The Lay Of The Children Of Húrin I Túrins Fostering

Túrin Son of Húrin & Glórund the

Lo! the golden dragon
of the God of Hell, the gloom of the woods
of the world now gone, the woes of Men,
and weeping of Elves fading faintly
down forest pathways, is now to tell,
and the name most tearful of Niniel the sorrowful,
and the name most sad of Thalion's son Túrin
o'erthrown by fate.

Lo!

Húrin Thalion
in the hosts of war was whelmed, what time
the white-clad armies of Elfinesse
were all to ruin by the dread hate driven
of Delu-Morgoth.

That field is yet
by the folk named Ninin Unothradin,
Unnumbered Tears.

There the children of Men,
chieftain and warrior, fled and fought not,
but the folk of the Elves they betrayed with treason,
save that true man only,

Thalion Erithámrod
and his thanes like gods.

There in host on host
the hill-fiend Orcs overbore him at last
in that battle terrible, by the bidding of Bauglir
bound him living, and pulled down the proudest
of the princes of Men.

To Bauglir's halls
in the hills builded, to the Hells of Iron
and the hidden caverns they haled the hero
of Hithlum's land,

Thalion Erithámrod,
to their throned lord, whose breast was burnt
with a bitter hatred, and wroth he was
that the wrack of war had not taken Turgon
ten times a king, even Finweg's heir;
nor Fëanor's children, makers of the magic
and immortal gems.

For Turgon towering
in terrible anger a pathway clove him
with his pale sword-blade out of that slaughter --
yea, his swath was plain through the hosts of Hell
like hay that lieth all low on the lea
where the long scythe goes.

A countless company
that king did lead through the darkened dales
and drear mountains out of ken of his foes,
and he comes not more in the tale; but the triumph
he turned to doubt of Morgoth the evil,
whom mad wrath took.

Nor spies sped him,
nor spirits of evil, nor his wealth of wisdom
to win him tidings, whither the nation
of the Gnomes was gone.

Now a thought of malice,
when Thalion stood, bound, unbending,
in his black dungeon, then moved in his mind
that remembered well how Men were accounted
all mightless and frail by the Elves and their kindred;
how only treason could master the magic
whose mazes wrapped the children of Corthûn,
and cheated his purpose. 'Is it dauntless Húrin,'
quoth Delu-Morgoth, 'stout steel-handed,
who stands before me, a captive living
as a coward might be?

Knowest thou my name,
or need'st be told what hope he has
who is haled to Angband -- the bale most bitter,
the Balrogs' torment?' 'I know and I hate.
For that knowledge I fought thee by fear unfettered,
nor fear I now,' said Thalion there,
and a thane of Morgoth on the mouth smote him;
but Morgoth smiled: 'Fear when thou feelest,
and the flames lick thee, and the whips of the Balrogs
thy white flesh brand.

Yet a way canst win,
an thou wishest, still to lessen thy lot
of lingering woe.

Go question the captives
of the accursed people I have taken, and tell me
where Turgon is hid; how with fire and death
I may find him soon, where he lurketh lost
in lands forgot.

Thou must feign thee a friend
faithful in anguish, and their inmost hearts
thus open and search.

Then, if truth thou tellest,
thy triple bonds I will bid men unbind,
that abroad thou fare in my service to search
the secret places following the footsteps
of these foes of the Gods.' 'Build not thy hopes
so high,

O Bauglir -- I am no tool
for thy evil treasons; torment were sweeter
than a traitor's stain.' 'If torment be sweet,
treasure is liever.

The hoards of a hundred
hundred ages, the gems and jewels
of the jealous Gods, are mine, and a meed
shall I mete thee thence, yea, wealth to glut
the Worm of Greed.' 'Canst not learn of thy lore
when thou look'st on a foe,

O Bauglir unblest?
Bray no longer of the things thou hast thieved
from the Three Kindreds.

In hate I hold thee,
and thy hests in scorn.' 'Boldly thou bravest me.
Be thy boast rewarded,' in mirth quod Morgoth,
'to me now the deeds, and thy aid I ask not;
but anger thee nought if little they like thee.
Yea, look thereon helpless to hinder,
or thy hand to raise.' Then Thalion was thrust
to Thangorodrim, that mountain that meets
the misty skies on high o'er the hills
that Hithlum sees blackly brooding
on the borders of the north.

To a stool of stone
on its steepest peak they bound him in bonds,
an unbreakable chain, and the Lord of Woe
there laughing stood, then cursed him for ever
and his kin and seed with a doom of dread,
of death and horror.

There the mighty man
unmovéd sat; but unveiled was his vision,
that he viewed afar all earthly things
with eyes enchanted that fell on his folk --
a fiend's torment.

I.

Túrin's

Lo! the lady Morwin
in the Land of Shadowswaited in the woodland
for her well-beloved;
but he came never
from the combat home.

No tidings told her
whether taken or dead,
or lost in flight
he lingered yet.

Laid waste his lands,
and his lieges slain,
and men unmindful
of his mighty lordshipdwelt in Dorlómin
and dealt unkindlywith his widowed wife;
and she went with child,
who a son must succour
now sadly orphaned,

Turin Thaliodrin
of tender years.

Then in days of blackness
was her daughter born,
and was naméd Nienor,
a name of tearsthat in language of eld
is Lamentation.

Then her thoughts turnéd
to Thingol the Elf-king,
and the dancer of Doriath,
his daughter Tinúviel,
whom the boldest of the brave,
Beren Ermabwed,
had won to wife.
He once had knownfirmest friendship
to his fellow in arms,

Thalion Erithámrod --
so thought she now, and said to her son,
'My sweetest child,
our friends are few,
and thy father comes not.

Thou must fare afar
to the folk of the wood,
where Thingol is throned
in the Thousand Caves.

If he remember Morwin
and thy mighty sirehe will fain foster thee,
and feats of armshe will teach thee, the trade
of targe and sword,
and Thalion's son
no thrall shall be --but remember thy mother
when thy manhood nears.'Heavy boded the heart
of Húrin's son,
yet he weened her words
were wild with grief,
and he denied her not,
fo no need him seemed.

Lo! henchmen had Morwin,
Halog and Gumlin,
who were young of yore
ere the youth of Thalion,
who alone of the lieges
of that lord of Mensteadfast in service
staid beside her:
now she bade them brave
the black mountains,
and the woods whose ways
wander to evil;
though Túrin be tender
and to travail unused,
they must gird them and go;
but glad they were not, and Morwin mourned
when men saw not.

Came a summer day
when sun filteredwarm through the woodland's
waving branches.

Then Morwin stood
her mourning hiding by the gate of her garth
in a glade of the woods.

At the breast she mothered
her babe unweaned,
and the doorpost held
lest she droop for anguish.

There Gumlin guided
her gallant boy,

And a heavy burden
was borne by Halog;
but the heart of Túrin
was heavy as stoneuncomprehending
its coming anguish.

He sought for comfort,
with courage saying:'Quickly will I come
from the courts of Thingol;
long ere manhood
I will lead to Morwingreat tale of treasure,
and true comrades'--for he wist not the weird
woven by Bauglir,
nor the sundering sorrow
that swept between.

The farewells are taken:
their footsteps are turnedto the dark forest:
the dwelling fadethin the tangled trees.
Then in Túrin leapthis awakened heart,
and he wept blindly,
calling 'I cannot,
I cannot leave thee.

O Morwin, my mother,
why makest me go?

Hateful are the hills
where hope is lost.

O Morwin, my mother,
I am meshed in tears.

Grim are the hills,
and my home is gone.'And there came his cries
calling faintly down the dark alleys
of the dreary trees,
and one who wept
weary on the thresholdheard how the hills said
'my home is gone.'The ways were weary
and woven with deceito'er the hills of Hithlum
to the hidden kingdomdeep in the darkness
of Doriath's forest;
and never ere now
for need or wonderhad children of Men
chosen that pathway,a few of the folk
have followed it since.

There Túrin and the twain
knew torment of thirst,
and hunger and fear
and hideous nights,
for wolfriders
and wandering Oresand the Things of Morgoth
thronged the woodland.

Magics were about them,
that they missed their waysand strayed steerless,
and the stars were hid.

Thus they passed the mountains,
but the mazes of Doriathwildered and wayworn
in wanhope bound them.

They had nor bread nor water,
and bled of strengththeir death they deemed it
to die forewandered,
when they heard a horn
that hooted afar,
and baying dogs.
It was Beleg the hunter,
who farthest fared
of his folk abroadahunting by hill
and hollow valley,
who cared not for concourse
and commerce of men.

He was great of growth
and goodly-limbed,
but lithe of girth,
and lightly on the groundhis footsteps fell
as he fared towards them,
all garbed in grey
and green and brown --a son of the wilderness
who wist no sire.'Who are ye?' he asked.
'Outlaws, or maybehard hunted men
whom hate pursueth?''Nay, for famine and thirst
we faint,' saith Halog,'wayworn and wildered,
and wot not the road.

Or hast not heard
of the hills of the slain,
or the tear-drenchéd field
where the terror and fireof Morgoth devoured
both Men and Elves?

There Thalion Erithámrod
and his thanes like godsvanished from the earth,
and his valiant ladyweeps yet widowed
as she waits in Hithlum.

Thou lookest on the last
of the lieges of Morwinand Thalion's son Túrin,
who to Thingol's courtare wending by the word
of the wife of Húrin.'Then Beleg bade them
be blithe, and said:'The Gods have guided you
to good keeping.

I have heard of the house
of Húrin the Steadfast - and who hath not heard
of the hills of slain,
of Nínin Unothradin,
the Unnumbered Tears?

To that war I went on,
but wage a feudwith the Orcs unending,
whom mine arrows bitteroft stab unseen
and strike to death.

I am the huntsman Beleg
of the Hidden People.'Then he bade them drink,
and drew from his belta flask of leather
full filled with winethat is bruised from the berries
of the burning South --and the Gnome-folk know it,
and the nation of the Elves,
and by long ways lead it
to the lands of the North.

There bakéd flesh
and bread from his walletthey had to their hearts' joy;
but their heads were mazed by the wine of Dor-Winion
that went in their veins,
and they soundly slept
on the soft needlesof the tall pine-trees
that towered above.

Later they wakened
and were led by waysdevious winding
through the dark wood-realmby slade and slope
and swampy thicketthrough lonely days
and long night-times,
and but for Beleg
had been baffled utterly by the magic mazes
of Melian the Queen.

To the shadowy shores
he showed the waywhere stilly that stream
strikes 'fore the gatesof the cavernous court
of the King of Doriath,

O'er the guarded bridge
he gained a passage,
and thrice they thanked him,
and thought in their hearts'the Gods are good' --
had they guessed maybewhat the future enfolded
they had feared to live.

To the throne of Thingol
the three were come,
and their speech sped them;
for he spake them fair,
and held in honour
Húrin the steadfast,

Beren Ermabwed's
brother-in-arms.

Remembering Morwin,
of mortals fairest,
he turned not Túrin
in contempt away;
said: 'O son of Húrin,
here shalt sojournin my cavernous court
for thy kindred's sake.

Nor as slave or servant,
but a second king's sonthou shalt dwell in dear love,
till thou deem'st it timeto remember thy mother
Morwin's loneliness.

Thou wisdom shalt win
unwist of Menand weapons shalt wield
as th warrior Elves,
and Thalion's son
no thrall shall be.'There tarried the twain
that had tended the child,
till their limbs were lightened
and they longed to farethrough dread and danger
to their dear lady.

But Gumlin was gone
in greater yearsthan Halog, and hoped not
to home again.

Then sickness took him,
and he stayed by Túrin,
while Halog hardened
his heart to go.

An Elfin escort
to his aid was givenand magics of Melian,
and a meed of gold.

In his mouth a message
how her wish was granted;
how Thingol called her
to the Thousand Cavesto fare unfearing
with his folk again,
there to sojourn in solace,
till her son be grown;
for Húrin the hero
was held in mind,
and no might had Morgoth
where Melian dwelt.

Of the errand of the Elves
and that other Halogthe tale tells not,
save in time they cameto the threshold of Morwin,
and Thingol's messagewas said where she sate
in her solitary hall.

But she dared not do
as was dearly bidden,
for Nienor her mestling
was not yet weaned.

More, the pride of her people,
princes of Men,
had suffered her send
her son to Thingolwhen despair sped her,
but to spend her daysas alms-guest of others,
even Elfin kings,
it liked her little;
and there lived e'en nowa hope in her heart
that Húrin would come,
and the dwelling was dear
where he dwelt of old.

At night she would listen
for a knock at the doors,
or a footstep falling
that she fondly knew;
so she fared not forth,
and her fate was woven.

Yet the thanes of Thingol
she thanked nobly,
and her shame she showed not,
how shorn of gloryto reward their wending
she had wealth too scant;
but gave them in gift
her golden thingsthat last lingered,
and they led awaya helm of Húrin
that was hewn in warwhen he battled with Beren
his brother-in-armsagainst ogres and Orcs
and evil foemen;'twas o'erwritten with runes
by wrights of old.

She bade Thingol receive it
and think of her.

Thus Halog her henchman
came home, but the Elves,
the thanes of Thingol,
thrust through the woods,
and the message of Morwin
in a month's journey,
so quick their coming,
to the king was said.

Then was Melian
moved to ruth,
and courteously received
the king her gift,
who deeply delved
had dungeons filledwith Elfin armouries
of ancient gear,
but he handled the helm
as his hoard were scant;
said: 'High were the head
that upheld this thingwith that token crowned
of the towering dragonthat Thalion Eithámrod
thrice-renownédoft bore into battle
with baleful foes.'Then a thought was thrust
into Thingol's heart,
and Túrin he called
and told when comethat Morwin his mother
a mighty thinghad sent to her son,
his sire's heirloom,a helm that hammers
had hardened of old,
whose makers had mingled
a magic thererinthat its worth was a wonder
and its wearer safe,
guarded from glaive
or gleaming axe --'Lo!

Húrin's helm
hoard thou till manhoodbids thee battle;
then bravely don it';
and Túrin touched it,
but took it not,
too weak to wield
that weight as yet,
and his mind mournéd
for Morwin's answer,
and the first of his sorrows
o'erfilled his soul.

Thus came it to pass
in the court of Thingolthat Túrin tarried
for twelve long yearswith Gumlin his guardian,
who guided him thitherwhen but seven summers
their sorrows had laidon the son of Thalion.
For the seven firsthis lot was lightened,
since he learnt at whilesfrom faring folk
what befell in Hithlum,
and tidings were told
by trusty Elves,
how Morwin his mother
was more at ease;
and they named Nienor
that now was growingto the sweet beauty
os a slender maiden.

Thus his heart knew hope,
and his hap was fairer.

There he waxed wonderly
and won him praisein all lands where Thingol
as lord was heldfor the strength of his body
and stoutness of heart.

Much more he learned,
and loved wisdom,
but fortune followed him
in few desires;
oft wrong and awry
what he wrought turnéd;
what he loved he lost,
what he longed for he won not;
and full friendship
he found not easily,
nor was lightly loved
for his looks were sad.

He was gloomy-hearted,
and glad seldom,
for the sundering sorrow
that seared his youth.

On manhood's threshold
he was mighty holdenin the wielding of weapons;
and in weaving songhe had a minstrel's mastery,
but mirth was not in it,
for he mourned the misery
of the Men of Hithlum.

Yet greater his grief
grew thereafter,
when from Hithlum's hills
he heard no more,
and no traveller told him
tidings of Morwin.

For those days were drawing
to the Doom of the Gnomes,
and the power of the Prince
of the People of Hell,
of the grim Glamhoth,
was grown apace,
till the lands of the North
were loud with their noise,
and they fell on the folk
with flame and ruinwho bent not to Bauglir,
or the borders passedof dark Dorlómin
with its dreary pinesthat Hithlum unhappy
is hight by Men.

There Morgoth shut them,
andt he Shadowy Mountainsfenced them from Faërie
and the folk of the wood.

Even Beleg fared not
so far abroadas once was his wont,
and the woods were filledwith the armies of Angband
and evil deeds,
while murder walked
on the marches of Doriath;
only mighty magic
of Melian the Queenyet held their havoc
from the Hidden People.

To assuage his sorrow
and to sate the rageand hate of his heart
for the hurts of his folkthen Húrin's son
took the helm of his sireand weapons weighty
for the wielding of men,
and went to the woods
with warlike Elves;
and far in the fight
his feet led him,
into black battle
yet a boy in years.

Ere manhood's measure
he met and slewthe Orcs of Angband
and evil thingsthat roamed and ravened
on the realm's borders.

There hard his life,
and hurts he got him,
the wounds of shaft
and warfain sword,
and his prowess was proven
and his praise renowned, and beyond his years
he was yielded honour;
for by him was holden
the hand of ruinfrom Thingol's folk,
and Thû feared him --Thu who was thronéd
as thane most mighty neath Morgoth Bauglir;
whom that mighty one bade'Go ravage the realm
of the robber Thingol,
and mar the magic
of Melian the Queen.'Only one was there
in war greater,
higher in honour
in the hearts of Elves,
than Túrin son of Húrin
untamed in war --even the huntsman Beleg
of the Hidden People,
the son of the wilderness
who wist no sire(to bend whose bow
of the black yew-treehad none of the might),
unmatched in knowledgeof the wood's secrets
and the weary hills.

He was leader beloved
of the light-armed bands,
the scouts that scoured,
scorning danger,
afar o'er the fells
their foemen's lairs;
and tales and tidings
timely won themof camps and councils,
of comings and goings --all the movements of the might
of Morgoth the Terrible.

Thus Túrin, who trusted
to targe and sword,
who was fain of fighting
with foes well seen,
and the banded troops
of his brave comradeswere snared seldom
and smote unlooked-for.

Then the fame of the fights
on the far marcheswere carried to the court
of the King of Doriath,
and tales of Túrin
were told in his halls,
and how Beleg the ageless
was brother-in-armsto the black-haired boy
from the beaten people.

Then the king called them
to come before himever and anon
when the Orc-raids waned;
to rest them and revel,
and to raise awhilethe secret songs
of the sons of Ing.

On a time was Túrin
at the table of Thingol --there was laughter long
and the loud clamourof a countless company
that quaffed the mead,
amid the wine of Dor-Winion
that went ungrudgedin their golden goblets;
and goodly meatsthere burdened the boards,
neath the blazing torchesset high in those halls
that were hewn of stone.

There mirth fell on many;
there minstrels cleardid sing to them songs
of the city of Túnneath Tain-Gwethil,
towering mountain,
where the great gods sit
and gaze on the worlfrom the guarded shores
of the gulf of Faërie.

Then one sang of the slaying
at the Swanship's Havenand the curse that had come
on the kindreds since:
all silent sat
and soundless harkened,
and waited the words
save one alone --the Man among Elves
that Morwin bore.

Unheeding he heard
or high feastingor lay or laughter,
and looked, it seemd,
to a deep distance
in the dark without,
and strained for sounds
in the still spaces,
for voices that vanished
in the veils of the night.

He was lithe and lean,
and his locks were wild,
and woodland weeds
he wore of brownand grey and green,
and gay jewelof golden trinket
his garb knew not.

An Elf there was -- Orgof --
of the ancient racethat was lost in the lands
where the long marchesfrom the quiet waters
of Cuiviénenwere made in the mirk
of the midworld's gloom,
ere light was lifted
aloft o'er earth;
but blood of the Gnomes
was blent in his veins.

He was close akin
to the King of Doriath --a hardy hunter
and his heart was brave,
but loose his laughter
and light his tongue,
and his pride outran
his prowess in arms.

He was fain before all
of fine raimentand of gems and jewels,
and jealous of suchas found favour
before himself.

Now costly clad
in colours gleaminghe sat on a seat
that was set on highnear the king and queen
and close to Túrin.

When those twain were at table
he had taunted him oft,
lightly with laughter,
for his loveless ways,
his haggard raiment
and hair unshorn;
but Túrin untroubled
neither turned his headnor wasted words
on the wit of Orgof.

But this day of the feast
more deep his gloomthan of wont, and his words
men won harder;
for of twelve long years
the tale was fullsince on Morwin his mother
through a maze of tearshe looked the last,
and the long shadowsof the forest had fallen
on his fading home;
and he answered few,
and Orgof nought.

Then the fool's mirth
was filled the more,
to a keener edge
was his carping whettedat the clothes uncouth
and the uncombed hairof Túrin newcome
from the tangléd forest.

He drew forth daintily
a dear treasure,a comb of gold
that he kept about him,
and tendered it to Túrin;
but he turned not his eyes,
nor deigned to heed
or harken to Orgof,
who too deep drunken
that disdain should quell him:'Nay, an thou knowest not
thy need of comb,
nor its use,' quoth he,
'too young thou leftest thy mother's ministry,
and 'twere meet to gothat she teach thee tame
thy tangled locks --if the women of Hithlum
be not wild and loveless,
uncouth and unkempt
as their cast-off sons.'Then a fierce fury,
like a fire blazing,
was born of bitterness
in his bruiséd heart;
his white wrath woke
at the words of scornfor the women of Hithlum
washed in tears;
and a heavy horn
to his hand lying,
with gold adorned
for good drinking,
of his might unmindful
thus moved in irehe seized and, swinging,
swiftly flung it in the face of Orgof.
'Thou fool', he said,'fill thy mouth therewith,
and to me no furtherthus witless prate
by wine bemused' --but his face was broken,
and he fell backward,
and heavy his head
there hit upon the stoneof the floor rock-paved
mid flagons and vesselsof the o'erturned table
that tumbled on himas clutching he fell;
and carped no more,
in death silent.
There dumb were allat bench and board;
in blank amazethey rose around him,
as with ruth of hearthe gazed aghast
on his grievous deed,
on his wine-stained hand,
with wondering eyeshalf-comprehending.
On his heel then he turnedinto the night striding,
and none stayed him;
but some their swords
half slipped from sheaths-- they were Orgof's kin --
yet for awe of Thingolthey dared not draw
while the dazéd kingstonefacéd stared
on his stricken thaneand no sign showed them.
But the slayer weary his hands laved
in the hidden streamthat strikes 'fore the gates,
nor stayed his tears:'Who has cast,' he cried,
'a curse upon me;
for all I do is ill,
and an outlaw now,
in bitter banishment
and blood-guilty,
of my fosterfather
I must flee the halls,
nor look on the lady
beloved again' --yea, his heart to Hithlum
had hastened him now,
but that road he dared not,
lest the wrath he drawof the Elves after him,
and their anger alightshould speed the spears
in despite of Morgotho'er the hills of Hithlum
to hunt him down;
lest a doom more dire
than they dreed of oldbe meted his mother
and the Maid of Tears.

In the furthest folds
of the Forest of Doriath,
in the darkest dales
on its drear borders,
in haste he hid him,
lest the hunt take him;
and they found not his footsteps
who fared after,
the thanes of Thingol;
who thirty dayssought him sorrowing,
and searched in vainwith no purpose of ill,
but the pardon bearingof Thingol throned
in the Thousand Caves.

He in council constrained
the kin of Orgofto forget their grief
and forgiveness show,
in that wilful bitterness
had barbed the wordsof Orgof the Elf;
said 'his hour had comethat his soul should seek
the sad pathwayto the deep valley
of the Dead Awaiting,
there a thousand years
thrice to ponderin the gloom of Gurthrond
his grim jesting,
ere he fare to Faërie
to feast again.'Yet of his own treasure
he oped the gates,
and gifts ungrudging
of gold and gemsto the sons he gave
of the slain; and his folkwell deemed the deed.
But that doom of the KingTúrin knew not,
and turned against himthe hands of the Elves
he unhappy believed,
wandering the woodland
woeful-hearted;
for his fate would not
that the folk of the cavesshould harbour longer
Húrin's offspring.