The Lays of Beleriand. Christopher Tolkien

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СКАЧАТЬ ogres and Orcs and evil foemen;’twas o’erwritten with runes by wrights of old.300She bade Thingol receive it and think of her.

Thus Halog her henchman came home, but the Elves,
the thanes of Thingol, thrust through the woods,
and the message of Morwin in a month’s journey,
so quick their coming, to the king was said.	305
Then was Melian moved to ruth,
and courteously received the king her gift,
who deeply delved had dungeons filled
with Elfin armouries of ancient gear,
but he handled the helm as his hoard were scant;	310
said: ‘High were the head that upheld this thing
with that token crowned of the towering dragon
that Thalion Erithámrod thrice-renownéd
oft bore into battle with baleful foes.’
Then a thought was thrust into Thingol’s heart,	315
and Túrin he called and told when come
that Morwin his mother a mighty thing
had sent to her son, his sire’s heirloom,
a helm that hammers had hardened of old,
whose makers had mingled a magic therein	320
that its worth was a wonder and its wearer safe,
guarded from glaive or gleaming axe –
‘Lo! Húrin’s helm hoard thou till manhood
bids thee battle; then bravely don it’;
and Túrin touched it, but took it not,	325
too weak to wield that weight as yet,
and his mind mournéd for Morwin’s answer,
and the first of his sorrows o’erfilled his soul.

Thus came it to pass in the court of Thingol
that Túrin tarried for twelve long years	330
with Gumlin his guardian, who guided him thither
when but seven summers their sorrows had laid
on the son of Thalion. For the seven first
his lot was lightened, since he learnt at whiles
from faring folk what befell in Hithlum,	335
and tidings were told by trusty Elves,
how Morwin his mother was more at ease;
and they named Nienor that now was growing
to the sweet beauty of a slender maiden.
Thus his heart knew hope, and his hap was fairer.	340
There he waxed wonderly and won him praise
in all lands where Thingol as lord was held
for the strength of his body and stoutness of heart.
Much lore he learned, and loved wisdom,
but fortune followed him in few desires;	345
oft wrong and awry what he wrought turnéd;
what he loved he lost, what he longed for he won not;
and full friendship he found not easily,
nor was lightly loved for his looks were sad.
He was gloomy-hearted, and glad seldom,	350
for the sundering sorrow that seared his youth.

On manhood’s threshold he was mighty holden
in the wielding of weapons; and in weaving song
he had a minstrel’s mastery, but mirth was not in it,
for he mourned the misery of the Men of Hithlum.	355
Yet greater his grief grew thereafter,
when from Hithlum’s hills he heard no more,

and no traveller told him tidings of Morwin.
For those days were drawing to the Doom of the Gnomes,
and the power of the Prince of the People of Hell,	360
of the grim Glamhoth, was grown apace,
till the lands of the North were loud with their noise,
and they fell on the folk with flame and ruin
who bent not to Bauglir, or the borders passed
of dark Dorlómin with its dreary pines	365
that Hithlum unhappy is hight by Men.
There Morgoth shut them, and the Shadowy Mountains
fenced them from Faërie and the folk of the wood.
Even Beleg fared not so far abroad
as once was his wont, and the woods were filled	370
with the armies of Angband and evil deeds,
while murder walked on the marches of Doriath;
only mighty magic of Melian the Queen
yet held their havoc from the Hidden People.

      Two pages from the original manuscript of The Lay of the Children of Húrin

To assuage his sorrow and to sate the rage	375
and hate of his heart for the hurts of his folk
then Húrin’s son took the helm of his sire
and weapons weighty for the wielding of men,
and went to the woods with warlike Elves;
and far in the fight his feet led him,	380
into black battle yet a boy in years.
Ere manhood’s measure he met and slew
the Orcs of Angband and evil things
that roamed and ravened on the realm’s borders.
There hard his life, and hurts he got him,	385
the wounds of shaft and warfain sword,
and his prowess was proven and his praise renowned,
and beyond his years he was yielded honour;
for by him was holden the hand of ruin
from Thingol’s folk, and Thû feared him –	390
Thû who was thronéd as thane most mighty
neath Morgoth Bauglir; whom that mighty one bade
‘Go ravage the realm of the robber Thingol,
and mar the magic of Melian the Queen.’

Only one was there in war greater,	395
higher in honour in the hearts of the Elves,
than Túrin son of Húrin untamed in war –
even the huntsman Beleg of the Hidden People,
the son of the wilderness who wist no sire
(to bend whose bow of the black yew-tree	400
had none the might), unmatched in knowledge
of the wood’s secrets and the weary hills.
He was leader beloved of the light-armed bands,
the scouts that scoured, scorning danger,
afar o’er the fells their foemen’s lairs;	405
and tales and tidings timely won them
of camps and councils, of comings and goings –
all the movements of the might of Morgoth the Terrible.
Thus Túrin, who trusted to targe and sword,
who was fain of fighting with foes well seen,	410
and the banded troops of his brave comrades
were snared seldom and smote unlooked-for.

Then the fame of the fights on the far marches
were carried to the court of the King of Doriath,
and tales of Túrin were told in his halls,	415
and how Beleg the ageless was brother-in-arms
to the black-haired boy from the beaten people.
Then the king called them to come before him
ever and anon when the Orc-raids waned;
to rest them and revel, and to raise awhile	420
the secret songs of the sons of Ing.
On a time was Túrin at the table of Thingol –
there was laughter long and the loud clamour
of a countless company that quaffed the mead,
amid the wine of Dor-Winion that went ungrudged	425
in their golden goblets; and goodly meats
there burdened the boards, neath the blazing torches
set high in those halls that were hewn of stone.
There mirth fell on many; there minstrels clear
did sing to them songs of the city of Tûn	430
neath Tain-Gwethil, towering mountain,
where the great gods sit and gaze on the world
from the guarded shores of the gulf of Faërie.
Then one sang of the slaying at the Swanships’ Haven
and the curse that had come on the kindreds since:	435
all silent sat and soundless harkened,
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