The Lays of Beleriand. Christopher Tolkien

the string1085in the notch nimbly, and with naked armto his ear drew it. The air whistled,and the tingling string twanged behind it,soundless a sentinel sank before it –there was one of the wolves that awaked no more.1090Now arrows after he aimed swiftlythat missed not their mark and meted silentdeath in the darkness dreadly stinging,till three of the wolves with throats piercéd,and four had fallen with fleet-wingéd1095arrows a-quivering in their quenchéd eyes.Then great was the gap in the guard opened,and Beleg his bow unbent, and said:‘Wilt come to the camp, comrade Flinding,or await me watchful? If woe betide1100thou might win with word through the woods homewardto Thingol the king how throve my quest,how Túrin the tall was trapped by fate,how Beleg the bowman to his bane hasted.’Then Flinding fiercely, though fear shook him:1105‘I have followed thee far, O forest-walker,nor will leave thee now our league denying!’Then both bow and sword Beleg left therewith his belt unbound in the bushes tangledof a dark thicket in a dell nigh them,1110and Flinding there laid his flickering lampand his nailéd shoes, and his knife onlyhe kept, that uncumbered he might creep silent.

Thus those brave in dread down the bare hillside
towards the camp clambered creeping wary,	1115
and dared that deed in days long past
whose glory has gone through the gates of earth,
and songs have sung unceasing ringing
wherever the Elves in ancient places
had light or laughter in the later world.	1120
With breath bated on the brink of the dale
they stood and stared through stealthy shadows,
till they saw where the circle of sleepless eyes
was broken; with hearts beating dully
they passed the places where pierced and bleeding	1125
the wolves weltered by wingéd death
unseen smitten; as smoke noiseless
they slipped silent through the slumbering throngs
as shadowy wraiths shifting vaguely
from gloom to gloom, till the Gods brought them	1130
and the craft and cunning of the keen huntsman
to Túrin the tall where he tumbled lay
with face downward in the filthy mire,
and his feet were fettered, and fast in bonds
anguish enchained his arms behind him.	1135
There he slept or swooned, as sunk in oblivion
by drugs of darkness deadly blended;
he heard not their whispers; no hope stirred him
nor the deep despair of his dreams fathomed;
to awake his wit no words availed.	1140
No blade would bite on the bonds he wore,
though Flinding felt for the forgéd knife
of dwarfen steel, his dagger prizéd,
that at waist he wore awake or sleeping,
whose edge would eat through iron noiseless	1145
as a clod of clay is cleft by the share.
It was wrought by wrights in the realms of the East,
in black Belegost, by the bearded Dwarves
of troth unmindful; it betrayed him now
from its sheath slipping as o’er shaggy slades	1150
and roughhewn rocks their road they wended.

‘We must bear him back as best we may,’
said Beleg, bending his broad shoulders.
Then the head he lifted of Húrin’s offspring,
and Flinding go-Fuilin the feet claspéd;	1155
and doughty that deed, for in days long gone
though Men were of mould less mighty builded
ere the earth’s goodness from the Elves they drew,
though the Elfin kindreds ere old was the sun
were of might unminished, nor the moon haunted	1160
faintly fading as formed of shadows
in places unpeopled, yet peers they were not
in bone and flesh and body’s fashioning,
and Túrin was tallest of the ten races
that in Hithlum’s hills their homes builded.	1165
Like a log they lifted his limbs mighty,
and straining staggered with stealth and fear,
with bodies bending and bones aching,
from the cruel dreaming of the camp of dread,
where spearmen drowsed sprawling drunken	1170
by their moon-blades keen with murder whetted
mid their shaven shafts in sheaves piléd.

Now Beleg the brave backward led them,
but his foot fumbled and he fell thudding
with Túrin atop of him, and trembling stumbled	1175
Flinding forward; there frozen lying
long while they listened for alarm stirring,
for hue and cry, and their hearts cowered;
but unbroken the breathing of the bands sleeping,
as darkness deepened to dead midnight,	1180
and the lifeless hour when the loosened soul
oft sheds the shackles of the shivering flesh.
Then dared their dread to draw its breath,
and they found their feet in the fouléd earth,
and bent they both their backs once more	1185
to their task of toil, for Túrin woke not.
There the huntsman’s hand was hurt deeply,
as he groped on the ground, by a gleaming point –
’twas Dailir his dart dearly prizéd
he had found by his foot in fragments twain,	1190
and with barbs bended: it broke at last
neath his body falling. It boded ill.

As in dim dreaming, and dazed with horror,
they won their way with weary slowness,
foot by footstep, till fate them granted	1195
the leaguer at last of those lairs to pass,
and their burden laid they, breathless gasping,
on bare-bosméd earth, and abode a while,
ere by winding ways they won their path
up the slanting slopes with silent labour,	1200
with spended strength sprawling to cast them
in the darkling dell neath the deep thicket.
Then sought his sword, and songs of magic
o’er its eager edge with Elfin voice
there Beleg murmured, while bluely glimmered	1205
the lamp of Flinding neath the lacéd thorns.
There wondrous wove he words of sharpness,
and the names of knives and Gnomish blades
he uttered o’er it: even Ogbar’s spear
and the glaive of Gaurin whose gleaming stroke	1210
did rive the rocks of Rodrim’s hall;
the sword of Saithnar, and the silver blades
of the enchanted children of chains forgéd
in their deep dungeon; the dirk of Nargil,
the knife of the North in Nogrod smithied;	1215
the sweeping sickle of the slashing tempest,
the lambent lightning’s leaping falchion
even Celeg Aithorn that shall cleave the world.

Then whistling whirled he the whetted sword-blade
and three times three it threshed the gloom,	1220
till flame was kindled flickering strangely
like licking firelight in the lamp’s glimmer
blue and baleful at the blade’s edges.
Lo! a leering laugh lone and dreadful
by the wind wafted wavered nigh them;	1225
their limbs were loosened in listening horror;
they fancied the feet of foes approaching,
for the horns hearkening of the hunt afoot
in the rustling murmur of roving breezes.
Then quickly curtained with its covering pelt	1230
was the lantern’s light, and leaping Скачать книгу В начало < 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 > В конец