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Unfinished Tales


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For this evil I hold you to blame; and it may be that the King’s law will judge a broken mouth a just return for your taunting.’

      ‘If the cub has a grievance, let him bring it to the King’s judgement,’ answered Saeros. ‘But the drawing of swords here is not to be excused for any such cause. Outside the hall, if the woodwose draws on me, I shall kill him.’

      ‘That seems to me less certain,’ said Mablung; ‘but if either be slain it will be an evil deed, more fit for Angband than Doriath, and more evil will come of it. Indeed I think that some shadow of the North has reached out to touch us tonight. Take heed, Saeros son of Ithilbor, lest you do the will of Morgoth in your pride, and remember that you are of the Eldar.’

      ‘I do not forget it,’ said Saeros; but he did not abate his wrath, and through the night his malice grew, nursing his injury.

      In the morning, when Túrin left Menegroth to return to the north-marches, Saeros waylaid him, running out upon him from behind with drawn sword and shield on arm. But Túrin, trained in the wild to wariness, saw him from the corner of his eye, and leaping aside he drew swiftly and turned upon his foe. ‘Morwen!’ he cried, ‘now your mocker shall pay for his scorn!’ And he clove Saeros’ shield, and then they fought together with swift blades. But Túrin had been long in a hard school, and had grown as agile as any Elf, but stronger. He soon had the mastery, and wounding Saeros’ sword-arm he had him at his mercy. Then he set his foot on the sword that Saeros had let fall. ‘Saeros,’ he said, ‘there is a long race before you, and clothes will be a hindrance; hair must suffice.’ And suddenly throwing him to the ground he stripped him, and Saeros felt Túrin’s great strength, and was afraid. But Túrin let him up, and then ‘Run!’ he cried. ‘Run! And unless you go as swift as the deer I shall prick you on from behind.’ And Saeros fled into the wood, crying wildly for help; but Túrin came after him like a hound, and however he ran, or swerved, still the sword was behind him to egg him on.

      The cries of Saeros brought many others to the chase, and they followed after, but only the swiftest could keep up with the runners. Mablung was in the forefront of these, and he was troubled in mind, for though the taunting had seemed evil to him, ‘malice that wakes in the morning is the mirth of Morgoth ere night’; and it was held moreover a grievous thing to put any of the Elven-folk to shame, self-willed, without the matter being brought to judgement. None knew at that time that Túrin had been assailed first by Saeros, who would have slain him.

      ‘Hold, hold, Túrin!’ he cried. ‘This is Orc-work in the woods!’ But Túrin called back: ‘Orc-work in the woods for Orc-words in the hall!’ and sprang again after Saeros; and he, despairing of aid and thinking his death close behind, ran wildly on, until he came suddenly to a brink where a stream that fed Esgalduin flowed in a deep cleft through high rocks, and it was wide for a deer-leap. There Saeros in his great fear attempted the leap; but he failed of his footing on the far side and fell back with a cry, and was broken on a great stone in the water. So he ended his life in Doriath; and long would Mandos hold him.

      Túrin looked down on his body lying in the stream, and he thought: ‘Unhappy fool! From here I would have let him walk back to Menegroth. Now he has laid a guilt upon me undeserved.’ And he turned and looked darkly on Mablung and his companions, who now came up and stood near him on the brink. Then after a silence Mablung said: ‘Alas! But come back now with us, Túrin, for the King must judge these deeds.’

      But Túrin said: ‘If the King were just, he would judge me guiltless. But was not this one of his counsellors? Why should a just king choose a heart of malice for his friend? I abjure his law and his judgement.’

      ‘Your words are unwise,’ said Mablung, though in his heart he felt pity for Túrin. ‘You shall not turn runagate. I bid you return with me, as a friend. And there are other witnesses. When the King learns the truth you may hope for his pardon.’

      But Túrin was weary of the Elven-halls, and he feared lest he be held captive; and he said to Mablung: ‘I refuse your bidding. I will not seek King Thingol’s pardon for nothing; and I will go now where his doom cannot find me. You have but two choices: to let me go free, or to slay me, if that would fit your law. For you are too few to take me alive.’

      They saw in his eyes that this was true, and they let him pass; and Mablung said: ‘One death is enough.’

      ‘I did not will it, but I do not mourn it,’ said Túrin. ‘May Mandos judge him justly; and if ever he return to the lands of the living, may he prove wiser. Farewell!’

      ‘Fare free!’ said Mablung; ‘for that is your wish. But well I do not hope for, if you go in this way. A shadow is on your heart. When we meet again, may it be no darker.’

      To that Túrin made no answer, but left them, and went swiftly away, none knew whither.

      It is told that when Túrin did not return to the north-marches of Doriath and no tidings could be heard of him, Beleg Strongbow came himself to Menegroth to seek him; and with heavy heart he gathered news of Túrin’s deeds and flight. Soon afterwards Thingol and Melian came back to their halls, for the summer was waning; and when the King heard report of what had passed he sat upon his throne in the great hall of Menegroth, and about him were all the lords and counsellors of Doriath.

      Then all was searched and told, even to the parting words of Túrin; and at the last Thingol sighed, and he said: ‘Alas! How has this shadow stolen into my realm? Saeros I accounted faithful and wise; but if he lived he would feel my anger, for his taunting was evil, and I hold him to blame for all that chanced in the hall. So far Túrin has my pardon. But the shaming of Saeros and the hounding of him to his death were wrongs greater than the offence, and these deeds I cannot pass over. They show a hard heart, and proud.’ Then Thingol fell silent, but at last he spoke again in sadness. ‘This is an ungrateful fosterson, and a Man too proud for his state. How shall I harbour one who scorns me and my law, or pardon one who will not repent? Therefore I will banish Túrin son of Húrin from the kingdom of Doriath. If he seeks entry he shall be brought to judgement before me; and until he sues for pardon at my feet he is my son no longer. If any here accounts this unjust, let him speak.’

      Then there was silence in the hall, and Thingol lifted up his hand to pronounce his doom. But at that moment Beleg entered in haste, and cried: ‘Lord, may I yet speak?’

      ‘You come late,’ said Thingol. ‘Were you not bidden with the others?’

      ‘Truly, lord,’ answered Beleg, ‘but I was delayed; I sought for one whom I knew. Now I bring at last a witness who should be heard, ere your doom falls.’

      ‘All were summoned who had aught to tell,’ said the King. ‘What can he tell now of more weight than those to whom I have listened?’

      ‘You shall judge when you have heard,’ said Beleg. ‘Grant this to me, if I have ever deserved your grace.’

      ‘To you I grant it,’ said Thingol. Then Beleg went out, and led in by the hand the maiden Nellas, who dwelt in the woods, and came never into Menegroth; and she was afraid, both for the great pillared hall and the roof of stone, and for the company of many eyes that watched her. And when Thingol bade her speak, she said: ‘Lord, I was sitting in a tree’; but then she faltered in awe of the King, and could say no more.

      At that the King smiled, and said: ‘Others have done this also, but have felt no need to tell me of it.’

      ‘Others indeed,’ said she, taking courage from his smile. ‘Even Lúthien! And of her I was thinking that morning, and of Beren the Man.’

      To that Thingol said nothing, and he smiled no longer, but waited until Nellas should speak again.

      ‘For Túrin reminded me of Beren,’ she said at last. ‘They are akin, I am told, and their kinship can be seen by some: by some that look close.’

      Then Thingol grew impatient. ‘That may be,’ he said. ‘But Túrin son of Húrin is gone in scorn of me, and you will see him no more to read his kindred. For now I will speak my judgement.’

      ‘Lord King!’ she cried then. ‘Bear