The Lays of Beleriand. Christopher Tolkien

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СКАЧАТЬ bracken madly,like a deer driven by dogs bayingfrom his hiding in the hills and hollow places;and Flinding followed fearful after him1030neath the yawning gate, through yew-thickets,through bogs and bents and bushes shrunken,till they reached the rocks and the riven moorlandsand friendless fells falling darklyto the dusty dunes of Dor-na-Fauglith.1035In a cup outcarven on the cold hillside,whose broken brink was bleakly fringedwith bended bushes bowed in anguishfrom the North-wind’s knife, beneath them farthe feasting camp of their foes was laid;1040the fiery flare of fuming torches,and black bodies in the blaze they sawcrossing countlessly, and cries they heardand the hollow howling of hungry wolves.

Then a moon mounted o’er the mists riding,	1045
and the keen radiance of the cold moonshine
the shadows sharpened in the sheer hollows,
and slashed the slopes with slanting blackness;
in wreaths uprising the reek of fires
was touched to tremulous trails of silver.	1050
Then the fires faded, and their foemen slumbered
in a sleep of surfeit. No sentinel watched,
nor guards them girdled – what good were it
to watch wakeful in those withered regions
neath Eiglir Engrin, whence the eyes of Bauglir	1055
gazed unclosing from the gates of Hell?
Did not werewolves’ eyes unwinking gleam
in the wan moonlight – the wolves that sleep not,
that sit in circles with slavering tongues
round camp or clearing of the cruel Glamhoth?	1060
Then was Beleg a-shudder, and the unblinking eyes
nigh chilled his marrow and chained his flesh
in fear unfathomed, as flat to earth
by a boulder he lay. Lo! black cloud-drifts
surged up like smoke from the sable North,	1065
and the sheen was shrouded of the shivering moon;
the wind came wailing from the woeful mountains,
and the heath unhappy hissed and whispered;
and the moans came faint of men in torment
in the camp accursed. His quiver rattled	1070
as he found his feet and felt his bow,
hard horn-pointed, by hands of cunning
of black yew wrought; with bears’ sinews
it was stoutly strung; strength to bend it
had nor Man nor Elf save the magic helped him	1075
that Beleg the bowman now bore alone.
No arrows of the Orcs so unerring wingéd
as his shaven shafts that could shoot to a mark
that was seen but in glance ere gloom seized it.
Then Dailir he drew, his dart beloved;	1080
howso far fared it, or fell unnoted,
unsought he found it with sound feathers
and barbs unbroken (till it broke at last);
and fleet bade he fly that feather-pinioned
snaketonguéd shaft, as he snicked the string	1085
in the notch nimbly, and with naked arm
to his ear drew it. The air whistled,
and the tingling string twanged behind it,
soundless a sentinel sank before it –
there was one of the wolves that awaked no more.	1090
Now arrows after he aimed swiftly
that missed not their mark and meted silent
death in the darkness dreadly stinging,
till three of the wolves with throats piercéd,
and four had fallen with fleet-wingéd	1095
arrows a-quivering in their quenchéd eyes.
Then great was the gap in the guard opened,
and Beleg his bow unbent, and said:
‘Wilt come to the camp, comrade Flinding,
or await me watchful? If woe betide	1100
thou might win with word through the woods homeward
to Thingol the king how throve my quest,
how Túrin the tall was trapped by fate,
how Beleg the bowman to his bane hasted.’
Then Flinding fiercely, though fear shook him:	1105
‘I have followed thee far, O forest-walker,
nor will leave thee now our league denying!’
Then both bow and sword Beleg left there
with his belt unbound in the bushes tangled
of a dark thicket in a dell nigh them,	1110
and Flinding there laid his flickering lamp
and his nailéd shoes, and his knife only
he kept, that uncumbered he might creep silent.

Thus those brave in dread down the bare hillside
towards the camp clambered creeping wary,	1115
and dared that deed in days long past
whose glory has gone through the gates of earth,
and songs have sung unceasing ringing
wherever the Elves in ancient places
had light or laughter in the later world.	1120
With breath bated on the brink of the dale
they stood and stared through stealthy shadows,
till they saw where the circle of sleepless eyes
was broken; with hearts beating dully
they passed the places where pierced and bleeding	1125
the wolves weltered by wingéd death
unseen smitten; as smoke noiseless
they slipped silent through the slumbering throngs
as shadowy wraiths shifting vaguely
from gloom to gloom, till the Gods brought them	1130
and the craft and cunning of the keen huntsman
to Túrin the tall where he tumbled lay
with face downward in the filthy mire,
and his feet were fettered, and fast in bonds
anguish enchained his arms behind him.	1135
There he slept or swooned, as sunk in oblivion
by drugs of darkness deadly blended;
he heard not their whispers; no hope stirred him
nor the deep despair of his dreams fathomed;
to awake his wit no words availed.	1140
No blade would bite on the bonds he wore,
though Flinding felt for the forgéd knife
of dwarfen steel, his dagger prizéd,
that at waist he wore awake or sleeping,
whose edge would eat through iron noiseless	1145
as a clod of clay is cleft by the share.
It was wrought by wrights in the realms of the East,
in black Belegost, by the bearded Dwarves
of troth unmindful; it betrayed him now
from its sheath slipping as o’er shaggy slades	1150
and roughhewn rocks their road they wended.

‘We must bear him back as best we may,’
said Beleg, bending his broad shoulders.
Then the head he lifted of Húrin’s offspring,
and Flinding go-Fuilin the feet claspéd;	1155
and doughty that deed, for in days long gone
though Men were of mould less mighty builded
ere the earth’s goodness from the Elves they drew,
though the Elfin kindreds ere old was the sun
were of might unminished, nor the moon haunted	1160
faintly fading as formed of shadows
in places unpeopled, yet peers they were not
in bone and flesh and body’s fashioning,
and Túrin was tallest of the ten races
that in Hithlum’s hills their homes builded.	1165
Like a log they lifted his limbs mighty,
and straining staggered with stealth and fear,
with bodies bending and bones aching,
from the cruel dreaming of the camp of dread,
where spearmen drowsed sprawling drunken	1170
by their moon-blades keen with murder whetted
mid their shaven shafts in sheaves piléd.

Now Beleg the brave backward led them,
but his foot fumbled and he fell thudding
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