Dior to claim their own. But he would not yield the jewel unto them, and they came upon him with all their host; and so befell the second slaying of Elf by Elf, and the most grievous. There fell Celegorm and Curufin and dark Cranthir, but Dior was slain, and Doriath was destroyed and never rose again.

  Yet the sons of Fëanor gained not the Silmaril; for faithful servants fled before them and took with them Elwing the daughter of Dior, and she escaped, and they bore with them the Nauglafring, and came in time to the mouth of the river Sirion by the sea.

  [In a text somewhat later than the Quenta Noldorinwa, the earliest form of The Annals of Beleriand, the story was changed, in that Dior returned to Doriath while Beren and Lúthien were still alive in Ossiriand; and what befell him there I will give in the words of The Silmarillion:

  There came a night of autumn, and when it grew late, one came and smote upon the doors of Menegroth, demanding admittance to the King. He was a lord of the Green Elves hastening from Ossiriand, and the doorwards brought him to where Dior sat alone in his chamber; and there in silence he gave to the King a coffer, and took his leave. But in that coffer lay the Necklace of the Dwarves, wherein was set the Silmaril; and Dior looking upon it knew it for a sign that Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinúviel had died indeed, and gone where go the race of Men to a fate beyond the world.

  Long did Dior gaze upon the Silmaril, which his father and mother had brought beyond hope out of the terror of Morgoth; and his grief was great that death had come upon them so soon.]

  EXTRACT FROM THE LOST TALE OF THE NAUGLAFRING

  Here I will step back from the chronology of composition and turn to the Lost Tale of the Nauglafring. The reason for this is that the passage given here is a notable example of the expansive mode, observant of visual and often dramatic detail, adopted by my father in the early days of The Silmarillion; but the Lost Tale as a whole extends into ramifications unneeded in this book. A very brief summary of the battle at Sarn At
hrad, the Stony Ford, appears therefore in the text of the Quenta, p. 235, while there follows here the much fuller account from the Lost Tale, with the duel between Beren and Naugladur, lord of the Dwarves of Nogrod in the Blue Mountains.

  The passage begins with the approach of the Dwarves, led by Naugladur, to Sarn Athrad, on their return from the sack of the Thousand Caves.

  Now came all that host [to the river Ascar], and their array was thus: first a number of unladen Dwarves most fully armed, and amidmost the great company of those that bore the treasury of Glómund, and many a fair thing beside that they had haled from Tinwelint’s halls; and behind these was Naugladur, and he bestrode Tinwelint’s horse, and a strange figure did he seem, for the legs of the Dwarves are short and crooked, but two Dwarves led that horse for it went not willingly and it was laden with spoil. But behind these came a mass of armed men but little laden; and in this array they sought to cross Sarn Athrad on their day of doom.

  Morn was it when they reached the hither bank, and high noon saw them yet passing in long-strung lines and wading slowly the shallow places of the swift-running stream. Here doth it widen out and fare down narrow channels filled with boulders atween long spits of shingle and stones less great. Now did Naugladur slip from his burdened horse and prepare to get him over, for the armed host of the vanguard had climbed already the further bank, and it was great and sheer and thick with trees, and the bearers of the gold were some already stepped thereon and some amidmost of the stream, but the armed men of the rear were resting awhile.