Forgotten Ground Regained

The Redemption of Daeron

This poem is part of a cycle of alliterative epics that I wrote "in character" as the Avarin poet Rhunedhel, a resident of Imladris during the Third Age, while I was playing on Elendor MUSH, an online roleplaying game, in the 1990s and the first decade or so of the 2000s.
When I wrote these poems, I was working my way toward an original alliterative stanza form only loosely patterned on traditional alliterative verse.The form I ended up with is what I call the "Daeron Stanza", characterized by 4-stress accentual (mostly iambic tetrameter) lines alliterating in the pattern AA/BB, with a final rhyming couplet. It demonstrates the possibilities of alliterative forms not based on the traditional Old English and Middle English metrics.
In the Silmarillion, Tolkien tells us how Daeron, one of the greatest elven singers, twice betrayed Lúthien and Beren, her lover, to Thingol, the king, her father, for he loved her, and was jealous that Beren, a mere man, should have the love he had failed to win. But the third time, he remained silent, and when Lúthien escaped, he thought he had betrayed her to her death. And so he wandered into the East of Middle Earth, singing grief-stricken of his lost Lúthien. This poem begins in the East, when at long last the true tale of Beren and Lúthien reaches him.
This poem was originally published on the Imladris Poetry Page
Table of Contents
Book I: By Dark Waters
Dark waters washed on a beach as bare, Empty, abandoned as desert sand.Or almost empty: a boat was thereAnd two men mused aloud at lengthOver murmuring waves-- where they should sell ---- their Elven slaves. --
Eyes wide, aware, hands bound behind,Two captives crouched in helpless hate.Their forms were too fine, like dancers' dreams,Their beauty too breathtaking, perfect and pureTo allow debate-- what their captors intended ---- as their ultimate fate. --
Wide eyes widened, stiffened, were still:Past flickering flames stared out into space.The men raise mugs but with sudden splashThey tense and start.-- One crumples, with hand ---- clenched to heart. --
The arrow's arc from the buzzing bowIs swift and certain, sharp and sure.One crouched for cover, feebly fell,Transfixed with terror gasped for breath.An elf approached-- with sword for argument ---- and final reproach. --
'It is well that I walk here,' their rescuer declared.'No Elves now live in this barren land,While men have multiplied.Such a strange and desolate place-- To find two born ---- Of Western race!' --
'Corúwen they call me, sir,' one said,'A healer of hurts, an Elf-maid of Eregion.And know Nèhaléni, kin to Celebrimbor,A smith and shaper of gems and jewelsWhose bow, whose sword-- Should we thank for rescue,' ---- Most noble lord?' --
So strange a smile, fixed to his face!As if flowers, frozen in winter winds,Silently stood and swayed in the snow.With grace he bowed-- yet seemed a statue ---- still and tall and proud. --
'The name I am known by,' he softly said,'Is Daeron of Doriath, minstrel of Menegroth. 'But long have I lived in the Utter EastAnd walked these waters to sing under starIn solitary memory-- Of Lúthien's face, form ---- spirit, grace, and beauty.' --
The silence stretched; Nèhaléni's handClenched, unclenched as she quietly quenchedUntrickled tears lest they find her face.'I see,' she said, and sought to smile.'So through pain, through dread-- We who sought Cuivienen ---- Find an exile instead.' --
The dark waves dashed; the surf kept surging,Sounding, resounding, swift scouring the sand.'The Waking Waters? They are drained and dead.It is pointless to return.'-- For time at last erases ---- Every hope for which we yearn.' --
So Daeron declared, eyes distant, darkOblivious, and unaware. Not boat on beachNor sand blood-soaked nor crumpled corpseCould draw his least attention-- Instead he stared across the sea ---- In memory or vision. --
'Enough!' cried Nèhaléni. 'Corúwen is cold,We both are bruised, this shore lacks shelter!Have you no haven? No hidden home? No refuge from the weather?-- Our needs are now, ---- But grieving lasts forever!' --
If hearth makes home, a home he had,A cavern chamber. The fire's flamesIllumined little. The bed was bare.The floor unfinished. No care for comfortStood revealed,-- But warmth there was, ---- And shelter well-concealed. --
Silent they sat and ate unspeaking:Quiet Corúwen, light-limbed Nèhaléni,Daeron, dark of hair and hue.The hearthlight half-revealed-- What shifting shadows ---- But half concealed. --
What voice dares venture to dwell on disaster?Silent sat Nèhaléni holding in handA ring retrieved from her captor's corpse.Its twin still twined enfolding her finger:In silent reminder-- Of memories lying ---- Forever behind her. --
That ring removing, she stood face starkIn firelight flickering: fingers unfolding.The rings released fell amid flames.'Fool, farewell!' -- So violent her voice --'You tore me from kin and hearth and home,-- and now I must bear ---- your child, alone!' --
Then Daeron raised his eyes, met hersThat delicate, desolate, grim with griefStared back with silent, shocked disbelief.He stood, his fingers found his fluteThen played with savage arts-- music to break ---- immortal hearts --
She stood unspeaking, features fixed:All lost, alone, engrossed in grief.His fingers flexed, and trilled a tuneWhose sorrow in immortal art-- recalled the pain ---- of lover's heart. --
She swayed unspeaking, caught in chordsWhose framing, fashioned great with griefSwept past sorrow to beauty past belief:A beauty caught in elvish art-- whose dance enthralls ---- the hearer's heart. --
With sudden swirl her limbs unlocked,Unminding mirrored dancing dreamsWhose flames reflected amber eyes.Her auburn hair about her swept:-- She sudden stopped ---- and knelt, and wept. --
He swayed unspeaking, caught in cordsWhose framing fastened grief to guilt.He might with music help to healThose whose grief might find an end.-- But heal himself? His music opened ---- All the wounds he sought to mend. --
Book II: The Hollow Hills
A candle crawls through hollow hills,Barren bleakness, inner earth,Quiet coldness, darkness dim,Eery echoes, barren bones.The dark doors gape,-- the hallways stretch ---- and yawn before each passing shape. --
The candle quivers, as spirits seekAnd welcome warmth in liquid light.Up winding ways, down steps and stairs,Past quiet caves, subsurface streams -Whose footsteps fall-- and echo once, ---- or not at all? --
'What's that? Who's there?' - Alert, unseenA sentry speaks in challenge changedTo quavering crowds. His swift soft whisperHarsher sounds-- like shattering shards ---- or baying hounds. --
The shadows shake as lights are litFraming faces, haloing hairAuburn, ebony, red as rust.The sentry staring, smiles, struck mute:-- Who stands there armed ---- with sword and flute? --
'Daeron? I dream! In our hidden halls?Such art unbidden, honor undreamt-of,Unlikely laughter, heart's grief healing!What draws you down from the upper land?-- Some urgent errand? ---- Some oath's demand?' --
'Mercy.'
'Their captors killed by arrow's arc,These ladies live, and living, grieve,To loss unreconciled.-- And widowed one yet bears ---- her husband's child.' --
'Welcome to Gonnmar!' the gate guard cried,'Secret stronghold of the Eastern elves.Though wary or weary, though hunted or harried,Or by memory haunted,'-- Here there is peace,' ---- and beauty undaunted.' --
The cavern opened to endless expansesUnseen, silent, dripping, darkYet fragrant, fresh, perfumed and pure.So sweet that air-- but how could flowers ---- blossom there? --
A ghostly glimmer spread and shimmered.On soaring ceilings grey light glanced.The glimmer grew. Pink and paleIt spread and shone-- for dawn had come ---- beneath the stone. --
A mountain mass with crystalline crownReflects, refracts the dawning day.The liquid light comes pouring slow,Its radiance streaming-- translucent down ---- like roses gleaming. --
And safe under stone lie tree-clad slopes,Graceful gardens, fruitful fields.And high on a hill white Gonnmar glows,All walls and spires,- a pastel picture drawn -- in glittering fire. --
Up stairs and steps, on winding waysThey climbed and came to high-roofed hallWhere Lord and Lady sat in state:Its eight walls strewn-- with emblems radiant ---- of sun and stars and crescent moon. --
The king and queen enthroned, uncrownedAnd bare of brow sat side by side.His grey eyes gleamed, hers glinted green.As wild as wind she seemed, he still as seaUntil they smiled.-- Then wind and water joined ---- As sea-surge reconciled. --
'Cordil the King, and Fèhaglin the FairHail you as hosts, grant haven here.Daeron of Doriath: welcome once more.Name now our guests,-- welcome to sustenance ---- shelter and rest.' --
And so they stood and were known by name:Corúwen whose skill was once well-known,Whose gardens grew, who healed deep hurtsWhile Hollin's towers endured:-- Her voice was soft and low, ---- Her hands were swift and sure. --
Nèhaléni next, as fluid as a flame:Dream-dancer, song-smith,Stone-setter, ring-wrightWhile Hollin stood entire-- But fleeing strife she'd staked her life ---- On a wager with desire. --
'Welcome! Well met,' declared the king.'Here gardens grow, and hurt is healed.''The child shall be cherished,' Féhaglin foretoldWith outstretched hand.-- 'Remain, find joy, ---- Lend beauty to our land.' --
Book III: In Gonnmar's Gardens
Where vines enveloped, trellis-trailing,She sat, eyes melting, memory-misted.Then birdsong ceased. 'Hail, Nèhaléni!'With wary eyes-- she turned, intent ---- In swift surprise --
Bent to bow, a stranger's smile:Black eyes bright, skin tawny-tinted:Strong as steel and leopard-lithe:A hunter's silent pace:-- a stance assured ---- such feral, feline grace. - -
'Your leave, my lord! I would know your name!'He frowned. 'Morfindel, the king's near kin.Mine are the hunters who haunt the hills above,Stealing - stalking - slaying such menAs by folly or greed-- dare enter our haven, ---- the land of our need.' --
She stared, half-stood. He smiled, reassuringHeld out his hand. 'Such men need no mercy:Mere vagabonds, vagrants, landless outlaws,Slave-taking soldiers for cruel kings.But enough now of men!-- You have strolled in our gardens ---- Come see them again!' --
Then pacing the path soft footsteps fell.The lady looked, her eyes alight:In wordless welcome raised her hand.Morfindel frowned, eyes glittering glancedFrom side to side,-- falcon-fierce ---- with passion and pride. --
A second's silence: Morfindel's mirthReleased itself wryly in lilting laughter.He strode from the scene: elegant, graceful,Casual, cool, silent, strong.'A business before me has grown quite pressing.-- To Daeron I leave ---- the garden's blessing!' --
She shrugged and shifted her seat to one side.Daeron sat beside her. 'I am glad of Gonnmar,Of this Hidden Home,' she sighed. SoftThere shone a faint sheen, opal-paleThat filled her face:-- An air transcendant, bright ---- with glowing grace. --
The minstrel's mind was elsewhere, absorbed.At length he stirred, looked up, then spoke:'Soon I depart,-- For dark waters woo me ---- and draw me apart.' --
She stood. 'So soon?' she stammered, then stopped.He nodded. She sat. Her cheek's bright blushingFaded slow.-- 'I'll miss you,' she said, ---- 'And regret you must go.' --
Abstracted, he stood. 'Come Nèhaléni,At feast I'm invitedTo sing a song.'-- She nodded, then numbly ---- followed along. --
Now high overhead the dying light dimmedAs evening awakening stole the soft brillianceThat had streamed from the stone. The crystalline quartzWhose folded facets had glinted and glitteredTill day grew old-- now faded from view ---- like a love gone cold. --
In Gonnmar's gardens bright lamps were litWhose glimmering glow like a starry seaIllumined the land as faint but fluorescentAs dim yet luminescent-- as the new moon's thin ---- yet shining crescent. --
The Gonnmarim gathered in quiet crowdsThough children chattered, pranced and played:Amazingly many, bright-eyed, bold.The adults' eyes, though, haunted, hard,Were filled with savage battle-lore-- from ancient, hopeless ---- years of war. --
He paused, then passed where lamps were litAnd streamers burst from ribboned trees.She stopped. Morfindel, faced away from herWas speaking swiftly. Across, arms crossed,Was Corúwen. Her eyes moved on.She shadowed Daeron's passage throughThe light-- in quiet study ---- as a wild thing might. --
Through the crowd he came to the King and Queen.On a dais where Daeron bowed before themHe stood yet silent, harp in hand,A figure carved in living stone:-- unmoving, hard ---- and set alone. --
He moved: A motion sudden, small,A flicker, fingers stirring strings.Each tone intense, precise and pureImpaled their hearts with sudden thrill-- that held them tense, ---- intent, and still. --
He sang of starlight on tangled treesIn Melian's maze, the depths of DoriathGuarded and green. He sang of silenceThat spread from branch to root-- a solitude shattered ---- by the sigh of a flute. --
In his song it seemed that a phantom formedThat glided glimmering, shining, shimmering,Fragile, fine as waving wings.So Lúthien, lithe, in dreamlike dance,Emerged, evoked by Daeron's art:-- a virgin maiden ---- veiled and set apart. --
His words now wove not song but spellThat held the heart and ears and eyes,Revealing visions: Gaily graceful,-- Beautiful, bright ---- Her hair about her swirling ---- dark as night. --
His song swept on. She stood, she sang;His pipe pursued her soaring songAs high as heaven's silent stars.Through all the wood her clear voice trilled-- And all was silent, ---- Listening, stilled. --
The grassy glade was wreathed and wrappedIn muffling mist. A footstep fell.The singer stopped. So Daeron sang.His eyes were bright-- as he sang of a shape ---- that emerged from the night. --
'A stranger stalks the forest! Flee!'The wild words echoed through the wood.The flutist fled, but Lúthien lookedAnd watching wondered-- what strangeness through ---- the forest blundered. --
And with those words his chanting changedAs a stream over stones may plunge in a poolAnd stop: a stallion with hammering hoovesThat turns at bay-- teeth bared at a wolf-pack ---- to drive them away. --
He sang ever softer of the madness of a maidMad with desire, mad for a man.He spoke of the spell that Elven beauty bringsTo mortals doomed to die,-- condemned to relinquish ---- earth and sea and sky. --
He sang of silence, song suspended,Grief and anger penned in pain.The music mad, he whispered words:Of lovers' laughter ---- Too blissful to heed ---- Or care what comes after. --
His features fixed he cried of a kingHe was sworn to serve: Whose daughter disobedientLived a lie: Elu his lord,Father of the maid-- whom his love betraying ---- his hot words betrayed. --
Now see the song with vivid vision!The king confronting Lúthien's lover,Who holds her hand without shadow or shame!How can her heart be so bound to a manThat they would wed-- Though she lives forever, ---- And he soon is dead! --
'I'll not bestow blessings on fanciful frenziesFor my daughter's too dear to be wed on a whim!I too seek a treasure as perfect and preciousAs my daughter's hand:-- A gem from the crown ---- of Morgoth I demand!' --
The harp rang out hard and cold and clear,Its music moving ruthless, relentless,Soft as sorrow, dark as death.The passion and pain of those long-distant days-- Were mysteries locked ---- In Daeron's gaze. --
Néhalèni listened with wide-open eyes,Hands gripped together, trembling, tense.The song proceeding, she shifted, unsure;Leaned forward frowning. The music might move herYet brought her no pleasure,-- Instead, her face flushed ---- and she fought for composure. --
And suddenly standing she stumbling turned,Poised among passions: Grief, fear and fury,Anger and shame. As a deer may dodgeThe hunter's hound, her eyes sought the singer,Her face the floor.-- And swift as a whisper ---- She stood there no more. --
Book IV: The Burden of Love and Memory
She stood on sheer tower that thorn-like thrustFrom hall on high through the inner airs.Her face half-frost, cheeks torn by tears,Poised in profile, silhouetted alone:-- She stood unmoving ---- like quivering stone. --
A sound, a step: the queen came out,Her green eyes glinting, soft, severe;Hair black, unbound, as wild as wind.She stopped, unsure:-- face still, serene ---- stance shy, demure. --
Face to face they stood, were stillAtop the tower. And quiet the queen asked,'What is wrong? You fled the feastLike a doe that dreads the hunter's horn! In safety here know rest and peace,-- where grief's tight grasp ---- may find release.' --
Nèhaléni laughed. She held her handUnconscious close where babe in bellySnugly swam. 'The grief I am given,I have born and will bear,-- But grief's not the madness ---- By which I despair!' --
'How strange! I see that phantom FateYields haunted hopes: How grief brings gladness,Gladness grief! Dare I follow my heartThough by folly led?-- Yet I love him, whose heart ---- prefers the dead! --
The queen was quiet. The gardens' gleamingFramed her face. The sound of songRose drifting dreamlike, pure, compelling,Faint and far away;-- A glow rose above ---- the bud of day. --
The queen stood quiet, breath on breathA pulse of passion veiled, overlaid.Nèhaléni turned, met turquoise eyes:Sorrow's compassion, sisterly pain.With sudden sob, in awkward embrace-- they clung arm to arm ---- and face to face. --
Hesitant, soft: a nervous knock.Silent steps, a door drawn wide.'I come to see you,' - 'Sir, come in,Welcome to my widow's bower,-- My refuge, free --- Of ring or dower.' --
Highlights, hollows, candle-castFlicked her forehead, chased down cheeks.'Be seated sir. And try some tea?'She smiled a smile that flashed as falseAs trophies trimmed with glass and gilt.-- The teapot trembled, ---- Droplets spilt. --
'I came: the queen said we must speak,Of what I wonder.' Silence stoodAs thick as thorns in fallow fields:-- the fruit that thought ---- unspoken yields. --
She sat and sipped her tea, and turned,Her head set high. 'Of Lúthien's love,And yours, and years long set to song.And how it can be that any maid-- dare love with a heart ---- by love betrayed.' --
He stared then stood, frowned then facedThe window, watching dust-motes danceThrough empty air. 'Of Lúthien's loveAnd mine, my lady? You speak of subjectsMore distinct than stars and sun,-- That never meet ---- No matter where they run. --
'But ask, I'll answer. Private painOnce song is solitude no more.Yet lady, pray be brief:-- Such questions stir hot embers ---- from the ash of grief.' --
She looked about, and bit her lip,Stood uncertain, steeled resolve,Then step by step approached, her pacePrecise, a metronomic knock-- steady, relentless, ---- a ticking clock. --
'Is love, my lord, a jealous joyWhose savage splendor burns, whose beautyRules or ravishes the soul,-- and ruins what it ---- cannot savor whole?' --
'Is love, my lord, a cruel kingWho binds his daughters from their birthTo dance or dally at his will, to wedThe one his word should bless-- yet gives no thought ---- to happiness?' --
'Is love, my lord, a gemlike jailThat softly sways atop the trees,Cooled, caressed - a seat of ease,Yet ringed with locks and bars and seals-- to bind the beauty ---- it conceals?' --
'If this be love, my lord, why thenI'll hail the hour my heart grows hard!I'll live alone by a silent seaUntouched, untouching, a fool but free!By Manwe -- No! -- By Iluvatar above,-- Seal up my heart, ---- If this be love!' --
His face went flat, his nostrils flared,His fingers flexed on open air.He breathed one breath, then let it loose,And turned until-- his gaze met hers, ---- level, still. --
'Lady, love's no jealous joyBut loss may lack the secret strengthThat helps the heart with calm control-- relinquish what it --- cannot cherish whole.' --
'Much less is love a cruel king,Though fairest fondest doting dreamsAdrift may dash, a sullen surfOf rage,-- the clash of willful innocence ---- with proud and stubborn age.' --
'And least of all is love a cellSealed, secure though flower-filled.Yet madness marches fleet with fearFor those we cherish:-- fears to free them,-- lest they perish.' --
'Alas! Alas! Heroic heartsMay live by love for love alone!So Lúthien lived - so Lúthien loved:A single-minded soul-- implacably devoted ---- to her single-minded goal.' --
'Enough! Enough!' Nèhaléni cried.Her fingers found the sill and stopped;She grasped it gazing onward, out.'Not love would lead you to reveal-- Beren whom Lúthien ---- would conceal.' --
'Not love, not love, but rival's wrathWould call a hero's haven crime.'Yet you -- yes, you --Called for his head.-- Is this your love, ---- To wish your rival dead?' --
'Not faith nor friendship -- love far less --Would tell the tale a friend confides.When Lúthien looked and asked your aid,Her love for Beren burning in her eyes,You told the king.-- Was this the love ---- Of which you sing?' --
Turning towards him, amber eyesSet wide, she waited. He searched for signsOf anger on her face but foundThere no disdain.- Her gaze reflected gentleness, ---- Her features, pain. --
'Ah lady - Nèhaléni -' His sudden smileFlickered, faded like sun through snow.'So Lúthien looked at me, so she spoke,With words that wilted, blasted, brokeWhat pride might well condone:-- The empty deeds of bitterness ---- I never can atone.' --
'Alas, the longing hungry heartMay live for love yet hate its hope!For twisted, torn my heart was homeTo duty, love and envy,-- and of the three but one ---- is prone to mercy.' --
'To Lúthien in Hírilorn whose leaves were longThere came a quiet melody, a murmurAnd a song: regret begun,My sorrow spun,-- Forgive my shame, ---- the wrong I've done.' --
'Ah, Lúthien in Hírilorn, her princess-prison!Pale and proud though worry-wornWith longing love for Man late-born,Yet free of hate:-- gentle in her loveliness, ---- gracious, great.' --
'Ai! Lúthien in Hírilorn! A terrible taskTo hold her at the King's command,To hold her from her heart's demand,To hold her there alone, unarmedBut for her beauty.-- It broke my heart, which yet must stand ---- To do its duty. --
The loom of life's a frame we fillWith deeds and dreams we tangle tillOur sight is stunned as patterns passLike flashing beams-- too bright to last, ---- and nothing's as it seems.' --
If duty's dark and love is lossOur souls are storms where tempest-tossedWe spin uncertain webs whose warpUnraveling-- we grasp in sudden ---- incandescence dazzling. --
'Lúthien! Ah, Lúthien! Weaver of dreams!What a web her soul must spin!What a web her fingers form!Dazzled, my heart-- divines dark purpose --- -in her art.' --
'Lúthien! Ai! Lúthien! Weaver of dreams!A song of sleep -- a net of night --A cloak concealing shadow flight.My soul suspects but fears to freeThe sullen surf of violence,'-- and proves its love ---- for Lúthien by silence. --
Like waters that waver, that border beliefOver pools as profound as bright moonlight through mistShe stared at him smiling. He turned, she turnedIn speechless regard:-- two quiet Quendi, ---- a silent bard. --
'Daeron --' she dared, then suddenly stopped.Daeron -- why death I would call less cruelThan life that loves by living loss!Better the bitter, caustic kindness,Crying-- that sears and seals and soothes the heart, --- than anguish never-dying.' --
'But still - yet still - I cannot comprehendWhen matters had moved to their ultimate endWhy you left the land whose hollows and hillsHad echoed your art-- to live in the East ---- by dark waters apart.' --
Was your grief so great that the land you lovedIn memory mirrored pent-up pain?Did your bitterness burning fear to faceBeren beside Tinuviel returning?'I cannot conceive it:-- Daeron, please, Daeron, ---- Must I believe it?' --
As the scintillating sun may loom through a lensToo bright to bear: so he frowned in his confusionAs if at an illusion's flaming focusUnaware.-- As if the sun were silenced ---- by the starkness of his stare. --
'No man -- none! -- can boast of besting meIn courage, strength of spirit, courtesy!And if alive one born of BarahirReturned from dread-- with Lúthien I'd welcome him ---- no matter whom he wed.' --
'But no man -- none! -- can dare that darkAnd ghastly gloom, brave Angband'sDeadly doors where shadows loomAnd hope for life;-- much less to win ---- that perfect gem, a wife.' --
'But I - yet I - released brave LúthienTo dare those doors, a maiden-mothConstrained to seek a fouler flameTo help her hero's helpless hand!And thus I am forsworn:-- remiss in duty, for my lord's ---- bereaved, betrayed,forlorn.' --
'And so I stray in the East alone.Landless, lordless, loveless I liveTo walk dark waters, to sing under starOf Lúthien's life and beauty:-- Until we meet in Mandos' halls ---- A solitude of memory.' --
Book V: Nèhaléni's Tale
Nèhaléni looked at him, stared at him; stunned.'Do you not know? Have you not heard?Is her tale untold? Not a whispered wordOf Lúthien's fate-- who sang at Hell's ---- and Mandos' gate?' -=
'Have you not heard of Huan the HoundWho bore her to Beren? Her friend unforeseenYet grim, her guard on a blackened bridgeBy Sirion's stream? How she stood, how she sang,Defying the night-- with a song of the stars ---- and their music bright?' --
'Is the tale untold how one by oneThe wargs and werewolves fell, till fateBrought forth the foulest, great Gorthaur?How Huan the valiant hound of ValinorTriumphed, so that pinned there prone-- he pled for mercy ---- who'd never mercy shown?' --
'Not a whispered word of dark disguise?Of Beren, beast-like, wolfskin-wrapped?Of his fair one flitting, batwing-bornTo mountain-tower:-- Thangorodrim, throne ---- Of shadowed power?' --
'Do you not know her song of sleep?How they passed the pit's fierce-guarded gateUnscathed, unseen where dreaming deepAnd slumber-soothed lay Carcharoth,Vast hound whose might-- lay felled, enspelled ---- in nets of night?' --
'Know it now! My tongue must tellOf a hollow hall in the heart of hell!Furnace flicker, red lights roar:Beat of Angband's works of war!Demons, dragons, orc-lords round-- their King, three Jewels ---- in his iron crown!' --
'Hear, give ear! Past shapes of fearIn armed array, in ghastly gearThey came, and cold each searching stareThat waited, watched: a hall of hateThey walked alone-- to stand revealed ---- before that throne.' --
'Listen, learn! The frailest fireThough dim, may dare, may flare, aspireTo crown, consume the tallest trees,'To hail the heavens, a breeze whose burningKindles fortune's candle,Fame,-- the hero's due, ---- a shining name. --
'Just so I say was Lúthien, and BerenBorn of mortal men! No braver-- Ever -- under stone yet stood,A minstrel-maid, or so she said.That dark king smiled,-- bemused by beauty ---- \undefiled.' --
'Lúthien! Ah, Lúthien! Weaver of dreams!A song of sleep, a net of night, A cloak concealing shadow flight!The bright stones blaze, the kingly crownIs bowed, as hate-- succumbs to slumber's ---- weary weight.' --
'Spent, she settles; Beren's bladePries a perfect stone unsetThen snaps; a sliver cuts the kingWho stirs in sleep.-- They rise, they flee ---- dark mountain-throne and cavern deep.' --
'They gain the gate, but late, too lateThey see the savage wolf awaits!'Cruel Carcharoth, whose red maw gapesStands now, sleeps no more:-- Incarnate terror ---- holds the door.' -=
'What a crown is courage! The battle-braveMay call theirs courage, to face the foe Certain in strength, fearless, fell!But when hope as hollow as a booming bell'Grips the heart with the grip of hell,To leap alone at the jaws of deathIs courage!-- That, and that alone --- -Is courage!' -=
'He stood, the stone upheld, defiant --Its light a lance of beauty brilliant --The stone his only sword and shield --And yet he took, he held the field --But then - but then ---- Oh, Beren, born ---- Of mortal men!' --
'A leap, a lunge, a sudden snapOf tearing teeth, of jaws on jewelAnd holding hand. The beast's great bellyGlows as bright-- as if a star ---- were swallowed by the night.' --
'Hunger, hatred, ravening rage;Savage strength that turns to tearAnd bite at Beren suddenly -- stops.The beast bolts off. Mayhem's madness!Peril's pain!-- Its belly burning, ---- death itself, insane.' -=
'And by the door-- she seeks to staunch his wound -=-- and nothing more.' --
'What then? What then? Of Beren and of Luthen?The name of Beren bursting slippedPast all limits, through his lipsAnd languished, lingered on the air-- so that she stopped, suspended ---- in his care. --
Suspended, in the pulse that throbbed against his throat.Suspended,in the poise he held against all hope.She stared with fingers pressed to faceWith cheeks on which the dawn awoke-- Then found her balance, ---- Breathed again, and spoke. -=
'Beneath them sudden thunder stirs,The clamor of confusion. Above unbrokenSoaring space, a spiral silence.Below them beat of deep-voiced drums,Above them blow the watchful winds.Below, unleashed the hell-hounds howl,Bell, and bay:-- above an eagle stoops, ---- and bears them both away.' --
'Away, unbound, in boundless space,From hell to hope in a rushing raceOf wings and wind and sun and skyWhere day and darkness fleeting flyThey pass, and gain the ground-- by the waiting feet ---- of Huan the Hound.' -=
'But Beren writhing gasps, groans,Cries unconscious moaning mutters;Waking works for stillness, soTendons tense and strain-- as if he walked unwilling ---- through the palaces of pain. -=
'So Lúthien looks for healing herbs.With tender touch she bathes his brow,'And wraps his wound. She whispers wordsAnd gently tends him;-- without a wedding ---- still would wed him. --
Nèhaléni bit her lip, looked up,Stricken, but Daeron did not stir.His thoughtful eyes-= regarded her inscrutably, ---= silent as the skies. --
She paused, her pulse resumed its pace,But she told her tale in hurried hasteAs if eager for an end she feared to face,As though each murmured word-- bore poison whose antidote ---- was to be heard. --
'Should Lúthien outlawed wander wild,A pauper princess with a landless lord?Should Beren relish, hoard her love?Without her father's favor wed--'by sharing shelter, ---- board and bed?' --
'Beren refuses. Wiser to winHer father's favor,-- to act in faith, ---- and open honor.' --
'So to Doriath where dubious their hopes now hinge,To Doriath where dolorous lush gardens growDeserted, silent, they go through flowersWhere Thingol stands and stares the hours away.'Gaunt and gray he turns:-- his features are shadowed, ---- but his grim gaze burns.' --
'I see you survive. Is your quest complete?- We live, lord king. You judge the gemMy hand holds even now:-- Decide, answer if ---- the price has paid my vow.' --
'Beren lifts his fist, unfolds it.- This is not the hand that holds it. -Beren lifts the other arm.'- This is the hand, that past all harm Still holds the bride-price you demanded.-- So call me now ---- the empty-handed. --
'Elu Thingol laughed aloud!- So this is how you end your quest,With gay defiance and a grim jest?Come tell your tale, each feat confess,And teach me that madness is happiness!-- I've a suit to consider, ---- A daughter to bless! --
Above a bell announced the noonWith a laughing, liquid tune that tolledFrom the topmost tower, rolled, reboundedCave to cave, confounded returned:A million magic bells-- whose chimings cast ---- harmonic spells. --
Nèhaléni lifted up her head: not he.She turned and taking well-aged winePoured out, placed a fine-stemmed glass.'Daeron, drink: wine lessens heartache,Lulls despair,-- For in the tale I tell ---- is grief enough to spare.' --
He nodded numbly, drank it dry,Then waited, watched in silence sitting,The glass held in his hand-- as if around an hourglass, ----- concealing drifted sand. -
Her hand upheld, with eyes intent,She gazed through glass where ruby-redHer face refracted as she turned and tossedHer head.-- `You know, of course, ---- That they were wed.' --
She took a taste, then grasped the glassCupped close as if it held her heart.`In times of grief,-- of course, ---- such bliss is brief.' --
She licked her lips, then downed her drink,And spoke in swift staccato tones.`Beren died with Huan the HoundKilling Carcharoth. Lúthien livedBut her spirit Westward fled,-- to bow in supplication to ---- the ruler of the dead. --
`They say she sang at Mandos' doorOf life and love with soaring voice. That calm, collected, poised she passedAlone,-- to stand revealed ---- before his throne.' --
`They say she sang as none have sungSince song first shaped the circles of the world,As if the air unfurled and framedThe love her lyrics named anew. I hear that Mandos' will is hardAs stone.-- Yet pity clothed his face, ---- who'd never pity shown.' --
`Beren reborn, with Lúthien aliveWalked through the winter of Thingol's thought,Which turned at her touch into sudden spring.But her mother, Melian, saw on her soulThe mark of Mandos, his grievous gift:For mortal man must have mortal bride-- who shall die forever ---- to live at his side.' --
Book VI: Moment of Truth
She looked at length, and saw him smileWith fragile face, and while she wonderedSeemed to speak. She strained to understand.`So she is gone,' he whispered. `LostBeyond the world.'-- And on one cheek ---- a droplet pearled. --
Suddenly he seemed to notice Nèhaléni,Straightening, stepped back. Many minutesLapsed. He laughed. `I must admit it!Love is cruel!-- And fate has played me ---- for a fool!' --
She shut her eyes.Across the floor-- his footsteps echoed ---- toward the door. --
`Stay! No, stop!' she cried and quickPast Daeron darting on flickering feetShe set herself to meet her matchIn anguish and despair:-- The lamp behind her limned the door ---- And framed her hair. --
She stopped: her staring agate eyesMet his. Mute, surprised, he stoodIn shock. `For shame! I could be coldAs thee, my lord, and call it love!Or court a dream, and call it constancy!She shook her head. `Yet what a taleMy tears could tell!-- 'For my daughter's name ---- would be Fíriel.' --
`Oh, what a fool I was, to loveA son of men!-- He was no Beren, --- -`And I, no Lúthien!' --
`Better, better far had my fatherNot met my mother in Ost-in-EdhelFar from Lórien that he loved!Alas for life!-- If hope must end ---- in heartbreak, war, and strife!' --
`Better, better far had I but fledDeath and darkness, and never met a manWho dared to live and love and dreamBeyond his nature's narrow bounds!Must I be faithful to a tomb?'-- Live a widow till ---- the Day of Doom?' --
His breath unbated rasped. He raisedOne hand; hesitant, drew it drifting back.`Thou too?' She lacked for words. He trembled.He set his arms about her, soughtPeace perhaps to comfort her: could not.And so they wept:-- Each for griefs ---- the other kept. --
Slowly she stepped back, brokeHis arms' encirclement, raised both wristsTo hold her hair back from her face.'Alas, my lord, my tale is not full told;Nor have I named my folly fullyYet:-- I dare to dream again, you see, ---- And now my heart is set --
On thee.'
'How can I help myself, silenceMy heart? How then deny what nowPulls me apart? Pity me, pardon me,Call me half-crazed: dazed or a dreamer,I plead no defense!'-- Either fate made me love you, ---- Or lack of sense!' --
'I have sense though to see your courage to care!For where would I be now if grief and despairWere as strong in your soul as they seem in your words?How can I help that my heartstrings are stirredLike a harp in your hand, like the wind of your voice?How can I stand-- What a heart strung with steel ---- could hardly withstand?' --
'How long, my lord, will dreams be your drink,Your food a fantasy of love, your lifeAn echo of passions past? I am,I live, I love! Touch me, I tremble!Speak, and I hear!-- Forsake the dark waters! ---- Leave Death on her bier!' --
He stood as still as absence. Over themThe moments moved like sails against the sunWhere red horizons run past solemn seas.Her face before him oval might have veiledThe moon, or mirrored in his eyesBecome a pale yet perfect star.Time changed: his fingers framed her cheeks,His lips burned lightly on her browAnd head,-- and all else stopped ---- until he said: --
'Nèhaléni, no: you ask too much.Is there love after Lúthien? I cannot stretch so farPast hurt with a heart so scarred, and numb.Perhaps - perhaps - yet I stumble on old griefs,Pick my way past painful reefs of memoryAnd find myself a stranger to the scenery of joy.Passionate, compassionate, beautiful, brave, Thou art these and more. If only --No, Nèhaléni! Raise your child,May life and laughter piled togetherBe your blessing whether I am farOr near -- enough, I cannot face farewells.Take this, for thou wilt keep it well,For mirth, for merriment, for celebrationWhile healing years and seasons turn,-- and then, perhaps, ---- my heart return,' --
She felt his hand upon hers, feltSomething light, metallic slide thereAs she blinked back tears. He turned:She stared irresolute.-- He was gone, so she stood there, ---- And cradled his flute. --
Book VII: A Mother and a Daughter's Song
`Fíriel! Fíriel!'
She called the name she knew so wellIn vibrant tones that rose and fell:Around her rose the city and its spiresLike wonders woven in a song inspiredTo rejoice-- within the splendor ---- of her voice. --
Now dashing down the sudden stairsWith flashing feet and haloed hair- In grace a gazelle, elemental as the earth -Gamboling, dancing, gay with mirthShe came, her mother's daughter-- eyes bright as gems ---- or fresh spring water. --
They turned together, hand in handPast quiet courts, down arches, avenuesWhose white walls lit by rosy lightGlinted and glowed like ethereal things.Theirs was the beauty which makes menSing:-- mother, daughter, ---- summer, spring. --
Up stairs and steps, on winding waysThey climbed and came to high-roofed hallWhere Lord and Lady sat in state:Its eight walls strewn-- with emblems radiant ---- of sun and stars and crescent moon. --
Morfindel stood there, and Fíriel smiledTo see how close he stood to Corúwen.He bent to bow: tawny-tinted,Strong as steel, leopard-lithe:Yet all his grace-- was in his arm about her ---- when his eyes strayed to her face. --
Fíriel felt all eyes upon her:Stood straight, a solemn treeWhile silence spread.Just as the air may bear a blossomPast a garden wall,-- so step by step ---- she crossed the hall. --
If our lives are like banners blowing,Turning, tossing on the wind of time,Then Fíriel before them was a flag unfurled.The king and queen rose to receiveHer who came-- a daughter grown ---- to wear a woman's name. --
'How the flowers unfold in this city's spring,How children change!' declared the king.'No child now, choose your name anew;Choose well, choose words that suit your soul'sIntent,-- for trees will grow ---- as they are bent.' --
Suppose a butterfly could be rebornA hawk, and come forth fierce and heavy-winged,Bold of eye, still bound to earthBut eager for the air: so Fíriel seemed thenTo her mother's mind-- and mother-love though fond ---- is seldom blind. --
'Then call me Cemniel!' she criedAs sudden in that silence as an unexpectedDrum. 'I'll name my nature, I'll declareMy birth:-- though heir to stars, ---- a daughter to the earth!' --
Suddenly she smiled, met her mother's eyesAs if mirth moved in her from unseen springs.Her gaze caught the king's half-hidden smileThat matched her own.-- She turned then, ---- set alone, --
And sang of joy in gentle things:Starling, songbird, hummingbird hovering,Trout in streambed, salmon spawning,Fawn in forest, cattle lowing,Fire on hearthstone, children laughing,Mortal mirth swift-passingPerishing-- like morning mist ---- yet cherished, cherishing. --
She sang of starlight, trees, and time;Of seasons swinging in ritual rhyme;Of moonlight, mountains, cold cascades,Rivers running -- beyond, the sea.
And while her word still held the hallThere came a quiet counterpoint:Tones, a tune. Each birdlike, liquid,Tremulous trill-- pierced the air ---- and held it still. --
Imagine music like the rainBuilding beauty out of pain,Coming closer. Who can fathom,Who can chart-- immortal longing ---- fixed in art? --
Nèhaléni held stock-still,Eyes aflicker, poised in place.The music moved. Singing softly,Daeron came,-- weaving wonder ---- on a frame --
Of silence. Fíriel smiled.He bent to bow before them.'Welcome, music's master!'Cried the king. 'I thank you,First to bless-- Fíriel Cemniel, ---- and wish her happiness!' --
One by one the other elves approached,Bearing blessings, giving gifts,Then stepping out in silence. Silent,Last, Néhalèni came. She stopped.Quietly, Fíriel kissed her, slipped away.The king and queen embraced her, bothWithout a word, and left. NéhalèniTrembled. Above them glowing emblemsShone-- where she and Daeron ---- stood alone. --
'Why?' she whispered. 'Who called you here?'hy have you come? I have tried to teachMyself philosophy, fortitude, strengthTo leave the past in peace, to liveOn the wave that washes me foaming forward.But no! Now, the wave withdraws,My daughter, delight,-- eclipsed where you stand, ---- occluding my sight.' --
Why? Why have you come?-- If only my heart ---- and my hope were numb!' --
'Why? I wonder too,' he told her.'I have walked by the waters where seabirds circlingCall in raucous chorus on the edges of the world.At night there were nets of stars strewnAcross the combers, and the bare beachesWere grey glimmers before my feet.And I thought of Lúthien, but her name brought nothingTo mind but memories washed out like echoesOf a whisper in a dream. It seemed so strange.And I thought of thee, and walked through woodsWhere fireflies flickered like amber eyes,And wondered why I thought of thee.Then the king called, asking me make musicFitting for thy daughter's name.-- I rose, and left the waterside, ---- and came.' --
Her stare softened. 'I am honored, forThy music could move the stones themselvesTo dance, or drive the waves to weep.My thanks for thinking of my daughterAnd of me.-- What now? For surely more ---- Weighs on thy heart than harmony.' --
'Alas, I do not know,' he said.'Nèhaléni, my soul is strange to me,As if around me mountains moved,Assuming strange, fantastic forms.It would please me though, to hear thee playMy flute.'-- He stammered, stopped, ---- Irresolute' --
Nèhaléni lifted up her eyes,Met his, that held and framed her faceLike mirrors mixing grief and grace.She fumbled at her neck, pulled out his flute,Then played with gentle arts-- music to heal ---- immortal hearts. --
He stood unspeaking, features fixed,Half-lost, half-lured, half-grieving yet engrossed.Her fingers flexed, and she trilled a tuneWhose glory in immortal art-- recalled the joy ---- of lover's heart. --
He swayed unspeaking, caught in chordsArranged to etch in sharp reliefA love transcending loss and grief:A love portrayed in Elvish art,-- whose beauty eases ---- broken hearts. --
With sudden sob his lips unlocked,Moved mutely, as if reading runesInscribed in stone, that told a taleOf secrets sought, of answers earned,Of life renewed, of love returned,And then he wept-- for griefs released ---- he long had kept. --
She swayed unspeaking, caught in cordsWhose framing harnessed hope and fear.She might with music move his heartPast sorrow's end,-- Yet only he could help ---- Her own heart mend. --
Slowly he restored his self-control,Straightening, stepped back. Many minutesLapsed. He laughed. 'Mandos must'Enjoy a joke! The hollow hillsStill echo every tone and trillSo that the city stands silent, serenadedBy the music you have made. Come!' he called,His hand held out. 'Some place more privateWould be wise!'-- She took his hand, and walked with him, ---- In blank surprise. --
They stood on sheer tower that thornlike thrustFrom hall on high through the inner airs.Faces half-fire in lingering light,They stood together, they stood alone:-- Two flames atop ---- A torch of stone. --
She held his hand still. He stirred,Turning toward her. 'How strange,' he said.'To stand beside thee and to be content.I know no names to fit this feeling,Nor do I care-- what words apply, ---- if only thou art there.' --
She laughed. 'Is love too simple or too strangeA word for what we feel? No jealous joy,No cruel king, no gemlike jailDeserves the name, for no such loveIs blessed!-- But perfect love continues on ---- and passes every test!' --
'I've never known such love,' he said,'And fear my heart shall fail. But if you can accept me,'Nèhaléni, love me, call my feelings love,I shall attempt it. Shall I follow my heart,Though by folly led?-- If so, I must learn ---- what it means to be wed!' --
Like waters that waver, that border beliefOver pools as profound as bright moonlight through mistShe stared at him smiling. He turned, she turnedIn speechless regard:-- two quiet Quendi, ---- a silent bard. --
'Daeron -' she dared, then suddenly stopped,Slipped close to him. Her fingers touched his faceAnd he leant closer. Whoever thinks a momentFar too short to miss-- has never known eternity ---- in a kiss. --
Copyright © Paul D Deane, 1995-1997