Assaults too there were on Doriath’s borders, for rumours that Lúthien was astray had reached Angband. Boldog the captain of the Orcs was there slain in battle by Thingol, and his great warriors Beleg the Bowman and Mablung Heavyhand were with Thingol in that battle. Thus Thingol learned that Lúthien was yet free of Morgoth, but that he knew of her wandering; and Thingol was filled with fear. In the midst of his fear came the embassy of Celegorm in secret, and said that Beren was dead, and Felagund, and Lúthien was at Nargothrond. Then Thingol found it in his heart to regret the death of Beren, and his wrath was aroused at the hinted treachery of Celegorm to the house of Finrod, and because he kept Lúthien and did not send her home. Wherefore he sent spies into the land of Nargothrond and prepared for war. But he learned that Lúthien had fled and that Celegorm and his brother were gone to Aglon. So now he sent an embassy to Aglon, since his might was not great enough to fall upon all the seven brothers, nor was his quarrel with others than Celegorm and Curufin. But this embassy journeying in the woods met with the onslaught of Carcharas. That great wolf had run in madness through all the woods of the North, and death and devastation went with him. Mablung alone escaped to bear the news of his coming to Thingol. Of fate, or the magic of the Silmaril that he bore to his torment, he was not stayed by the spells of Melian, but burst into the inviolate woods of Doriath, and far and wide terror and destruction was spread.
Even as the sorrows of Doriath were at their worst came Lúthien and Beren and Huan back to Doriath. Then the heart of Thingol was lightened, but he looked not with love upon Beren in whom he saw the cause of all his woes. When he had learned how Beren had escaped from Th? he was amazed, but he said: ‘Mortal, what of thy quest and of thy vow?’ Then said Beren: ‘Even now I have a Silmaril in my hand.’ ‘Show it to me,’ said Thingol. ‘That I cannot,’ said Beren, ‘for my hand is not here.’ And all the tale he told, and made clear the cause of the madness of Carcharas, and Thingol’s heart was softened by his brave words, and his forbearance, and the great love that he saw between his daughter and this most valiant Man.
Now therefore did they plan the wolf-hunt of Carcharas. In that hunt was Huan and Thingol and Mablung and Beleg and Beren and no more. And here the sad tale of it must be short, for it is elsewhere told more fully. Lúthien remained behind in foreboding, as they went forth; and well she might, for Carcharas was slain, but Huan died in the same hour, and he died to save Beren. Yet Beren was hurt to the death, but lived to place the Silmaril in the hands of Thingol, when Mablung had cut it from the belly of the wolf. Then he spoke not again, until they had borne him with Huan at his side back to the doors of Thingol’s halls. There beneath the beech, wherein before she had been imprisoned, Lúthien met them, and kissed Beren ere his spirit departed to the halls of awaiting. So ended the long tale of Lúthien and Beren. But not yet was The Lay of Leithian, release from bondage, told in full. For it has long been said that Lúthien failed and faded swiftly and vanished from the earth, though some songs say that Melian summoned Thorondor, and he bore her living unto Valinor. 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 mortal women, 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.
THE NARRATIVE IN THE LAY OF LEITHIAN TO ITS TERMINATION
This substantial portion of the poem takes up from the last line of Canto VII in The Lay of Leithian (‘But none would yield, and none would tell’, p. 132), and the opening of Canto VIII corresponds to the very compressed account in the Quenta (p. 133) of the confinement of Lúthien in Nargothrond, imposed on her by Celegorm and Curufin and from which she was rescued by Huan, whose origin is told. A line of asterisks in the text of the Lay marks the start of a further Canto; Canto IX at line 329; Canto X at line 619; Canto XI at line 1009; Canto XII at line 1301; Canto XIII at line 1603; and Canto XIV, the last, at line 1939.
Hounds there were in Valinor
with silver collars. Hart and boar,
the fox and hare and nimble roe
there in the forests green did go.
5Orom? was the lord divine of all those woods. The potent wine went in his halls and hunting song.
The Gnomes anew have named him long
Tavros, the God whose horns did blow
10over the mountains long ago; who alone of Gods had loved the world
before the banners were unfurled
of Moon and Sun; and shod with gold
were his great horses. Hounds untold
15baying in woods beyond the West of race immortal he possessed:
grey and limber, black and strong
white with silken coats and long,
brown and brindled, swift and true
20as arrow from a bow of yew; their voices like the deeptoned bells
that ring in Valmar’s citadels,
their eyes like living jewels, their teeth like ruel-bone. As sword from sheath
25they flashed and fled from leash to scent for Tavros’ joy and merriment.
In Tavros’ friths and pastures green
had Huan once a young whelp been.
He grew the swiftest of the swift
30and Orom? gave him as a gift to Celegorm, who loved to follow
the great god’s horn o’er hill and hollow.
Alone of hounds of the Land of Light,
when sons of F?anor took to flight 35and came into the North, he stayed beside his master. Every raid
and every foray wild he shared,
and into mortal battle dared.
Often he saved his Gnomish lord
40from Orc and wolf and leaping sword.
A wolf-hound, tireless, grey and fierce he grew; his gleaming eyes would pierce all shadows and all mist, the scent
moons old he found through fen and bent, 45through rustling leaves and dusty sand; all paths of wide Beleriand
he knew. But wolves, he loved them best; he loved to find their throats and wrest their snarling lives and evil breath.
50The packs of Th? him feared as death.
No wizardry, nor spell, nor dart,
no fang, nor venom devil’s art
could brew had harmed him; for his weird was woven. Yet he little feared
55that fate decreed and known to all: before the mightiest he should fall,
before the mightiest wolf alone
that ever was whelped in cave of stone.
Hark! afar in Nargothrond,
60far over Sirion and beyond, there are dim cries and horns blowing, and barking hounds through the trees going.
The hunt is up, the woods are stirred.
Who rides to-day? Ye have not heard
65that Celegorm and Curufin have loosed their dogs? With merry din they mounted ere the sun arose,
and took their spears and took their bows.
The wolves of Th? of late have dared
70both far and wide. Their eyes have glared by night across the roaring stream
of Narog. Doth their master dream,
perchance, of plots and counsels deep, of secrets that the Elf-lords keep,
75of movements in the Gnomish realm and errands under beech and elm?
Curufin spake: ‘Good brother mine,
I like it not. What dark design
doth this portend? These evil things
80we swift must end their wanderings!
And more, ’twould please my heart full well to hunt a while and wolves to fell.’
And then he leaned and whispered low
that Orodreth was a dullard slow;
85long time it was since the king had gone, and rumour or tidings came there none.
‘At least thy profit it would be
to know whether dead he is or free;
to gather thy men and thy array.
90“I go to hunt” then thou wilt say, and men will think that Narog’s good
ever thou heedest. But in the wood
things may be learned; and if by grace, by some blind fortune he retrace
95his footsteps mad, and if he bear a Silmaril—I need declare
no more in words; but one by right
is thine (and ours), the jewel of light; another may be won—a throne.
100The eldest blood our house doth own.’
Celegorm listened. Nought he said,