The Eyes and Ears of Morgoth by Chilled in Hithlum

A Vision of Hope

Húrin witnesses something that would be of interest to his foe

The tenth anniversary of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad drew nigh and in an exercise of self aggrandisement Morgoth declared: ‘A day of revelry and debauchery to commemorate the occasion of Our Establishment in Eä, with further regard to ongoing victories!’ He decreed that all in Angband will attend: the pronouncement stated ‘There will be elf-flesh on the spit, newly spilt blood in the cup and much sport for thralls!’ Húrin only heard of this debacle ahead of time owing to the goading of the orc children (who still soaked him twice weekly) that boasted about “The Upcoming Party!” and his absence from it. The day of Midsummer arrives bright and clear this year, but within the bowels of dark Angband the dawn is shut out and breaks amid great noise and much evil; great plumes of black vapour issue from high Thangorodrim but the generous southerly winds of Manwë blow away the smoke and reek from the fair country of Beleriand.

On this day Húrin finds it difficult to concentrate on the Orb and his scanning of it becomes erratic, the images whiz and blur together as of old and once again he becomes rather nauseous. On a sudden the images cease, but not by his will; and there before him is the view from the Orb with the long grass and dirt path that hardly ever changes. He finds this curious for he hasn’t bothered about this scene for the longest time; indeed he cannot remember the last time he paused to ponder its mysteries as in days gone by, but now he finds himself doing just that! At length as Húrin concentrates deeper, the tumult and clamour from below begins to dissipate and all sound is now diffused clearly through the Orb, every rustle and creak in that far off place he plainly hears; and it seems to him that he has neither the will nor the ability to change what he considers at his fore. He delights in birdsong just somewhere beyond his vision until presently he hears other voices singing too, faint at first but growing louder, sharper and sweeter; he knows the song to be of the elven tongue but not all the words they sing. Húrin hopes desperately that the owners of those voices would pass by so that he might look upon the Fair Folk once more, and even so it happens; verily he receives more than he wishes for, because these elves hail from Gondolin and his heart leaps at the sight of one in the company that he knows. Húrin shouts aloud: "Voronwë, Voronwë, it is Húrin calling to you; I am lost to the world, please hear me!"

Voronwë hears him not, alas, and the man of Dor-lómin weeps as the friend of his youth, whom he never expected to see again, calmly moves on; until at last all that was to left to him is the scene with which he was so familiar, for even the birds followed after the elves. In all his time in captivity, Húrin has never felt so abandoned or alone and he cries out: "O Ilúvatar, I thank you for showing me this vision, but your gift is bittersweet for I am a prisoner without hope and my friends sing aloud in freedom with no care. Ah, if only it were possible I would follow them! Aye willingly would I follow, and to whatever end it would take me: and I would be glad!"

Now about the high places of Arda where the winds are strongest, be it in a place of goodwill or of evil intent, a heartfelt prayer of gratitude is heard all the clearer by The Powers of the World; for as it was with Fingon when he searched for the captive Maedhros on high Thangorodrim so it is on this day, and a thing undreamt of happens before Hurin's eyes. The Orb in view begins to shudder violently until it dislodges itself from the grassy fingers that held it in place for so long; it escapes onto the track and rolls in the direction that the Elves of Gondolin had taken, seemingly of its own accord. The merry company have already made a lot of ground ere the Orb begins its pursuit and no sound does it make upon the dusty ground as they go; and again the sound of birdsong and elven singing is heard before anything comes into view and the elves as they go seem blissfully unaware of any presence or aught else trailing after them.

Húrin watches in wonder and delight as he sees his friend walking ahead, he speaks again: "Voronwë, could it be that you heard my call? Nay, I deem it unlikely: even so I pray that The Powers protect you in payment for the kindness you showed in Gondolin towards my brother and me, and equally for the blessing of seeing you again this day!"  

The walking party abruptly halt and Voronwë says, "What trickery is this? We are on the wrong road; look back yonder far through those trees, there lays The Gates of Sirion. We must turn back!"

A venerable Elf arrayed in different gear speaks "But this would take us too long and time is pressing. Cirdan cannot wait for us, Voronwë; your ship awaits you in the delta!"

A younger Gondolindrim calls out and points towards a thicket: "My Lords, behold down yonder, our road lies beyond this copse. The ground is not too steep and I can see a way through!" says he. So led by the young Elf, the party continue on their way and the stray Orb follows unnoticed; and it happens that by going along this route the travellers save two hours journeying and meet Cirdan in good time.

During these years the displaced elves of Beleriand had for the most part migrated south and east; with many coming to the ever increasing stronghold at the Isle of Balar, where Cirdan fled after the sack of the Falas. Not since their first days at Cuiviénen had such a gathering of miscellaneous elves dwelt and laboured together in one place with unity and consistency of purpose, and as news spread of this place many were drawn nigh. As yet the isle compared little to the lost havens but the harbourage was good and its proximity to the mainland nigh to the Mouths of Sirion and Arvernien allowed for expansion and provision. Now the path which the Orb had followed diverged westerly from the river as the company of Voronwë endeavoured further south, until at length they could go no further and halted atop a sheer rock face. The cliff had steps carved into it leading down to a plateau below that served as a jetty, there stood Cirdan and others of the Gondolindrim that awaited Voronwë’s small party who descended to meet them. The Orb (still ostensibly of its own accord) skirted the rocky edge of the precipice but did not drop; and although it acted as if it was itself were curious to follow the elves it did not tumble down the stairway lest the clatter should alert them. All Húrin could see then was the waters of the wide sea and his heart was stirred as never before. The winds were kindly that day and whistled not but the roar of the coastal waves could not be abated. However the will of the one driving the Orb that day was stronger than Ossë that day for his noise was quietened so that Húrin began to hear the words of the elves below.  

"As I spoke to Turgon's Herald, I say to you once again: This is the last ship I will build for Gondolin and I urge you not to take it,” says Cirdan; “Every one of your kin that have tried this errand are lost and the burden of my participation in their doom lays heavy upon me, I will not carry more!" 
    Voronwë replies "I fear you could be right, My Lord Cirdan, and let Mandos hold you blameless for your part; but we must do our king's will!" and all about him assent to this. On a sudden, Húrin gasps with horror; and even though he fears for Voronwë, he suddenly realises that his listening to this conversation could hand vital information to Morgoth. He tries frantically to will the Orb to stop but cannot; he shouts and begs; and evens cajoles it to no avail, but as abruptly as his panic began it is assuaged by the words "...all is safe!" calmly spoken by Cirdan.

Húrin heard many blessings and farewells: then he watched with a heavy heart as the Last Ship of Gondolin sailed out into The West, and last of all he heard Cirdan ascending the rocky stairway. However, ere the shipwright could reach the top, a squall of wind and seawater burst against the cliff face causing the elf to expertly lean into the precipice and hold on to a craggy mass until it passed. At this moment the Orb rolled over the edge and fell unseen into the crashing waters below; and as quickly as the Orb fell into darkness (becoming no more) so it was that the same befell the sudden surge that caused it to happen. At length Cirdan reached the height of the cliff and being shaken by this occurrence he went to the brink and rebuked Ossë for his petulance. But the Maiar was wroth at this accusation and came to the stony quayside that he himself had carved for his friends: “You wrong me with those words, Cirdan;” said he, “Never once have I essayed to harm you and always have I accompanied you as a friend, and have I not aided you at need!” and knowing the depth of his friend’s heart Cirdan repented. Therefore after an in-depth discussion on this matter he was reconciled with Ossë, but neither of the two knew aught of what this event portended; thenceforth the elf wondered much at this strange chance, however he would see many ages of the world pass him by ere he learnt the answer to this riddle.

Owing to the number of hours that Húrin had whiled away on the never changing image within that Orb and its proximity to the River Sirion all of this became known in Valinor; for it is Ulmo (not Ossë) who inhabits and governs all waters, and it was that Vala who guided the Orb unto its final objective. Moreover it is Manwë who watches the high places in Middle-earth, thus when his eagles had noted Húrin’s interest in the Sirion Orb a search party was put forth until it was found. By the power of Ulmo a mist was put about this article of Melkor to render it unseen by any wayfarer, and it seems that in so doing its innate quality to receive transmitted thought from a like unit became dormant; hence Húrin did not happen upon that static view for some years. Ever did the plight of Húrin dismay Manwë and he always kept ready a listening ear for any report on his predicament, and in this he was aided by his spouse Varda whom together enhanced the other’s hearing and vision; but the chief Vala’s main source of news came by way of his eagles which ever patrolled the skies of Middle-earth. Therefore once Hurin's plea was heard, Manwë's Eagles were sent abroad and Ulmo set the Orb in motion; and even when it split asunder, Thorondor was summoned to Valinor to tell all that the Eagles had seen.  

The Lord of Eagles comes to the house of Aulë as directed, and Manwë awaits him there;  present too are the Elven Lords Ingwë, Olwë and Finarfin; Manwë speaks: "Before I convene a council at the Máhanaxar, I have asked Thorondor to appraise us of matters now moving in Middle-earth!"
    Thorondor begins: "My lords, for a decade now my captains and I have observed a lonely figure imprisoned in a seat high above Melkor's stronghold, I identified him long ago as Hurin, son of Galdor. He sees us not because of our great altitude; moreover, for the most part he is held enthralled by a black glass-like globe fixed to his chair. There is much in that wicked kingdom which my folk cannot unsee and this is known by my masters for their wisdom; I will not describe aught of this to the little lords to save their hearts in this pure land, it is enough to say that this very day seems stranger there than most. There are no sentries posted about Angband but there is great noise within; countless cries of anguish can be heard alongside malevolent laughter, and an air of travesty is wreathed about the place. Upon high Thangorodrim this very morn Húrin reeled as one knocked senseless, until when presently he seemed to come back to himself; I noticed what he watched in his globe and our attention was drawn south; there we saw a delegation of Gondolindrim being followed by another globe (like to Húrin’s) and nigh to Sirion's Delta we saw the same elves sailing West in a ship provided by Cirdan!"

"Strange indeed,” says Finarfin, “For we have previously heard that Turgon’s folk, whom you name Gondolindrim, lie hidden away in a secret realm; and whom as their king, my nephew sends not his people abroad!”

“That for the most part is true!” confirms the eagle.

“Tell me then Lord Thorondor, is this man of Angband somehow connected to Turgon?"

The Eagle tells of Húrin and Huor's time in Gondolin and of Hurin's fame among elves and men since the year of lamentation; Ingwë speaks next: "What of these globes, could it be that the craft of Fëanor has been bestowed upon Morgoth?"  

Manwë answers: "My brother, Melkor, has craft far more cunning than Fëanor ever did, Lord Ingwë; still naught of this matter has been reported to me through the Fëanturi, I will appraise you when I discover more at the council!"

Olwë asks "What then of the ship: shall Ulmo be summoned?"  

Manwë speaks again: "Ulmo shall come: However, a difficulty has arisen which we all must consider; you see, this is not a matter of simply preventing this unlawful ship from reaching our shores, for when the winds brought Húrin's utterances to me I heard much, of which I perceived as more than just a cry in the wind. This voice came strong and clear to my ears without meditation, nor of any aid of Varda; thus now, it seems to me that I attuned to an amplified source which was of the globe; I suffered no sense of iniquity from it although it does appear to be an agent of my brother's..."  

Aulë interrupts "That is because it is made of the stuff of Arda and not intrinsically evil, but I fear this substance has been put to evil uses!"  

Manwë puts in, "Thank you Aulë, indeed I came to your abode to speak of this further!  Now regarding Ulmo, yes he is called; for verily during his discourse with the globe, Húrin called upon The Powers to protect one aboard that ship called Voronwë in payment for earlier friendship towards he and his brother; also Húrin deemed it a blessing to see him again, albeit from afar. Indeed for my part this sincere prayer will not go unanswered, but Voronwë is in Ulmo’s province now and we must look to him regarding his part in this one’s future; however, knowing my friend I am quite sure he already has something in mind. For now I am touched in heart by Húrin’s difficulty and I ask you, Lord Thorondor, to continue watching over him and to keep me informed of his condition: Go now with the blessings of Eru!” and as the great bird alights Manwë turns to Aulë and the Elf Lords, concluding: “Come, Friends: We have much to discuss!"

Now as the Sirion Orb plummeted, Húrin experienced the onrush of that very fall ere it broke asunder on the jetty’s edge and washed into the sea; and in the blackness of the Orb before him, his own words returned to him, "...I would follow them willingly to whatever end it would take me and I would be glad!" He tried to close his eyes but found he could not, for his mind raced with all the strange happenings of the day, thus he sat in cold thought as the riotous carousing of Angband invaded his senses once again. It seemed that the Orb had undergone some sort of overload for it lit not but remained dark, indeed Húrin couldn’t even see the golden flecks within it and he called it “A Mercy!”

The evil activities at Angband continue through the night and well into the following morning, and because the din Húrin sleeps not at all. Thus on following next day when the time to eat comes he remains fast asleep and he misses the plenteous leftovers from the carousing; another mercy! And although he goes hungry for a day, he would have been disgusted by the fare that was on offer; thus when the carrion bird returns with a full bag, the orcs say: "All the more for us!" and they scoff the lot. When Húrin wakes again it was getting dark, he is not accustomed to using the Orb at this time of day and is happy to leave it dormant; nonetheless the one thing at the forefront of his mind is the Orb, and what he had seen in it the day before. He considers the many coincidences that befell and asks himself many questions: "Why did my Orb stop at the precise time when the elves were passing: How is it that they took the wrong road when they seemed to know their way: Why that very road, the one I always wondered about: Why Voronwë, and what errand was he on: Why could I not will the Orb to stop?" His head begins to swim with these unanswerable questions and doubt creeps into his heart, he asks himself: "Have I unwillingly betrayed Turgon by some malice of Morgoth, did HE set the other Orb in motion?” Presently he recalls Cirdan's words "...all is safe!" and again this reassures him.

Subsequently and quite absent-mindedly, he remembers the taunts of the Orc children: "Everyone in Angband will be there and you're not going, Ha! Ha! Ha!" and he joins in their childish laughter, realising that nobody in Angband was present to monitor the Orbs. He somehow understands that because the rolling Orb was utterly destroyed then the final information it conveyed is irretrievably lost. And then, from whither he knows not, these words are put into him as he says aloud: “O Melkor, on the very day you tighten your grip upon your own you loosen your grip on me, and your hope cheats you! Great indeed is Ilúvatar, for whatsoever you do in his despite will in the end redound only to his glory!"

That night Húrin feels no hunger and sleeps soundly, secure in the knowledge that "...all is safe!"