SCENE X

[Scene: the camp of the outlaws. It is now spring, and all things are green and bright. All the outlaws, except Forweg and Andróg, are idling about, under the trees in front of the mouth of a cave. Túrin is sitting by himself, apart from the others, with some paper in his hands, writing something. Ulrad and Algund sit together by the mouth of the cave, talking quietly together.]

Algund: [nodding toward Túrin]

                It seems that Neithan is learned in letters as well as in speech and lore.

Ulrad:

                I think so. I have seen him write much, when we have time free.

Algund:

Aye, now that we wait deedless for Forweg to return. Where have he and Andróg gone?

                [Ulrad shrugs.]

Ulrad:

                I do not know. I hope it is not for some evil deed.

                [At Algund’s questioning glance.]

Neithan – is kind, and seems to care little for himself, and yet – I think that Andróg was right – he is a dangerous man. I fear him in his sudden angers, which I seldom understand.

Algund: [nods]

Ah! I see. Indeed. And yet I trust him. He is honest, and generous, giving of all he has to others.

Ulrad:

                Perhaps that comes of the injustice that he spoke of that he suffered.

Algund: [shrugs]

                I would not know, for he will not speak of it.

Ulrad: [pursuing:]

                But he always seems open to others’ tales of injustice as well.

Algund: [nods]

And yet I think he does not approve of much of what we do. Do you recall, when he found out that Andróg had killed that old lame man from the village nearby to steal his cattle, how angry he was? – I have never seen anyone so fell as he in that moment. I feared he would kill Andróg, if Andróg had not run from him, and the captain had not stopped him.

Ulrad:

Yes, I remember. I think I felt more fear then than Andróg did, so perilous did Neithan seem.

Algund:

Yet all the other men praise him and revere him. He is by far the best warrior among us, and is valiant and exceedingly strong.

Ulrad: [adding:]

                And he has more skill in the woods than any other that I have seen.

Algund: [perplexed:]

Indeed. And yet I cannot fathom him. I do not understand him. Some tragedy or darkness in his past lies heavy upon him. He seems wise and experienced for one of his years.

Ulrad: [curiously:]

I think he has been in some elven city. His speech is rich and beautiful, and his arms and clothing are that of an elven prince; though they are worn now. Perhaps he has been exiled from some high state.

Algund: [shrugs]

I do not know. I wish Forweg would return! Where has he gone? We have been here overlong. Now that spring is come the men of the village yonder may come against us with arms, and hunt us out. We have not the strength to withstand them.

[Behind them, Túrin gets up from where he is sitting under the tree, and speaks, to all the outlaws, in a general question:]

Túrin:

Why does Forweg not lead us away South, where there is more food and game, and no Men? Why do we linger here? And where have he and Andróg gone?

[Then some of the outlaws laugh. One of them answers him:]

Outlaw:

They are away on business of their own, I guess. They will be back before long, and then we shall move. In haste, maybe; for we shall be lucky if they do not bring the hive-bees after them.

[Túrin looks around him at the sun shining on the bright green leaves, and then wanders away from the camp of the outlaws, into the forest. They don’t seem or notice or care that he’s gone, and he walks for a long time, and he suddenly murmurs to himself:]

Túrin:

                That squalid camp irks me, and the rough company of the men …

[Then in his mind he hears the echo of a female elven voice, and the memory comes to his mind of Nellas, sitting with him in the ‘secret glade’ in Doriath, telling him all the names of the plants around them.]

Nellas:

                Dorn … neldor … galbreth … elanor …

[Túrin smiles in sad reminiscence, as the names continue, and he hears in his mind Nellas’ voice pointing out all these to him:]

                … regorn … niphredil … el …

[All of a sudden his recollections are broken when a young maiden comes breaking through the trees, running. Her clothing is torn from the branches and she seems to be extremely frightened. At the same time Túrin sees and can hear another coming right behind her through the trees, and he sees, in a flash, not the young maiden running towards him, but Lalaith, his sister. She trips on a log and falls onto the ground, gasping. Túrin springs forward, drawing his sword, and when the maiden’s pursuer comes shooting through the trees after her, he takes his sword and hews him down before he even sees who it is. Then looking down, he sees the man’s face, and it is Forweg’s. He stands there for several minutes, not moving, just staring at the blood on the grass. The maiden still lies several feet away, gasping. In a moment, Andróg comes running through the trees as well, and stops, astounded, seeing Túrin standing there with his drawn sword dripping with blood, and the dead Forweg on the ground.]

Andróg: [becoming angry:]

                Evil work, Neithan!

                [He draws his sword to fight him. But Túrin, now turned cold, just looks at him.]

Túrin: [coldly:]

                Where are the Orcs, then? Or have you outrun them to help her?

Andróg: [scornful:]

Orcs? Fool! You call yourself an outlaw. Outlaws know no law but their needs. Look to your own, Neithan, and leave us to mind ours.

Túrin: [ice:]

I will do so. But today our paths have crossed. You will leave this woman to me, or you will join Forweg.

Andróg: [laughs harshly:]

If that is the way of it, have your will. I make no claim to match you, alone; but our fellows may take this slaying ill.

[The young woman, who had been lying there, listening, now gets up and comes over to Túrin. She looks at the blood on the ground, lays her hand on Túrin’s arm, and then looks up into his fair face, her eyes shining.]

Maiden: [encouraging:]

Kill him, lord! Kill him too! And then come with me. If you bring their heads, Larnach my father will not be displeased. For two ‘wolf-heads’ he has rewarded men well.

                [Túrin does not answer her, but turns to Andróg.]

Túrin:

                Is it far to her home?

Andróg: [shrugs]

                A mile or so, in a fenced homestead yonder. She was straying outside.

                [Túrin turns back to the woman.]

Túrin:

Go then quickly. Tell your father to keep you better. But I will not cut off the heads of my fellows to buy his favour, or aught else.

                [He sheaths his sword. To Andróg:]

Come! We will return. But if you wish to bury your captain, you must do so yourself. Make haste, for a hue and a cry may be raised. Bring his weapons!

[The woman looks disappointed, but she gets up, and looking wistfully back at Túrin, slips away through the trees back the way she came. Túrin walks away, back toward the camp, without saying anything else. But Andróg stands there for a moment, looking after him, and he frowns, as if pondering some riddle in his mind.]

[Scene: Túrin returns back through the trees into the camp. He finds the men standing about, murmuring in displeasure to one another, seeming restless. When they see Túrin they come towards him.]

Outlaw:

                Neithan, you have returned! Where is Forweg? Have you seen him?

Ulrad: [displeased:]

Forweg runs hazards to our own cost, and others may have to pay for his pleasures.

Túrin:

                Then choose a new captain! Forweg can lead you no longer; for he is dead.

Ulrad:

How do you know? Did you seek honey from the same hive? Did the bees sting him?

Túrin:

No. One sting was enough. I slew him. But I spared Andróg, and he will return soon.

[All the men gasp and look at each other in wonder. Túrin explains to them:]

I was walking in the woods, thinking, when a young maiden ran through the trees, pursued by some menace, and when her chaser ran through the trees, I slew him, ere I even saw who it was. Then Andróg came through the trees, and the maiden bid me slay him also, but I sent her home to her father –

[as he speaks, Andróg walks through the trees into the camp, bearing Forweg’s weapons in his arms]

Andróg: [to Túrin; with a smirk:]

                See, Neithan! No alarm has been raised. Maybe she hopes to meet with you again.

Túrin: [looks at him with a glint in his eye]

If you jest with me, I shall regret that I grudged her your head. Now tell your tale, and be brief.

Andróg: [to the company:]

What Neithan says is true; for I heard his tale as I came up toward the camp. But what business he had there I now wonder. Not ours, it now seems. For when I came up, he had already slain Forweg. The woman liked that well, and offered to go with him, begging our heads as a bride-price. But he did not want her, and sped her off; so what grudge he had against the captain I cannot guess. He left my head on my shoulders, for which I am grateful, though much puzzled.

Túrin: [to Andróg; fiercely, and with heat:]

Then I deny your claim to come of the people of Hador in Dor-lómin. To Uldor the Accursed you belong rather, and should seek service with Angband.

[Andróg looks frightened; Túrin turns to the other men:]

But hear me now! I give you these choices: you must take me as your captain in Forweg’s place, or else let me go. But if you wish to kill me, set to! I will fight you all until I am dead – or you!

[some of the men growl and lay their hands on their weapons, but Andróg steps forward]

Andróg: [crying to them:]

Nay! The head that he spared is not witness. If we fight, more than one will die needlessly, before we kill the best man among us.

                [nodding towards Túrin. Then he laughs.]

As it was when he joined us, so it is again. He kills to make room. If it proved well before, so may it again; and he may lead us to better fortune than prowling about other men’s maidens.

[Túrin is thoughtful for a minute. Then he looks up at Andróg and Algund:]

Túrin:

Home, you say? Tall and cold stand the Mountains of Shadow between us and Dor-lómin. Behind them are the people of Uldor, the Easterlings, and about them the legions of Angband. If such things do not daunt you, forty-nine men, then I may lead you homeward. But how far before we die?

[No one answers. There is silence for several moments, then Túrin speaks again.]

Do you take me as your captain? Then I will lead you first away into the wild, far from the homes of Men. There we may find better fortune, or not; but at the least we shall earn less hatred of our own kind.

Algund and Andróg:

                I will take you as our leader.

Ulrad:

                I also.

                [The others nod and give their assent, less vehemently perhaps.]

Túrin:

                Very well. Come then, we shall leave this country at once.

                [Scene fades.]

Minstrel:

A year had passed since Túrin had fled from Doriath, and Beleg still searched for him in the wild, with lessening hope. Then the marches of Doriath were overrun, for their two great captains, the Dragon-helm and the Strongbow, had departed, and the armies of Morgoth were heartened, and their numbers increased, roaming far and ravaging the borderlands.

[Scene: Beleg is walking in the woods by himself, looking depressed and discouraged. He keeps walking until the trees thin, and he comes upon a small village (the same village where Túrin went in Scene IX). He begins to walk through silently, with his head down, not speaking to anyone. But people are drawn to the majestic warrior, who is so obviously of Elf-kind: he is at least a head taller than the tallest man there. People come out of their doors to look at him, and especially at his great bow, which is almost as tall as he is; and some of the most curious begin to follow him. He does not seem to notice them at first, then he looks up and sees that there are people all around him, looking curiously at him. He turns to one closest to him, a man of about forty.]

Beleg: [mildly:]

                Greetings. Is there aught that I may do for you?

[The Man takes off his hat, and begins wringing it in his hands, as he speaks.]

Man: [nervously:]

Oh, no lord. I was just wondering…if there is anything we can do for you. Strangers do not often come through this town, and especially not one so –

                [Beleg gives a small smile.]

Beleg: [finishing for him:]

                Not one so strange, eh?

[The man looks dismayed for a moment. A woman standing beside him tries to recover for him.]

Woman:

                Oh, no, sir, not at all. He meant that –

Beleg: [smiles:]

I know, lady. Do not fear. Even if he meant it not that way, our kind are indeed rather strange. Especially solitary hunters as I am.

[The people around him begin to smile, more comfortable once they see that he has a sense of humor and is not all iron and steel.]

Man:

                Is there aught we can do for you, lord?

Beleg:

                Please, I am as much a lord as this small child is here –

                [He motions to a boy standing by and smiles kindly at him.]

I am Beleg, the march-warden of Doriath. I have been long time seeking one who is my friend, but it has been a year now and still I have not found him. Thus I return now to my home, with sorrow and disappointment.

Woman:

                What sort of man was this, lord?

Beleg: [smiles:]

I am not a lord; but this was a very tall Man, with dark hair and piercing eyes.

[One of the men nearby seems to recognize this description.]

Second Man:

I think I know who it was! There was a man who came here, just a little less than a year ago, seeking shelter, and we did not know him, and he appeared tall and lordly, so we fled from him. But an old man who dwelt here, who was crippled, took him into his house and kept him for the night. He departed in the morning.

Beleg: [brightening:]

                Where is this man, that I may speak with him?

Second Man:

Alas, he is dead. He was slain by the Wolf-men in the last spring, protecting his cattle from their thievery.

[Beleg looks down, disappointed and ponderous. But now the first man speaks, annoyed, since he has been trying to get a work in since the second one spoke:]

Man: [addressing Beleg:]

I was going to say, that there have been even more recent tidings of one of such bearing. There is a man here, Larnach is his name, and his daughter was rescued by one such a man from the Gaurwaith, the Wolf-men. He was a tall and lordly man, or maybe even an Elf-warrior, as some say.

Beleg: [looks up at him, encouraged:]

                Can you bring me to that man’s house?

Man:

                Yes, I will take you.

[The Man, obviously now thinking himself important for leading an Elven warrior to his neighbor’s house, strides in front, leading Beleg, and the other onlookers, now doubly curious than before, follow at a safe distance. Down the road, they reach Larnach’s house, and the important man knocks at the door. Another man, of about fifty, opens it.]

Man:

                Larnach, this Elf-warrior has come seeking you.

                [Larnach comes out, looking at him curiously.]

Larnach:

                Yes?

Beleg: [nods to him]

Sir, I seek one that others here tell me may have rescued your daughter from the … Wolf-men.

Larnach: [looks surprised:]

Indeed? That may be. Will you not come inside? My daughter will be able to tell you more.

[Beleg nods and steps inside, the door shutting behind them, leaving the disappointed crowd looking longingly at the closed door. Once inside, Larnach calls for his daughter, and in a moment, she comes out from the back rooms. It is the same young woman that Túrin saved in scene IX. She stops and looks at Beleg with wide eyes.]

Maiden:

                Hello, lord.

Beleg:

Greetings. I am seeking one that the men of the town tell me may have been your rescuer. Will you tell me more of this man?

Maiden: [nods]

                Gladly, lord.

[She sits down by the fire and Beleg sits down across from her. The father stays standing.]

He … he was very proud, with bright eyes that scarcely deigned to look at me. Yet he called the Wolf-men his fellows, and would not slay another that stood by, and knew his name. Neithan, he called him.

                [There is silence for a moment, while Beleg appears thoughtful.]

Larnach: [to Beleg:]

                Can you read this riddle?

Beleg: [looking up at him]

                Alas, I can. The Man that you tell of is the one whom I seek.

                [He stands up.]

Thank you for your aid. Be warned that there is evil gathering in the North. Soon the Orcs will come ravening in this country in strength too great for you to withstand. This year at last you must give up your freedom or your lives. Go to Brethil while there is time!

[Larnach looks grave at the warning.]

Larnach:

                Thank you. Men will heed your words.

                [Then Beleg, in haste, leaves the village, and disappears once more into the woods.]