The Lays of Beleriand. Christopher Tolkien

with subtlest cunningthey strangely fashioned, and steadfast a flameburnt unblinking there blue and pale,790unquenched for ever. The craft that lit themwas the jewel-makers’ most jealous secret.Not Morgoth’s might, nor meed nor tormentthem vowed, availed to reveal that lore;yet lights and lamps of living radiance,795many and magical, they made for him.No dark could dim them the deeps wandering;whose lode they lit was lost seldomin groundless grot, or gulfs far under.

’Twas a Gnome he beheld on the heaped needles	800
of a pine-tree pillowed, when peering wary
he crept closer. The covering pelt
was loosed from the lamp of living radiance
by his side shining. Slumber-shrouded
his fear-worn face was fallen in shade.	805
Lest in webs woven of unwaking sleep,
spun round by spells in those spaces dark,
he lie forlorn and lost for ever,
the Hunter hailed him in the hushed forest –
to the drowsy deeps of his dream profound	810
fear ever-following came falling loud;
as the lancing lightning he leapt to his feet
full deeming that dread and death were upon him,
Flinding go-Fuilin fleeing in anguish
from the mines of Morgoth. Marvelling he heard	815
the ancient tongue of the Elves of Tûn;
and Beleg the Bowman embraced him there,
and learnt his lineage and luckless fate,
how thrust to thraldom in a throng of captives,
from the kindred carried and the cavernous halls	820
of the Gnomes renowned of Nargothrond,
long years he laboured under lashes and flails
of the baleful Balrogs, abiding his time.
A tale he unfolded of terrible flight
o’er flaming fell and fuming hollow,	825
o’er the parchéd dunes of the Plains of Drouth,
till his heart took hope and his heed was less.
‘Then Taur-na-Fuin entangled my feet
in its mazes enmeshed; and madness took me
that I wandered witless, unwary stumbling	830
and beating the boles of the brooding pines
in idle anger – and the Orcs heard me.
They were camped in a clearing, that close at hand
by mercy I missed. Their marching road
is beaten broad through the black shadows	835
by wizardry warded from wandering Elves;
but dread they know of the Deadly Nightshade,
and in haste only do they hie that way.
Now cruel cries and clamorous voices
awoke in the wood, and winged arrows	840
from horny bows hummed about me;
and following feet, fleet and stealthy,
were padding and pattering on the pine-needles;
and hairy hands and hungry fingers
in the glooms groping, as I grovelled fainting	845
till they cowering found me. Fast they clutched me
beaten and bleeding, and broken in spirit
they laughing led me, my lagging footsteps
with their spears speeding. Their spoils were piled,
and countless captives in that camp were chained,	850
and Elfin maids their anguish mourning.
But one they watched, warded sleepless,
was stern-visaged, strong, and in stature tall
as are Hithlum’s men of the misty hills.
Full length he lay and lashed to pickets	855
in baleful bonds, yet bold-hearted
his mouth no mercy of Morgoth sued,
but defied his foes. Foully they smote him.
Then he called, as clear as cry of hunter
that hails his hounds in hollow places,	860
on the name renowned of that noblest king –
but men unmindful remember him little –
Húrin Thalion, who Erithámrod hight,
the Unbending, for Orc and Balrog
and Morgoth’s might on the mountain yet	865
he defies fearless, on a fangéd peak
of thunder-riven Thangorodrim.’

In eager anger then up sprang Beleg,
crying and calling, careless of Flinding:
‘O Túrin, Túrin, my troth-brother,	870
to the brazen bonds shall I abandon thee,
and the darkling doors of the Deeps of Hell?’

‘Thou wilt join his journey to the jaws of sorrow,
O bowman crazéd, if thy bellowing cry
to the Orcs should come; their ears than cats’	875
are keener whetted, and though the camp from here
be a day distant where those deeds I saw,
who knows if the Gnome they now pursue
that crept from their clutches, as a crawling worm
on belly cowering, whom they bleeding cast	880
in deathly swoon on the dung and slough
of their loathsome lair. O Light of Valinor!
and ye glorious Gods! How gleam their eyes,
and their tongues are red!’ ‘Yet I Túrin will wrest
from their hungry hands, or to Hell be dragged,	885
or sleep with the slain in the slades of Death.
Thy lamp shall lead us, and my lore rekindle
and wise wood-craft!’ ‘O witless hunter,
thy words are wild – wolves unsleeping
and wizardry ward their woeful captives;	890
unerring their arrows; the icy steel
of their curvéd blades cleaves unblunted
the meshes of mail; the mirk to pierce
those eyes are able; their awful laughter
the flesh freezes! I fare not thither,	895
for fear fetters me in the Forest of Night:
better die in the dark dazed, forwandered,
than wilfully woo that woe and anguish!
I know not the way.’ ‘Are the knees then weak
of Flinding go-Fuilin? Shall free-born Gnome	900
thus show himself a shrinking slave,
who twice entrapped has twice escaped?
Remember the might and the mirth of yore,
the renown of the Gnomes of Nargothrond!’

Thus Beleg the bowman quoth bold-hearted,	905
but Flinding fought the fear of his heart,
and loosed the light of his lamp of blue,
now brighter burning. In the black mazes
enwound they wandered, weary searching;
by the tall tree-boles towering silent	910
oft barred and baffled; blindly stumbling
over rock-fast roots writhing coiléd;
and drowsed with dreams by the dark odours,
till hope was hidden. ‘Hark thee, Flinding;
viewless voices vague and distant,	915
a muffled murmur of marching feet
that are shod with stealth shakes the stillness.’

‘No noise I hear’, the Gnome answered,
‘thy hope cheats thee.’ ‘I hear the chains
clinking, creaking, the cords straining,	920
and wolves padding on worn pathways.
I smell the blood that is smeared on blades
that are cruel and crooked; the croaking laughter –
now, listen! louder and louder comes,’
the hunter said. ‘I hear no sound’,	925
quoth Flinding fearful. ‘Then follow after!’
with bended bow then Beleg answered,
‘my cunning rekindles, my craft needs not
thy lamp’s leading.’ Leaping swiftly
he shrank in the shadows; with shrouded lantern	930
Flinding followed him, and the forest-darkness
and drowsy dimness drifted slowly
unfolding from them in fleeing shadows,
and its magic was minished, till they marvelling saw
they were brought to its borders. There black-gaping	935
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