SCENE XXVI

[Scene: The Chamber of Council, the same room as in Scene XXI. The same lords and ladies from that scene are coming in, speaking together and taking their seats. Gwindor is already sitting there, alone and silent. Celebrimbor sits by him, and is about to attempt polite conversation, when Túrin comes in and sits next to Gwindor.]

Túrin:

Greetings, Gwindor. How are you? I did not see you this morning and thought something might be amiss.

Gwindor: [looking away]

                No, I left the apartments early, to – take a walk alone.

Túrin: [kindly:]

I hope you will not neglect to ask me next time. I enjoy our walks and our speech together.

Gwindor: [shrugs]

                You have many things to do, and thus are very busy.

[Túrin looks concerned and is about to speak when Orodreth bustles in with the Steward behind him, and sits down at his chair with a sigh. The Steward also takes his place.]

Orodreth: [hurried:]

                Well, so here we are again, yes, all here? Very well then, let us begin –

Head of Intelligence: [interrupting him:]

                Excuse me, lord, I have a question, ere we begin.

                [Orodreth looks up at her with one eyebrow raised]

Orodreth:

                Yes? What is it?

Intelligence:

I have been speaking with the boat master, and he mentioned to me that there seems to be a rise in the cost of the resin of the oak trees that we have been purchasing from the mouths of Sirion.

                [pause; Orodreth blinks]

Orodreth: [expectant:]

                Yes? And?

Intelligence: [slightly discomfited:]

Well, my lord, I wondered if we should continue purchasing them for such exorbitant amounts of gold – I do not know if Nargothrond can afford such expenses.

Orodreth: [eyebrow raised]

                Tell me, can we do without the oak resin?

Intelligence:

                Well … no, lord. Not really.

Orodreth:

                Then by all means keep purchasing it.

Túrin:

Excuse me, lord, but if I recall rightly, the resin of oak trees can easily be replaced by birch, which has similar properties and can accomplish the same purposes. As I recall, one can obtain that from many closer sources, perhaps for less cost.

Celebrimbor:

                He is correct, Orodreth. I had not thought of that.

Orodreth: [delighted]

                That is wonderful news to hear! Thank you, Adanedhel!

                [to the Scribe:]

                Make a note of that. Have a message sent out to ask about the birch resin.

                [the Scribe begins writing furiously]

                Now that that is settled, we may move on.

                [he sighs with relief]

                Adanedhel, would you now give us your report on the movement of the troops?

Túrin: [nods]

Yes, my lord. Two things I have observed: the Orcs have withdrawn from this land, and the Enemy will not dare to venture near. But I think that is but a feint of Morgoth, and that he will come back in greater force than before.

Orodreth: [brow furrowed]

                What do you suggest that we do?

Túrin:

I think, lord, that we should gather all our force, and drive them out of this land, so they will not dare to return.

Orodreth: [looking at the others]

                How shall we go about this? When should we be ready?

                [There is a pause, then Gwindor speaks:]

Gwindor: [rather tentatively:]

My lord, I am, once again, concerned about this aggressive way of action. I advise caution, in all cases.

Túrin:

                And if we do not fight them, what shall we do?

Gwindor: [shakes his head]

Petty victories will prove profitless at the last, for thus Morgoth learns where the boldest of his enemies are to be found, and gathers strength enough to destroy them. I have been in Angband, and know somewhat of the strength of Morgoth. All the might of the Elves and Men united sufficed only to contain him, and gain the peace of a siege; long indeed, but only so long as Morgoth bided his time before he broke the leaguer; and never again can such a union be made. In secrecy only now lies any hope … until the Valar come.

Túrin:

                The Valar! They have forsaken you, and they hold Men in scorn.

                [he turns to the others:]

What use to look westward across the endless Sea? There is but one Vala with whom we have to do, and that is Morgoth; and if in the end we cannot overcome him, at the least we can hurt him and hinder him. For victory is victory, however small, nor is its worth only in what follows from it. But it is expedient also; for if you do nothing to halt him, all Beleriand will fall beneath his shadow before many years are passed, and then one by one he will smoke you out of your earths. And what then? A pitiable remnant will fly south and west, to cower on the shores of the Sea, caught between Morgoth and Ossë. Better then to win a time of glory, though it be shortlived; for the end will be no worse. You speak of secrecy, and say that therein lies the only hope; but could you ambush and waylay every scout and spy of Morgoth to the least and last, so that none come ever back with tidings to Angband, yet from that he would learn that you lived and guess where. And this also I say: though mortal Men have little life beside the span of the Elves, they would rather spend it in battle than fly or submit. The defiance of Húrin the Steadfast is a great deed; and though Morgoth slay the doer he cannot make the deed not to have been. Even the Lords of the West will honour it; and is it not written into the history of Arda, which neither Morgoth nor Manwë can unwrite?

Gwindor:

You speak of high things, and plain it is that you have lived among the Elves. But a darkness is on you if you set Morgoth and Manwë together, or speak of the Valar as the foes of Elves or Men; for the Valar scorn nothing, and least of all the Children of the One. Nor do you know all the hopes of the Elves. It is a prophecy among us that one day a messenger from Middle-earth will come through the shadows to the Blessed Realm, and Manwë will hear it, and Mandos relent. For that time shall we not attempt to preserve the seed of the Elves, and of Men also? And Círdan dwells now in the South, and there is building of ships; but what know you of ships, or of the Sea? You think of yourself and of your own glory, and bid us each do likewise; but we must think of others beside ourselves, for not all can fight and fall, and those we must keep from war and ruin while we can.

Túrin:

                Then send them to your ships, while there is yet time.

Gwindor:

They will not be parted from us, even could Círdan sustain them. We must abide together as long as we may, and not court death.

Túrin:

All this I have answered. Valiant defense of the borders and hard blows ere the enemy gathers; in that course lies the best hope of you long abiding together. And do those that you speak of love such skulkers in the woods, hunting always like a wolf, better than one who puts on his helm and figured shield, and drives away the foe, be they far greater than all his host? At least the women of the race of Men do not. They did not hold back the men from the Unnumbered Tears.

[An image runs through his mind of Morwen, bidding Húrin farewell as he stood in front of his men in the sunlight.]

Gwindor:

                But they suffered greater woe than if that field had never been fought.

Túrin: [softly:]

                Indeed.

[He sees in his mind Morwen in the broken-down house in Dor-lómin, holding a golden-haired baby in her arms.]

                [pause]

Orodreth:

Very well. Since there seems to be a difference in opinion, let me see what you think of it. Raise your right hand if you support Adanedhel’s plan.

[Everyone, except Gwindor, raises his right hand. Guilin looks at his son sorrowfully but does not lower his hand.]

Intelligence: [in an undertone; to the Scribe:]

                It is not as if the Lord Gwindor’s vote means anything, after all.

                [the Scribe nods]

Orodreth:

Very well. We will adopt that plan. Captain, I will depend on you to work with Adanedhel on this, and you, Arcalimë –

                [to the Head of Intelligence]

Intelligence and Captain:

                Yes, lord.

Orodreth: [sighs]

Forgive this cursory meeting, but I have much work to do. I hope to hear more news soon.

[He gets up and leaves quickly, the Steward scurrying after him. The rest of them begin to get up, and start speaking together. Gwindor looks weary and sad, and gets up quickly to leave by himself, but Túrin stops him.]

Túrin:

Gwindor, will you not have dinner this evening with me? I have greatly missed your company.

Gwindor: [slightly chill:]

                No, thank you.

Túrin:

Oh, well would another time be better for you? Or we could go to the library now together. That is where I am going.

Gwindor:

                No, not another time. Excuse me.

[He then hastens out of the room, leaving Túrin looking confused and concerned. He is about to follow him when Celebrimbor, who has watched this exchange in silence, arrests his attention.]

Celebrimbor: [touching his arm]

                Mormegil –

                [Túrin turns to him]

                I too have noticed that Gwindor seems troubled of late.

Túrin:

Do you know why? I do not know. At first the woes and horrors of Angband had begun to be lifted from him, now he seems to slip back into care and sorrow.

                [troubled:]

It may be that he is grieved that I oppose his counsels, and have overcome him. I would it were not so. For I love Gwindor as my guide and healer, and – am filled with pity for him.

Celebrimbor: [quietly:]

                Perhaps you should ask him.

Túrin: [nods]

                Yes, I will. Thank you, Celebrimbor.

[he goes out of the hall and down the passage quickly, until he overtakes Gwindor, limping down the hall alone]

Túrin:

                Gwindor! Gwindor!

[Gwindor stops and turns as Túrin comes along stride with him. Túrin clasps his gnarled hand in his own; kindly and softly:]

Gwindor, dear friend, you are falling back into sadness; do not so! For your healing will come in the houses of your kin, and in the light of Finduilas.

                [Gwindor just stares at Túrin, saying nothing, and his face becomes clouded]

Túrin: [confused and concerned:]

Why do you look upon me so? Often your eyes have gazed strangely at me of late. How have I grieved you? I have opposed your counsels; but a man must speak as he sees, nor hide the truth that he believes, for any private cause. I would that we were one in mind; for to you I owe a great debt, and shall not forget it.

                [Gwindor still stares at him, and pulls his hand out of Túrin’s grasp]

Gwindor: [chill:]

Will you not? Nonetheless your deeds and your counsels have changed my home and my kin. Your shadow lies upon them. Why should I be glad, who have lost all to you?

[He turns and limps away quickly down the hall, away from Túrin. Túrin is about to follow him, but stops, looking confused and upset.]

Túrin: [speaking aloud to himself, pensive:]

I do not understand him. I can only guess that he begrudges me my place in the heart and counsels of the King…

                [As he walks away slowly, looking thoughtful and troubled, the scene fades black.]