Then at the bidding of the Valar E?nw? went to the shore of Aman, where the companions of E?rendil still remained, awaiting tidings; and he took a boat, and the three mariners were set therein, and the Valar drove them away into the East with a great wind. But they took Vingilot, and hallowed it, and bore it away through Valinor to the uttermost rim of the world; and there it passed through the Door of Night and was lifted up even into the oceans of heaven.
Now fair and marvellous was that vessel made, and it was filled with a wavering flame, pure and bright; and E?rendil the Mariner sat at the helm, glistening with dust of elven-gems, and the Silmaril was bound upon his brow. Far he journeyed in that ship, even into the starless voids; but most often was he seen at morning or at evening, glimmering at sunrise or at sunset, as he came back to Valinor from voyages beyond the confines of the world.
On those journeys Elwing did not go, for she might not endure the cold and the pathless voids, and she loved rather the earth and the sweet winds that blow on sea and hill. Therefore there was built for her a white tower northward upon the borders of the Sundering Seas; and thither at times all the sea-birds of the earth repaired. And it is said that Elwing learned the tongues of birds, who herself had once worn their shape; and they taught her the craft of flight, and her wings were of white and of silver-grey. And at times, when E?rendil returning drew near again to Arda, she would fly to meet him, even as she had flown long ago, when she was rescued from the sea. Then the far-sighted among the Elves that dwelt in the Lonely Isle would see her like a white bird, shining, rose-stained in the sunset, as she soared in joy to greet the coming of Vingilot to haven.
Now when first Vingilot was set to sail in the seas of heaven it rose unlooked for, glittering and bright; and the people of Middle-earth beheld it from afar and wondered, and they took it for a sign, and called it Gil-Estel, the Star of High Hope. And when this new star was seen at evening, Maedhros spoke to Maglor his brother, and he said: ‘Surely that is a Silmaril that shines now in the West?’
And of the final departure of Beren and Lúthien? In the words of the Quenta Silmarillion: None saw Beren and Lúthien leave the world or marked where at last their bodies lay.
APPENDIX
REVISIONS TO
THE LAY OF LEITHIAN
Among the first, perhaps even the very first, of the literary tasks that attracted my father after the completion of The Lord of the Rings was a return to The Lay of Leithian: not (needless to say) to continue the narrative from the point reached in 1931 (the attack on Beren by Carcharoth at the gates of Angband), but from the beginning of the poem. The textual history of the writing is very complex, and no more need be said of it here beyond remarking that whereas at first my father seems to have embarked on a radical rewriting of the Lay as a whole, the impulse soon died away, or was overtaken, and was reduced to short and scattered passages. I give here, however, as a substantial example of the new verse after the lapse of a quarter of a century, the passage of the Lay concerning the treachery of Gorlim the Unhappy that led to the slaying of Barahir, the father of Beren, and all his companions, save Beren alone. This is by far the longest of the new passages; and—conveniently—it may be compared with the original text that has been given on pp. 94–102. It will be seen that Sauron (Th?), ridden here from ‘Gaurhoth Isle’, has replaced Morgoth; and that in the quality of the verse this is a new poem.
I begin the new text with a short passage entitled Of Tarn Aeluin the Blessed which has no counterpart in the original version: these verses are numbered 1–26.
Such deeds of daring there they wrought
that soon the hunters that them sought
at rumour of their coming fled.
Though price was set upon each head
5to match the weregild of a king, no soldier could to Morgoth bring
news even of their hidden lair;
for where the highland brown and bare
above the darkling pines arose
10of steep Dorthonion to the snows and barren mountain-winds, there lay
a tarn of water, blue by day,
by night a mirror of dark glass
for stars of Elbereth that pass
15above the world into the West.
Once hallowed, still that place was blest: no shadow of Morgoth, and no evil thing yet thither came; a whispering ring
of slender birches silver-grey
20stooped on its margin, round it lay a lonely moor, and the bare bones
of ancient Earth like standing stones thrust through the heather and the whin; and there by houseless Aeluin
25the hunted lord and faithful men under the grey stones made their den.
OF GORLIM UNHAPPY
Gorlim Unhappy, Angrim’s son,
as the tale tells, of these was one,
most fierce and hopeless. He to wife,
30while fair was the fortune of his life, took the white maiden Eilinel:
dear love they had ere evil fell.
To war he rode; from war returned
to find his fields and homestead burned, 35his house forsaken roofless stood, empty amid the leafless wood;
and Eilinel, white Eilinel,
was taken whither none could tell,
to death or thraldom far away.
40Black was the shadow of that day for ever on his heart, and doubt
still gnawed him as he went about,
in wilderness wandring, or at night
oft sleepless, thinking that she might
45ere evil came have timely fled into the woods: she was not dead,
she lived, she would return again
to seek him, and would deem him slain.
Therefore at whiles he left the lair,
50and secretly, alone, would peril dare, and come to his old house at night,
broken and cold, without fire or light, and naught but grief renewed would gain, watching and waiting there in vain.
55In vain, or worse—for many spies had Morgoth, many lurking eyes
well used to pierce the deepest dark;
and Gorlim’s coming they would mark
and would report. There came a day
60when once more Gorlim crept that way, down the deserted weedy lane
at dusk of autumn sad with rain
and cold wind whining. Lo! a light
at window fluttering in the night
65amazed he saw; and drawing near, between faint hope and sudden fear,
he looked within. ’Twas Eilinel!
Though changed she was, he knew her well.
With grief and hunger she was worn,
70her tresses tangled, raiment torn; her gentle eyes with tears were dim,
as soft she wept: ‘Gorlim, Gorlim!
Thou canst not have forsaken me.
Then slain, alas! thou slain must be!
75And I must linger cold, alone, and loveless as a barren stone!’
One cry he gave—and then the light
blew out, and in the wind of night
wolves howled; and on his shoulder fell 80suddenly the griping hands of hell.
There Morgoth’s servants fast him caught and he was cruelly bound, and brought
to Sauron captain of the host,
the lord of werewolf and of ghost,
85most foul and fell of all who knelt at Morgoth’s throne. In might he dwelt
on Gaurhoth Isle; but now had ridden
with strength abroad, by Morgoth bidden to find the rebel Barahir.
90He sat in dark encampment near, and thither his butchers dragged their prey.
There now in anguish Gorlim lay:
with bond on neck, on hand and foot,
to bitter torment he was put,
95to break his will and him constrain to buy with treason end of pain.
But naught to them would he reveal
of Barahir, nor break the seal