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

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Chapter 7 Of Lúthien’s Love and Thingol’s Price

Thingol gives Beren his test to prove his love for Lúthien.

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Off the bank of his camp, Beren is submerged to his neck. Although it’s just after sun-up, the Esgalduin River’s water is pleasantly lukewarm from the summer’s heat. Presently, the enjoyment of his leisurely morning bath is about to be interrupted. Two otters have popped their heads above the water about a foot in front of his face.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Otter,” welcomed Beren. “What brings the two of you here today?”

The otters go under and again pop up in front of Beren’s face. They both spit streams of water in Beren’s face, then immediately go under again. Beren wipes his eyes.

“Hey, that’s not fair, two against one!” he exclaimed.

He looks at the water anticipating where the next attack will come. He turns his head to see behind him and gets another stream in the face from Mr. Otter. He quickly turns the other way, and just after he dries his eyes, he gets another squirt from Mrs. Otter.

“So you want to play, huh? Let’s play!”

Lúthien, followed by five nightingales, quietly walks through Beren’s camp, barely leaving her footprints in the dry dirt. She comes to a large rock at the bank, stands upon it and quietly watches the three. She places her hand over her mouth to quiet her giggles, finding it hard not to laugh aloud. Beren is too intent on winning his current battle against his watery friends to notice Lúthien.

Mr. Otter pops up behind Beren, but he hears him. He quickly turns and tries to jump on him, only to make a huge splash. Mr. Otter dashes under again. Beren comes back up. Mr. Otter pops up again making laughing sounds.

“Oh, you laugh now. You just wait ’til I get a hold of you.” Then Beren feels a pinch at his side. “Ouch! No biting! That’s cheating! Let me take a chunk out of you!”

Beren dives under for a couple seconds and comes back up with Mrs. Otter in his right hand. He holds her high in the air and gives a sinister laugh. “Ha, ha, I got you now!” But Mr. Otter comes up in front of him and squirts another long stream in his face. He drops Mrs. Otter back into the water as he wipes his eyes. Lúthien can’t hold it in anymore: she laughs merrily and loudly. Beren turns and their eyes meet. He wades to her rock.

“What are you laughing at, Tinúviel?” he asked.

Beren reaches his hand out to her, and she takes it thinking to help him out of the water. “Why do you call me Tinúviel?” asked Lúthien.

“Because you never told me your real name,” Beren answered. And at the word “name”, he suddenly jerks her into the water. Lúthien comes up with an astonished look on her face. She lunges at him and pushes him underwater by his head.

“It’s Lúthien, you little…! O!” she exclaimed, splashing water in his face when he had come back up.

Mr. and Mrs. Otter are laughing as they swim on their backs around them.

“I often wondered if an Elven Princess had a sense of humor,” Beren said.

The two wade to the edge, climb out of the water and onto the bank and sit by Beren’s small fire. The nightingales gather around them. The otters remain swimming and playing near the water’s edge.

“Are you one of those people who think Elven royalty is immune to laughter?” Lúthien asked. “I’ll have you know I have a great sense of humor, as well does my father and mother.”

“That’s fascinating. I wouldn’t say immune, but maybe the word ‘reluctant’ was more of how I perceived it,” Beren explained.

“Fascinating? What I find fascinating is how you have found such fun and joy with the birds and beasts of this world. No Elf of any kingdom has more birds or beasts as friend than you, a mortal Man. My nightingales have told me that some actually bring you nuts, fruits and other things to eat; but no meat, for flesh you eat not.”

“They’re some of the best friends I have; as a matter of fact, they’re the only true friends I have. But I don’t feel at a loss. Elves, Men and Dwarves are supposed to be the world’s most intelligent beings. The person who said that never had an Eagle such as Thorondor or an otter like Mr. and Mrs. here for friends. Any one of the three peoples may call you friend, but they may also betray you at any time. None of my furred or feathered friends have ever betrayed me. I have more trust and faith in them than I have of anyone in Middle-earth.”

“Anyone? Not even me?” she asked, as if she was somewhat hurt by his statement.

“Where have you been for the past year?” Beren asked. “I had almost given up on you, but my dreams wouldn’t let me. After we met, my dreams of you wouldn’t stop. I would see you from afar as leaves in the winds of autumn, and in winter as a star upon a hill, but a chain was on my limbs, and I could not reach you. And when you didn’t return, I was in anguish; punished I felt for merely laying eyes on you.”

“Do you remember me speaking of my kinswoman Galadriel? She’s marrying a powerful Elf named Celeborn, and together they will create their own realm east over the Ered Luin. She says they will call it Lórien; short for Lothlórien, which means Blossom-Dream-Land. I went with them to help settle it, although its completion will take quite some time. I am very sorry. Would you believe me if I said there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about you; that I’ve always remained near you?”

They look each other in the eyes. She then breaks concentration and again takes off running through the woods with her nightingales following. Beren remains staring spellbound.

“I shall return tomorrow, I promise!” she shouted back.

*****

At dawn the next day, Beren is asleep as Lúthien walks to his bedding. She quietly lies beside him and caresses his face. He awakens, and she kisses him. She falls forward into him; her lips don’t leave his. He rolls her onto her back, stops kissing her for a moment, stares into her eyes and caresses her face.

“Please tell me this is not a dream,” Beren said. “Is this supposed to happen? Did Ilúvatar, or Eru, intend for two different races to feel this way toward each?”

Lúthien answered, “I know not the answer to your questions? What I do know is: doom fell upon me when I first looked into your eyes, and I have loved you since our first meeting. I have missed you while we’ve been apart, and at those times I have watched over you, and you have felt my presence. I believe I never knew the meaning of lonely until the day we met. I’ve missed you so much. And if you say from your heart the feeling you, Beren son of Barahir, have toward me is indeed love, the same I have for you, then I surrender to you my own heart.”

Lúthien takes his hand and puts hers in it. She brings both to her heart, setting his hand with hers above it directly onto her breast. “I give you my hand and my heart. For you, I would without hesitance choose a mortal life,” she said.

“Even with all your Elven powers capable of looking into my heart,” said Beren, “you could never see the fullness of how much I have already loved you before this moment, nor how much I will hereafter. But how can I ask you to give up your long Elven life for me?”

“You are not asking. It is my life to give, as is my heart mine to give to whomever I choose.”

They kiss again. Unknown to them, Daeron has spied them through the trees. After watching the entire time, his face of curiosity turns to an expression of heartbreak mixed with anger.

*****

That afternoon, Thingol was sitting on his throne with Melian on hers by his side. There are two guards behind them, including Teron, and about forty people throughout the Hall, some standing and some sitting at surrounding tables. Daeron comes before the king and queen and bows.

“Hello, Daeron,” Thingol said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, my minstrel and friend? Have you completed another melodious sonnet? I never tire from hearing your music.”

Daeron replies, “Sorry, but no. Lúthien, I’m afraid, is the reason I am here.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” said the King. “Now you know that we never get involved when it comes to your relationship with her.”

“No disrespect, my King, but I wish you would have before now; for I believe something is happening that you aren’t going to like.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“There is a Man who has been living in your kingdom next to the waters of Esgalduin, about five miles from here. Apparently, he has for quite some time now.”

Everyone in the Hall instantly becomes silent as Daeron continued, “Lúthien has secretly been meeting him there. What’s more: I fear she has fallen in love with this Man. I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you, my King.”

In anger, Thingol stands and turns to Teron. “Teron!” he shouts. “Bring my daughter here immediately! Tell her not why I ask her presence.” Teron bows and exits. Thingol turns to Daeron and says, “I hold you blameless, Daeron.” He then shouts toward the crowd, “Where is Mablung?”

“I am here, my King,” Mablung answered, as he makes his way to the thrones from the midst of those present. Upon reaching them, he bows.

“Find Beleg,” Thingol orders. “I want the two of you to take three others and fetch me this Man. I do not want him harmed. You may use only force enough to bring him before me. Once here, he shall feel my wrath.”

“Right away, my King,” Mablung said. He again bows and departs.

Daeron said, “King Thingol, I’m sorry for all this. But what I say is true. I have seen them together – kissing.”

“Do you know how long she’s been visiting him or when was the last she did so?” Thingol asked.

“I know not how long she’s been meeting him there, but his home appears to have been lived in for quite some time.”

“You said that already,” said Thingol.

“Anyhow, she was there this morning; at dawn. She returned here about thirty minutes ago. I waited and watched this man for a while before returning to the Caverns.”

“So, you just decided to follow Lúthien again without her knowledge. In other words, you have again been spying on her.”

“Must you use the word ‘spying’? I was just looking out for her best interest; hoping to stop her before she makes a grave mistake.”

“I’m sure her interests have nothing to do with it. Nonetheless, I believe your timing is off if she’s already been kissing him. Go now; I don’t want her to know who it was who told me of her clandestine meetings.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, King Thingol. Please, let me know if there is anything else I can do to assist you.”

“Have you no shame? Do you not think you’ve done enough?”

Daeron leaves with head bowed. Thingol turns to Melian and says, “I suppose you know nothing about all this.”

“Would you believe me if I were tell you that I don’t know of any man living inside our borders nor of our daughter’s meetings with him?” she asked.

“No, probably not.”

Melian again smiles and then turns as she sees Lúthien, escorted by Teron, being brought before her and Thingol. He also smiles at her as if nothing is wrong.

“You called for me, my Father?” asked Lúthien.

“Yes, my Princess,” he said. “I was wondering what you’ve been doing so early in the mornings down by the river? You used to dance in the glades inside the Caverns. Is there something that would interest us, or anything we need to know?”

Lúthien looks into her father’s eyes and then into her mother’s. She reads why she’s been called. She looks back at Thingol, who now looks upon her in anger.

“I will discuss nothing about him with you, Father,” she said, “until you swear to me an oath that you will not harm him in any way, imprison him or place him in bonds; for he has done no wrong.”

Thingol shouts, “No wrong?! Then you deny that he lives within the boundaries of my kingdom? Do you deny that he has touched you, or that he has kissed you?”

“No, Father. We’ve kissed each other; for I…” Lúthien said, but is interrupted.

“Don’t say it!” Thingol exclaims. “I want not to hear it! He should be punished just for laying eyes on you.”

“Well, you’re going to hear it,” Lúthien continued. “I love him, father.”

Thingol looks at Melian, who sits with her usual smile, and says to her, “Such a stubborn lass! Have you nothing to say in this matter?”

“I agree: stubborn she is,” said Melian. “From who did she gets that trait, I wonder? But what I’d like to know is: is he a good kisser?”

Several Elves standing nearby giggle at Melian’s question. But Thingol, not tickled whatsoever, says, “As usual, you’re not helping!”

“If you want my help,” Melian said, “I suggest you give in to her request for an oath so you can at least know something about this Man before your guards bring him before you.”

“You have sent guards for him!” Lúthien exclaimed in a panic.

“Silence, Lúthien!” Thingol said. “I will reluctantly swear to you this oath: when I meet this Man I will not place him in bonds, imprison him or harm him in any way. Now quickly, tell me something about him.”

“He’s a great kisser, Mother,” she said with a big smile. More giggles come from the nearby Elves.

“Very funny!” said Thingol, who still found no humor. “Be serious! What kind of Man is he?”

“He is a good man, Father. He’s strong and brave; and yet he’s kind and has a good heart. He is the Man who has taken on Morgoth alone. You would be fortunate to have this man as a warrior among your captains. All the Elven-kingdoms in Beleriand, including ours, sing his praises.”

“I have sung no Man’s praises. But we will see if I have anything to sing about when this Man arrives. I have sent five guards to bring him before me.”

Lúthien’s face again turns to panic, and she says, “You sent five guards for him?”

“Yes, but worry not,” Thingol said, thinking Lúthien was worried about what they would do to Beren. “They were told to harm him not.”

“It’s not the Man I’m worried about!” she said. She then explained, “You have sent only five guards to retrieve Beren son of Barahir, who single-handedly defeats armies of Orcs! What do you think he’ll do to a mere five guards?”

Lúthien runs from the Hall. Thingol looks at Melian and says, “The son of Barahir? She has fallen for Beren, and I sent only five guards for him? May Ilúvatar aid them.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s kept him secret,” said Melian.

Thingol rolls his eyes and tells her, “Again, dear, you’re not helping.”

*****

Arriving at Beren’s camp, Mablung, Beleg, Begelos, Celemir and Celemur have positioned themselves behind trees with Beren’s back to them. Mablung gives a signal, and they run at him. But the fully aware Beren turns and kicks Begelos in his jaw, sending him to the ground. He then ducks under Celemir’s swing and plants the bottom of his palm square in Celemur’s face. Mablung and Beleg grab Beren from behind by his arms. Begelos rises to punch Beren as he’s held. That’s when Beleg recognized Beren.

“Wait!” Beleg shouted. Beleg looked again to be sure; Mablung also recognized him. “Beren?” inquired Beleg. “Son of Barahir?”

Begelos punches Beren’s jaw anyway, and then smiles. Beleg and Mablung release Beren, who shakes his head and stares down the smiling Begelos.

“You’re going to pay for that. You won’t know when, but you will pay,” Beren said.

“Begelos, halt!” Mablung said. “You have no idea whom you anger. This is Beren son of Barahir. Do you not remember us?”

Begelos’ smile goes away.

Beren asked, “Mablung? Mablung of the Heavy Hand — and Beleg Strongbow Cú… Cú…?”

“Cúthalion. That’s right,” Mablung said. “How have you been? We have often wondered if we would see you again.”

They both stick their right hands out to be shaken, just the same way Barahir had taught them.

“I like our first meeting better; what, about five years ago?” asked Beren, as he gladly shook Beleg’s and then Mablung’s hands.

“I guess it has been that long,” Beleg said. “Sorry about all this.”

“Evidently, you’ve caused quite a stir,” said Mablung. “Did I hear right? You have fallen for our Princess, the Lady Lúthien? What’s more is: she has fallen for you. Well, who would have guessed?”

“You know she is the most beautiful being ever to grace Middle-earth,” said Beleg. “So you can imagine how many have wanted her hand. What’s your secret? How did you win her heart?”

Beren answered, “Secret? I have no secret. I treated her like anyone else wants to be treated.”

At that moment Lúthien, who heard Beren’s answer, came running through the woods and made her way to him. “That’s right,” she said. “Beren treating me like a regular person was the first time I felt like a queen. Are you hurt? You bleed.” With the cuff of her sleeve, Lúthien wipes the blood from Beren’s lip.

Beren glares at Begelos, whose face now expresses fear. Beren answered, “No, my love. This is something I’ll take care of later. Let me guess: this is your father’s doings.”

“Father has learned of our meetings and is a wee bit angry.”

“Thus, this Welcoming Committee?”

“He wants you before him. Therefore, I am going to take you to him. The rest of you may follow.”

“But my Princess,” said Begelos, “we have orders to bring him in ourselves, and we were ordered by your father to use whatever force is necessary to do so.”

“Now you have new orders,” said Lúthien. “Or would you like me to use my force and turn you into a spotted toad standing amidst ten grass snakes?”

“I’m sorry, my Princess. Please, take him.”

They start walking to Menegroth, with Lúthien and Beren leading the other five.

*****

Walking through the Hall and about a hundred murmuring Elves, Lúthien leads Beren to Thingol’s throne. Beren cannot help but to look around in awe at the kingdom’s majestic surroundings. Upon reaching the thrones, Lúthien stands beside him and smiles at her parents as if she had brought an honored guest invited to some type of special festivity. Thingol, however, looks scornfully at Beren as the other five stand nearby. Beren feels the King’s eyes cut through him like a knife and has now noticed that the Hall has become silent; although he hears his heart attempting to beat its way out of his chest. Finally, Thingol breaks the silence, speaking scornfully and very slowly.

“Who are you who comes here as a thief, and unbidden dare to approach my throne?” Thingol asked.

Beren, still in awe, is speechless and looks at Lúthien and then at Melian. He turns back to Lúthien with an expression as if to say, “Help me.” She then answers for him: “He is Beren son of Barahir, lord of Men, mighty foe of Morgoth, the tale of whose deeds has become a song even among the Elves.”

Thingol, however, snaps at Lúthien: “Let Beren speak!” Thingol returns his glare at Beren and says, “What have you here, unhappy mortal, and for what cause have you left your own land to enter this, which is forbidden to such as you? Can you show reason why my power should not be laid on you in heavy punishment for your insolence and folly?”

Beren looks again at Lúthien, and again at Melian, who sits still smiling. It seems to him he hears both their voices in his head. He looks at Thingol with the pride of the first house of Men.

“My fate, O King,” Beren said, “led me here, through perils such as few even the Elves would dare. And here I have found something that I sought not, but finding I would possess for ever. For it is above all gold and silver, and beyond all jewels. Neither rock, nor steel, nor the fires of Morgoth, nor all the powers of the Elf-kingdoms shall keep from me the treasure I desire. For Lúthien your daughter is the fairest of all the Children of the World.”

The silent crowd waits for Thingol’s worse. Begelos loudly speaks, “He deserves death, my King!”

Mablung slaps Begelos upside his head and says, “Silence.”

“Hey, that hurt,” Begelos quietly said.

“He speaks true,” said Thingol. “Death you have earned with these words; and death you should find suddenly, had I not sworn an oath in haste; of which I repent, baseborn mortal, who in the realm of Morgoth has learnt to creep in secret as his spies and thralls.”

Beren, nearly interrupting, says, “Death you can give me earned or unearned; but the names I will not take from you of baseborn, nor spy, nor thrall.” He then holds up his hand with the ring Felagund gave Barahir. And as the ring’s green jewels gleam and its silver shines, Beren continues, “By the Ring of Felagund, that he gave to Barahir my father on the battlefield of the North, my house has not earned such names from any Elf, be he king or no.”

As the crowd again murmurs — this time in awe of the Elven-crafted ring wrought in Valinor — Melian leans to counsel Thingol in whisper: “Forgo your wrath, my love. For not by you shall Beren be slain; and far and free does his fate lead him in the end, yet it is wound with yours. Take heed!”

Thingol whispers back to her, “Unhappy Men, children of little lords and brief kings, shall such as these lay hands on Lúthien, and yet live?”

Melian sits back and again smiles at Beren and Lúthien. Thingol also looks at Lúthien, and then Beren — without a smile. Again the crowd becomes silent as Thingol prepares to speak.

“I see the ring, son of Barahir,” he said, “and I perceive that you are proud and deem yourself mighty. But a father’s deeds, even had his service been rendered to me, avail not to win the daughter of Thingol and Melian.” Thingol arises and stands before Beren. He continues, “See now! I too desire a treasure that is withheld. For rock and steel and the fires of Morgoth keep the jewel that I would possess against all the powers of the Elf-kingdoms. Yet I hear you say that bonds such as these do not daunt you. Go your way therefore! Bring to me in your hand a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown. I’m sure you know he treasures them in Angband above all wealth; and Balrogs are about them, along with countless swords, and strong bars, and unassailable walls, and the dark majesty of Morgoth himself. But if these still daunts you not and you succeed, and if she will, Lúthien may set her hand in yours. Then you shall have my jewel; and though the fate of Arda lies within the Silmarils, yet you shall hold me generous.”

Beren looks down, shakes his head, and then lifts it with a brief laugh and smile. “For little price,” he said, “do Elven-Kings sell their daughters: for gems, and things made of craft. But if this be your will, Thingol, I will perform it. And when we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown; for you have not looked the last upon Beren son of Barahir.”

Beren looked at Melian and bowed. He then turned to Lúthien, grabbed her hands with a light squeeze and bowed to her. Then he bowed to Thingol and said, “Farewell, Thingol. We will meet again.”

Beren then walked to where the five guards were standing. Lúthien also met them.

“Well, you’re either very brave,” said Mablung, “very much in love, or very, very dumb.”

Beren looks at Lúthien and says, “Maybe it’s all three.”

“You don’t have to do this, my love,” said Lúthien.

“Yes, I do,” said Beren. “Your Father nor Morgoth shall stand between us.”

“I kind of feel sorry for you, almost to the point to go with you,” Beleg said.

“I wouldn’t ask you to” said Beren.

“You are dumb,” said Mablung. “I’d take all the aid I could get.”

“Would you like to go?” asked Beren.

“I didn’t say that.”

Beren chuckles and then looks at Lúthien, who starts to weep. “I’ll be fine,” Beren said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Beren and Lúthien kiss and hug, which was witnessed by Thingol, who holds his tongue as he looks back at Melian who smiles at him. Mablung and Beleg’s eyes become a bit misty.

“I love you,” said Lúthien, to which Beren replied, “I know. I love you, too.”

They break, and Beren begins to walk away. As he starts to walk past Begelos, he knees him in the groin. Begelos bends over with a moan and Beren knees his face, standing him up with a bleeding nose. Beren then punches him across the cheek, spinning his head and knocking him out. He then steps over Begelos and makes his way into the darkness of the Hallway leading to the Gates as the rest watch. Mablung, Beleg, Celemir and Celemur laugh as Begelos moans. Lúthien bows her head and slowly walks back to the thrones.

“Beren versus Morgoth,” Beleg said. “Hmm, I put my wager on Beren.”

Thingol sits back in his throne. He doesn’t see Lúthien approaching as Melian again whispers to him, “Oh King, you have devised cunning counsel. But if my eyes have not lost their sight, it is ill for you, whether Beren fail in his errand, or achieve it. For you have doomed either your daughter, or yourself. And now is Doriath drawn within the fate of a mightier realm.”

Thingol said, “I sell not to Elves or Men those whom I love and cherish above all treasure. And if there were hope or fear that Beren should come ever back alive to Menegroth, he should not have looked again upon the light of heaven, though I had sworn it.”

Thingol turns and sees that Lúthien has come and has heard him. She runs off crying. Thingol looks at Melian and sighs. Melian says, “I foresee that our daughter will sing never again in Menegroth.”

Thingol’s face turns to a look of sadness and remorse.