Then Thingol sat for a while in thought, and spoke sadly at last. ‘This is an ungrateful foster-son, and in truth a man too proud for his state. How can I still harbour one who scorns me and my law, or pardon one who will not repent? This must be my doom. I will banish Túrin from Doriath. If he seeks entry he shall be brought to judgement before me; and until he sues for pardon at my feet he is my son no longer. If any here accounts this unjust, let him speak now!’
Then there was silence in the hall, and Thingol lifted up his hand to pronounce his doom. But at that moment Beleg entered in haste, and cried: ‘Lord, may I yet speak?’
‘You come late,’ said Thingol. ‘Were you not bidden with the others?’
‘Truly, lord,’ answered Beleg, ‘but I was delayed; I sought for one whom I knew. Now I bring at last a witness who should be heard, ere your doom falls.’
‘All were summoned who had aught to tell,’ said the King. ‘What can he tell now of more weight than those to whom I have listened?’
‘You shall judge when you have heard,’ said Beleg. ‘Grant this to me, if I have ever deserved your grace.’
‘To you I grant it,’ said Thingol. Then Beleg went out, and led in by the hand the maiden Nellas, who dwelt in the woods, and came never into Menegroth; and she was afraid, as much of the great pillared hall and the roof of stone as of the company of many eyes that watched her. And when Thingol bade her speak, she said: ‘Lord, I was sitting in a tree’; but then she faltered in awe of the King, and could say no more.
At that the King smiled, and said: ‘Others have done this also, but have felt no need to tell me of it.’
‘Others indeed,’ said she, taking courage from his smile. ‘Even Lúthien! And of her I was thinking that morning, and of Beren the Man.’
To that Thingol said nothing, and he smiled no longer, but waited until Nellas should speak again.
‘For Túrin reminded me of Beren,’ she said at last. ‘They are akin, I am told, and their kinship can be seen by some: by some that look close.’
Then Thingol grew impatient. ‘That may be,’ he said. ‘But Túrin son of Húrin is gone in scorn of me, and you will see him no more to read his kindred. For now I will speak my judgement.’
‘Lord King!’ she cried then. ‘Bear with me, and let me speak first. I sat in a tree to look on Túrin as he went away; and I saw Saeros come out from the wood with sword and shield, and spring on Túrin at unawares.’
At that there was a murmur in the hall; and the King lifted his hand, saying: ‘You bring graver news to my ear than seemed likely. Take heed now to all that you say; for this is a court of doom.’
‘So Beleg has told me,’ she answered, ‘and only for that have I dared to come here, so that Túrin shall not be ill judged. He is valiant, but he is merciful. They fought, lord, these two, until Túrin had bereft Saeros of both shield and sword; but he did not slay him. Therefore I do not believe that he willed his death in the end. If Saeros were put to shame, it was shame that he had earned.’
‘Judgement is mine,’ said Thingol. ‘But what you have told shall govern it.’ Then he questioned Nellas closely; and at last he turned to Mablung, saying: ‘It is strange to me that Túrin said nothing of this to you.’
‘Yet he did not,’ said Mablung, ‘or I should have recounted it. And otherwise should I have spoken to him at our parting.’
‘And otherwise shall my doom now be,’ said Thingol. ‘Hear me! Such fault as can be found in Túrin I now pardon, holding him wronged and provoked. And since it was indeed, as he said, one of my council who so misused him, he shall not seek for this pardon, but I will send it to him, wherever he may be found; and I will recall him in honour to my halls.’
But when the doom was pronounced, suddenly Nellas wept. ‘Where can he be found?’ she said. ‘He has left our land, and the world is wide.’
‘He shall be sought,’ said Thingol. Then he rose, and Beleg led Nellas forth from Menegroth; and he said to her: ‘Do not weep; for if Túrin lives or walks still abroad, I shall find him, though all others fail.’
On the next day Beleg came before Thingol and Melian, and the King said to him: ‘Counsel me, Beleg; for I am grieved. I took Húrin’s son as my son, and so he shall remain, unless Húrin himself should return out of the shadows to claim his own. I would not have any say that Túrin was driven forth unjustly into the wild, and gladly would I welcome him back; for I loved him well.’
‘Give me leave, lord,’ said Beleg, ‘and on your behalf I will redress this evil, if I can. For such manhood as he promised should not run to nothing in the wild. Doriath has need of him, and the need will grow more. And I love him also.’
Then Thingol said to Beleg: ‘Now I have hope in the quest! Go with my good will, and if you find him, guard him and guide him as you may. Beleg Cúthalion, long have you been foremost in the defence of Doriath, and for many deeds of valour and wisdom have earned my thanks. Greatest of all I shall hold the finding of Túrin. At this parting ask for any gift, and I will not deny it to you.’
‘I ask then for a sword of worth,’ said Beleg; ‘for the Orcs come now too thick and close for a bow only, and such blade as I have is no match for their armour.’
‘Choose from all that I have,’ said Thingol, ‘save only Aranrúth, my own.’
Then Beleg chose Anglachel; and that was a sword of great fame, and it was so named because it was made of iron that fell from heaven as a blazing star; it would cleave all earth-dolven iron. One other sword only in Middle-earth was like to it. That sword does not enter into this tale, though it was made of the same ore by the same smith; and that smith was E?l the Dark Elf, who took Aredhel Turgon’s sister to wife. He gave Anglachel to Thingol as fee, which he begrudged, for leave to dwell in Nan Elmoth; but the other sword, Anguirel, its mate, he kept, until it was stolen from him by Maeglin, his son.
But as Thingol turned the hilt of Anglachel towards Beleg, Melian looked at the blade; and she said: ‘There is malice in this sword. The heart of the smith still dwells in it, and that heart was dark. It will not love the hand that it serves; neither will it abide with you long.’
‘Nonetheless I will wield it while I may,’ said Beleg; and thanking the king he took the sword and departed. Far across Beleriand he sought in vain for tidings of Túrin, through many perils; and that winter passed away, and the spring after.
CHAPTER VI
TúRIN AMONG THE OUTLAWS
Now the tale turns again to Túrin. He, believing himself an outlaw whom the King would pursue, did not return to Beleg on the north-marches of Doriath, but went away westward, and passing secretly out of the Guarded Realm came into the woodlands south of Teiglin. There before the Nirnaeth many men had dwelt in scattered homesteads; they were of Haleth’s folk for the most part, but owned no lord, and they lived both by hunting and husbandry, keeping swine in the mast-lands, and tilling clearings in the forest which were fenced from the wild. But most were now destroyed, or had fled into Brethil, and all that region lay under the fear of Orcs, and of outlaws. For in that time of ruin houseless and desperate men went astray: remnants of battle and defeat, and lands laid waste; and some were men driven into the wild for evil deeds. They hunted and gathered such food as they could; but many took to robbery and became cruel, when hunger or other need drove them. In winter they were most to be feared, like wolves; and Gaurwaith, wolf-men, they were called by those who still defended their homes. Some sixty of these men had joined in one band, wandering in the woods beyond the western marches of Doriath; and they were hated scarcely less than Orcs, for there were among them outcasts hard of heart, bearing a grudge against their own kind.
The hardest of heart was one named Andróg, who had been hunted from Dor-lómin for the slaying of a woman; and others also came from that land: old Algund, the oldest of the fellowship, who had fled from the Nirnaeth, and Forweg, as he named himself, a man with fair hair and unsteady glittering eyes, big and bold, but far fallen from the ways of the Edain of the people of Hador. Yet he could still be wise and generous at times; and he was the captain of the fellowship. They had dwindled now to some fifty men, by deaths in hardship or affrays; and they were become wary, and set scouts or a watch about them, whether moving or at rest. Thus they were soon aware of Túrin when he strayed into their haunts. They trailed him, and they drew a ring about him, so that suddenly, as he came out into a glade beside a stream, he found himself within a circle of men with bent bows and drawn swords.
Then Túrin halted, but he showed no fear. ‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘I thought that only Orcs waylaid men; but I see that I am mistaken.’
‘You may rue the mistake,’ sai