SCENE XI

[Scene: Túrin and the outlaws are all running together, with their packs, Túrin urging them on:]

Túrin:

                Come! Swiftly, or the woodman shall be after us!

[Then another image of their all sleeping in a camp at night around a dying fire, with a single watcher. Switch to the dawn, Beleg running through the woods, and coming into an open glade, and finding there their deserted camp, which they have apparently just left. He sighs and goes on. Switch to Túrin and the outlaws walking swiftly.]

Túrin:

                Come! We must go north!

[Then an image of Beleg stopping by another homestead, next to a stream. He stops a man there with a horse, plowing his fields.]

Beleg: [in haste:]

                Have you see a company of men, of outlaws pass this way?

Man: [thinking:]

                Well, yes, I think I did.

Beleg:

                When?

Man:

It was nigh on three days ago. They passed north, about fifty of them. I saw them through the woods.

[Beleg speeds off. Then another image of him running through the forest, then stopping suddenly, and running back. Stooping down, he picks up a small piece of cloth, that looks like an old brown shirt, that was left there. He puts it in his pack and goes on, looking heartened. Next, another image of him, at night, this time creeping up to a glade, where he obviously expects to see something. He sneaks behind a tree, and then comes suddenly from behind the trees. All there is is a deserted camp, with no living thing to be seen anywhere. He looks agitated and frustrated:]

Beleg: [with eyebrows knotted:]

Alas! Too well did I teach this child of Men craft in wood and field! An Elvish band almost one might think this to be!

[Switch to Túrin and the outlaws. It is evening in their camp by a stream. Ulrad comes running towards the camp, panting and red.]

Ulrad: [to Túrin:]

                Neithan, the pursuing shadow still follows us!

                [Túrin looks up sharply at him.]

Túrin:

                You have seen it?

Ulrad: [shakes his head:]

                Nay. None of us has ever been able to see it, or who it is. Yet it still comes behind.

Túrin: [murmurs:]

And I thought we had shaken off all pursuit! This makes me uneasy. We will leave again right away. Prepare your things!

[Show again Túrin and his companions traveling, then their camp again. This time it is in the woods, by a cave. Some of them sit within the cave, some outside. The scouts of the outlaws come through the trees, and one of them speaks to Túrin:]

Orleg:

                Neithan, the orcs have crossed the river!

Túrin: [eyebrows raised]

                What has that to do with us? We shall continue on our way –

                [he stands up.]

Orleg:

                Nay, Neithan, they bear great booty of plunder, and captives.

Túrin: [looks at him sharply:]

                So you would save the captives, would you?

                [Orleg does not answer.]

Andróg:

                Do not be a fool. It is the booty we want.

Túrin: [looks at him darkly:]

                It is perilous to reveal ourselves to the Orcs.

Orleg:

                Then we will go by ourselves. We have need for many things in the wild –

Túrin: [sighs]

Very well. But we cannot reveal ourselves to the orcs, until we at least know how many there are. Therefore, I will go spy upon them, and determine their numbers. Will one go with me?

Orleg:

                I will go.

Túrin:

I give command of the band to Andróg while I am gone. See that you lie close and well hid while we are gone.

[They take some things with them, and depart from the camp. They make their way towards the river, until they can hear the orcs through the trees. They are very loud, and abrasive noises, and Túrin and Orleg crawl through the tall grass and peer out from behind a log. There are over two hundred orcs, and they have captives with them, tied with chains and rope: mortal women and men, tired and desperate. Some of the orcs are not paying attention to them, speaking together or doing other things; but some of them are taunting the captives and treating them cruelly. Túrin and Orleg lie watching this, Túrin, at least, with sorrow and compassion, when suddenly three orcs come out of the trees right behind them. They do not see the two men lying there, and so stumble over them, cursing, and fall onto the ground. Túrin and Orleg both spring up, as quickly as they can, as the orcs do, and swiftly they slay two of the orcs, but the third runs away through the woods, yelping:]

Orc:

                Golug! Golug! Noldor! Noldor!

                [Túrin turns at once to his companion.]

Túrin:

There is no hope now of escape. They shall come after us. We must deceive them and lead them away from the hiding place of the men. Come!

[They leap away through the trees, and run, and run, and run. The orcs come swiftly after them through the forest, cutting down everything in their way. They continue to run, dodging and running diagonally and in zigzags, trying to ward off pursuit, until they reach the end of the forest, where a road runs across it. They stop for a moment, in consternation, then sprint across. The orcs can now finally see them, and shoot a rain of arrows at them. One hits Túrin’s back but bounces off from his Elvish mail. Orleg, however, falls and does not get up again. Túrin looks back at the body, with many arrows in it, then speeds away through the trees on the other side of the road. Scene fades out.]

[Scene change: the outlaws’ camp. The men are restless, wandering around the camp with their hands in their pockets, muttering to one another.]

Ulrad: [aloud to anyone who will listen:]

Where are Neithan and Orleg? It has been three days since they set out! I say we move from this cave, and depart elsewhere.

                [Several of the other outlaws nod their agreement.]

Outlaw:

                Aye, let us depart from this place!

Andróg:

No, we shall not. I am captain while Neithan is gone, and I counsel we should wait for him.

[While he speaks there is a shadow moving among the trees behind them. Silently it moves into the clearing, a tall figure, cloaked in grey. He has no weapons in his hands, and holds them out in token of peace, as he speaks to them.]

Beleg:

                Greetings! I am come –

[But before he can say anymore, they all leap around in fear, and the ones closest grab him. Andróg takes a rope and puts a noose around him, pinioning his arms to his sides. Beleg looks surprised and slightly annoyed.]

If you do not wish for guests, you should keep better watch. Why do you welcome me thus? I come as a friend, and seek only a friend. Neithan I hear that you call him.

Ulrad: [sharply:]

                He is not here. But unless you have long spied on us, how do you know his name?

Andróg: [darkly:]

He has long spied on us. This is the shadow that has dogged us for so many miles. Now perhaps we shall learn his true purpose. Tie him to a tree!

[The men do some, not gently, and with some difficulty (he is very tall). They drag him over and, roughly and very tightly, bind his hands and feet to the tree. Then they all stand around him threateningly, and begin asking him questions:]

Andróg:

                Who are you? Where have you come from?

                [Beleg says nothing.]

Ulrad:

                How long have you been spying on us? How do you know Neithan’s name?

                [pause; no answer]

Another Outlaw: [menacing:]

                Answer us, Elf!

Beleg:

I have been a friend to this Neithan since I first met him in the woods, and he was then but a child. I seek him only in love, and to bring him good tidings.

Andróg:

                Let us slay him, and be rid of his spying!

                [He is looking over at Beleg’s great bow, and lust for it gleams in his eyes.]

Algund:

Nay! The captain may return yet; and then you will rue it, if he learns that he has been robbed at once of a friend and of good tidings.

Andróg:

I do not believe the tale of this Elf. He is a spy of the King of Doriath. But if he has indeed any tidings, he shall tell them to us; and we shall judge if they give us reason to let him live.

Beleg:

                I shall wait for your captain.

Andróg:

                You shall stand there until you speak.

[They all leave him and go over to their things and start taking out food and eating it right in front of him. Then several scenes of time passing. It is dark, they are all sleeping, but Beleg is still tied to the tree and one can see his open eyes glinting in the dark like a cat’s. Then a picture of another evening. Beleg is still tied to the tree. His face is white, he looks very weak, and is sagging. Andróg looks over at him.]

Andróg: [evilly:]

                Will you still not speak, Elf?

                [Beleg doesn’t answer.]

For if you do not, I don’t think you can go another two days without food.

[The other outlaws grumble their agreement, fingering their weapons, ad coming menacingly towards him.]

Outlaw: [fearful:]

                Let us slay him and be gone! It is five days now since Neithan and Orleg departed.

Second Outlaw: [angry:]

                Yes, let us depart!

[Ulrad takes a brand from the fire and holds it up, bringing it up close to Beleg’s face. Beleg is too weak to offer any resistance. Just then Túrin creeps through the trees towards the camp, looking weary, muddied, his clothes torn. Coming silently through the trees he sees the face of Beleg, lit by the fire that is inches from his face. Tears spring to his eyes and run down his face, as he springs forward at once into the glade towards Beleg.]

Túrin: [through his tears:]

                Beleg! Beleg! How have you come here? And why do you stand so?

[All the outlaws stand aside as Túrin frantically grabs his knife and cuts the ropes loose. Beleg, unable to stand on his own, falls forward into Túrin’s arms. Túrin turns angrily to the outlaws.]

What is this? Why is my friend treated this way?

Andróg: [wide-eyed:]

He came upon us at unawares two days ago, and would tell us nothing of his business, so we tied him to the tree.

Túrin: [anguished:]

                And he has been tied to the tree for two days?

[He sits down, and Beleg, still resting in his arms, sinks with him. But Túrin no longer pays any attention to the men, and only cares for Beleg. He gets his pack and begins to get out herbs, ointments, and pieces of cloth, and cleans the wounds on his wrists and legs, where the ropes were so tight they had cut into his skin. Then he gets out some bread from his pack, and gives some to Beleg, and some water from his bottle. Only when it looks like Beleg is recovering, and he has regained colour and can move around, does he turn again to the outlaws, who are still standing around.]

Túrin: [bitterly:]

You were cruel, and cruel without need. Never until now have we tormented a prisoner; but such a life as we lead has brought us to such Orc-work. Lawless and fruitless have all our deeds have been, serving only ourselves, and feeding hate in our hearts.

Andróg: [defiant:]

                Who shall we serve, if not ourselves? Whom shall we love, when all hate us?

Túrin:

At least my hands shall not again be raised against Elves or Men. Angband has servants enough. If others will not take this vow with me, I will walk alone.

[At this, Beleg at last opens his eyes, for the first time.]

Beleg: [weakly:]

                Not alone …

                [Túrin turns and looks at him, and tears spring once again to his eyes.]

… Now at last I can tell my tidings. You are no outlaw, and Neithan is not a fit name. Such fault as was found in you is pardoned. For a year now you have been sought, to recall you to honour and service of the King. The Dragon-helm has been missed too long.

                [Túrin does not answer right away, but looks thoughtful.]

Túrin:

Let this night pass. Then I will choose. However it goes, we must leave this lair tomorrow, for not all who seek us wish us well.

Andróg: [looking darkly at Beleg]

                Nay, none.

[Scene: it is morning. Beleg and Túrin have gone a stone’s throw from the camp, and are talking. The outlaws in the camp look after them curiously.]

Beleg:

                I looked for more joy at my tidings. Surely you will now return to Doriath?

                [Túrin looks doubtful.]

The return of the Dragon-helm and Bow is needed there, Túrin. The Orcs have increased in Dimbar on the borders, and our soldiers, some of them young and inexperienced, are disheartened and driven back. The forces of Morgoth are flowing in like rivers. It is for your return that they wait. Let us return and drive them back together!

[But the more he speaks, the more Túrin seems to hang back from doing what he urges.]

Túrin: [changing the subject:]

                How did it come to pass that I have received King Thingol’s pardon?

Beleg:

I came back from the marches to find you, and found that your trial was nearly over; so I hastened to the hall with Nellas, who had seen Saeros spring upon you at unawares. She told all she knew, and the King pardoned you.

Túrin:

                Then Mablung proved my friend, as once he seemed?

Beleg:

The friend of truth, rather, and that was better in the end. But why, Túrin, did you not speak to him of Saeros’ assault upon you? All otherwise things might have gone and –

                [he looks back towards the camp and the men sprawled near the mouth of the cave]

                – you might have held your helm still high, and not fallen to this.

Túrin: [shrugs]

That may me, if fall you call it. But words stuck in my throat. There was reproof in his eyes, without question asked of me, for a deed that I had not done. My Man’s heart was proud, as the Elf-king said. And so it still is, Beleg Cúthalion. It will not yet suffer me to go back to Menegroth and bear looks of pity and pardon, as for a wayward boy amended.  I should pardon, not receive it. And I am a boy no longer, but a man, according to my kind; and a hard man by my fate.

Beleg: [troubled:]

                What will you do, then?

Túrin:

Fare free. That wish Mablung gave me at our parting. The grace of Thingol will not stretch to receive these companions of my fall, I think.

                [he motions to the outlaws]

– but they have taken me as their captain, and I will not part with them, if they do not wish to part with me. They are of my own kind, and there is some good in each that might grow. I think that they will stand by me.

Beleg:

You see with other eyes than mine. If you try to wean them from evil, they will fail you. I doubt them, and one most of all.

Túrin:

                How shall an Elf judge of Men?

Beleg:

                As he judges all deeds, by whomsoever done.

                [pause]

                You say fare free, Túrin, my friend. What do you mean?

Túrin:

I would lead my own men, and make war in my own way. But in this at least my heart is changed: I repent every stroke save those dealt against the Enemy of Men and Elves. And above all else I would have you beside me. Stay with me!

Beleg: [troubled:]

If I stayed beside you, love would lead me, not wisdom. My heart warns me that we should return to Doriath.

Túrin:

                Nonetheless I will not go there.

Beleg: [striving once more:]

Yet we have such need of your strength and valor in King Thingol’s service on the north-marches. There are now new in-roads of the Orcs, coming down into Dimbar from Taur-nu-Fuin by the Pass of Anach.

                [Túrin just shakes his head.]

A hard man you have called yourself, Túrin. Hard you are, and stubborn. Now the turn is mine. If you wish indeed to have the Strong bow beside you, look for me in Dimbar, for thither I shall return.

[Túrin is silent for several moments, brooding in thought: perhaps striving with his pride. But after several minutes he awakens as if from a reverie and asks:]

Túrin:

The Elf-maiden whom you named: I owe her well for her timely witness. Why did she watch all my ways?

                [Beleg looks strangely at him.]

Beleg: [in surprise:]

Why indeed? Túrin, have you lived always with your heart and half your mind far away? You walked with Nellas in the woods of Doriath, when you were a boy.

Túrin: [recognition coming to his face:]

Ah, Nellas! Yet that was long ago – or so my childhood seems to me, for a mist is over it – save of the memory of my father’s house in Dor-lómin. Ever in that place my heart and mind dwell. But why should I have walked with an Elf-maiden?

Beleg:

                To learn what she could teach, maybe.

                [sighs]

Alas, child of men! There are other griefs in Middle-earth than yours, and wounds made by no weapons. Indeed, I begin to think that Elves and Men should not meet or meddle.

[Túrin does not answer, but looks for a long time at Beleg’s face – as if trying to understand what he is saying. Scene fades.]

[Scene: Beleg returning to Menegroth, through the woods towards the bridge and the gate. He stops hearing someone whisper his name.]

                Beleg!

                [he stops, then comes over to the sound where a white face peers through the trees.]

Beleg:

                Nellas!

Nellas:

                Beleg, has Túrin returned with you?

                [Beleg shakes his head sorrowfully.]

Beleg:

                No, I am sorry, Nellas. He would not come –

[But Nellas has run away from him into the woods, hiding her face in her hands, weeping. He calls after her:]

Nellas! Nellas!

[But she does not answer. With a sigh, Beleg trudges on, until he reaches the gate. The soldiers there salute him with joy and look very happy to see him. He passes in to the hall and comes to the thrones of Thingol and Melian. They both look surprised and happy to see him.]

Thingol:

Welcome, Beleg! For too long you have been missed from these halls! What news do you bring us? Have you found Túrin?

Beleg:

I did find him, lord. I came upon the camp of his companions by night, and though he was not there, he returned two days later. But, alas, he would not return with me. I fear that his Man’s heart is too proud.

Thingol: [sighs]

                What more would Túrin have me do?

Beleg:

Give me leave, lord, and I will guard him and guide him as I may; then no man shall say that elven-words are lightly spoken. Nor would I wish to see so great a good run to nothing in the wild.

Thingol:

I give you leave to do as you wish, Beleg Cúthalion! For many deeds you have earned my thanks; but not the least is the finding of my fosterson. At this parting ask for any gift and I will not deny it to you.

                [Beleg looks thoughtful for a moment.]

Beleg:

I ask only for a sword of worth; for the orcs come now too thick and close for a bow only, and such blade as I have is no match for their armour.

Thingol:

Choose from all that I have, save only Aranrúth, my own.

[Scene switches to Beleg down in the armouries (where he and Túrin were practicing in Scene VII). There is a whole row of swords hung up on the wall. All of them are beautifully crafted and engraved with runes, set with jewels, sparkling silver metal: save only one of them, and that is a black sword, made of some other metal that seems unearthly. It is not beautifully adorned, and looks rather like a blight on the wall amidst the glory of the others. But Beleg takes it off the wall and examines it closely. Next we see him standing once again before the thrones of Thingol and Melian in the great hall.]

Thingol:

                Which sword have you chosen, Beleg?

Beleg:

                It is Anglachel, the Iron Flame.

[He holds the hilt towards them, and as Melian looks closely at it, we can see into her mind, and there is a flash there, of a stooped elf, almost like a hunchback, bending over his metalwork in a dark smithy. His hair is black, and his eyes, as he looks up, are dark, and glint with a nefarious light. There is an image of a dark-haired elven maiden, clothed in white, riding through a dark forest, and she gleams like light. Then this fades, and leaves Melian looking with a frown at the sword hilt.]

Melian:

There is malice in this sword. The dark heart of the smith still dwells in it. It will not love the hand it serves; neither will it abide with you long.

Beleg:

                Nonetheless, I will wield it while I may.

Melian:

Another gift I will give you, Cúthalion, that shall be your help in the wild, and the help also of those whom you choose. These are lembas, which no mortal Man yet has tasted.

[She holds out a package to him, which he accepts gratefully. The package seems to be wrapped with leaves of silver, and the threads that hold it together have a seal on it of white wax, that is shaped as a single flower of dark green and silver. Beleg bows to her.]

Beleg:

                Thank you, my Queen.

Thingol:

                Fare well, Cúthalion! And may we meet again soon!

                [Scene fades.]

Minstrel:

Then Beleg departed with these gifts from Menegroth and went back to the north marches, where he had his lodges, and many friends. Then in Dimbar the Orcs were driven back, and Anglachel rejoiced to be unsheathed; but when winter came, and war was stilled, suddenly his companions missed Beleg, and he returned to them no more.