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

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Chapter 9 Of Sauron

Beren with Finrod and his soldiers are captured by Sauron, who threatens to kill all unless he finds out who he's really captured.

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Beren, Felagund and the other ten set out the next morning for Angband. After walking all day with only two short rests, they have made their way to the Falls of Ivrin.

About two hours after sunset, they discover a band of Orcs. Hiding and maneuvering behind trees, they surround the unsuspecting group busy with fire and food. Felagund signals and the rest draw their bows; another signal and they fire, killing many. They then invade and slay the remaining Orcs. Thereafter, they gather for counsel.

“I wonder how many more of Sauron’s servants, monsters and who knows what else we’ll meet before we get to Tol Sirion,” said Beren.

“We call it Tol-in-Gaurhoth,” said Edrahil, “since Sauron took over the mastery of that beautiful island from Orodreth. In your tongue it means: the Isle of Werewolves.”

“Whatever it’s called, I feel we’re never going to get there,” Beren said.

“It’ll take twice as long if we try going north over Ered Wethrin from this point. Maybe we can go a little northeast where the mountains are not so wide,” Edrahil said.

“Why don’t we just blend in?” suggested Felagund.

“What do you mean?” asked Beren.

“I’m not a king just because my head fits the crown,” Felagund answered. “I shall put forth an enchantment that’ll turn us into these Orcs; just their faces and hands. When we get closer to Sauron’s island, we’ll need to walk and behave like Orcs.”

“You can do that? Why didn’t your great Ilúvatar give Men powers like that?” Beren wondered aloud.

Felagund closes his eyes, stretches out his arms ceremoniously and speaks some Elvish words.

“Is this going to be painful?” asked Beren.

Immediately, they resemble the Orcs. They look at one another.

Orc-Felagund said, “Well met, handsome.”

“Oh, if my wife could see me now,” said orc-Edrahil.

“I think it’s an improvement,” said orc-Beren.

“Who asked you?” said orc-Edrahil, as the others laughed.

*****

The guised group makes their way along the west banks of the River Sirion near the northern tip of Tol Sirion. Everything appears shadowed. To their left are tall river weeds. They have just passed Sauron’s tower to their right. Little do they know, Sauron has seen them. The only sound heard is the rolling water of the river. Beren shakes his head as in disbelief and stops. The rest, wondering why he had done so, also come to a halt.

“Is there a problem?” asked orc-Felagund. “We’re almost past the island.”

Orc-Beren answered, “That’s the problem: it’s been too easy. Don’t you think?”

Suddenly, a band of Orcs come from behind. They all have spears pointed toward the group members, except the leader Sorium, who pulls a scimitar on Felagund. The disguised Elven King speaks to him like any other Orc.

“What is all this?” asked orc-Felagund, while trying to also act like an orc.

“Sauron demands your presence,” Sorium answered.

“Foolishness, we have work to do.”

Sorium puts his scimitar close to Felagund’s face. “No one goes against the Great Sauron and his demands; like reporting to him each time you near the Tower — which is actually an order by Morgoth. Or have you forgotten?”

“We have no time for this nonsense.”

“You have no choice. Start moving, or I’m going to start chopping limbs and heads!”

Orc-Beren and orc-Felagund briefly look at each other. “Lead on then,” said orc-Felagund.

Sorium sheaths his scimitar and says, “To the Tower, you vermin!”

The Orc-Elves follow with the other orcs guarding from the rear.

*****

In the Tower and Sauron’s Chamber, the orc-Elves stand before the world’s second most evil being, who sits on his throne. The Chamber appears much like it did when Gorlim was there. And as always, Draugluin sits at Sauron’s feet. The orc-Elves’ hands are tied behind their backs.

“Who are you?” asked Sauron, but none answer. “By now you must know that I know Orcs you are not.” Again, none answer. Therefore, Sauron points at one of the orc-Elves who falls on his face choking. He looks up transformed and undisguised. Blood oozes from his nose and mouth. He rolls from side to side and screams out in pain.

Orc-Felagund shouts, “Stop!”

Sauron withdraws his point. The Elf lies flat on his back and gasps. Felagund, releasing his own bonds and raises his hands. His and the others’ faces and hands change back to normal.

“That’s no way to treat your guests,” Felagund said.

Felagund points at Sauron, who rises from his throne and is pinned to the wall with his head turned to the right. All  Sauron’s servants pull their weapons; Draugluin abruptly rises and growls. Wolves snarl and snakes hiss. Sauron shouts to all, “No! Use not your weapons! Attack not; and you, Draugluin, stay!”

They comply, but they keep their weapons drawn. Draugluin remains growling, although quieter than before. Blood begins running from Sauron’s mouth. He slowly turns his head and smiles at Felagund; the blood runs between his teeth, from his mouth and down his chin. He closes his eyes and gives a low groan. They all fall unconscious, except for Felagund.

“So, you must be a Noldo; one of great power who thinks he’s capable of defeating me, Sauron the Great,” he said. “I felt your power. Impressive; most impressive. Who are you?”

Felagund answered, “Tell me, Sauron, if Morgoth calls himself ‘King of the World,’ what does that make you? His Queen?”

“I hate jesters; killed my last two. And, your humor does not lighten my mood. No more fooling around. Who are you?”

“You’ll have to work for that answer. I’d rather die before I tell you.”

“That can easily be arranged. Maybe you’ll be fortunate enough to die laughing.”

Sauron unpins his hands. He then holds one out and then closes it. Felagund falls unconscious. Sauron slowly slides down the wall to the floor and sits again on his throne.

“Take them down to the Throne Room’s pit. Harm them not. I have my own ways of having fun.”

*****

Coming slowly to consciousness, Beren squints to focus. He realizes he is in a pit and looks toward the light of a doorway. He then looks up at the pit’s opening about twenty-five feet, from where another single beam of dull light descends. Then he sees that they are all in torture devises and are incapable of any movement. With long pins securing individual iron cage-like devises, they’re held to the pit’s circular walls. He looks around and sees Felagund in the shadows; next to him on his left he sees Edrahil half way within the light.

“Edrahil?” said Beren. “Edrahil, can you hear me?”

Edrahil moans, “Yes, Beren, I hear you. Where are we?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of pit or dungeon I think.”

“Take your pick,” they hear Felagund’s voice say, coming from across the room in the darkness. “It’s part of Minas Tirith I had built to keep captured servants of the Enemy. I never thought I’d be imprisoned in here. I built the pit; these devises of torture I did not.”

“I heard Edrahil say Orodreth once held this island. Did you aid him in the building of this Tower?” Beren asked.

“Minas Tirith was our outpost,” Felagund answered. “This was my island. However, it was captured by Sauron from my brother, to whom I gave rule in my stead before going to the Dagor Brachollach. Orodreth never had a chance against a Maia like Sauron. He, of course, filled it with sheer horror: Orcs, vampires, werewolves, dragons and many other creatures. As you can see, he made it such an evil place that I didn’t want it back.”

Sauron is heard above laughing. He then said, “And I and my servants, thank you. Now you shall tell me who you are. You see, my werewolves have not eaten in several days. I keep them a little hungry for such occasions. You will know not their presence until one comes to feed, nor which of you they will choose. I will continue sending them one by one until one of you reveals to me who you are and your purpose. As for one last chance, I shall save you much pain if someone wishes to tell me now what I seek.”

Dead silence fills the air. Felagund then speaks: “You know nothing of oaths, Sauron, except that you and your leader are breakers of them. Your dominion is torment; such as you reveal to us. Now you may find cruel ways to slay us, but you shall also find our oaths are stronger than our fears.”

“Silence! I’ve heard enough talk. We shall see how strongly you believe in oaths when the flesh is heard as it’s ripped from your bones and the blood starts flowing and filling the pit. Yes, we will see how strong, beginning now.”

Sauron’s footsteps and laughter are heard as he walks from the pit’s opening. They hear a grunt coming from the doorway. Just outside the light, two red eyes are seen gazing inward. Then swiftly a werewolf attacks an Elf. The rest can only listen to his blood-curdling screams. They also scream in horror hearing biting sounds, snarling and the ripping of his flesh. Beren closes his eyes as tears roll down his cheeks.

*****

Meanwhile that morning in Menegroth, Melian sat at a table on a balcony cutting flowers and placing them in vases. Lúthien came to her with her face expressing worry.

“I know you’re upset with your Father, but can you blame him?” Melian asked.

“No, I blame him not,” Lúthien said, “but I had hoped that he’d be more understanding.”

“You’re talking about an Elven-King who has shunned the race of Men; desiring not their service or presence.”

“Yes, but I am his daughter. He listens not to anything I try to tell him. Has he no understanding to my heart; my happiness?”

“You’re Father wants you to be very happy, Lúthien. Maybe it’s you who refuses to understand? Maybe you both are to blame? A wise Elf knows that its understanding that brings solutions. Have you attempted to speak with him since Beren left?”

“No. But it appears you’ve taken his side.”

Melian smiles. “My dear, I take no side; and if I were to take a side, it would be yours. Remember, I fell in love upon seeing him the first time. I understand not just his mind, but also his heart. But I also understand yours, as well. Has not a shadow come over it; one not caused by your Father.”

“I’ve been watching over Beren, but I cannot see him now. Please, help me. Seek him for me.”

Melian closes her eyes. After several seconds she says, “You lost your vision after he left Ivrin, correct?”

“Yes,” said Lúthien in amazement.

“I know now why your heart is shadowed. He is with King Felagund in a dungeon of Tol-in-Gaurhoth with ten others. One, not Beren or Felagund, has been slain and…”

“And?” Lúthien’s eyes begin to tear up.

Melian opens her eyes and looks at Lúthien. “…devoured by a werewolf. Sauron sends them one by one until he discovers from them what he seeks or until all are slain. He is unsure who they are, yet he believes Felagund is a Noldo of great might and wisdom.”

“I must go to them!”

“Lúthien?”

“Mother, if I go not, they will surely perish. Nobody else even knows they’re imprisoned there. And I will stay not here and do nothing and just let them die.”

“Of course, you must go, but be wise; for the strengths of your mind and your heart shall serve you better than brute or desire ever shall.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

*****

Immediately after leaving her mother, Lúthien runs through a cavern hallway. She sees Daeron at the end and runs to him shouting his name.

“Yes, my Princess,” said Daeron.

“I seek your aid.”

“Anything for you, of course.”

“I ask you to accompany me to Tol-in-Gaurhoth.”

“Sauron’s Island; the Isle of Werewolves? Why must you go there?”

“Beren is imprisoned there without assistance and will die if I don’t go. I ask that if you ever were my friend, please help me now.”

Daeron finds it hard to hide his true feelings; he would like nothing better than to have Beren out of his way. “Of course, I will help you,” he said. “Go to the stables and have the keeper prepare two of the fastest horses. I will get some provisions and meet you there shortly.”

“Thank you, Daeron.”

Daeron turns from her as she goes the other way. A sneer crosses his lips, and he makes a beeline for Thingol.

*****

Daeron finds the King in the Banquet Hall. Thingol is giving several Elves instructions, and Daeron patiently waits until he’s done and they depart.

“Daeron, have you come to help set up tonight’s banquet?” asked Thingol.

“No, my King,” Daeron answers, “I have come for I have news regarding Lúthien.”

“Yes? What is it now?” Thingol asked with a sigh.

“She plans to leave for Tol-in-Gaurhoth to save Beren who has been captured and imprisoned there,” Daeron answered, causing Thingol’s rolling eyes to appear more serious. “She asked me to aid her, and I feigned that I would. I told her I would gather some provisions and meet her at the stables. She is having the stable-keeper prepare two horses.”

Thingol says nothing, but hastens through the Hall in anger. Daeron smiles until Thingol gets to the doorway and calls for him. “Daeron, come with me!”

*****

When Thingol and Daeron arrive at the stables with three of the King’s guards, they see Lúthien sitting Elven-style on her horse with Daeron’s next to hers and the stable-keeper nearby. Thingol, Daeron and the guards come around the stable’s corner. She at once begins to glare at Daeron.

“Lúthien!” Thingol shouted. “Dismount that horse! Now!”

She does after she whispers in her horse’s ear. It gives a low neigh and both horses leave. Two guards straightway go to her sides.

“Where did you think you were going?” Thingol asked

Lúthien replied, “I’m sure your rat told you everything you need to know. How could you? I trusted you.”

“Don’t make this about him because it is not. This is about you preparing to do something very foolish. I can’t believe my daughter thinks she’s going to risk her life for some Man.”

“You’re right, this isn’t about Daeron. It’s about you not wanting to believe that Men are worthy of your standards. It’s also about me who has seen more joy in this Man than your kingdom or all the Elf-kingdoms have to offer. You have met a Man very worthy: his bravery is so that Morgoth and his servants fear him; his kindness knows no bounds so that even all the birds and beasts love him, and the pride of his house overcomes even your intimidation.”

“This isn’t about me either,” Thingol said.

“Surely you don’t believe that,” Lúthien said. “When I brought Beren before you, did you even look at me, Father? Did you look into my eyes or my heart as I looked at Beren? If you had, you might have seen that I look at him the same way you look at Mother.”

Hearing her words, Daeron begins feeling uncomfortable.

Raising his voice above Lúthien’s, Thingol said, “Enough! Do not say another word, Princess. If you say this is about me, then I shall hear no more of this, and I shall do what I think is best. Therefore, since I fulfilled my oath by not imprisoning Beren, it appears I shall have to imprison you. So, you will go to your chambers under guard and remain there until I say otherwise.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lúthien said.

“I am, though I will not deprive you of the lights of heaven, lest you fall and fade,” said Thingol. “Therefore, in the great Beech tree of Hirilorn a house shall be built, and there you shall dwell until I know more.”

“You mean until you know Beren is dead. Are you also going to let King Felagund die just to keep me apart from Beren?” Lúthien asked.

“That is not my problem!” Thingol exclaimed. “Besides, you know not what’s going to happen.”

“I don’t believe you, Father!” said Lúthien. “I am your daughter you’re about to imprison. Finrod is your friend whom you are about to doom and…”

Thingol again interrupts her, “Silence!”

Lúthien looks at Daeron and says, “Are you happy now?! Is this what you wanted? You have a strange way of proving your friendship.”

“Enough! Come, Daeron,” said Thingol.

Thingol and Daeron begin to walk away. Lúthien weeps. Daeron’s expression, which he hides from Thingol, shows he now feels that he made the wrong choice.

Lúthien pleads, “Father!… Father, please!” However, Thingol ignores her and continues walking around the corner.

*****

Hirilorn was the king of Beech trees. It grew less than a stone’s throw from the southern bank of Esgalduin. Turning to the west, one could throw another stone and easily hit the bridge; or turn south and hit Menegroth’s Gate. Its trunk seemed to be made of three trunks combined into one; split into its three equal smaller trunks about half way to its first branches nearly twenty-five feet from the ground. Gray and smooth was its rind.

The house Thingol’s carpenters skillfully built was a roundhouse nestled in support of the three trunks with white walls going up to its thatched roof that came to a point, similar to the top of a carousel. It was furnished with eight diamond-shaped windows spaced evenly within the round wall. There was only one door, which opened to the southwest and could be reached only with a tall ladder, which also had to be built by the carpenters.

Lúthien now sits at a small table in her new home looking out into the night sky. Two guards sit in chairs beneath her window and talk quietly. Lúthien stands, walks to the center of the room and stoops over. She closes her eyes and chants some Elvish words. Suddenly, her hair begins to rapidly grow. Seconds later a large pile lies on the floor. She then lifts her head and the hair detaches at it previous length. She then splits the hair into two equal piles and slowly waves a hand over each and speaks several more Elvish words of enchantment.

Now on the floor are a robe and a rope made of her hair. Each has been laced with an enchantment of slumber. She picks up the rope and goes to the window above the guards. She slowly feeds the rope out the window and down until it is inches above the guards’ heads. She then gently swings it above both. Soon both bow their heads, fall gently to the ground and begin snoring. She smiles. Then she puts on the robe, turning it and her invisible. She climbs down the rope, landing in between the two guards. She looks at them and smiles.

“Sweet dreams,” she said. She then quietly slips away,  crosses the bridge and begins her northwesterly journey.