SCENE V

[Scene: Beleg is leading Túrin and the two old servants through the woods. It is bright and clear, and the woods have a wholesome sense about them that the woods by Húrin’s house in Act I do not have. As they emerge through the trees, they see before them a bright, silver stream bubbling past, and a slender, grey stone bridge over it, and beyond that a hill, like a great hump of stone, rears up above ground, with a great gate in the center. As they cross over the bridge, they see at the other end, in front of the closed gate, four guards, clad in mail, with silver helms and spears; overall much more formally dressed than their woodland guide. When they see Beleg they nod to him, and the great stone doors open, by some unseen force, and swing towards them on invisible hinges.]

Beleg: [looks back at Túrin and the two men]

                Come, I will lead you to King Thingol’s seat.

[They follow him inside through a hallway, which goes down about fifty feet, then Beleg turns to the right, into the door of a wide, open room, and the mortals gasp in wonder at what they see. The room is like a great hallway, or a common room, with very high ceilings. It is upheld by huge pillars, that, although wrought of stone, are carven and painted so that they look like live trees, of various sorts (mostly beech). The bark looks so real that it almost seems as if one could cut it off with a knife. These pillars are complete with boughs, branching out, and leaves that sparkle as if sunshine were lighting upon them; for beautiful lanterns, made of silver and glass, are hanging on them, beaming a soft diaphanous golden light. These lamps also hang from the ceiling, when Túrin looks up in wonder. The ceiling is a wonder all to itself: there are images (perhaps painted, but they look so real it is hard to tell) of the moon and sun, and of the stars in their various constellations, and clouds and mists. They are so real that it feels as if one is looking up at the sky itself. Hearing a bird, Túrin looks over in surprise, and sees that real live nightingales are sitting on the branches of the tree-like pillars, singing away as if they really were outside. Beleg leads them down this long hall, as they gaze about them in wonder. On the floor on the sides of the hall are many fountains, of different sizes and shapes, mostly made of silver and white marble. They spill down into little streams that run out into the pans and are collected back again. Then Túrin looks around at the walls, which are just as marvelous as the ceiling, except here are painted many things that are less easy to recognize. There is one mural that takes up about thirty feet on one wall of a beautiful garden, made rather mysterious-looking by the mist that circles about it, but bright, with fountains in it, and flowers, and trees with a silver light pervading all. Another mural has two very tall trees in it, one entirely gold with light green leaves, the other all silver with dark green leaves. Light emanates from the Trees as if it were their being itself. Another image shows two people sitting on thrones, as if King and Queen. The King holds a blue scepter in his hand, and the Queen has a silver crown, as if it were made of starlight. The rest of the picture is dark, besides them, (for they seem to be the light in the picture) and the stars that glint behind their thrones in the background. Also, carven images of birds and of beasts are scattered throughout the hall, either on the pillars themselves, or lurking behind the fountains. Now Túrin begins to notice that there are many people in the hall, and that most of them have stopped what they are doing and are looking at him. There are no old people in this crowd – all appear to be young adults, slender and fair. They are clothed in beautiful raiment, of soft colours and textures. Most of them are dark haired, but some have a lighter hair colour. Beleg, looking down at Túrin, notices that he is peering carefully at every face, especially the female faces, that come near him.]

Beleg: [bends down and whispers to him:]

                What do you look for, son of Húrin?

Túrin: [blushes slightly, looking shy:]

I … I once had a sister named Lalaith, and she was the fairest thing I have ever known. There are so many beautiful faces here, I thought I might … might see something like hers among them.

[He then hangs his head. Beleg smiles, but does not say anything, for now the end of the hall comes into view, and there is a dais about three or four steps high of white marble, set above the floor, which is made of the same material. The crowd parts as they pass, and Túrin looks up, and sees that not all of these have dark or yellow hair. A very tall figure sits on the throne, his hair a diaphanous, shining silver colour, and a thin silver circlet set about his head. Next to him in another throne sits a woman with dark hair, nearly as tall as the man, and she also wears a silver circlet about her head. They both are very beautiful, the woman especially, who wears a flowing grey and white dress that billows about her onto the dais. But there is something other-worldly about her beauty, as if it is too distant to grasp, but so present that it is almost overwhelming. As they approach the thrones, Túrin looks up into their faces, and when he sees the lady’s, he casts his head down, in wonder or embarrassment. Beleg stops before the thrones, and bows low to the King and Queen. The two servants behind him do the same, and Túrin awkwardly tries to follow their lead. The silver-haired King speaks, with a voice very deep, flowing and beautiful.]

Thingol: [to Beleg:]

                Welcome back, Beleg Strongbow, from the North marches.

Beleg:

Thank you, my lord. But I have brought some few with me, who have journeyed far to speak with you.

Thingol: [nods]

                Yes, that is well. Come forward!

[Beleg stands to the side and motions to them to come forward. Gethron stands forward and speaks to the King.]

Gethron:

King Thingol, many are the tales that have come down to us of the majesty and safety of your halls, and in this dark time my Mistress, the Lady Morwen of Dor-lómin has bid us, my companion and me, to find a way into Doriath, and there, if it might be, to find a haven and refuge for her son, Túrin, the son of Húrin, my master, lord of the House of Hador. He has not returned from the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, and we know not what has befallen him. Therefore, my Lady Morwen bid me to beg your grace, in that her son may live here in safety, for the foul Easterlings have control over our land. She could not come herself, for she is with child, and travel is hard.

Thingol: [motioning to Túrin]

                And this is the boy?

Gethron:

                Yes, Lord.

Thingol: [leans over and motions to Túrin; kindly:]

                Come here, Túrin.

[Túrin looks rather overwhelmed, but comes over slowly and walks up the dais, to stand before the King. To his surprise, and the surprise of all in the hall who stand and watch, Thingol stands up from his throne and picks up the boy, then sits back down again with Túrin on his lap. Then he speaks to Túrin as well as to everyone else there:]

Here, son of Húrin, shall your home be; and in all your life you shall be held as my own son, Man though you are. Wisdom shall be given unto you beyond the measure of mortal Men, and weapons of the Elves shall be set in your hands. Perhaps the time may come when you shall regain the lands of your father in Dor-lómin. But now, dwell here in love.

[Túrin is overwhelmed and looks like he doesn’t know what to say, but after a moment he says:]

Túrin:

                Th – thank you, Lord.

[For the first time, the Queen speaks, and her voice is soft like silver and melodious like the music of a stream.]

Melian:

                I suppose you would like news of your mother in Dor-lómin, Túrin?

                [Túrin looks over at her, but looks down again from her face in wonder.]

Túrin:

                Y – yes, Lady. Very much.

Melian: [smiles]

Then we shall send out messengers back to Morwen, and see if she will come back with them to this kingdom. For she will be safe here, and her child.

                [Túrin’s face visibly lights up at this suggestion.]

Túrin:

                Oh – thank you, Lady!

                [Thingol smiles, and looks down at the two old servants who stand before him.]

Thingol:

                I suppose you shall wish to return to your own land and your Lady?

Grithnir:

                Yes, Lord, if it please you.

Thingol:

Very well. You shall go with my messengers, when I send them. They shall leave in a fortnight.

[looks down at the boy on his lap]

Now, Túrin, shall I have someone show you to the room that you will have?

[Túrin nods unsteadily, still too excited about the prospect of his mother coming to answer properly. Thingol lifts him gently off his lap, and is about to motion to a servant to come to him when Beleg says:]

Beleg: [intervening:]

                Lord, I am willing to help the boy become accustomed to this new place.

Thingol:

                Very well, Cúthalion. You may show him to his room.

[Túrin walks out beside Beleg, the two older servants following him out of the hall, while the people part the way for them, and look at them in wonder. Scene fades.]