The Lost Poems of Beren by Archivist

Translator’s Preface (Fëanorion's)

In the high places of Middle-earth, where the winds do speak of yore, I did happen upon a hoard of lore long-forgotten, wherein lay a treasure most rare: a collection of poems, their ink but faintly clinging to the parchment, as though unwilling to yield their beauty to the ravages of time. These verses, writ in the fair hand of some long-departed soul, are no common words, but the very breath of Beren himself, who in days of eld loved Lúthien Tinúviel.

These were not missives meant for all eyes, nor declarations meant for song upon the lips of gleemen. Nay, these were the musings of a heart enthrall’d by love most pure, the lines spun like gossamer, light as a dream and fading as swiftly. They speak not always plainly, but in symbols and shades, weaving their tale in that secret tongue of the Elves, Quenya, which rings in the ear as the sigh of stars.

To bring these hallow'd words into the tongue of mortals hath been no small feat. The music of the Quenya is such that it doth linger in the air, each syllable a note unto itself, and to render it into our speech without losing its charm and cadence hath been my burden. I have sought not only to preserve the form and grace of the original but to capture also its spirit, that the heart of Beren may yet be felt in every line.

Yet, where the Elvish tongue did softly sing in assonance and alliteration, our mortal speech doth demand rhyme, and so have I, in places, altered the form that the sweetness of the message might remain untainted. And in the subtle places where Elvish did speak of both the earth and the heavens in a single breath, I have striven to keep that same union, though at times I found no mortal words meet.

But enough—let these verses now speak for themselves, as they were once sung in the gloaming beneath the stars, and may they bear within them still the love that they were first meant to carry.

Chapter End Notes

— Fëanorion, Archivist of Eregion