Act II – Doriath

SCENE IV

Minstrel:

The Elven kingdom of Thingol was a stone city, hewed from the caves in the mountains, and forests surrounded it. The Queen of Doriath was Melian, a mighty Power who protected the Realm by weaving a girdle of enchantment about it, so that none might enter it against her will, but were lost and wandered in the woods. Even so it happened to Túrin and the two servants.

[Scene: Túrin lying on the ground, looking pale and tired. The two servants sit together, several feet away from him, speaking quietly together.]

Gethron: [whispering:]

We cannot go on like this, much longer. The poor boy is famished. We are completely out of food.

Grithnir:

But what more can we do? We have wandered in these accursed woods for nearly a fortnight. Shall we get up and wander more, wearing ourselves out until death comes, welcome or unwelcome?

Gethron: [disturbed:]

I know not. But the poor Lord Túrin cannot even walk any more. And I am tired from having to carry him on my back. Are there no berries or roots to gather that we may eat?

Grithnir: [angry:]

I do not know. Ah, I would that I could hunt, were I not so weary! We cannot fail the trust that the Lady Morwen put upon us!

[long pause. They both are seemingly thinking. At last they lie down and look like they are resting. Slowly they close their eyes. After a moment, a faint sound like a horn blowing wafts over from a distance. Túrin slowly sits up, and looks away into the trees.]

Túrin: [whispering:]

                What is that noise? And what is that over there?

                [He leans over and touches’ Gethron’s motionless form]

                Gethron! I see something over there!

[Gethron sits up slowly and peers away through the trees where Túrin is pointing.]

Gethron:

                What is it? I cannot see anything, Túrin.

Túrin: [pointing:]

                Look! There –

[He stops because a huge form suddenly comes out of the trees where he was pointing. They soon see that it is the figure of a huge man, very tall and strong, with long dark hair, held back from his very fair face, which expresses consternation and a bit of curiosity. He is wearing dark green and light brown clothing, as of that of a hunter or woodsman. He holds a long bow in his hand, made of a dark yew wood. It is so tall that is reaches from his feet almost up to his head. A quiver of arrows is on his back, but he does not have an arrow in his hand, and his pose does not look threatening. Grithnir sits up, and for several moments all three of them sit still, looking at the standing figure, who looks back at them with just as much curiosity. At last he starts walking over to them slowly, and speaks, with a slight accent, different from that of Túrin and everyone else in Act I:]

Beleg: [speaking rather slowly:]

I am Beleg, called the Strongbow, the March Warden of King Thingol. I dwell ever in the woods and I heard your cries. You look famished. Will you not take some of the food that I have?

[He looks down at Túrin and smiles at him kindly. Túrin looks over at his companions questioningly.]

Gethron: [softly, to Túrin:]

                I think it is all right, Túrin. This is a soldier of the Elven King.

Beleg: [nods]

All shall now be well. Once you tell me your names and your purpose, I may lead you to the King.

[He comes and sits down beside them, and takes out a small pack that was on his back, and retrieves some small loaves of bread, and also a water bottle, that looks as if it is made of reeds, woven together. He hands the food to them, to Túrin first, and watches them in silence as they eat it ravenously. Then he passes the water bottle around to them.]

Grithnir: [heartfelt:]

Thank you, sir Strongbow. For nearly a fortnight we have wandered in these woods and could not find our way out. It seemed almost a maze that kept winding about to ensnare us.

Beleg: [nods solemnly:]

Your conjecture is very near the truth: our Queen, Melian, has woven an enchantment about the land so that none may enter against her will.

[Túrin looks up at the tall man and speaks for the first time.]

Túrin: [curiously:]

                How can she do that?

Beleg: [smiles at him]

She is not an Elf, but a Maia, of divine race, and she has powers above those of Elven-kind.

                [Something dawns on Túrin’s face, as if he has just realized something.]

Túrin: [in wonder:]

                Are you an Elf?

Beleg: [kindly:]

                Yes, lad, I am.

Túrin:

                I have never seen an Elf before!

Beleg: [facetious:]

                We are not overly interesting people.

[Túrin looks down, in thought, and does not answer. Beleg turns to the two older servants:]

Though I can tell that you all are not Elves. Come! Will you not tell me now your names and your purpose here, so that I may know better what to do next?

Gethron: [slowly:]

Indeed, we are of mortal kindred. I am Gethron, and this is my companion Grithnir. We travel with Túrin, the son of Húrin –

                [Here he motions to the boy]

– and we come from his mother, the Lady Morwen of the land of Dor-lómin. She has sent us to King Thingol in the land of Doriath, to find harbour, if Thingol will allow it, of Túrin her son.

Grithnir: [clarifying:]

Húrin our Lord has not returned from the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, and Lady Morwen fears for the safety of her son.

[Beleg looks over in sorrow and kindness at Túrin, who is sitting with his head down, staring at the grass, perhaps trying to hide his tears from the warrior.]

Beleg:

                I would that I could tell you some news of him, for I was at that Battle as well.

                [Túrin looks up at him suddenly, and two tears glisten on his eyelids.]

Túrin: [eager:]

                You were there? Did you see my father?

Beleg:

I did, for I fought under the banner of King Fingon. But we were separated during the battle, and I did not see him anymore.

[Túrin looks down again at the grass in sorrow, but Beleg keeps looking at him, and at last says.]

I will take you to King Thingol, Túrin. Tell me: what gift would you like from the King?

Túrin: [looks up at him; proudly:]

                I would be one of his knights, to ride against Morgoth, and avenge my father.

Beleg: [smiling]

That may well be so. Perhaps you and I shall share many perils together. You, I, and my friend, Mablung, who is often on the marches with me. Come, I will lead you now to King Thingol’s halls.