Of Beren and Lúthien: The Complete Tale of “The Lay of Leithian” by LuthienHuan

Chapter 20 Of the Land of the Dead that Live

Beren and Lúthien leave Doriath to make a new life.

Lúthien was still the Lady Lúthien; the same princess who before had given up her life; still having the same enchantments, power and wisdom. The only differences were that she was now a mortal and the light of the Eldar was extinguished in her eyes, and some people remained skeptical because of her return from the dead. Nevertheless, she was still the most fair of all the children of Ilúvatar; and the shining light that was in her face remained.

Beren was still the same Beren; a mere mortal Man who was now the last remaining member of the house of Bëor, who were the first of the race of men to step into Beleriand. There were some who thought he was part Elf, for people from all races believed that only an Elf could go into Angband and come out alive. Tales were being told and songs were being sung of his and Lúthien’s overwhelming bravery and feats, which included the incredible leap upon Curufin’s horse, facing Morgoth in his own chamber, the taking of a Silmaril, and their death and return to life.

And Huan was still Huan; the Hound of Valinor who was also included in many of those tales and songs; and now he could speak without any apprehension. However, he too returned as a mortal like his two best friends; nor did he know, as they, what would be his second death. Huan also returned with the same zest for pinning down wolves and werewolves by their throats. Therefore, the still fearless hound would go often with Mablung to the outskirts of the Girdle of Melian to quench this desire. But when Beren and Lúthien would go riding together, Huan would always be her steed, an opportunity he chose never to miss.

There soon came a day when Beren, Lúthien and Huan sat by Hirilorn watching the sweet waters of Esgalduin go rolling by when Beren saw a strange expression come to Lúthien’s face.

“What are you wondering about, my dear?” asked Beren. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before.”

Only Huan noticed that King Thingol and Queen Melian had come from the gate and was walking down to the threesome by the tree; thus Lúthien’s parents heard her answer to Beren’s question.

“I know I chose mortality, and that our time on Middle-earth is now limited,” Lúthien said. At that time, Thingol had come and put his arms around his daughter and hugged her. “But I still wanted to fulfill the dream of leading a group of Elves like my mother and father.”

Beren gave a sigh knowing he could do nothing to help his wife in this matter, but Melian had a suggestion.

“In the southeast region of Beleriand is Ossiriand,” she explained, “and there dwell the Green-Elves in the protection of their Seven Rivers. For after Sirion, Ulmo the God of Waters loves Gelion above all the waters of this world. The woodcraft of the Elves of Ossiriand is such that a stranger might pass through their land from beginning to end and see none of them, although the stranger’s steps would be witnessed by hundreds. They are clad in green in spring and summer, and the sound of their singing when they wish to be heard can be heard even across the waters of Gelion; wherefore the Noldor names that country Lindon, the Land of Music. The mountains beyond that they named Ered Lindon, for they first saw them from Ossiriand. I tell you this because they are currently leaderless, scattered and somewhat divided and in need of teachings and organization. They have maintained themselves by sheer will and stealth.”

“My Queen, what makes you think they would listen to us; to follow our leadership?” ask Beren.

Thingol answered, “Did you forget who you are? You are the Great Beren and Lúthien! You are the darers who entered Angband; and not only did you escape, but escaped with a Silmaril from the iron crown of Morgoth. Do you remember not that I had you lead the Hunting of the Wolf, whereas I humbled myself to follow your lead? It was not because you love my daughter or became my son-in-law, but because I realized you were a born leader, which you proved true that very day.”

“That’s a little different, isn’t it? I led the five of us, whereas two of us died.”

“Scoff not!” Melian said. “Although there were incidents that unfavorably occurred, your objective was achieved. And remember that you unselfishly died to save the King as Huan unselfishly died to save us all. Sacrifice is part of leadership, and you gave the ultimate, as did Huan under your leadership.”

Huan said, “I would again go to whatever end under your leadership would take us. But now I believe my place is here, guarding the Girdle with Mablung.”

“Yes,” Beren agreed with a smile. “As much as I love having you by my side and miss you when you’re not, you are correct when you say that your service is needed here — as is your favorite sport.”

That night Beren and Lúthien decided they would immediately depart from the Hidden Kingdom, and the next morning they did so, to the sadness of many and the relief of some. They parted with very little. Beren wore on his right side his sheathed sword under his long faded and weather-stained overcoat while Angrist, the knife without sheath taken from Curufin, dangle at his left side; Lúthien was clad in her usual blue raiment, taking nothing as she did when she departed from the house in Hirilorn. They went from Menegroth fearing neither thirst nor hunger; and they passed through southeastern Doriath and beyond the River Gelion and into Ossiriand. They dwelt in Tol Galen, the green island in the midst of Adurant, the southernmost of the Seven Rivers. The Eldar afterwards called that country Dor Firn-i-Guinar, the Land of the Dead that Live.

Upon their journey and approach to the isle, Beren and Lúthien could feel the eyes of the Green-Elves watching their every move, but none could they see, as Melian described. As they stood on the sandy bank and looked across Adurant to Tol Galen on the other side, they could see it was going to be difficult to cross. From where they were standing the river was chest deep in the center but ran very rapidly over its rocky bed. Loosing footing meant being carried a ways down river into deeper and swifter waters.

Beren wondered how he was to help Lúthien cross. That’s when she turned to him, smiled and said, “I’d swim a million rivers to be with you, but it looks like I only need to swim one.”

As she prepared to wade into the water, her eye caught the moment of Elves on the other side coming out of the green trees and onto the bank. Her ears heard the rustling of Elves doing likewise on their side of the river in the trees behind them. Beren turned to them and held his hand out with palm facing them, a sign used by all Elves whereas those who give it intend no threat and a peaceful greeting.

The Elves were dressed entirely in green, fashioned as if for survival and war. There was no distinction about their raiment that would indicate that one was of higher rank than another. While Lúthien used her Elf-eyes to see the difference of each, Beren had to wait until they were nearer. As they came closer, one Elf made his way to the front of the group; like Beren’s hand, he also held his out with palm outward.

“Have no fear,” said the Elf. “I am Randir son of Haldir, and we have watched you for the past couple of leagues; not to harm you, but to insure that the two of you made your journey across East Beleriand to your new home safely. For if we’re not mistaken, you two are Beren and Lúthien; are you not?”

“We are,” answered Beren. “But how did you know that; and how did you know that we were coming?”

Randir replied, “Thorondor was sent to us by the goodwill of Melian. For she told him to also send this message to us: ‘Hear the words of Doriath’s Queen Melian, a Maia of Valinor, that Beren the Brave and my daughter Lúthien, his wife, are being sent to you as a blessing and to aid in the inevitable conflict and sorrow that is yet to come into the far eastern and southeastern reaches of Beleriand, where now are your homes. Your hopes to remain virtually untouched by the war against Morgoth will be dashed, and you will need a leader. Although he is of the race of mortal men, he has wisdom in both leadership and war, as his renown deeds have proven. You would be unwise not to trust in Beren’s leadership, and Lúthien’s, as well. Farewell.’”   

“When did you receive that message?” asked Beren. “It’s only been about ten days since we parted from the Hidden Kingdom.”

“It’s been a few days more than a fortnight that Thorondor came and recited her message,” replied Randir.

“That means my mother had foreseen that we were coming here before we had the mindset to do so,” Lúthien said.

Beren looked at Lúthien and jested, “Have you ever successfully thrown her a surprise birthday party or something like that; you know, without her knowing beforehand?”

At that moment, six more Elves emerged from the woods with a raft. It looked somewhat small, but it would hold up to a dozen Elves or Men without allowing water onto its top. Then an Elf stepped forward and placed a foot next to the running waters. He wielded a bow in hand and an arrow with a slender rope tied to the feathered end of the shaft. The true marksman shot the shaft into the nearest tree on the other side. The rope was untied from the arrow and retied around the tree; the same was done on Beren and Lúthien’s side. The raft was then set into the water along with several Elves; two held fast the ropes to keep the raft from floating downstream. After being asked, Beren and Lúthien joined the Elves for the short trip across the river.

Thus, Beren and Lúthien began their lives on Tol Galen, the large island amid the Adurant River.

Upon reaching the island there was a gathering of many Elves that came to greet their two new leaders. However, they knew not what titles the give them. Nearly all were Nandorin Elves of Denethor’s people; and since his slaying in the First Battle of the Wars of Beleriand near the time when the Valar lifted the Sun and Moon into the sky, they vowed never to call anyone else king.

Then Beren said, “If it is your wish, you may call Lúthien your Queen, but no king am I, except by marriage to her. I am merely Beren, and with her aid I will lead you in the conflict that is sure to come; as told by Melian. Furthermore, we will do our best to lead you with everyday life and survival. If our teachings and tutelage can save at least one life, then be glad; and the more lives saved, the better.”

All present were excited and took courage from his assertive words. Not since their fallen king had this scattered group heard such spirited speech. Moreover, they were eager to learn and very willing to heed Melian’s words.

Joyous described the world of Beren and Lúthien and the Green-Elves; and their most joyous event occurred in the year 467, when Beren and Lúthien’s only child was born. He was named Dior and was called Dior the Beautiful or Aranel. He was also known as Dior Eluchíl, which is Thingol's Heir. Flowing through Dior’s veins was the blood of the threefold race: Men, Elves and the Maia. If there be one other event that could be considered as or more joyous, it came in the year 500 when to Dior and his wife Nimloth was born their daughter Elwing, fairest of all women before and after – save Lúthien.