Cold and drear that morning awoke, to smoke of Doriath’s ruin, fumes burning stench and vapors of waters boiling, and seeing all, Morgoth his long dark enemy laughed, spitefully turning one upon another, where kin of ancient unions bred lies and not league in federation; surrounded thus in his malice of scorn and contempt for all they sought to achieve, holding them by their own mouths and minds, accursed, and for deeds wicked, forsaken forever, and only in judgment of fool Manwë relieved of fates other than, alternative to, subjection to the Living Dark Beyond; free for a time of Celegorm and Curufin, however, Madhros and Maglor accompanied Caranthir-spirit west, and set him upon a troll-ship, as in secret-castaway, rider without fee’s payment; and bid him tell their father,
Return! Save us our oath’s breaking, or
The Darkness’s Taking; send word, Brother,
What he will, and when; for now, we wait, buying Time for Nimloth (if she be indeed living)
Or her heirs to gather strength,
Amid that gem’s unbroken light.
And time they obtained, though sickening, having present ever before them, the slaughter foreseen, and not averted.
Meanwhile, Celegorm and Curufin (spirits, both fea unwearing the body-hroa) haunted the woods of Neldoreth and about Thingol’s Halls, spoiling the sounds of Esgaldu, and turning her murmurs in whispers of bloodshed, of its draining down slippery floors, and greasy stairs entrailed. A Horror- Fright unnamed there landed, and set about its weavings; Nor did Thingol return but set his feet west, longing for those shores, but unwilling to take passage; so bypassing him at Gondolin’s own ruin, were many elvish sprites, howling of Gothmog’s return, and vengeance promising, one to another; yet they also passed on frail barks, unsturdy upon the tossing waves, yet true to course, coming in time to Eressëa’s harbors, or Mandos’s Halls, Nethermost the living captains bearing hence their dead companions, after staying awhile (too brief!) on the Blessed Isle Exiled.
So the worlds gathered, when resting more desirable, arms and designs of war (as in your day also) all being eager to avenge wrongs suffered, and to another attributed; The many evil workers alabor in Melkor’s Fields, setting apart the day in preparation of Final Battle Westward, lands to throw across the open seas, at last to wreck what remained of Valinor’s ghosts, moon-faced bawlers fretting their end, cowards inactive; And those “ghosts,” not inactive, but numerous hosts, jubilant, ebullient in light everlasting, seeing in battles East a brief sweeping away of Melkor’s trash, and more eagerly to tour those lands, and set out their own seeds to its renewal;
Between the two worlds, and fate’s weaving, though not apart either, waited Thingol-su. Beyond his powers was the keeping of Nimloth’s daughter, and of her sons, he averred, concealing his knowledge of their hidden keeping, encouraging idle guessery, and that left to starve, none finding, they had perished; skeletons aplenty in those woods about, the curious found, and there pointing, saw concluded his realm, grinding under the Northern Stones, to chaff;
And there came, as he looked west, waiting upon Eru’s decision, for either exile or secret action under-earth by him doing where he will, pondering all he’d lost, and hoped in part never to regain (being free of trouble, if not joyously at rest), to his ears came a song, of staying, of friendship unwearying, of gifts taken, and bestowed free; and of lands expanding, others exigent faltering; a swaying, darkening, sweltering, blistering refusing, heeding not fancy, but beckoning, and there finding, Restoring. And passing, this tune’s player-minstrel voice promised also to him he in After Days returning, himself finding, what himself concealing; and Dairon flowed out over the sea, last of the Early Arisers westward coming, to settle himself a watching place, overseeing the world’s unfolding, and with him, upon that perch, Irimë’s hand holding.
And now again Thingol-su pauses, now his rowing (and not only his thinking), hiding his errand westward, to direct in greeting those Zheradin, who Eressëa forth-driving, are never in finding, yet rest may they partake, here, where was Aman’s western-most halls, a fence now raised, now mankind’s welcoming.
Having greeted courteously these new coming Men, up stony beaches their barges dragging, and giving to them lease (on specific conditions, serving Eru its Power-Vala New) to lands >by him< blessed, finding his heir well situated, and upon a little throne seated, the Dead as to judge, of Mandos’s Halls releasing, content the Grey King of No Land residing, recalled whom he fostered, to whose mother he promised; so to Morwen’s Islet now foundering, soon sinking, he turned his paddling; and thereto gliding, we for a time leave him, as Ulmo looks upon him, himself pondering, what course now a lonely Vala take, and when to thus embrace;
<<Previous Page | Next Page>>