Beren seeing their approach was dismayed; and he wondered, for he had heard the voice
of Tinuviel, and he thought it now a phantom for his ensnaring. But they halted and cast
aside their disguise, and Lúthien ran towards him. Thus Beren and Lúthien met again
between the desert and the wood. For a while he was silent and was glad; but after a space
he strove once more to dissuade Lúthien from her journey.
'Thrice now I curse my oath to Thingol,' he said, 'and I would that he had slain me in
Menegroth, rather than I should bring you under the shadow of Morgoth.'
Then for the second time Huan spoke with words; and he counselled Beren, saying: 'From
the shadow of death you can no longer save Lúthien, for by her love she is now subject to
it. You can turn from your fate and lead her into exile, seeking peace in vain while your
life lasts. But if you will not deny your doom, then either Lúthien, being forsaken, must
assuredly die alone, or she must with you challenge the fate that lies before
you--hopeless, yet not certain. Further counsel I cannot give, nor may I go further on
your road. But my heart forebodes that what you find at the Gate I shall myself see. All
else is dark to me; yet it may be that our three paths lead back to Doriath, and we may
meet before the end.'
Then Beren perceived that Lúthien could not be divided from the doom that lay upon
them both, and he sought no longer to dissuade her. By the counsel of Huan and the arts of
Lúthien he was arrayed now in the hame of Draugluin, and she in the winged fell of
Thuringwethil. Beren became in all things like a werewolf to look upon, save that in his
eyes there shone a spirit grim indeed but clean; and horror was in his glance as he saw
upon his flank a bat-like creature clinging with creased wings. Then howling under the
moon he leaped down the hill, and the bat wheeled and flittered above him.
They passed through all perils, until they came with the dust of their long and weary
road upon them to the drear dale that lay before the Gate of Angband. Black chasms opened
beside the road, whence forms as of writhing serpents issued. On either hand the cliffs
stood as embattled walls, and upon them sat carrion fowl crying with fell voices. Before
them was the impregnable Gate, an arch wide and dark at the foot of the mountain; above it
reared a thousand feet of precipice.
There dismay took them, for at the gate was a guard of whom no tidings had yet gone
forth. Rumour of he knew not what designs abroad among the princes of the Elves had come
to Morgoth, and ever down the aisles of the forest was heard the baying of Huan, the great
hound of war, whom long ago the Valar unleashed. Then Morgoth recalled the doom of Huan,
and he chose one from among the whelps of the race of Draugluin; and he fed him with his
own hand upon living flesh, and put his power upon him. Swiftly the wolf grew, until he
could creep into no den, but lay huge and hungry before the feet of Morgoth. There the
fire and anguish of hell entered into him, and he became filled with a devouring spirit,
tormented, terrible, and strong. Carcharoth, the Red Maw, he is named in the tales of
those days, and Anfauglir, the Jaws of Thirst. And Morgoth set him to lie unsleeping
before the doors of Angband, lest Huan come.
Now Carcharoth espied them from afar, and he was filled with doubt; for news had long
been brought to Angband that Draugluin was dead. Therefore when they approached he denied
them entry, and bade them stand; and he drew near with menace, scenting something strange
in the air about them. But suddenly some power, descended from of old from divine race,
possessed Lúthien, and casting back her foul raiment she stood forth, small before the
might of Carcharoth, but radiant and terrible. Lifting up her hand she commanded him to
sleep, saying: 'O woe-begotten spirit, fall now into dark oblivion, and forget for a while
the dreadful doom of life.' And Carcharoth was felled, as though lightning had smitten
him.
Then Beren and Lúthien went through the Gate, and down the labyrinthine stairs; and
together wrought the greatest deed that has been dared by Elves or Men. For they came to
the seat of Morgoth in his nethermost hall that was upheld by horror, lit by fire, and
filled with weapons of death and torment. There Beren slunk in wolf's form beneath his
throne; but Lúthien was stripped of her disguise by the will of Morgoth, and he bent his
gaze upon her. She was not daunted by his eyes; and she named her own name, and offered
her service to sing before him, after the manner of a minstrel. Then Morgoth looking upon
her beauty conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had
yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own
malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in
his thought. Then suddenly she eluded his sight, and out of the shadows began a song of
such surpassing loveliness, and of such blinding power, that he listened perforce; and a
blindness came upon him, as his eyes roamed to and fro, seeking her.
All his court were cast down in slumber, and all the fires faded and were quenched; but
the Silmarils in the crown on Morgoth's head blazed forth suddenly with a radiance of
white flame; and the burden of that crown and of the jewels bowed down his head, as though
the world were set upon it, laden with a weight of care, of fear, and of desire, that even
the will of Morgoth could not support. Then Lúthien catching up her winged robe sprang
into the air, and her voice came dropping down like rain into pools, profound and dark.
She cast her cloak before his eyes, and set upon him a dream, dark as the outer Void where
once he walked alone.
Suddenly he fell, as a hill sliding in avalanche, and hurled like thunder from his
throne lay prone upon the floors of hell. The iron crown rolled echoing from his head. All
things were still.
As a dead beast Beren lay upon the ground; but Lúthien touching him with her hand
aroused him, and he cast aside the wolf-hame. Then he drew forth the knife Angrist; and
from the iron claws that held it he cut a Silmaril.
As he closed it in his hand, the radiance welled through his living flesh, and his hand
became as a shining lamp; but the jewel suffered his touch and hurt him not. It came then
into Beren's mind that he would go beyond his vow, and bear out of Angband all three of
the Jewels of Feanor; but such was not the doom of the Silmarils. The knife Angrist
snapped, and a shard of the blade flying smote the cheek of Morgoth. He groaned and
stirred, and all the host of Angband moved in sleep.
Then terror fell upon Beren and Lúthien, and they fled, heedless and without disguise,
desiring only to see the light once more. They were neither hindered nor pursued, but the
Gate was held against their going out; for Carcharoth had arisen from sleep, and stood now
in wrath upon the threshold of Angband. Before they were aware of him, he saw them, and
sprang upon them as they ran.
Lúthien was spent, and she had not time nor strength to quell the wolf. But Beren
strode forth before her, and in his right hand he held aloft the Silmaril. Carcharoth
halted, and for a moment was afraid. 'Get you gone, and fly!' cried Beren; 'for here is a
fire that shall consume you, and all evil things.' And he thrust the Silmaril before the
eyes of the wolf.
But Carcharoth looked upon that holy jewel and was not daunted, and the devouring
spirit within him awoke to sudden fire; and gaping he took suddenly the hand within his
jaws, and he bit it off at the wrist. Then swiftly all his inwards were filled with a
flame of anguish, and the Silmaril seared his accursed flesh. Howling he led before them,
and the walls of the valley of the Gate echoes with the clamour of his torment. So
terrible did he become in his madness that all the creatures of Morgoth that abode in that
valley, or were upon any of the roads that led thither, fled far away' for he slew all
living things that stood in his path, and burst from the North with ruin upon the world.
Of all the terrors that came ever into Beleriand ere Angband's fall the madness of
Carcharoth was the most dreadful; for the power of the Silmaril was hidden within him.
Now Beren lay in a swoon within the perilous Gate, and death drew nigh him for there
was venom on the fangs of the wolf. Lúthien with her lips drew out the venom, and she put
forth her failing power to staunch the hideous wound. But behind her in the depths of
Angband the rumour grew of great wrath aroused. The host of Morgoth were awakened.
Thus the quest of the Silmaril was like to have ended in ruin and despair; but in that
hour above the wall of the valley three mighty birds appeared, flying northward with wings
swifter than the wind. Among all birds and beasts the wandering and need of Beren had been
noised, and Huan himself had bidden all things watch, that they might bring him aid. High
above the realm of Morgoth Thorondor and his vassals soared, and seeing now the madness of
the Wolf and Beren's fall they came swiftly down, even as the powers of Angband were
released from the toils of sleep.
Then they lifted up Lúthien and Beren from the earth, and bore them aloft into the
clouds. Below them suddenly thunder rolled, lightnings leaped upward, and the mountains
quaked. Fire and smoke belched forth from Thangorodrim, and flaming bolts were hurled far
abroad, falling ruinous upon the lands; and the Noldor in Hithlum trembled. But Thorondor
took his way far above the earth, seeking the high roads of heaven, where the sun daylong
shines unveiled and the moon walks amid the cloudless stars. Thus they passed swiftly over
Dor-nu-Fauglith, and over Taur-nu-Fuin, and came above the hidden valley of Tumladen. No
cloud nor mist lay there, and looking down Lúthien saw far below, as a white light
starting from a green jewel, the radiance of Gondolin the fair where Turgon dwelt. But she
wept, for she thought that Beren would surely die, he spoke no word, nor opened his eyes,
and knew thereafter nothing of his flight. And at the last the eagles set them down upon
the borders of Doriath; and they were come to that same dell whence Beren had stolen in
despair and left Lúthien asleep.
There the eagles laid her at Beren's side and returned to the peaks of Crissaegrim and
their high eyries; but Huan came to her, and together they tended Beren, even as before
when she healed him of the wound that Curufin gave to him. But this wound was fell and
poisonous. Long Beren lay, and his spirit wandered upon the dark borders of death, knowing
every an anguish that pursued him from dream to dream. Then suddenly, when her hope was
almost spent, he woke again, and looked up, seeing leaves against the sky; and he heard
beneath the leaves singing soft and slow beside him Lúthien Tinuviel. And it was spring
again.
Thereafter Beren was named Erchamion, which is the One-handed; and suffering was graven
in his face. But at last he was drawn back to life by the love of Lúthien, and he arose,
and together they walked in the woods once more. And they did not hasten from that place,
for it seemed fair to them. Lúthien indeed was willing to wander in the wild without
returning, forgetting house and people and all the glory of the Elf-kingdoms, and for a
time Beren was content; but he could not for long forget his oath to return to Menegroth,
nor would he withhold Lúthien from Thingol for ever. For he held by the law of Men,
deeming it perilous to set at naught the will of the father, save at the last need; and is
seemed also to him unfit that one so royal and fair as Lúthien should live always in the
woods, as the rude hunters among Men, without home or honour or the fair things which are
the delight of the queens of the Eldalie. Therefore after a while he persuaded her, and
their footsteps forsook the houseless lands; and he passed into Doriath, leading Lúthien
home. So their doom willed it.
Upon Doriath evil days had fallen. Grief and silence had come upon all its people when
Lúthien was lost. Long they had sought for her in vain. And it is told that in that time
Daeron the minstrel of Thingol strayed from the land, and was seen no more. He it was that
made music for the dance and song of Lúthien, before Beren came to Doriath; and he had
loved her, and set all his thought of her in his music. He became the greatest of all the
minstrels of the Elves east of the Sea, named even before Maglor son of Feanor. But
seeking for Lúthien in despair he wandered upon strange paths, and passing over the
mountains he came into the East of Middle-earth, where for many ages he made lament beside
dark waters for Lúthien, daughter of Thingol, most beautiful of all living things.
In that time Thingol turned to Melian; but now she withheld her counsel from him,
saying that the doom that he had devised must work to its appointed end, and that he must
wait now upon time. But Thingol learned that Lúthien had journeyed far from Doriath, for
messages came secretly from Celegorm, as has been told, saying that Felagund was dead, and
Beren was dead, but Lúthien was in Nargothrond, and that Celegorm would wed her. Then
Thingol was wrathful, and he sent forth spies, thinking to make war upon Nargothrond; and
thus he learned that Lúthien was again fled, and that Celegorm and Curufin were driven
from Nargothrond. Then his counsel was in doubt, for he had not the strength to assail the
seven sons of Feanor; but he sent messengers to Himring to summon their aid in seeking for
Lúthien, since Celegorm had not sent her to the house of her father, nor had he kept her
safely.
But in the north of his realm his messengers met with a peril sudden and unlooked for:
the onslaught of Carcharoth, the Wolf of Angband. In his madness he had run ravening from
the north, and passing at length over Taur-nu-Fuin upon its eastern side he came down from
the sources of Esgalduin like a destroying fire. Nothing hindered him, and the might of
Melian upon the borders of the land stayed him not; for fate drove him, and the power of
the Silmaril that he bore to his torment. Thus he burst into the inviolate woods of
Doriath, and all fled away in fear. Alone of the messengers Mablung, chief captain of the
King, escaped, and he brought the dread tidings to Thingol.
Even in that dark hour Beren and Lúthien returned, hastening from the west, and the
news of their coming went before them like a sound of music borne by the wind into dark
houses where men sit sorrowful. They came at last to the gates of Menegroth, and a great
host followed them. Then Beren led Lúthien before the throne of Thingol her father; and
he looked in wonder upon Beren, whom he had thought dead; but he loved him not, because of
the woes that he had brought upon Doriath. But Beren knelt before him, and said: 'I return
according to my word. I am come now to claim my own.'
And Thingol answered: 'What of your quest, and of your vow?'
But Beren said: 'It is fulfilled. Even now a Silmaril is in my hand.'
Then Thingol said: 'Show it to me!'
And Beren put forth his left hand, slowly opening its fingers; but it was empty. Then he
held up his right arm; and from that hour he named himself Camlost, the Empty-handed.
Then Thingol's mood was softened; and Beren sat before his throne upon the
left, and Lúthien upon the right, and they told all the tale of the Quest, while all
there listened and were filled with amazement. And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was
unlike all other mortal Men, and among the great in Arda, and the love of Lúthien a thing
new and strange; and he perceived that their doom might not be withstood by any power of
the world. Therefore at the last he yielded his will, and Beren took the hand of Lúthien
before the throne of her father.
But now a shadow fell upon the joy of Doriath at the
return of Lúthien the fair; for learning of the cause of the madness of Carcharoth the
people grew the more afraid, perceiving that his danger was fraught with dreadful power
because of the holy jewel, and hardly might be overthrown. And Beren, hearing of the
onslaught of the Wolf, understood that the Quest was not yet fulfilled.
Therefore, since daily Carcharoth drew nearer to Menegroth,
they prepared the Hunting of the Wolf; of all pursuits of beasts whereof tales tell the
most perilous. To that chase went Huan the Hound of Valinor, and Mablung of the Heavy
Hand, and Beleg Strongbow, and Beren Erchamion, and Thingol King of Doriath. They rode
forth in the morning and passed over the River Esgalduin; but Lúthien remained behind at
the gates of Menegroth. A dark shadow fell upon her and it seemed to her that the sun had
sickened and turned black.
The hunters turned east and north, and following the course
of the river they came at last upon Carcharoth the Wolf in a dark valley, down the
northern side whereof Esgalduin fell in a torrent over steep falls. At the foot of the
falls Carcharoth drank to ease his consuming thirst, and he howled, and thus they were
aware of him, But he, espying their approach, rushed not suddenly to attack them. It may
be that the devil's cunning of his heart awoke, being for a moment eased of his pain by
the sweet waters of Esgalduin; and even as they rode towards him he slunk aside into a
deep brake, and there lay hid. But they set a guard about all that place, and waited, and
the shadows grew long in the forest.
Beren stood beside Thingol, and suddenly they were aware
that Huan had left their side. Then a great baying awoke in the thicket; for Huan becoming
impatient and desiring to look upon this wolf had gone in alone to dislodge him. But
Carcharoth avoided him, and bursting form the thorns leaped suddenly upon Thingol. Swiftly
Beren strode before him with a spear, but Carcharoth swept it aside and felled him, biting
at his breast. In that moment Huan leaped from the thicket upon the back of the Wolf, and
they fell together fighting bitterly; and no battle of wolf and hound has been like to it,
for in the baying of Huan was heard the voice of the horns of Orome and the wrath of the
Valar, but in the howls of Carcharoth was the hate of Morgoth and malice crueller than
teeth of steel; and the rocks were rent by their clamour and fell from on high and choked
the falls of Esgalduin. There they fought to the death; but Thingol gave no heed, for he
knelt by Beren, seeing that he was sorely hurt.
Huan in that hour slew Carcharoth; but there in the woven
woods of Doriath his own doom long spoken was fulfilled, and he was wounded mortally, and
the venom of Morgoth entered into him. Then he came, and falling beside Beren spoke for
the third time with words; and he bade Beren farewell before he died. Beren spoke not, but
laid his hand upon the head of the hound, and so they parted.
Mablung and Beleg came hastening to the King's aid, but
when they looked upon what was done they cast aside their spears and wept. Then Mablung
took a knife and ripped up the belly of the Wolf; and within he was wellnigh all consumed
as with a fire, but the hand of Beren that held the jewel was yet incorrupt. But when
Mablung reached forth to touch it, the hand was no more, and the Silmaril lay there
unveiled, and the light of it filled the shadows of the forest all about hem. Then quickly
and in fear Mablung took it and set it in Beren's living hand; and Beren was aroused by
the touch of the Silmaril, and held it aloft, and bade Thingol receive it. 'Now is the
Quest achieved,' he said, 'and my doom full-wrought'; and he spoke no more.
They bore back Beren Camlost son of Barahir upon a bier of
branches with Huan the wolfhound at his side; and night fell ere they returned to
Menegroth. At the feet of Hirilorn the great beech Lúthien met them walking slow, and
some bore torches beside the bier. There she set her arms about Beren, and kissed him
bidding him await her beyond the Western Sea; and he looked upon her eyes ere the spirit
left him. But the starlight was quenched and darkness had fallen even upon Lúthien
Tinuviel. Thus ended the Quest of the Silmaril; but the Lay of Leithian, Release form
Bondage does not end.
For the spirit of Beren at her bidding tarried in the halls
of Mandos, unwilling to leave the world, until Lúthien came to say her last farewell upon
the dim shores of the Outer Sea, whence Men that die set out never to return. But the
spirit of Lúthien fell down into darkness, and at the last it fled, and her body lay like
like a flower that is suddenly cut off and lies for a while unwithered on the grass.
Then a winter, as it were the hoar age of mortal Men, fell
upon Thingol. But Lúthien came to the halls of Mandos, where are the appointed places of
the Eldalie, beyond the mansions of the West upon the confines of the world. There those
that wait sit in the shadow of their thought. But her beauty was more than their beauty,
and her sorrow deeper than their sorrows; and she knelt before Mandos and sang to him.
The song of Lúthien before Mandos was the song most fair
that ever in words was woven, and the song most sorrowful that ever the world shall ever
hear. Unchanged, imperishable, it is sung still in Valinor beyond the hearing of the
world, and the listening the Valar grieved. For Lúthien wove two themes of words, of the
sorrow of the Eldar and the grief of Men, of the Two Kindreds that were made by Iluvatar
to dwell in Arda, the Kingdom of Earth amid the the innumerable stars. And as she knelt
before him her tears fell upon his feet like rain upon stones; and Mandos was moved to
pity, who never before was so moved, nor has been since.
Therefore he summoned Beren, and even as Lúthien had
spoken in the hour of his death they met again beyond the Western Sea. But Mandos had no
power to withhold the spirits of Men that were dead within the confines of the world,
after their time of waiting; nor could he change the fates of the Children of Iluvatar. He
went therefore to Manwe, Lord of the Valar, who governed the world under the hand of
Iluvatar; and Manwe sought counsel in his inmost thought, where the will of Iluvatar was
revealed.
These were the choices that he gave to Lúthien Because of
her labors and her sorrow, she should be released from Mandos, and go to Valimar, there to
dwell until the world's end among the Valar, forgetting all griefs that her life had
known. Thither Beren could not come. For it was not permitted to the Valar to withhold
Death from him, which is the gift of Iluvatar to Men. But the other choice was this: that
she might return to Middle-earth, and take with her Beren, there to dwell again, but
without certitude of life or joy. Then She would become mortal, land subject to a second
death, even as he; and ere long she would leave the world for ever, and her beauty become
only a memory in song.
This doom she chose, forsaking the Blessed Realm, and
putting aside all claim to kinship with those that dwell there; that thus whatever grief
might lie in wait, the fates of Beren and Lúthien might be joined, and their paths lead
together beyond the confines of the world. So it was that alone of the Eldalie she has
died indeed, and left the world long ago. Yet in her choice the Two Kindreds have been
joined; and she is the forerunner of many in whom the Eldar see yet, thought all the world
is changed, the likeness of Lúthien the beloved, whom they have lost.