The Children of Húrin

‘Because she spoke to me, before she died,’ said Dorlas. ‘She looked upon us as though seeking one whom she had expected, and she said: “Mormegil. Tell the Mormegil that Finduilas is here.” She said no more. But because of her latest words we laid her where she died. She lies in a mound beside Teiglin. Yes, it is a month now ago.’

‘Bring me there,’ said Túrin; and they led him to a hillock by the Crossings of Teiglin. There he laid himself down, and a darkness fell on him, so that they thought he was dead. But Dorlas looked down at him as he lay, and then he turned to his men and said: ‘Too late! This is a piteous chance. But see: here lies the Mormegil himself, the great captain of Nargothrond. By his sword we should have known him, as did the Orcs.’ For the fame of the Black Sword of the South had gone far and wide, even into the deeps of the wood.

Now therefore they lifted him with reverence and bore him to Ephel Brandir; and Brandir coming to meet them wondered at the bier that they bore. Then drawing back the coverlet he looked on the face of Túrin son of Húrin; and a dark shadow fell on his heart. ‘O cruel Men of Haleth!’ he cried. ‘Why did you hold back death from this man? With great labour you have brought hither the last bane of our people.’

But the woodmen said: ‘Nay, it is the Mormegil of Nargothrond, a mighty Orc-slayer, and he shall be a great help to us, if he lives. And were it not so, should we leave a man woe-stricken to lie as carrion by the way?’

‘You should not indeed,’ said Brandir. ‘Doom willed it not so.’ And he took Túrin into his house and tended him with care.

But when at last Túrin shook off the darkness, spring was returning; and he awoke and saw sun on the green buds. Then the courage of the House of Hador awoke in him also, and he arose and said in his heart: ‘All my deeds and past days were dark and full of evil. But a new day is come. Here I will stay at peace, and renounce name and kin; and so I will put my shadow behind me, or at the least not lay it upon those that I love.’

Therefore he took a new name, calling himself Turambar, which in the High-elven speech signified Master of Doom; and he dwelt among the woodmen, and was loved by them, and he charged them to forget his name of old, and to count him as one born in Brethil. Yet with the change of a name he could not change wholly his temper, nor forget his old griefs against the servants of Morgoth; and he would go hunting the Orcs with a few of the same mind, though this was displeasing to Brandir. For he hoped rather to preserve his people by silence and secrecy.

‘The Mormegil is no more,’ said he, ‘yet have a care lest the valour of Turambar bring a like vengeance on Brethil!’

Therefore Turambar laid his black sword by, and took it no more to battle, and wielded rather the bow and the spear. But he would not suffer the Orcs to use the Crossings of Teiglin or draw near the mound where Finduilas was laid. Haudh-en-Elleth it was named, the Mound of the Elf-maid, and soon the Orcs learned to dread that place, and shunned it. And Dorlas said to Turambar: ‘You have renounced the name, but the Blacksword you are still; and does not rumour say truly that he was the son of Húrin of Dor-lómin, lord of the House of Hador?’

And Turambar answered: ‘So I have heard. But publish it not, I beg you, as you are my friend.’

CHAPTER XIV

THE JOURNEY OF MORWEN AND NIËNOR TO NARGOTHROND

When the Fell Winter withdrew new tidings of Nargothrond came to Doriath. For some that escaped from the sack, and had survived the winter in the wild, came at last seeking refuge with Thingol, and the march-wards brought them to the King. And some said that all the enemy had withdrawn northwards, and others that Glaurung abode still in the halls of Felagund; and some said that the Mormegil was slain, and others that he was cast under a spell by the Dragon and dwelt there yet, as one changed to stone. But all declared that it was known in Nargothrond ere the end that the Blacksword was none other than Túrin son of Húrin of Dor-lómin.

Then great was the fear and sorrow of Morwen and of Niënor; and Morwen said: ‘Such doubt is the very work of Morgoth! May we not learn the truth, and know surely the worst that we must endure?’

Now Thingol himself desired greatly to know more of the fate of Nargothrond, and had in mind already the sending out of some that might go warily thither, but he believed that Túrin was indeed slain or beyond rescue, and he was loath to see the hour when Morwen should know this clearly. Therefore he said to her: ‘This is a perilous matter, Lady of Dor-lómin, and must be pondered. Such doubt may in truth be the work of Morgoth, to draw us on to some rashness.’

But Morwen being distraught cried: ‘Rashness, lord! If my son lurks in the woods hungry, if he lingers in bonds, if his body lies unburied, then I would be rash. I would lose no hour to go to seek him.’

‘Lady of Dor-lómin,’ said Thingol, ‘that surely the son of Húrin would not desire. Here would he think you better bestowed than in any other land that remains: in the keeping of Melian. For Húrin’s sake and Túrin’s I would not have you wander abroad in the black peril of these days.’

‘You did not hold Túrin from peril, but me you will hold from him,’ cried Morwen. ‘In the keeping of Melian! Yes, a prisoner of the Girdle! Long did I hold back before I entered it, and now I rue it.’

‘Nay, if you speak so, Lady of Dor-lómin,’ said Thingol, ‘know this: the Girdle is open. Free you came hither: free you shall stay – or go.’

Then Melian, who had remained silent, spoke: ‘Go not hence, Morwen. A true word you said: this doubt is of Morgoth. If you go, you go at his will.’

‘Fear of Morgoth will not withhold me from the call of my kin,’ Morwen answered. ‘But if you fear for me, lord, then lend me some of your people.’

‘I command you not,’ said Thingol. ‘But my people are my own to command. I will send them at my own advice.’

Then Morwen said no more, but wept; and she left the presence of the King. Thingol was heavy-hearted, for it seemed to him that the mood of Morwen was fey; and he asked Melian whether she would not restrain her by her power. ‘Against the coming in of evil I may do much,’ she answered. ‘But against the going out of those who will go, nothing. That is your part. If she is to be held here, you must hold her with strength. Yet maybe thus you will overthrow her mind.’

Now Morwen went to Niënor, and said: ‘Farewell, daughter of Húrin. I go to seek my son, or true tidings of him, since none here will do aught, but tarry till too late. Await me here until haply I return.’ Then Niënor in dread and distress would restrain her, but Morwen answered nothing, and went to her chamber; and when morning came she had taken horse and gone.