The Lays of Beleriand Read Online Free Page A

beauty of a slender maiden.
    Thus his heart knew hope, and his hap was fairer.
    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;
    oft wrong and awry what he wrought turned;
    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,
    for the sundering sorrow that seared his youth.
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    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.
    Yet greater his grief grew thereafter,
    when from Hithlum's hills he heard no more,
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    Two pages from the original manuscript of The Lay of the Children of Hurin.) 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 Dorlomin with its dreary pines
    that Hithlum unhappy is hight by Men.
    There Morgoth shut them, and the Shadowy Mountains fenced them from Faerie and the folk of the wood.
    Even Beleg fared not so far abroad
    as once was his wont, and the woods were filled with the armies of Angband and evil deeds,
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    while murder walked on the marches of Doriath; only mighty magic of Melian the Queen
    yet held their havoc from the Hidden People.
    To assuage his sorrow and to sate the rage
    and hate of his heart for the hurts of his folk then Hurin'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,
    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,

    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 Thu feared him --
    Thu who was throned 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.'
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    Only one was there in war greater,
    higher in honour in the hearts of the Elves,
    than Turin son of Hurin untamed in war --
    even the huntsman Beleg of the Hidden People, 395
    the son of the wilderness who wist no sire
    (to bend whose bow of the black yew-tree
    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;
    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 Turin, who trusted to targe and sword,
    who was fain of fighting with foes well seen, and the banded troops of his brave comrades
    were snared seldom and smote unlooked-for.
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    Then the fame of the fights on the far marches were carried to the court of the King of Doriath, and tales of Turin were told in his halls,
    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
    the secret songs of the sons of Ing.
    On a time was Turin at the table of Thingol --
    there was laughter long and the loud clamour
    of a