A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
A Binding Shadow
On a balcony overlooking a populous realm of many elegant houses of marble and of wood, there stood a man in fine silk died blue carrying a large manuscript bound together in a pamphlet of many pages. Placing down the bundle of papers to a squat bench nigh to a fountain of clear water, he reached the edge of the banister and peered down on the bustling folk below and smiled. One personage caught his eye, a maiden all in white carrying an infant. The lady waved to him and he waved back enthusiastically and then she was lost among the throng of folk in the market-place.
All around him were encircling cliffs and towers of indomitable stone. Seven gates of gilded form could be also spotted, glittering like stars glimmering in a gentle summer’s night. Eagles could be descried guarding the highways of the air as well and the chief citadel of the king seeming to be made of silver and adamant, glittering in the morning sun. A breath of warm air filled that lofty place. The man sighed and sat beside his booklet.
Taking it up he read a few pages, put it down, and then took it back up again, his eyes ever returning to the market-place and the crowd. Frowning the man read for some while more, arose, and made as though to depart only to halt abruptly. He heard someone coming his way, sounds of footsteps slowly walking in his direction.
Uncertainly the man gazed in through the doorway he had come. Slowly but surely a figure emerged from the shadows, a tall personage of grey eyes and dark hair. At his side he bore a black sword.
Looking darkly upon this newcomer the man slunk back onto the bench on which he had been sitting, turning his glance back to the booklet which he now clutched in his shaking hands. Laughing softly the newcomer strode to the bench, staring over the man’s shoulders as to gaze upon the manuscript’s text.
In a flat tone he said,
“She isn’t with you.”
“No” came the response, the reader’s knuckles growing white as he clung to the bindings of the book.
“She’s with her father.”
“I thought so” quietly came the visitor’s words.
“It is a lovely day afterall.”
“Indeed” grunted the man still looking at his papers.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
There was a long pause and neither spoke for some time. They could hear the birds in the courtyard below chirping, the hurried voices of the hastened persons rushing to work. A cloud rolled in from the East dark as the newcomer’s blade, smothering the sun momentarily in shade. The man with the papers put down his manuscript and shivered.
“What do you want, Maeglin” he said finally rising to his feet, letting fall his booklet to the stony ground. All now was utterly silent.
In response the dark elf spoke not at all, but rather looked down upon the courtyard once more, his eyes now gleaming in an almost unreal light. Stepping back in revulsion the man who had come to read followed the crazed elf’s gaze and to his horror beheld the object of his scrutiny. There below was she, the mother and her child- hastening away as swiftly as they might from the balcony, their eyes turned away from both of them in . . . . In fear.
Scowling up at Maeglin, the man lifted his papers and placed them on the bench beside him. The binding which had held the pamphlet together had come undone.
Frowning the mortal muttered a curse under his breath and looked up to find the dark elf already on his way out, a smile on his face. Then the figure vanished into the shadows from whence he had come.