The Book of Lost Tales 2. Christopher Tolkien

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СКАЧАТЬ he took dislike to Beren from that moment. Now Beren had been a lover of hounds in his own wild home.

      “Why,” said Tevildo, “do ye dare to bring such a creature before me, unless perchance it is to make meat of him?” But those who led Beren said: “Nay, ’twas the word of Melko that this unhappy Elf wear out his life as a catcher of beasts and birds in Tevildo’s employ.” Then indeed did Tevildo screech in scorn and said: “Then in sooth was my lord asleep or his thoughts were settled elsewhere, for what use think ye is a child of the Eldar to aid the Prince of Cats and his thanes in the catching of birds or of beasts—as well had ye brought some clumsy-footed Man, for none are there either of Elves or Men that can vie with us in our pursuit.” Nonetheless he set Beren to a test, and he bade him go catch three mice, “for my hall is infested with them,” said he. This indeed was not true, as might be imagined, yet a certain few there were—a very wild, evil, and magic kind that dared to dwell there in dark holes, but they were larger than rats and very fierce, and Tevildo harboured them for his own private sport and suffered not their numbers to dwindle.

Three days did Beren hunt them, but having nothing wherewith to devise a trap (and indeed he did not lie to Melko saying that he had cunning in such contrivances) he hunted in vain getting nothing better than a bitten finger for all his labour. Then was Tevildo scornful and in great anger, but Beren got no harm of him or his thanes at that time because of Melko’s bidding other than a few scratches. Evil however were his days thereafter in the dwellings of Tevildo. They made him a scullion, and his days passed miserably in the washing of floors and vessels, in the scrubbing of tables and the hewing of wood and the drawing of water. Often too would he be set to the turning of spits whereon birds and fat mice were daintily roasted for the cats, yet seldom did he get food or sleep himself, and he became haggard and unkempt, and wished often that never straying out of Hisilómë he had not even caught sight of the vision of Tinúviel.

      Now that fair maiden wept for a very great while after Beren’s departure and danced no more about the woods, and Dairon grew angry and could not understand her, but she had grown to love the face of Beren peeping through the branches and the crackle of his feet as they followed her through the wood; and his voice that called wistfully “Tinúviel, Tinúviel” across the stream before her father’s doors she longed to hear again, and she would not now dance when Beren was fled to the evil halls of Melko and maybe had already perished. So bitter did this thought become at last that that most tender maiden went to her mother, for to her father she dared not go nor even suffer him to see her weep.

      “O Gwendeling, my mother,” said she, “tell me of thy magic, if thou canst, how doth Beren fare. Is all yet well with him?” “Nay,” said Gwendeling. “He lives indeed, but in an evil captivity, and hope is dead in his heart, for behold, he is a slave in the power of Tevildo Prince of Cats.”

      “Then,” said Tinúviel, “I must go and succour him, for none else do I know that will.”

Now Gwendeling laughed not, for in many matters she was wise, and forewise, yet it was a thing unthought in a mad dream that any Elf, still less a maiden, the daughter of the king, should fare untended to the halls of Melko, even in those earlier days before the Battle of Tears when Melko’s power had not grown great and he veiled his designs and spread his net of lies. Wherefore did Gwendeling softly bid her not to speak such folly; but Tinúviel said: “Then must thou plead with my father for aid, that he send warriors to Angamandi and demand the freedom of Beren from Ainu Melko.”

      This indeed did Gwendeling do, of love for her daughter, and so wroth was Tinwelint that Tinúviel wished that never had her desire been made known; and Tinwelint bade her nor speak nor think of Beren more, and swore he would slay him an he trod those halls again. Now then Tinúviel pondered much what she might do, and going to Dairon she begged him to aid her, or indeed to fare away with her to Angamandi an he would; but Dairon thought with little love of Beren, and he said: “Wherefore should I go into the direst peril that there is in the world for the sake of a wandering Gnome of the woods? Indeed I have no love for him, for he has destroyed our play together, our music and our dancing.” But Dairon moreover told the king of what Tinúviel had desired of him—and this he did not of ill intent but fearing lest Tinúviel fare away to her death in the madness of her heart.

Now⁵ when Tinwelint heard this he called Tinúviel and said: “Wherefore, O maiden of mine, does thou not put this folly away from thee, and seek to do my bidding?” But Tinúviel would not answer, and the king bade her promise him that neither would she think more on Beren, nor would she seek in her folly to follow after him to the evil lands whether alone or tempting any of his folk with her. But Tinúviel said that the first she would not promise and the second only in part, for she would not tempt any of the folk of the woodlands to go with her.

Then was her father mightily angry, and beneath his anger not a little amazed and afraid, for he loved Tinúviel; but this was the plan he devised, for he might not shut his daughter for ever in the caverns where only a dim and flickering light ever came. Now above the portals of his cavernous hall was a steep slope falling to the river, and there grew mighty beeches; and one there was that was named Hirilorn, the Queen of Trees, for she was very mighty, and so deeply cloven was her bole that it seemed as if three shafts sprang from the ground together and they were of like size, round and straight, and their grey rind was smooth as silk, unbroken by branch or twig for a very great height above men’s heads.

Now Tinwelint let build high up in that strange tree, as high as men could fashion their longest ladders to reach, a little house of wood, and it was above the first branches and was sweetly veiled in leaves. Now that house had three corners and three windows in each wall, and at each corner was one of the shafts of Hirilorn. There then did Tinwelint bid Tinúviel dwell until she would consent to be wise, and when she fared up the ladders of tall pine these were taken from beneath and no way had she to get down again. All that she required was brought to her, and folk would scale the ladders and give her food or whatever else she wished for, and then descending again take away the ladders, and the king promised death to any who left one leaning against the tree or who should try by stealth to place one there at night. A guard therefore was set nigh the tree’s foot, and yet came Dairon often thither in sorrow at what he had brought to pass, for he was lonely without Tinúviel; but Tinúviel had at first much pleasure in her house among the leaves, and would gaze out of her little window while Dairon made his sweetest melodies beneath.

But one night a dream of the Valar came to Tinúviel and she dreamt of Beren, and her heart said: “Let me be gone to seek him whom all others have forgot” and waking, the moon was shining through the trees, and she pondered very deeply how she might escape. Now Tinúviel daughter of Gwendeling was not ignorant of magics or of spells, as may well be believed, and after much thought she devised a plan. The next day she asked those who came to her to bring, if they would, some of the clearest water of the stream below, “but this,” she said, “must be drawn at midnight in a silver bowl, and brought to my hand with no word spoken,” and after that she desired wine to be brought, “but this,” she said, “must be borne hither in a flagon of gold at noon, and he who brings it must sing as he comes,” and they did as they were bid, but Tinwelint was not told.

      Then said Tinúviel, “Go now to my mother and say to her that her daughter desires a spinning wheel to pass her weary hours,” but Dairon secretly she begged fashion her a tiny loom, and he did this even in the little house of Tinúviel in the tree. “But wherewith will you spin and wherewith weave?” said he; and Tinúviel answered: “With spells and magics,” but Dairon knew not her design, nor said more to the king or to Gwendeling.

Now Tinúviel took the wine and water when she was alone, and singing a very magical song the while, she mingled them together, and as they lay in the bowl СКАЧАТЬ