Chapter 7: The Impossible Task

Seven
The Impossible Task

Daeron was having more and more difficulty finding Lúthien. It seemed that she was always busy. Whenever he came to call upon her, Melian said she was indisposed. She was sleeping by day because the only time she could sneak away from the Caves unnoticed was during the hours before dawn. She slipped through secret tunnels only one her size could fit through, if they only knew where to look. Some of the natural pathways of the Caves had been left alone instead of sealed off and were ignored or forgotten. Lúthien had learned to take advantage of that. As a girl she had explored every nook and groove of Menegroth and kept them a secret. She often amazed her parents when they summoned her and she answered so soon. When she got into more mischief than she could manage or wished to avoid a particular person, such as an obstinate suitor, she easily evaded them as well.
Before she had met Beren, Lúthien had never dared to leave the Caves alone. There was always someone with her. She had feared the notion of being completely and totally alone, but it no longer troubled her. Besides, she was not alone for long. She was soon joined by Beren. She left the Caves alone almost every night now, risking her father’s wrath should he ever discover her actions. She was ashamed to admit, she derived a little pleasure from such blatant acts of rebellion.
As she climbed out of one of her tunnels, cold air with the scent of earth rushed upon her face, a refreshing feeling after the stagnant air of the Caves. Crickets sang in the dewy grass. She was as careful as possible not to step upon them. It was a breathless night and calm. It was still dark, and so she passed through the shadows on a dancer’s feet. Excitement sharpened her senses and made her even quicker. She silently called for Iavas and the stallion snorted in his stall several hundred yards away. The master-of-horse let him loose to graze. The eccentric horse only seemed to want to feed at this time of day and had come to expect it. Iavas came to her and nuzzled at her, searching for treats. Lúthien always had apples and oats for her steed.
“Hullo, dear sister!” Daeron called cheerfully stepping out of the stables.
“Huh!” Lúthien gasped, startled. “Oh! Daeron! What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. What else? Where have you been recently and where are you going now?” he asked. “Were you not going to sing at today’s festival?”
“I suppose not. I am going outside Menegroth, and I may not be back in time. My voice has not been at its best lately. Some fresh air should do me good, and I do not want Iavas to become restless,” she answered. “If he does not get his exercise, he becomes very unruly.”
“Like you?”
Lúthien gave him a stern glance, even though she knew Daeron was not being serious.
“Very well then. May I ride with you?” Daeron asked. “After all, my horse could use exercise as well, and I could bring my pipe, and you could dance again. That was my original plan for tomorrow night, but why wait? I had to ask your father's permission, of course, but-”
“No, Daeron. You must play at the festival. The people shall be disappointed enough, and you are the greatest minstrel in Doriath. You could very well be the best. You should not squander away your talent playing your pipe for me alone. I do appreciate your offer, though.”
“Are you sure you want to go alone? It is getting rather dark. There is no moon and not even a star out tonight and there is a mist hanging over the lands.”
“And I am sure that all the wolves and goblins are crouching outside the stables waiting to seize me and devour me the moment I step away!” Lúthien said sarcastically. “Yes I am sure. I need to get away from the Caves, and the time of night is my greatest passion. You know that.”
“You always want to get away from Menegroth!” Daeron narrowed his eyes.
“After forty thousand years of life in Menegroth, that should be of no surprise! I would leave Doriath forever, if only I could!”
“Why not leave?”
“Because it is all I know.”
She felt horrible. She knew that she had been avoiding Daeron. The harsh fact that she had broken her promise to him was too hard to bear while she was around him. Otherwise, she would have loved to have him join her, but she was off to see Beren. If Daeron knew that Lúthien was off to see him, he would never forgive her, and neither would the entire realm of Doriath.
*******
When she came upon the hill, Lúthien usually found Beren there waiting for her. Then her lover would rise and greet her with an eager kiss. He always gave her gifts he had made himself or taken from nature and she would bring him gifts of her own. They had a friendly competition to see what new and interesting things they could find to exchange. Lúthien’s gifts were always lavish and expensive. She brought him specially tailored clothes of the brightest colors and of the highest fashion, jewelry, a finely crafted dagger, and all sorts of things. Beren showed proper appreciation for them, but he did not relish expensive gifts, for there was often no use for them. His clothing was quickly worn with wear and weather, he was more comfortable with his own weapons, and jewelry and the like were wasted in the wild. Her expensive gifts also caused his own to pale in comparison. Beren had to be especially creative because he had limited resources. What could you give to a girl that already has everything? Most often his gifts were things such as a colorful stone or feather, berries he had found, or a song he had heard in his wanderings. She always expressed joy and interest, however. She especially loved hearing his voice.
After the gifts, they sat hand-in hand and spoke of many things, matters of love mostly, but no subject was thought too silly or too inappropriate. They feared to keep secrets from one another and spoke for conversation’s sake. Lúthien often asked about Beren’s people. So curious she was, and he was equally curious about the Sindar, so different from their kin the Noldor that he had grown up with. They would sing songs until dusk. He sang songs of his people, sorrowful or full of hope. She sang of Nature, of the Eldar, and of Valinor. They continued their dancing lessons. Beren was a fast learner, for when they danced together, he had no trouble with his steps. He began teaching Lúthien new steps. They tramped the woods together, gathering fruit, berries, nuts, and herbs. Beren taught her much of wood-lore, for his skill rivaled even Beleg Strongbow’s and longed to teach her hunting lore and the art of battle. With her silent but swift feet and her knife-throwing skills, he knew that she could accomplish much. Or they might just lie in each other’s arms for hours, holding one another in silence as they gazed at the heavens.
These secret meetings continued from fair spring to golden summer. Lúthien could not ever remember feeling happier. Her anguish had been replaced with joy. None of the Children of Ilúvatar have felt such happiness. She was gone often from the Caves. She hated being away from Beren even if it was only a few hours time. Lúthien sang as she never had sung before and danced a more beautiful dance in Menegroth to let out her feelings. Daeron had never seen Lúthien so happy, and he told her this. He wondered what had caused such a change over her. He saw her less and less, and he began to wonder where she was going all the time. He missed her, but he decided not to question her in her happiness.
As for Beren, he had his life back and more. It seemed rather that he had been reborn. He had the love of Lúthien Tinúviel, fairest of all maids. He began to know the woods as he knew the palm of his hand. He felt blessed because of Lúthien, and he learned new lore from her, for she was Half-Maia and her father was a friend of Oromë’s, and Beren‘s long years of wandering were forgotten and laughter welled from him as from a spring of music. His voice would sing as the voices of Doriath where the paths and floors were paved with flowers, and those months were indeed the happiest time of their lives, though the time was, sadly, brief. It could not last forever, and their short hour was almost spent.
******
Daeron was growing suspicious. He knew by now that Lúthien would leave without warning at dusk and would not return until dawn alone. Other times, she left at dawn and returned at dusk. This was even stranger to Daeron, for Lúthien almost never went out in the sunlight. The Sindarin was a people that lived by the light of the stars. That was how it had been in the Beginning before there was a sun and moon. Whenever Daeron asked Lúthien about it, she grew angry and refused to answer. Or was she perhaps afraid? Indeed, whenever Daeron questioned her about it, he noticed that she became evasive. She tried hard to mask her feelings, but she tried so hard that the effort was indiscreet and gave her away. One morning, Daeron decided to confront her and get the truth from her.
She had climbed into a beech near the Caves, and Daeron had trouble finding her, as usual. He was a little annoyed, but then he heard her laugh and saw her lying upon one of the great branches, a few flowers in her hands and forgot his anger for a moment.
“Hello, sister,” he said to her in greeting.
Lúthien laughed and answered, “Good morning to you, brother.”
“Would you please come down? You are always climbing trees! Ever since you were a little girl, it is all you would do. It is not proper for a lady.”
“I am also Lúthien the maiden, and I love trees. I cannot help that,” she answered, but she leaped down from the tree, landing on her feet in a sort of feline way with a similar grace and speed.
“Lúthien,” he said softly, but firmly. “I am going to be frank. This has gone on long enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean! I want to know where you have been sneaking off to.”
“I have told you millions of times, Daeron. I grow weary of repeating myself,” she answered calmly, but her smile faded, and she narrowed her eyes. “I have only been a few leagues away from the city. I do not go much further.”
“Nonsense! Where have you been sneaking off to?”
“I have not been sneaking anywhere.”
“That is why you awake long before the dawn to prepare your horse alone? And why are you gone for so long?”
“Wherever I go and whatever I do is of no concern to you.”
“How can you say that? How can you say that! What has come over you, Lúthien? Over the past few months, I have seen you less and less. Are you not more a sister to me than anything else? You seem to have changed altogether! I can hardly believe my ears! Where you go and what you do is no concern of mine? Are you mad!” Daeron cried aloud.
Lúthien turned her back to him, fighting back tears. She hated lying to Daeron, but she knew she could not tell him about how she had broken her promise to him or tell him about Beren.
“Daeron, please . . . ”
“You must be mad! Indeed, you leave me to believe so!”
“Mad? Sometimes I wish it was so. But I am afraid it is much worse than that, Daeron.”
“What would that be, Lúthien?”
She did not reply.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
“I have not been avoiding you, Daeron. I just-”
“Just what?”
“I...” Lúthien made an attempt, but she sighed and cast her eyes down.
“Yes? Yes? Go on, Lúthien,” Daeron said encouragingly.
“I cannot tell you, Daeron. It would be too dangerous for us.”
“Us? Would that be you and I, Lúthien, or you and someone else?”
“Believe me,” Lúthien said with a dry laugh. “You will not understand.”
“I have always understood you, Lúthien. That is, until now. I know you better than anyone else ever could. Now, I am standing here, waiting for an answer. I shall wait all day if I have to.”
She turned her back to him again, but Daeron forced her to turn around and face him.
“Where have you been going? I will not leave you alone until you answer me, and I mean it!”
“Daeron! Leave me!” Lúthien cried in anguish.
She could fight the tears no longer. They streamed down her cheeks before she could stop them. She wiped them away quickly and turned her back to Daeron once more, afraid for Daeron to see, but it was too late. Daeron had seen the tears and immediately shut his mouth.
“I am sorry, Lúthien.”
“There is nothing that you have to be sorry about, Daeron.” He reached out to comfort her, but she ordered again, “Leave me!”
“All right. I will leave you alone for now. But remember, Lúthien, I am here for you.”
“So it is. For now.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I need to be alone right now, Daeron. So, please, just go.”
Daeron walked away. He did not want to pressure Lúthien. He had not seen her break into tears for a long while. She was a fighter, and where that spirit came from, Daeron could only guess. But now he knew that Lúthien did want to tell him everything she was hiding from him, but she could not. Perhaps someone was restraining her from it? He realized that he could not get his answers from Lúthien. Not directly. He would be forced to take other measures.
******
Lúthien did not return to Esgalduin the next day. She remained in Menegroth and avoided Daeron, but she came back afterwards. The stars had just begun to sparkle in the cloudless night sky. Lúthien wandered through the trees until she arrived at the glades beside Esgalduin. Singing softly under her breath, she glanced up at the shimmering stars before sinking to the ground. She had often made to come here but had always been hindered. Tonight, however, was different, as the longing to visit had been too great to ignore. Leaning her head against the sturdy trunk of the tree, her thoughts began to wander. For the first time, Beren was not there waiting for her like he always had. She waited for him anxiously for a little while, but when he did not come, she decided that she would have to go looking for him. She was never very patient, and she was sure that he was forcing her to play games again, so she set off to find him.
“Beren?” she called. “Beren? Come out now! I am not going to play hide-and-seek with you! I am not in the mood!”
After walking through the forest and calling his name for a long while, she frowned.
“Beren! If you do not come out now then I shall leave, and I shall never come to see you again as long as I live!” she threatened. “And that will be forever! Do you hear me? Forever!”
But there was no answer, so Lúthien decided to return to her horse reluctantly. Perhaps if she rode through the forest for a while, Beren would hear and come. But when she came back to the place she had left Iavas, she realized that he was gone.
“Iavas?” She began whistling for him, but the horse did not come. Lúthien was not sure what had happened to her horse. She knew someone had taken him or frightened him off, but she was not sure whom. She began wondering what had happened to Beren also. She walked through the woods, calling for both of them.
At one moment, she saw the bushes begin to move. It startled her, and she froze.
“Beren? Is that you?” she called hopefully.
There was no answer, and the bushes stopped quivering. Lúthien moved on at a quicker pace, calling more frantically for Beren. Very soon, if she strained her elvish ears, she thought she could hear the faint echo of following footsteps.
Childhood fears were renewed in her once more. She remembered the Orcs, and she became very much afraid. She drew out her dagger and returned to the secret place.
Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. A hand was clamped over her mouth as she let out a muffled cry. Her dagger was pried from her hand. Then she was pulled into a long kiss.
“Merciful Manwë! Beren!” she cried angrily when he finally broke away. “You must have robbed a hundred years off my life!”
Beren was stunned and said, “I am sorry. I did not mean to provoke you. What is wrong?”
“You! You followed me while I searched for you and you scared the life out of me when you moved around in the bushes.”
“What are you talking about?” Beren asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
“You followed me around while I was looking for you.”
“Tinúviel, I stayed right here. I had been asleep when you first came here, but your calls woke me up. I thought that you were leaving, so I called for Iavas, and he came running to me afterward. We have both been waiting for you since. I never left from here.”
The lovers were silent for a while, and then Lúthien whistled for Iavas.
“I do not like this,” she said gravely. “Whoever it may be, they were following me. They could even be watching us right now. I know that they only mean ill. I do not think it is safe for us to stay here together. It may be an Elf. If they were to see you . . . I will just come back here tomorrow for your sake.”
“No,” Beren grabbed her by the arm before she could mount her horse. “It may have been only an animal, and I did not see you yesterday. But if you do not believe so, then we can search the woods together. Do not leave quite yet. How comes it that I missed you yesterday, anyway?”
“I was in Menegroth. Daeron and I quarreled because he has become very suspicious, and never have we fought like . . . I will not stay here unless I know for certain that we are safe, and no one is watching us.”
“Then climb up behind me on Iavas.”
They searched the woods and found nothing. Lúthien was still a little unnerved, but she stayed there with Beren. Even if there still was someone in those woods, she was safe with him. So they began talking.
“Why were you so afraid, Tinúviel?” Beren asked.
“Because whatever stalked me made me think of Orcs. When I was very young,” she began, “my Father and I were riding here in these woods, before Morgoth was loosed, before the Girdle was created to shield the realm. I was separated from Father, and I remember hearing something in the woods. I thought it was Elves, but it was Orcs. And they chased after me and spoke of Morgoth. I had never seen their like before. It was the first time that Orcs were ever seen in Beleriand. I was screaming for my Father, but he did not come. The Orcs would have taken me away, but Daeron rescued me. I made him promise not to tell anyone, fearing the consequences of it. I have not told anyone this tale.”
“You have no need to fear Orcs anymore,” Beren answered. “They know my name and shudder at the mere sound.”
“Old fears are hard to set aside. Anyhow, tell me the truth of your kindred, Beren. Tell me about the race of Men. I know nothing of them, though I fell in love with one.”
“What do you want to know? Could you truly tell me all you know about Elves? I was raised among Elves and pupiled by them, yet I cannot grasp what they are all about.”
“Well, all Elves are different. You must understand that first.”
“And so it is with Men.”
Beren began telling Lúthien stories about the Men of Dorthonion, the company he had traveled with before they were murdered. If they had still been alive, they would have been very angry and very humiliated.
“Hathaldir was the youngest of our company,” Beren was saying, “so my father sent him off on many small tasks. He came upon a few mushrooms while he was out scouting and made them into that night's meal. Of course, none of these mushrooms were meant to be eaten. We all became ill shortly afterwards. My father was furious with him! But a few days after we had all recovered, Arthad went out scouting and reported that there was a large army of Orcs camped near us, and they would most certainly discover us. The army was too large for the twelve of us to defend ourselves against. My father was afraid we would be taken to the final slaughter, but then I asked Hathaldir if he knew where to find the same mushrooms that we had eaten. He picked the mushrooms and volunteered to put them into the Orcs' food. He crept into the encampment as the sun incapacitated them. My father sent me that night to see if the Orcs were still fit for battle. They were all lying on the ground, sick as dogs. We wiped out the whole army of Orcs without receiving a scratch in return. And it was all thanks to the boy and his one act of carelessness.”
Lúthien and Beren began laughing, for now they were at the state where just about anything could make them laugh. What they did not know was that they were being watched. Daeron the minstrel was sitting near them while they laughed, hidden by the trees. He had indeed followed Lúthien there after determining that it was the only way he could get his answers. And now he watched with fiery eyes as she laughed with Beren and kissed him.
“This is bliss,” Lúthien said. “The hardest thing to do is to leave you, never certain of when I may return and whether or not I will have to accept the brief courtship of yet another suitor.”
“Who is it now?” Beren asked. “Has your father asked you to court some new lordling?”
“No, thank goodness. But Daeron has been watching me closely.”
“Does he love you? Has he ever said it? I know that you told me that the two of you were like brother and sister, but I have to wonder…”
She shook her head, “When I was very young, we would play at being lovers. It was completely innocent. We would speak of romance, laughing all the while. During most of the years I have known him he has courted few maidens, which is odd. Though he was not born noble, he would be a good husband for any girl. He claimed he knew nothing of courtship. He kept suitors away from me when I grew tired of their advances. Of course my father disapproved of our play. It was just a game at the time, but now when I look back, I wonder when the exact moment came when Daeron began to move beyond playing.”
“So he does love you!”
“Many years ago, I was desperate to get out of Menegroth. Father had told me that he had been exchanging private letters with King Finrod who had expressed interest in visiting for the sole purpose of courting me. Needless to say, I was terrified. Daeron brought me here so that I could dance to his pipe as we had made a habit of doing. I told Daeron of what my father had told me. I felt somehow betrayed, as though the two were conspiring together to take me away from Daeron and these woods forever. I am embarrassed to say that I panicked and wept. And suddenly Daeron kissed me.”
“Did you run from him as you ran from me?”
“I was completely shocked. I told him I loved him as I loved my own blood, as a brother. He confessed that he had loved me as a sister at first, but his love grew into something else. I asked him when and he answered since he could not remember when. I told him he must never mention this again and that it would never be. I could not picture him as my husband even if my father had not expressed displeasure with him. I wondered if I had only fueled his feelings with our play and I stopped it at once. Sometimes it seems as though he is still playing the part.”
“And Finrod?”
“He came to Doriath once, but only on business. We were introduced. He wrote several times again of his wish to come when I became a little older, but he was always delayed somehow. Sometimes I am convinced he never meant to court me at all, that it was all just wishful thinking on my father’s part. Finrod only expressed half-hearted interest.”
“It was from Finrod’s own lips that I first heard of you when I was still growing up as a boy. Perhaps the mere mentioning of your name stirred something within me. And then I dreamed of you, young like me. And then you grew older as I did.”
“I dreamed of you before you had even been born!”
“You see?” he laughed. “We were meant to be. I want to marry you, Tinúviel. I do not mean it as dalliance.”
“And I want to marry you, Beren. I want you more than anything, but I cannot. Not now.”
“I thought a Princess could have anything she wanted.”
“Delusions. A Princess is either given what she has, or she has nothing at all. It depends on the generosity of those around her.” She grew weary of the subject and rose to her feet and began to flit about on dancing feet, laughing sweetly and chiding Beren, “Come! Dance with me, for I would see to what avail my teaching has been. You must woo with nimbler feet!”
He rose and they danced and became like two shadows shimmering on the green.
“Are you all right, Tinúviel?” Beren asked when she became silent.
Lúthien blinked as though she had been startled from sleep. “Yes, Beren,” she answered at last. “But, I suddenly had a thought.”
“A thought? What can it be? How can a thought disturb you so?”
“It is just that, my Mother once said that the Eldar were created immortal so that they would have the greater of mirth. But . . . It comes with a price. Immortality does. It makes me think of us.”
“What do you mean? Do you mean-”
“No,” Lúthien laughed and wrapped her arms about him. “No. These past few days, Beren, have been the happiest of my life. I have never felt such joy.”
“My life was nothing but misery until I found you.”
Lúthien smiled, but she said, “That is just it, Beren. With such mirth must come equal sorrow.”
Now they both fell silent and did not speak of this again. They both found it too disturbing, too cryptic, and all too true.
“Now what are you thinking about?” Beren broke the silence.
“I am listening to the song of Yavanna.”
“Song?”
“The song of nature.”
“I do not hear anything.”
“Of course you cannot. Not yet, at least.”
“Is this some sort of elvish trick?”
“No, no, Beren. It has nothing to do with kin! To listen to the song of Yavanna, you must hear it from the heart.”
She laid her head on his chest and listened.
“You know those moments when you hear your heart beating?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Your heartbeat is the drums to the song. The sounds about you are tributaries to that drum. Then the song falls into place. Do you hear it?”
“Ever so faintly. So when you leave, my little bird,” Beren said to her, “will you promise to come back tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” she said playfully.
“It must be yea or nay.”
“Maybe,” she repeated.
“You have yet to make up for the time lost to us yesterday. I was very disappointed when you did not show up, and I was rather lonely without you.”
“I am sorry.”
“You are not sorry. Promise?”
She only grinned.
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow!” Lúthien sprang away from him. “If you want me to promise that I shall come back, then you must catch me first!”
“So, you want to play games do you?”
Lúthien laughed, but then she saw Beren coming toward her, and she backed away from him.
“No!” she cried, laughing again. “I was only joking!”
“Then you had better run, because sooner or later, I am going to catch you. You want to play games, and then we may as well have some fun! Next time, keep your mouth shut!” Beren teased.
Lúthien let out a cry and ran into the trees, laughing, and Beren chased after her. But each time he tried to catch her, she seemed to dodge him with dancing feet.
“Come now, my secret lover. You can run faster than that!” she taunted.
She climbed to the top of the hill of Esgalduin and suddenly halted and let Beren catch her on purpose. They fell to the ground together. Then Lúthien promised that she would come back the next night to see him. After giving a kiss in farewell and the promise to return, Lúthien left Beren, and he slept.
Daeron had the mind to burst out from his hiding and catch the two in the act, but he could not show his face to Lúthien. When she left, Daeron cast his eyes down, not wanting to believe what he had seen. Lúthien had fallen in love with a mortal! How this could have happened, he could not guess, and Daeron was tempted to kill Beren then and there. He was asleep, so it would be easy.
He drew his sword and circled the sleeping form. He poised it for the deathblow, but then he hesitated. Killing Beren would mean facing doom by Mandos, and even worse, it could kill Lúthien. She would never forgive him for doing such a thing, nor would the Valar. He knew now that Lúthien had broken her promise to him, but he could not blame her. The Elf not only hated Beren for being a Man of mortal race, but because of the great jealousy he held in his heart now.
Daeron himself could not spill Beren's blood, but he certainly would not forget him. Of his deeds, few were of the heroic nature presumed to be recorded in song, for although he was a warrior when the need arose; Daeron’s skills led him in different directions. He was the calm voice of reason when blood ran hot. His blade was sharp, but his wit were even sharper.
Daeron slowly sheathed his sword, but he said with a grin, “All right, fiend. You have caught the one thing I hold most dearly. But for that straw, I would not hesitate to kill you. I will not kill you now. Or not just yet. I have more to lose than you do.” Then Daeron fled from the hill and turned and shouted to the woods, “But hateful is this Land of Trees! I curse this land to unending silence and fear! My flute shall fall from idle hand, and mirth shall leave Beleriand! Music shall perish and voices shall fail, and trees will stand dumb in den and dale!”
******
Daeron the minstrel returned to Menegroth , and he did not lift his pipe for any purpose. A hush had fallen upon the woodland air.
Thingol’s folk murmured in wonder and said, “Who has wrought this spell of silence? What web has Daeron’s music caught? It seems the very birds sing low and the river flows with silence. The leaves scarce whisper in the trees.”
Thingol sent for Daeron the piper, and he came before him upon his seat and spoke no word.
“Daeron,” Thingol spoke. “You are master of all music and are wise beyond your years. What omen does this silence bear? What horn has sounded this watchful tension? The Lord Oromë? Some say that they have seen him, yet that would indeed bode evil. He has not left Valinor for long ages, not since the unhappy Noldor appeared. If it was not he, who comes or what?”
Daeron answered, “He comes not! No feet divine shall leave the shores of Valinor till many things come to pass and many evils. The Guest is here. The woods are still, for strange deeds have been done in your realm that you have not seen, though queens, maybe, may guess, and maidens, perhaps. Where one once went lonely now two go!”
What is the meaning behind your riddles, lore master?” Thingol said impatiently. “Speak plainer so that even a king may understand! Who is he that earns my wrath, this Guest that you speak of? How can he walk free within my woods amid my folk, a stranger?”
“Far in the mountain-leagued North, my lord,” Daeron said in a low voice, “lays the land that groans beneath Morgoth’s shadow. From ruined Dorthonion came one, bent and worn in wars and travail. He is the last of Bëor’s sons, they sing. He came far and deep, seeking vengeance upon his enemies until there was no more, over den and dale, field and plain, mountain-passes cold, and steep hill. He bled his way over swamp and ravine, through rain and snow, through sun and storm. He is the last of Bëor’s House to hold a sword unconquered, neck unbowed, a heart by evil power made hard as stone. Have you never heard of Beren son of Barahir?”
“What evil has this mortal brought out of the North? List!”
“I know not what mischief he is up to, my Lord, but I have seen him, with my own eyes, with Lúthien the fair, your daughter and our beloved princess, and dearer to me than sister.”
Then Thingol was silent, and Melian spoke not. At last Thingol said, “He wanders far, and news he may have for me, this Beren son of Barahir. And words I have for him maybe! I would see him.”
Then Daeron asked that his name would not be mentioned for the finding of this trespasser, least of all to Lúthien. Thingol agreed.
This was the first time that Daeron betrayed Lúthien. As soon as he left the king’s presence, Lúthien sent for him. She too, wondered at his silence, but when she saw him, Daeron seemed very merry. Knowing that Beren would be caught and face judgment, he smiled and greeted her heartily. She felt very suspicious toward him for some unknown reason.
“You seem rather merry, Daeron,” Lúthien observed with puzzlement when he began playing upon his pipe a loud and cheerful tune.
“Does that alarm you, my dear sister? You have been so high in spirits these days that it seems to have infected me as well. I admit that I felt gloomy. Perhaps it is because of a change of weather.”
“Daeron,” she began in all seriousness. “I cannot help but feel guilty for your lack of cheer. You remember that you wanted to know where I had been going. I am ready to tell you for the sake of our friendship. You must first make a promise to me to speak of it naught to any living soul.”
Daeron’s heart sank and he passed a hand over his eyes, then his ears. He did not have to spy and eavesdrop on Lúthien after all, for now she was ready to tell him herself about her secret lover in the woods, but he had already spoken to her father.
“No!” he cried, and Lúthien was startled and more puzzled by his behavior. “You need not tell me! What you do is no concern of mine! I am not worthy of your trust!”
“But-“
“You are not the cause of my spell. You need not worry for me!”
“Daeron,” she said and the warmth in her voice utterly smote him.
He could not look her in the face: the face of a friend, thankful and full of affection, a look he had often cherished in the past, but now dreaded.
“I must fetch Mablung and Beleg,” he said and fled.
But he was too late. The king was enraged that a mortal had come near his daughter. Thingol hated Men and had taught Lúthien to fear them. They had tasted the bitterness of Morgoth's slavery and had the seed of evil planted in their hearts, and so did many Elves, which he did not think on. But Thingol was not the wisest king in the world. Therefore, he sent two of his greatest huntsmen after Beren to bring him before Thingol for questioning and for sentencing. Their names were Beleg and Mablung.
These two Elves were connected in many other tales. Mablung and Beleg were noble Elvin-lords, and they stood high in the king's favor. Beleg Cúthalion was a great hunter, surpassed only by Beren, and he became a great warrior in the realm of Doriath. Beleg was also a great friend to Mankind after Beren. He fought alongside Turin, the son of Morwen, who was also of Beren's kin. Mablung was also a great warrior and a warden of the realm and was wise and foreseeing. And indeed, these two warriors were also the bodyguards of the princess and had shared in her raising as a child.
Mablung and Beleg came before the king and bowed, wondering what he could want. He only called upon them if there was a dire need at hand. They were his greatest warriors and also the king's advisors.
“Your lordship,” Mablung bowed. “What would you have us do to serve you? We are open to give advice, and we both have the strength and will to go into battle if there is need for us.”
“I have a most important matter for you both,” answered Thingol, stepping out of the shadows, and he indeed looked intimidating. “I have a great need for you to search in the woods of Neldoreth for a terrible beast.”
“Lord, we shall seek this beast for you. What beast is it?”
“This beast is a Man. A strong, cunning man. There have been rumors that there is one of this filth sheltering there in the woods.”
Mablung and Beleg gaped at the king, wondering why Thingol had asked them to do this. A Man in the woods did not sound like a great threat, even if he was trespassing. Such a request would be given to a common soldier, not two of Doriath’s greatest lords. At first, they thought it was a jest and laughed, but Thingol gave them a piercing look, and they realized this was no stunt.
“A Man, lord?” Mablung stammered.
“Yes. He is not of the Eldalië, that is for certain. Seek him out and bring him before me.”
“A Man in our own forests, lord?” Beleg said doubtfully. “But the Girdle-“
”Apparently the Girdle did not affect this Man! That proves that he must be sought out!”
“This question is only out of ignorance, lord,” Beleg said. “And I pray that you would pardon me, but why have you sent us to fetch this man for you?”
Thingol stared at Mablung and Beleg and answered grimly, “This Man has posed a threat to our kingdom, especially the safety of your princess! Is my daughter not of importance to you?”
At this, Mablung and Beleg were silent. It explained in part why they were the ones called to find the mortal. They were the princess’ champions. However, they were all the more confused. Why must they act with such swift hostility? What had the man done that it warranted no thought behind their reaction?
“This Man must not be allowed to go free through Doriath,” Thingol continued. “I have a great fear that he shall bring evil to this realm, for of his folk evil is a thing not uncommon. Bring this Man to me alive, but I do not want to risk too much, for the stakes are high. This Man will take great skill to find, for he is a great hunter and a skilled warrior like you two. When you have him, tie him up and blindfold him so that he will not be able to recall how to find his way to Menegroth or out of it. Throw him into the dungeons to soften him, and then you may bring him before me when I order it so that we can press him on these matters.”
“Yes, lord,” Mablung and Beleg said in unison. “We shall obey.”
Mablung and Beleg were puzzled, but they did as Thingol ordered them. They set out to the woods upon horseback. Now that they knew there was a stranger in the forest, they were quick to find the signs they had overlooked before. They found Beren’s tracks and eventually found the man himself. He had heard them coming and tried to hide, but he found that these two Elves were as skilled in tracking as he was, and he certainly could not outrun them.
“We know you are here, stranger,” Mablung said aloud. “King Thingol Gray-mantle of Doriath the Lord of the Sindar and the Teleri has summoned you to answer for your trespass.”
“It is about time you Elves found me,” Beren answered after a moment’s hesitation. “I do not see why I should have to answer to Thingol. I am but a lonely man. After all, I have lived here for some time now. Why must I be expected to answer to trespass now?”
“All questions must wait,” Beleg had his bow drawn, not quite sure what to expect of this man. “Until you are in the presence of the king, remain silent and do not hinder us.”
“I assure you that you will have no trouble from me.”
“Nonetheless, we do not take risks.”
Mablung blindfolded him and his hands were tied behind his back. Beren did not say a word to the Elves and was angered by his bonds, but he did not fight them, which was not what they had expected. They were relieved that they did not have to struggle with him. They wanted to take the bonds off, for it was against their conscience and also against their custom. The Elves were merciful to all their prisoners (except Orcs) but Mablung and Beleg had been ordered not show any such mercy to Beren. They led him along, taking every care they had in their hearts to spare Beren of stumbling.
The blindfold was not removed even when they reached Menegroth. It was difficult to move through the Caves without commotion, and word spread quickly of the stranger in bonds. Humans were alien to the Sindar. Some of the Elves that recognized Beren for what he was, a human, crowded about him. They were curious. Some were frightened. Mothers led their children away. Others were insulted by his presence, as suspicion and prejudice were in their hearts.
“Savage demon-worshiper!” someone said at Beren’s side.
“Abomination!”
Beren turned towards the voices with a scowl on his lips, already angered and disgraced by his treatment thus far. These were Lúthien’s people? Because Lúthien was searching for Daeron, she soon heard the word that a prisoner was being brought before the king.
“Beren!” she gasped under her breath.
“You saw him, did you?” an Elf chuckled, catching the muttered word.
“What?” Lúthien said sharply, turning to him.
“His name is Beren, is it not? The Man that has been in the woods for at least a season? Whoever reported it remains anonymous, and no one knows exactly what he has done. There are rumors that the king is going to have him executed.”
“What! They cannot possibly do that!” Lúthien cried, rushing towards her father’s chambers to stop them.
As she left, the Elf called, “Be careful, Princess! They say he bites!”
She cut off Mablung and Beleg and stood upon a pavilion and tried to call off the crowds, but there was too much excitement and chaos.
“What is this?” she demanded angrily, and the Sindar had never seen Lúthien angry before. “Have you no sense of respect or a man’s dignity? Give him some room to breathe and be gone! What is this Man doing here in Menegroth?”
“Our lord the king sent us to bring him here for questioning, my lady,” Mablung answered.
“What has the man done?”
“We were told that he was a malefactor, and you know, sweet highness, that the likes of Men are not welcomed here in Doriath. He was found in the woods of Neldoreth.”
“Malefactor!” Lúthien cried. “That is folly! This man is harmless!”
Mablung and Beleg folded their arms and stared at her closely. Lúthien reminded herself not to say too much, for both Mablung and Beleg had known her since her childhood and understood her as though she were their own child, and Lúthien did not know what her father would do to Beren once he came in for questioning, if he planned to question him at all and not just send him quietly to his death.
“You have the Man lost of sight, and he is unable to cause harm. He is no threat, and he has not yet been proven to be a criminal.”
“Your highness, the king-“ Mablung began.
“My father will see him, but not like this!”
She ripped away Beren’s blindfold and cut his bonds with her sickle dagger. Mablung and Beleg did not stop her, for they had felt the bonds were unnecessary in the first place. As long as Lúthien took them off, they would not be blamed. But now they were even more confused. The king had insisted this man was a danger to her in particular, but she was defending him.
Beren blinked, for the Caves were surprisingly well lit. His eyes took in their beauty, and the beauty of its folk. Under other circumstances, he might have spent an hour examining the intricate colors of the stone floor alone. He was relieved that Lúthien had come to his aid. Suddenly, someone struck him, cutting open his lip. Because there was so much jostling of bodies and confusion, however, it was impossible to identify his attacker.
“Who was that?” Lúthien shouted. “No one assaults prisoners!”
Mablung and Beleg drew their blades and stood on either side of their captive. One of their commands was that Beren had to brought safely to the king.
“He is going to harm you, Princess!” a voice said.
“He is an animal, he does not belong here. He will taint this place!” said another.
“For the last time!” Lúthien shouted at the crowds. “Return to your hearths! If I find the one who struck this man, I will place these bonds on them!”
The Elves threw out a few last words at Beren, which were not at all polite, and they began to scatter, discussing the beast that had been caught and the way Lúthien had fearlessly released his bonds and chastised those who mistreated him.
With that, Beren was thrown in a cell. Mablung and Beleg went to report their success to the king. Lúthien remained behind and asked the guards to allow her to question the prisoner herself. They saw no reason to refuse, so they granted her request, but they remained close by. They too believed that Men were their enemies.
Lúthien and Beren spoke in low voices, just low enough so that the guards could hear little and not become suspicious.
“Your father seems like a very merry fellow,” Beren said sarcastically, still rubbing his wrists. “And your people are friendly.”
“I am ashamed by the way that they behaved, but you must believe me that they are not evil. Tell me what happened.”
He quickly explained with some bitterness, and Lúthien reached in through the bars and placed her hand in his.
“Not too close, your highness,” one of the guards warned her. “He is dangerous.”
“Dangerous indeed!” Lúthien said under her breath, ignoring him. Then she asked, “How did my Father find out about you?”
Beren shrugged in answer.
“There was someone in those woods at our last meeting. That is the only explanation.”
“There is nothing we can do about the spy now.”
“I may be able to convince my Father to set you free, but if he knows . . . He may kill you and not even heed my words.”
“Then I shall go to my death, but at least I shall be a happy man when I depart from this world.”
“I will not let my Father kill you!”
“That is what he most certainly shall do, Tinúviel, if he indeed knows what we dread. Nor could you stop him. I know very well what Thingol feels for my people, and I also know how much he loves you and how fierce he is in protecting you. I can only hope for a quick and painless death for my crime.” Lúthien looked very alarmed and distressed, so Beren then asked to distract her, “How much have you heard from your people?”
“They seem to know nothing themselves, Beren. Not even Mablung and Beleg could tell me, and they are my Father's most trusted servants. This does not bode well. If he will not say what you have done, then he must know everything.”
“Then I shall be dead before sunrise.”
“No!” Lúthien said again. “No! I shall plead for your life, and I can only hope my Father does not deny me your freedom. If he still keeps you here as some foul Orc or one of the Enemy, I shall do everything in my power to set you free. I promise.”
“Do not make such dangerous promises.”
Lúthien and Beren stared at each other, and they held their hands against the bars.
“Your highness, please step away from the prisoner. We are going to feed him now,” one of the guards announced.
“I am not hungry, sir. No need for you to feed me, I can very well go on without being stuffed like a turkey. I have survived for weeks without food before.”
The Elvin-guard ignored him and set some food down for him.
“I said I was not hungry.”
“Will there be a problem?”
“No, sir.”
Beren stared at the food and then kicked the plate away from him.
“I hope that they will not make me rot in this damp hole in the ground for a while before they kill me,” Beren moaned. “I think this is worse than torture!”
“I will come back for you,” Lúthien mouthed to Beren.
“Dangerous promises, your highness,” Beren answered, shaking his head. “Do not make them.”
******
After leaving the dungeons, Lúthien went to her father immediately. The guards before his room did not dare to step in her way. Thingol stood with Queen Melian in one of their chambers, retired from the matters of the court, when Lúthien bolted into the room angrily, swinging back the doors precariously. She stood in the doorway, her eyes fierce, but neither Melian nor Thingol said a word.
“Father,” she said breathlessly. “I have heard that you arrested a Man that was brought here from Neldoreth. Why is this? You sent Mablung and Beleg after him, and the crowds were prepared to devour him! They humiliated him. They struck at him! It is not our custom to treat our prisoners this way! We treat even Orcs better than this! How can you permit this?”
“Yes, they have brought a criminal,” her father answered, his face expressionless. “And is it true that you spoke with this Man only yesterday?”
Lúthien cast down her eyes and did not reply. She sat in an arbor made from living withies of woven willow. Melian was standing close by, but she could feel the distance between them like a wall. Thingol was speaking urgently in a low voice.
“Tell me this, my child: How did this Man enter Doriath? Your mother tells me that he passed through her Girdle as though it was only a block of air! He caused no harm to it, and it appears it did no harm to him! Can you explain this? You seem to have spent much time with him, so I had an inkling that you might know!”
“I do not know the answers to those questions.”
“Do not toy with me, Lúthien!” Thingol shouted, and Lúthien's eyes widened at the sudden raising of his voice. “How did you come hither to him in those woods, which are forbidden to you? Why did you not flee when you saw him, as I told you to do so? As you promised to do so? Is it also true that you have been seeing this Man in secret for months now, and that you are lovers?”
“And who is the Elf that casts such dark rumors about?” she rose from her chair.
“Answer my questions, Lúthien!”
Lúthien clamped her mouth shut.
“Answer me!” Thingol hissed.
Still, Lúthien said nothing, and Thingol raised his hand, thinking to slap her, but he knew he could not will himself to do it, and Lúthien only stared at him. He had never slapped her in all her years. Then he spoke in grief and amazement.
“Lúthien, I do not wish to accuse you of anything, but I must know the truth. I shall believe what you say. Now, answer me, please.”
At last, Lúthien spoke. “I will not answer any of your questions until you promise that you shall not slay him, whatever charges you may grudge him of. I know this man is innocent. You shall not harm him, and I shall lead him to you as a son of kings, not as mortal thrall.”
“I will not keep such a promise.”
Lúthien was the one pleading now, “Please, Father? Please spare him his life!”
“Is that why you are here?” Thingol said. “To beg for his life?”
“Yes. Your grudge upon him has no merit. If you were to slay him, you would be shedding innocent blood, and you would not face my wrath alone.”
“You are quite taken to him. Why?”
“I am not quite certain of that. It may be in part because he loves my dancing so. You should see the hunger in his face-”
“I can certainly imagine that, but I do not wish to!” Thingol said with a shudder.
Lúthien narrowed her eyes, and her mouth gaped open.
“The charges facing him are very great. I do not care if you believe you are in love with him. He deserves no less than death, and that is what he shall be given.”
“Please, ada!” Lúthien begged, her face suddenly very troubled, and she stooped upon her knees. “The only crime he is guilty of is ignorance! Is a mortal man required to know of the Hidden Kingdoms? Should he have known that he had passed into Doriath? Does he deserve death for this? Please, Father, I am here to ask you to save yourself, and I cannot bear to see such injustice. I have never asked you for anything, Father. All that I ask of you now is to spare this man‘s life. It is already as untimely as a flower’s. Must you cut him down so soon, or lock him away to wither? If you wish to see your daughter weep, you may do so.”
Thingol could not stand her helpless pleading, and he wanted to know the truth of all the rumors he had heard, so he said hesitantly, “It is true, Lúthien. You have never asked of me such a thing.”
“If you swear to tell me the truth, I promise not to kill Beren.”
“You swear upon your honor, and upon your love for me, that you shall not lay a hand upon this Man, whatever crime he has committed?”
“I swear upon my honor as a king, and as a father, that I shall not be the cause of his death.”
“Agreed.”
“Are you lovers?”
He held her face in his hands, and she was forced to yield at last. Had her father shouted or screamed at her, she would never have said a word, but he knew exactly how to break her silence. He told her he loved her. His mind touched hers and he reached into her thoughts and told her so.
“How long?” Thingol asked, the tears flowing from his eyes.
“Since the very eve of spring.”
Thingol’s voice became harsh and resonant.
“I had not believed the rumors at first! I had not expected for my child to sink so low!”
“What do you think I am? A harlot?”
Thingol sighed. “No. No, I cannot believe that of you. You are no harlot. It was an evil spell. You cannot truly love this man.”
“All that I have told you is the truth!” Lúthien answered, tears in her eyes. “There is nothing that I have not told you. Nothing!”
“You have given your love to a Man?”
“Beren, Father, is much more than a Man.”
“He is your doom!”
“This may be so, Father. I know that. Beren may be my doom, but he is also my love. What is his crime?”
“He has trespassed into the Hidden Kingdom, which is forbidden to his kin. He dared to come near you and-”
“Beren has committed neither crime nor harm here.”
“So you are saying that Beren never tried to force himself on you or touch you in any way!”
“Never! I went to him, Father!”
“By your own free will?”
“Yes! It was my choice, and that choice has been the hardest I have had to make. But, Father, I am glad that I chose what I chose and did what I did. If you must put someone through trial, you can throw me into prison, for if you say that it is a crime that I have fallen in love with this man, then I am guilty as charged! I have no regrets, and nothing you say can make me regret it!”
Her father had asked many other questions afterwards. His words pierced her like swords, and he did not grant Lúthien any mercy. Never before had he raised his voice so loud. Queen Melian did not say a word but only watched the feud, knowing it was best not to intervene, nor did she speak to Thingol of her thoughts.
At last, Thingol turned away in disgust, “There is to be a trial. Beren shall not go unpunished for this!”
“No, Father!” Lúthien cried in anguish. “You swore! You swore!”
Thingol lifted her to her feet effortlessly and forced her to look in his eyes. They were filled with pain and rage, and there was a coldness in them that Lúthien had never seen before. Lúthien turned her eyes away, but Thingol did not release her from his keen and merciless glance.
“Unhappy mortals; children of little lords and brief kings,” he said. “Shall such hands as these lay upon you, and yet live?”
******
Lúthien returned to Beren and ordered the guards to release him. They hesitated, at first, but there was no denying the wishes of the heiress of Doriath. Beren was very grateful and embraced her once they had left sight of the guards. However, she did not appear in high spirits.
“Tinúviel, are you all right?” he asked.
“I have spoken with the king,” she answered turning her face away, fearing that tears would begin to flow again at the mere mention of her father. “Now you must come with me. You have not won your freedom yet. You must face my Father. He may set you free if you speak well enough for yourself.”
“You are taking me to see King Thingol?” Beren said apprehensively.
“Yes, and my Mother as well.”
She took him by the hand and led him through the caverns herself to the throne of her father as if he were an honored guest. She halted him outside of the hall and quickly whispered advice to him.
“Remember that he shall be judging you by your every word, so you must put much thought behind them. He can read into your heart more than you might imagine, and my mother is worse! Never hesitate to answer one of his questions, or that shall make you look suspicious. A few moments of silence is like an eternity at trial. He shall mock you, try to trap you . . . You must not lose all your self-control for a moment, and you must never speak out at him with angry words at what he might say. That alone could be the death of you! My father has never been very patient. And above all things, do not lie! Do not lie even about the slightest thing!”
“I would never dream of trying to lie to an Elf!”
“There are those that have tried it before and failed. Now, Beren, if you could put a spell on me with your voice and words alone, I am sure you can slip your way from death’s grasp, as you have done so many times before. Use all your wit now, and may Elbereth protect you!”
Then she led him into the center of the hall, and the court was silent. Some of the Sindar eyed Beren suspiciously and others with enmity. Daeron was among the court, leaning against a cold pillar with smiling face. He knew that it had been well he had not slain Beren himself when he had the chance. His blood would be upon Thingol's hands now.
Queen Melian sat beside the king. She saw Beren and at once felt a noble and powerful presence in him. She knew he was a Man, but Melian was a child of the Valar, so she felt no hate or suspicion toward him. She knew he was the man that she had foretold of to the Lady Galadriel long ago: The one that would bring a great doom upon Doriath.
Her expression was grave, but Thingol's was one of indescribable loathing. Little love did he have for Men, and he looked upon Beren as though he were some despicable worm that had spat upon his throne. When Thingol got a closer look at Beren, his lips parted in surprise. He got down from his throne and stood before Beren, studying him, for Thingol recognized him. He had seen this Man in his dreams. He stared at Beren for a long while, and then he returned to his throne and sat there, noting the strange looks that his court gave him.
“Lord Father!” Lúthien raised her voice in a great cry. “Please have mercy upon this Man! I beg you to release him, for he has done no wrong!”
“We shall see.” He gave his daughter a piercing glance and said in a low voice so that no one in the hall would hear and in Quenya so that only a trusted few could understand, “I will deal with you later!”
“Hopefully by then your heart shall be less hardened!” she whispered back and sank into the shadows.
“And what has the maiden done to displease the King so?” Beren asked in Sindarin, having caught Thingol's words and understood because he had grown up with the tongue of the Noldor on the tip of his tongue.
Many in the hall, including Thingol, were astounded that Beren had spoken in the Elvin-tongue, and Daeron started. He had devised the Sindarin language as the Gray-Elves secret tongue, but this did not make Thingol any softer on Beren. Melian waited for Thingol to rise from his throne to speak to Beren, for it was elvish custom, but the King did not raise a finger. He remained sitting upon his throne so that he looked stern and proud.
“And who are you that has dared to approach my throne?” he said harshly to Beren in the Common Speech. “I had not summoned for you. Do you not know that whoever comes unbidden to Menegroth never leaves the halls of stone alive without my acquiesce?”
But Beren did not answer for fear, for the king's power and majesty was very great. He stood upon his enlarged throne, for Thingol seemed almost to be a giant among Men or even Elves. His throne was carved from the mighty roots of the great tree Hirilorn that roofed the throne room, the only chamber within Menegroth that was open to the sky. It was carved into a chair with flowers in bloom and the arms were eagles springing into flight. A crown of leaves and flowers was in his hair, and his hair was silver. His face was youthful as the spring, and his eyes were piercingly bright, and they probed into Beren like daggers. Melian sat in a highly decorated throne of her own upon his right. There was no chair for Lúthien as she was not allowed to participate in the judgment of Beren. Else she would be sitting upon her father’s right side upon her own throne. When she was a child, she had sat upon her father’s lap.
The silence was ominous, and Thingol mocked him.
“Are you mute, child of Man, or do I not speak clearly enough? Someone fetch this Thing some scissors and cut his hair so that maybe this woodwose's ears will be uncovered, and he may then be able to hear my words and answer!”
The court roared with laughter, and Beren became hot with humiliation. Lúthien was sore for him, and still, her father continued to mock him.
“Is it true that you are a lord of Men, woodwose?”
“Yes,” Beren answered, but he did not say another word.
“My, but you are unkempt!” Thingol smirked. “You look to me like a beast of the wild! If this is the fashion of a lord of Men, how so go their women? Do they run about like deer clad only in their hair?”
“Nay, that is not so!” Beren answered, greatly angered, but he did not dare to raise his voice.
Mablung rose to give the convictions, “Beren of the Edain has been charged with thievery, trespass, conspiring, spying-“
”Spying!” Lúthien spluttered. “Aye Elbereth! There is no merit to this case, as I said before! Father,” she looked upon him with disdain. “Where is the reason in all of this?”
“That is quite a long list there, and these are only examples of the crimes he could have committed,” Thingol answered and turned to Beren. “Well, you are here on your own defense, man-animal, so defend yourself! Or do you cringe with fear? If you have civilized tongue, and not that of a beast, as you so look, mortal, speak! Is your name Camlost, or Echermion perhaps?”
Lúthien could not contain herself any longer. She stepped beside Beren and clasped her hand in his. She knew this would make her father angry, but she could not allow him to mock Beren so for the amusement of the court and to satisfy his own cruelty.
“This is Beren son of Barahir, my king,” she said boldly. “This man-animal is the noblest of Men and Elves and deserves renown and honor from us all. He is one of the bravest of his kin, and he is the greatest hunter that Arda has yet seen. And he has felled many Orcs. Thousands of Orcs are said to be the number. The tale of his deeds has become a song even among the proud Sindar. He is a lord of Men and friend to the Elves! But for him and the deeds of his father, evil would not so easily be kept from our borders. He is the lord of the Edain, a prince among his people. He is the last of the sons of Bëor, foe of our foes whose knees bend not to Morgoth! And your accusations against him-”
“Let Beren speak!” Thingol said venomously.
Lúthien cast down her eyes and spoke not again. Thingol glared at her for a moment and she stepped back into the crowd. Daeron came to her and offered her his chair. She waved away the generous offer, knowing she could not possibly sit still. Then Thingol turned to Beren again and no longer mocked him, but pressed him with hard questions.
“Beren, you must realize that you have entered a forbidden land. Can you give me a plausible reason as to why you should not be given heavy punishment for your insolence?”
Beren hesitated, and he glanced at Lúthien, who had hidden her face in her hands. Then Beren looked up and found himself under the Queen's gaze. In her glance was wisdom and compassion, and Beren at first marveled at her beauty, and then he remembered that the Queen was not elvish. She was indeed a heavenly spirit in Elvin-form, and as he looked at her, words seemed to be put into his mouth, which Melian had, in no doubt, given to him without speaking. His pride was suddenly awoken, but he spoke calmly and strategically, knowing that Thingol would try to ensnare him with words.
“My own fate led me hither to your lands, my lord. It was something that I could not alter, though it seemed to me at the time to be only chance. I had no knowledge that I was even in your lands.”
“Ignorance is not an excuse.”
“I am many things, Gray-mantle, but ignorant, I am not. Nor, sire, do I use such excuses,” Beren said in Sindarin. “But as for ignorance, who can tell? We all have our own store of knowledge and wisdom. And these virtues, in no doubt, my lord, you have. But how great a store, I wonder when you have me dragged here, thrown into prison, and then questioned unfairly under the guise of a criminal?”
“Bold words for a man being condemned by his every word,” Thingol answered, refusing to slip into his own tongue.
“If I am being judged by my words, your highness, then I judge that there is little justice in these halls, for I am not the criminal you name me.”
“If that is indeed so, then where are your people? Why do you wander alone as outlaws do?”
“Because I have no 'people', Lord. I am a wanderer and avoid contact with the outer world. That way, I am free to go without charge.”
Thingol clenched his jaw and grimaced.
“And what do you desire of us?” Melian spoke, and she smiled at Beren warmly, for he had spoken with skill enough so far.
“What do I desire? What do I desire? My Lady, I thought that you would never ask! For I desire only one thing of you or of this fair domain,” Beren answered with a glance at Lúthien. “For it is above all gold and silver and all jewels. Neither rock nor steel nor the might of all the Elf-kingdoms can keep me from the treasure that I have found, even though I had sought that treasure not at all. That treasure that I seek is your daughter. I ask for her hand here before you now, for she is the fairest and the most sweet of all the maidens in the world. I would take her to wife and love her for all eternity. She is the only reason why I am here in your lands. What say you to this, lord?”
There was a heavy silence in the room after these words; save that Daeron laughed. Thingol would surely kill Beren for such a request. Thingol sat on his throne with an ugly scowl on his face, and his eyes were lit into a fire. Melian's smile faded, and she looked as though she were in doubt. She looked upon Beren closely, and he could not endure her glance for long. She had read into his heart. What she read did not comfort her, and she looked all the more worried. Lúthien gave Daeron a steady eye, and he cut off his laughter. She was dreading her father's answer, and she wished Beren had not asked for such a thing. Although Beren had asked for her hand and had made it as a loving gesture toward her, it was also made out of pride. She shook her head and prayed silently. Her father had agreed not to kill Beren, but she could not stop him from throwing him into the dungeons until his years were spent.
“Death you have earned with these words,” Thingol said very slowly in a low voice. “And death you would find surely had I not sworn an oath in haste to my daughter to break her silence.”
At these words, Lúthien and Beren's eyes flickered to one another. Lúthien's glance was full of relief and Beren's was of gratitude.
“I regret that oath now, dirty thrall of Morgoth,” Thingol continued. “For I would have cut your throat so fast, you would feel no pain and would be dead before you hit the floor! Why have you come to spy upon my land, and in your folly dared to come near my daughter, of whom you have no right to even glance upon?”
Beren looked up and answered, “Death you can give me earned or unearned with a slight command, lord. You have that power. But the names you give me are without justice. My house has not earned such names from any Elf be he a king or no.”
Then Beren held in his hand the ring of King Finrod that had once belonged to his father before he was killed. Finrod himself had given this ring to Barahir at the battlefield of Unnumbered Tears. Many in Doriath knew that Barahir had saved that Elvin-king's life in that battle and Lúthien breathed a sigh of relief. Her father could not kill him now. He had spoke well on his own behalf, and to kill him could cause a grudge against King Finrod. Finrod was a powerful king, and the Noldor was renowned in the arts of battle. Thingol could not afford open war with him, and there still was friendship between them, and this was probably the only reason why Beren was spared at all.
Seeing the ring, Queen Melian leaned to Thingol's side and began whispering counsel into his ear. For now, she was sure that Beren was the man that would bring about the fate of Doriath. She was wise, and she knew that killing Beren would be against the will of the Valar.
“Forgo your wrath, husband,” Melian said. “For not by you will Beren be slain; and far and free does his fate lead him in the end, yet it is wound with yours.”
But Thingol did not seem to be listening to his queen. His eyes were on his daughter, and a fire of rage was in his eyes. He hated the thought that Beren had ever touched her, and he spoke before Melian had even finished speaking.
“You ask me to give you the hand of my daughter? Why, 'tis folly! You love my daughter so, that you would wed her and also gain power through her?”
“Nay, lord. I have no thought to gain such power. My only thought is to love-“
”Do you deny it, Beren, that by wedding my daughter, you would become a prince of Elves and would be given authority over half of my kingdom?” Thingol demanded, paying no heed to Beren's words.
“I do not deny it, lord, but I do not seek that power. I am no Elvin-lord, and it seems that I no longer have any lordship since my own kin have perished.”
“What will you ask of me next? Shall I throw down my crown at your feet? Is that what you would have of me?”
“I have no desire for your throne or your power,” Beren repeated. “I only want Tinúviel as my wife.”
“Tinúviel?” Thingol looked puzzled. “Who is this you speak of now?”
“Tinúviel. Lúthien. Your daughter that I would join flesh with.”
“You speak tender words for a liar! One day you are an outcast among your own people, but the next, you become a mighty prince and take the fairest maiden that lives as your wife who is also immortal and daughter of a king? It seems that there is no way to count your lucky stars, Beren!” Thingol said sarcastically.
A few courtiers laughed at these words.
“But you must see, Beren, that it appears that you are one star short,” Thingol said grimly, stepping down from his throne. “Or perhaps they have all gone dim and died.”
“Then I must look to a new star.”
“What sort of jest is this? You cannot provoke the wrath of a king with impunity!”
Thingol was the tallest Child of Ilúvatar, and he towered over Beren and became even more threatening, but Beren still was not daunted.
“I see the ring, son of Barahir, but I also see that you are prideful and deem yourself mighty. And I must tell you this: A father's deeds to another Elvin-king will not win you the hand of my daughter Lúthien the fair. Therefore, I devise a test for you to prove your worth. For there is a treasure that I desire. It is rock and steel that keep me from it, and I would have it against the might of the Elf-kingdoms. You say that such obstacles do not daunt you. Behold! Are you willing to pay this price for the hand of my daughter?”
“You have only to name your price, and I shall pay it gratefully, my lord,” Beren said with a humble bow.
Then Thingol sneered and said, “So be it! Mark my words, son of Barahir, for this is your quest: Bring to me a Silmaril from the Iron Crown of Morgoth and bring it back here as the bride price for your wedding. Only then, if she wills it, will I place my daughter's hand in yours. You shall take her to wife and become one flesh. Then you will have my jewel, and though all the fate of Arda lies within the Silmarils, you shall hold me generous. Now here is the question! Have you courage, or love enough, as you claim it to be, to do me this honor?”
Lúthien and Melian both flinched and fell into despair. Lúthien's father was sending Beren to a sure death. He would not break his promise to Lúthien, yet he would defeat Beren and be rid of him in the end. Not even the Noldor themselves had seen the Silmarils since they were stolen from them by Morgoth. Many hosts of Elves and Men had been plunged against the might of Angband for those most holy jewels, and they had all been crushed into the dust, for Morgoth held them above all his treasures, and even laying a finger on one of the Silmarils was punished by the torture of his Balrogs. All attempts to win the Silmarils had failed. And Melian knew that Thingol had just fallen into the Curse of Mandos and knew that he had woven the fate of Doriath.
But Beren laughed, and Thingol and all those in the room looked upon him with wonder thinking him mad.
“For little price do Elvin-kings sell their daughters,” he said, thrusting out his hand. “And woe to you! It is but too little a price for such a fair maiden as Tinúviel. But if it is your will that I should fetch this jewel for you, then so be it. The next time you see me, I shall hold aloft a Silmaril in my hand. For let me tell you: You have not looked the last upon Beren son of Barahir.”
“You have made your oath, and you are now bound to it. I give you my wholehearted leave to go forth on your Quest. And let me warn you, son of Barahir, that if you come back here to my halls without a Silmaril, it shall be your head that I take as a price,” Thingol answered in a manner of farewell.
Then Beren bowed and turned to leave, looking into Queen Melian's eyes, who had not spoken. Then he stopped briefly to bid Lúthien farewell.
“Are you a fool!” she whispered. “Have you thrown me away with your pride?”
“Nay, Tinúviel. I am setting out on the Quest if it is the only way I can win your hand.”
“Why did you do it?” Lúthien demanded. “Why did you-“
”I could no longer stand that our love was secret,” Beren answered. “Now the whole world shall know.”
“No, Beren,” she pleaded. “Do not go. I wish to see you again at least alive! Do not go on this quest! My father has set a trap for you, and I am the bait. Do not go!”
“Tinúviel, it is all right,” Beren said soothingly. “I will not go alone. I will seek the aid of Finrod. He swore an oath to my father long ago that he would aid him and his descendants in any need, so Finrod cannot deny me. I shall return not to buy you with any jewel, but to find, my love, in loveliness a flower that grows beneath the sky.”
Beren kissed her hand. Then she watched Beren as he turned to leave, a great look of loss upon his face. A few guards would not let him pass.
“Come now!” Beren said angrily. “Your king gave me leave to go!”
“You are to follow behind us,” they answered. “We shall lead you back to the Wild where you belong.”
Beren let out a strangled cry and kicked one of the soldier's spears from his hand. Then he cast aside the other guards that stood in his path and left the halls of Menegroth. Then Lúthien stood there staring after him all alone and in great shock and disbelief.
Queen Melian watched her daughter, and then she at last spoke to Thingol.
“You have devised cunning counsel, my lord. But I do not feel that you have been wise. For you have not doomed Beren as you thought. For whether Beren fails in his attempt or succeeds, it will not matter. You may have very well doomed our only daughter or yourself, and perhaps more. I feel that you are digging your own grave and destroying the kingdom of Doriath that we both created, and it frightens me, Elwë!”
“You are always foresighting evil, Melian,” Thingol moaned. “But I do not sell those of whom I love and cherish, least of all Lúthien, to anyone be he child of Man or Elvin-lord of old! I tell you now, Melian, that if there had been any hope or fear that Beren would somehow succeed and bring a Silmaril back, he would be looking upon the light of heaven now, even though I had sworn against it.”
Lúthien had heard those words. She had wandered beside her mother's throne, and she was hurt all the more. Melian had sensed her daughter beforehand and placed her hand quickly into hers at those words and squeezed her hand, but Lúthien grew angry with her father.
So, Beren had been trapped all along? she thought. If he had refused the Quest, he would surely have been slain sooner or later. My Father would have killed Beren if he knew he was not merely sending the poor wretch to a willing death. He would have broken his promise to me. And he swore! He swore!
Lúthien gaped at her father with astonishment. Then she gave out a shout and sprang before him on his throne. With a flick of her hand, she drew her dagger and threw it at Thingol's feet. It clattered as it fell, drawing every eye in the hall and causing a deafening silence.
“There!” Lúthien cried. “I have drawn a blade within your halls and have broken the law, for drawn blades in your halls is not permitted! What cruel and foul trap will you lead me to, lord?”
Thingol and Melian stared at her, having mixed feelings.
“You have indeed devised cunning counsel, lord! You so cleverly outwitted me, father!”
“Lúthien-“
”You lied to me, Father?” Lúthien spoke again, tears falling from her eyes, and her voice came out in sobs. “Have you no shame? Do you make promises in vain and use your own kin for your own pride and selfishness? Father, what have you done! What are you doing to me? You have sent a noble man to his death; spilled innocent blood with your dark designs! What new malice is this? You played upon Beren as though he was some puppet and his love for me was the strings! You have slaughtered us both with love! Alas, with love! What have you done?”
Thingol stared in horror at Lúthien, for her words went to the heart.
“Your highness, you must contain yourself,” a soldier tried to pull her away.
“No!” she pushed him aside.
“My daughter-“
”Do you hear it?” Lúthien asked suddenly.
“Hear what?”
“The laughter of Morgoth and all his evil realm. It seems that you have allowed him to cut down a stronghold in Doriath, and a shadow from Angband has touched us here even in the heart of Menegroth. And who brought the shadow thither, I wonder?”
“Beren will not be the first of Men that Morgoth has slain and for less a reason,” Thingol told her. “It is better that he was not bound here for his trespass in my halls and his insolence. That was his choice, and it was not I that chose it for him.”
Then Thingol reached for his daughter, but she sprang back.
“You would have killed him anyway, and you know I am right!”
“My child-“
”Murderer!”
There was a long silence. Lúthien had said this with such spite and such bitterness, and Thingol had a deep look of distress upon his face. Thingol and Lúthien stared into each other's eyes for a long while. Lúthien's eyes were full of challenge and rage. Melian watched their feud, but she did not speak. Then Lúthien wiped her eyes and retrieved her dagger.
Daeron came toward Lúthien, no longer smiling. He held her to him and tried to comfort her, but she suddenly pulled away from him also.
“What did I do? What did I say?”
“Why did you laugh?” she demanded.
She walked away from him, and all stared at her as she went by. Daeron was tempted to kiss her, but he knew he had to bid his time. He knew that Lúthien would not forget about Beren so easily.
And she did not. She pursued Beren on her horse. Beren was so surprised that he halted, and Lúthien sprang from her horse and fell at his knees.
“Do not go! Do not go, my lord!” she cried.
“Why have you followed me, Tinúviel?”
“Because I will not let you fly into such heedless peril!”
“Heedless? I know that death is the most likely danger at least. But I do not care if I die, Tinúviel. I have nothing else in my life. I may as well die valiantly for the one I love.”
He turned again, but Lúthien stubbornly clasped his knees and wept, and it took all of Beren's strength and will as a stern man not to weep also.
“Do not go, my lord! Do not go!” she repeated.
“Tinúviel, let go of me.”
She only held him tighter.
“You know that if I stay here, Thingol shall kill me.”
“Alas! It is true. I heard my Father speak so with my own ears, but if you must go, Beren, please allow me to go with you!”
“To Angband?”
“To the world beyond, if you must!”
“I must tell you, Tinúviel, that such words are dangerous.”
“Compared to your flight, it is as nothing! Let me ride with you! Do not forsake me!”
“Tinúviel, go back! I command you! Go back!”
“No.”
“You shall only put yourself into peril.”
“No.”
“You shall put me in greater peril. I shall be delayed if you come. Go back! Go back!”
“No.”
Beren stooped and lifted her up. Then he placed into her hand the ring of Barahir and kissed her.
“Take this in troth! It belonged to my father and was given to him by King Finrod. It is an heirloom of our house, but when I return, it shall be our wedding ring. I love you,” he whispered and then called to a few guards standing nearby. “Gentlemen, would you kindly escort the Princess back to her father?”
“We shall,” they answered and came toward them.
“No, they will not!”
“I shall return before winter's frost, little bird.”
“I do not believe you.”
“Keep singing, Nightingale, and when I have returned, we shall sing together as husband and wife.”
“No!”
“Guards, hold the lady in place until I have gone.”
The Elves put a restrain on Lúthien, but she clung at Beren's arm.
“Take my horse, Iavas, Beren,” she ordered him. “He will keep you safe from harm, for he is a speedy and keen horse. And allow me a seat behind you.”
“No, lady. Will the horse bear me?”
“I have already commanded him to. But please do not leave me!”
Beren sprang up onto the horse's back and looked back at Lúthien, who was struggling wildly against the three guards. Beren was then reminded of Gorlim and the 'curse' he had laid upon him. Was he being punished for failing to satisfy the dead?
Someday, when you have fallen in love as fatally as I have, then you will take such chances.
“I do not wish to be parted from you so soon,” he told Lúthien, “but I know the wisdom of it, even if my heart rebels.”
“There will be many such partings for us, I fear,” she said sadly, “but we shall always find each other; that I know.”
“I hope we shall never be parted long.”
He kissed her softly.
“You will have such welcome as they will lay down in song, and there I shall convince you of all the reasons you should cleave to me.”
Beren hesitated. Then he said a hasty farewell, and Iavas bolted off, seeming to understand the whole matter. He disappeared even from elvish sight, and the guards let her go.
“Lady, are you all right?” they asked with compassion.
“Never lay your filthy hands on me again!” she hissed venomously, and the Elves stepped back at the sudden change in her voice. “Leave me!”
“Lady,” they bowed in turn and left her.
Lúthien stared at the ring of Barahir, and one of her tears fell upon it. She clutched the ring that he had given her in her hand. She did not move until Daeron and Artanis came to comfort her. And that was their first parting.