The Eyes and Ears of Melkor by Chilled in Hithlum

No sound of labour, or mockery, or anguish dared enter the chamber where Melkor sat. Only silence, solid and cold and angry, hummed about that vast cavity. His ironclad granite throne rose to the lofty roof and its huge, dark and heavy occupant remained motionless therein. About his feet were ten lesser seats arranged in a semicircle and set upon a dais. The larger of these seats stood facing Melkor and remained empty, as did eight others about it; only the seat to its right was taken and within that sat Gothmog the Mighty High-Captain of Angband. Gothmog's powerful hand held a tightened chain that attached to the collar of a man bound and kneeling before him. Hurin Thalion was he, the son of Galdor and named The Steadfast; and he had just affronted The Great Enemy with mockery and scorn. Hurin gazed up at the dumbfounded king at his front and fixed upon the two gems in his iron crown. How brilliantly the Silmarils had shone in the free air, only a short time ago, at the Haudh-en-Ndengin; but now they dimmed, as in mourning, in that subterranean prison. As though reading Hurin's thought, Melkor exhaled loudly and called out, deep and slow, "Sauron!" Hurin heard steady footsteps advance behind him and a silken cloak wafted about his head. Then, Sauron, there he was; not terrible but tall, resplendent and beautiful. "My Lord" said Sauron bowing low before Melkor. "Do not seek to flatter me with fair seeming" said Melkor, "See thou there before my feet a whelp on a leash? I find it to be a poor replacement for the one that THOU lost me". Sauron shuddered within and remained silent; Melkor continued, "Since that day my crown lacks a third of its light and you remain unseated awaiting my judgement". "And so I do, My Lord, with a full heart", ventured Sauron. "SILENCE CUR, I HAVE NOT FINISHED SPEAKING!!!" spitted Melkor; and regaining his composure he went on. "This is my judgement..." he said, "Let the greater give up his seat for the lesser. Thou, Sauron, are hereby banished from my sight. Go now to your isle and tend to your ‘Half-Breed Mongrels!' My Mighty Gothmog shall provide you with an orb. There, in solitude, thou shall await my commands. There also shall we see, in the end, to which thou does obeisance. Get thee gone!" With that Sauron turned and left the chamber; and so it was that never again did he look directly upon the face of his sovereign.

Melkor's eyes now lighted upon Hurin, only to find his unblinking gaze returned. "Gothmog, let the dog have its reward, let it rest on the big chair" said Melkor. Hurin drew not back his eyes as the bonds were loosed; Melkor resumed "Do not seek to run ‘Hound Hurin', one crack of Gothmog's whip should break your legs and we would not want to put you down... now would we?" For some sixty seconds Hurin stood free, wondering if he should dare to dash, but knowing it was a hopeless chance he turned towards Sauron's vacant chair. "Good boy; Sit!" said Melkor laughing wildly. Hurin walked slowly around Gothmog's hulking frame, red fire broke the fissures of the Balrog's skin as he sat there conceitedly. Abruptly, Hurin was felled by a huge black foot and Gothmog laughed "Ha! ‘Hound Hurin' that is funny"; and he looked up towards his master for approval. Hurin arose, and wiping his bloody mouth he shambled on to the High Seat of Sauron. The burnished black stone chair was surprisingly comfortable; and Hurin noticed graven runes in devious speech all about its arms and legs, the back support was crowned with carved forms of cruel beasts. Presently, Melkor intoned a song of power in a tongue that Hurin knew not, ever steadily and ever louder the deep voice grew, and Hurin fancied that he heard trumpets braying repeatedly in of support that dark enchanted mantra. The graven runes upon the chair illumined with a sickly pale light and Hurin's limbs became as lead. Melkor ended his song and the Binding-Spell was complete. Hurin, at last, realised that he was wholly under the power of Morgoth, the Black Foe of the World. He would have wept but dared not, for shame. Again that same shattering silence filled the immense mausoleum and all within sat immobile. Gothmog finally put in "My Lord, if you will not be..." and before he could finish, Melkor gestured him away with a hand. Gothmog meekly slunk away. Melkor's eyes flashed in wrath; he reached out over Hurin's head and wrenched the seat away from is platform. Ever after that day the dais appeared though a ravened creature had bitten out a chunk from it; for even so it had. Now Melkor with chair, and Hurin, in hand limped out from his hall. Before-times, at the hill of the slain, he was loath in showing Hurin his disability; but now he was undeterred. The uneven footfalls resounded through all Angband and many there quailed in the light of Melkor's scarred countenance. They passed through many corridors, hewn from living rock, and came to the mines where Hurin had recently worked. The slave drivers ceased their duties in expectation of some new orders, but Melkor passed them by. Ultimately he passed the Troll-Guards at the mine entrance and stepped outside on to the edge of a gaping volcanic crater. Many hot cinders swished about Hurin's face; he was unable to bat them away and endured many burns.
The mine's entrance stood beneath the central, and loftiest, peak of Thangorodhrim and there also now stood its creator, dark and terrible. So vast were these thunderous towers that many from without who could descry them deemed simply that the brazen doors far opposite were their only main entrance. None who entered in thraldom ever saw the desolate scene that Hurin viewed now. His spirit would have failed him had Melkor not leapt upwards. Around and around spiralled Melkor; up the conical tower he ran as rapidly would a lizard. Towards the top the air cleared but the heat from furnaces below increased as the funnel narrowed. At approximately three quarters of the way up Melkor stopped, and hanging from one arm he surveyed the vista. In his free hand he held the seated Hurin. Suddenly and without warning, Melkor smashed the back of Sauron's old chair into the tightly compressed ash and slag of Thangorodhrim's highest peak. The impact would have sent Hurin hurtling to his death but the Binding-Spell was too strong. For a time though, Melkor wondered if he had overreached his aim; for Hurin had sat lifeless in the chair but it happened that he was heavily concussed by the force of the crash.
The monotony of Hurin's days soon became apparent to him and long he remembered the words that Morgoth had last left him with. "Sit now there and look out upon the lands where evil and despair shall come upon those whom you have delivered to me. For you have dared to mock me, and have questioned to power of Melkor, Master of the fates of Arda. Therefore with my eyes you shall see, and with my ears you shall hear, and nothing shall be hidden from you." At this last part he still wondered much and he feared what may soon come to pass. For now, all he could see were his distant homelands and longed he for his loved ones; all he could hear was the machine of brutality below him. A bitter wind whipped up about him and he remembered ‘Sweet Lalaith' and at last his tears were unloosed. Ever after, if a sudden wind came it would recall the memory of his lost little girl and this brought him comfort in the lonely years ahead. But now, he remembered his wife Morwen, proud and beautiful; and Turin his compassionate son. He knew not (yet) that Morwen would bare him another daughter. He remembered Huor his valiant brother and his newly-wed bride, the delicate Rian. He wept again, at seeing the arrow that pierced his brother's eye and all of his soldiery that fell about him. He smiled, at last, remembering King Turgon's escape and how this marred Morgoth's victory. The autumn months drew on, Hurin’s memories tormented his soul and hatred for his captor intensified.  The runes about the chair still glowed pale and Hurin knew this as a sign that the Binding-Spell continued its evil work.  Once only for five minutes each day would the runes on the right arm of the chair dim down, and this meant that the time for Hurin to eat had come.  A carrion bird would bring aloft a hemp bag, stained and dripping, stuffed with Orc leftovers soaked in water; and what Hurin could not consume within those five minutes would be taken away and returned the next day, and so on.  For as much as Orcs love excrement; Men cannot survive for long surrounded filthy germs, so once weekly Orc children would delight in drenching Hurin with pales of freezing, unsullied water.  This ritual became a boon to Hurin during the summer months, and even in wintertime; for a long as the runes were lit he was protected from all other illness, except of course from aging which is not in the province of Melkor to hinder.  This protection did not dull Hurin’s senses though; and was subject every change in climate, every stench of death, every scream of anguish, every taste of sulphur, every view of horror and he especially feared the night.

Now when Hurin completed the eighth week of his undetermined sentence on high Thangorodhrim, Melkor visited him again.  He came this time not as a running lizard; but he ascended smoothly, and majestic, on a mechanical platform.  Hurin mocked him, “So the Lizard King wearies of the chase,” he said “has he spent himself again?”  Melkor sneered so that the scarred marks on his face wrinkled in their furrows, and despite himself he discharged a perceptible grunt, and Hurin smirked.  “You think you have nothing left to lose - do you not?” asked Melkor.  “Only my life” answered Hurin.  “Nay, Mortal, there is much more to see, we have much to share, you and I” retorted Melkor.  At this he stooped down and picked up two large curved brazen rods with splayed iron claws at each end; Hurin gasped, but Melkor raised his index finger and shook his head, now it was his turn to smirk.  “There are many beneath us who would happily tear you to shreds, I need no device for that” said Melkor; and he set about attaching the rods to the arms of the chair.  He arranged them thus, the rods projected away from the chair and the ends faced inward with a ten inch gap between them; and so it was in Hurin’s direct eye-line, three feet away from him, there were two vicious claws grasping at nothingness.

Melkor seemed pleased with himself, as a carpenter fitting a tricky joint, and gazing upon Hurin he said, “I made this for you, do you like it?”  Melkor waited expectantly for a reply that never came; he shrugged and said “No matter”, at this Hurin wondered much.  “Before we use our plaything let me impart some Elven lore of my own” said Melkor.  He began, “Long years ago when I was in Valinor there was a despicable Elf name Feanor.  He was quite good at gem-craft…” Melkor tapped his crown, “… and he discovered the art of producing seeing-stones.  As much as I tried to cozen him into revealing his proficiency in their making, he would not shift on the matter.  I could not move against him openly as yet, for my plans were unripe.  So I stole one from his workshop, while Feanor was away hunting with his dratted sons, and I discovered its essence.  I replaced it before his return, and Feanor gave no outward sign that he knew anything of my molesting.  And so when I returned to my beautiful Angband, I sought in my mines for an appropriate ore to produce my own so-called seeing-stones.  My search did not take long, and I found a mineral much more conducive to my needs.  I have it in abundance, and now I can see, AND HEAR, all the doings of my captains.  This is how I gave the command not to kill you; and soon you will know the power of my Orbs and THOU WILT RESPECT MY SKILL!” After speaking Melkor rose to his full height, but still Hurin gave no reply.        

The Dark Lord looked down again on his fixed captive and he said, almost fondly, “Thou art no craven, I know it”.  With that he reached into his robes and plucked out, between two fingers and a thumb, a black sphere which he then inspected.  And ever so gently, Melkor placed the globe between the claws of the device he had just erected and stepped back.  To Hurin’s eyes ‘The Orb’ appeared as polished obsidian, but on its inside there were constellations of twirling flecked gold.  This new thing absorbed him, totally, and he soon began to hear sounds from places other than were he was.  He heard many feet stamping across rough ground; and unexpectedly a thin horizontal band of light appeared which bled gradually downwards and soon grasping fingers came down and snapped up suddenly, but not disappearing, in one dizzying motion the face of an Orc appeared and said “Nothing to report, Sir”.  The scene changed; Hurin saw wolf-forms patrolling around a figure frantically trying to rebuild a tower with Elven foundations.  The images sped up, he saw a fiery whip crack down upon a thrall, he heard screams, laughter, unfinished phrases from many mouths, and he saw faces, limbs, eyes and all blurred together.  The images stopped as Melkor removed the Orb from its holder and Hurin was gasping uncontrollably.  “Distressing at first - is it not?” said Melkor, “But with practice, you will learn control”.  The next day Melkor came, and the day after; and still beyond many others he persisted.  By now Hurin had lost count of the times he was forced to look into the dreaded Orb before ending up in a drenching sweat.  

There came a day of winter, harsh and cold, and Hurin was gazing passed the iron claws into the chasm of his own thought.  He was young again, he was panting, ahead of him his lean younger brother was sprinting on.  Huor laughed as he came to a running stop, and Hurin catching him up said “We shall have a longer race next time”.  “We loved adventures and were seldom parted” he thought.  Hurin conjured the mighty Eagles and he re-enacted how Thorondor might have marred Morgoth’s face.  He saw bold King Fingon ready for battle, and the raven-haired Meaglin watching his every move in Gondolin.  He heard “It is time”, spoken in a familiar voice, and shuddered at sight of Melkor before him with the Orb in hand.  When all was set for the next practice session; Hurin a heard gravel voice, for sound always came first, “There’s a dead woman, look!”  Before his eyes the ghastly vision of the Haudh-en-Ndengin unfolded before him, with all its rotting corpses. “Where?” said another guttural voice, “Down there, are you Blind?” said the first.  Hurin’s saw the form of Rian lay completely motionless and still beautiful among the decomposing bodies.  He shouted aloud “No” and the vision ceased.  Melkor clapped his hands slowly, but not in mockery, for he was pleased; “You wanted the vision to stop, so you willed it to end, it is that simple” he said.  “Simple?” shouted Hurin with tear stained eyes “My dead brother’s wife lays for carrion food on your stinking mound”.  Melkor remained impassive “I know it well,” he said “but you are missing the point of the lesson.  Do you not see?  It took such a shock to break you free from your cycle of failure”.  Hurin looked up in horrified amazement “Then did you know afore-time that she was dead and showed me this to prove your point?” he asked.  “That is true” said Melkor “Was I not right?”  Hurin replied “Oh, there is a much about you that is not right, Morgoth Bauglir; but answer me this, did you have her killed just to illustrate this so-called lesson?”  Melkor spoke truthfully, “Nay, as I understand it the flower wilted in Mithrim when your brother returned not.  My spies tell me also that she bore him a son, which she abandoned with some Elves and she, in despair, volunteered herself to the mound.  So, do not dismiss my lessons too rashly, there is much you can learn from me and closer to home, but now you tire and a few days rest are in order”. 

One year of his sentence had passed, and indeed Hurin learnt much from Melkor; he was now master of the Orb, and he chose what to see and hear and from which source, and nothing was hidden from him.  The Orb showed him nothing as yet of his kin, but Melkor shared many rumours with him in that year, which later proved true; of Turin’s departure down into the Vale of Sirion and into Brethil, of the birth of, Nienor, his unknown daughter in Hithlum and many others besides.  Melkor cursed the ineptitude of Brodda and his Easterlings; and did sincerely offer to Hurin that an Orc host be posted in Dor-Lomin so as to watch Morwen from afar, but not wanting to reveal her, Hurin declined.  Melkor also learnt much; he realised that he previously had underestimated the minds of Men, that preferred them to Elves and that he secretly enjoyed teaching.  He took to calling Hurin by his name, and he even tolerated his slight remarks as would an elder with an over-exuberant, mischievous adolescent.  Although, Melkor never in that time decreed to any that Hurin’s daily and weekly routines should be improved, or that he should receive better treatment.  And always he considered Hurin’s fealty to Turgon. 

Melkor sat alone in dark thought and he became restless in mind; he had been appraising his victories, and especially the unleashing of the dragon at the Great Fourth Battle.  Now the fact of Turgon’s absence in that onslaught gnawed at him and he knew in his heart that this was significant.  “What was Turgon doing at that time?” he asked himself, as his eyes lighted on the Orb mounted by his throne.  Then Melkor said aloud “Ha! I am looking at this from the wrong direction”, and he summoned his record keeper and demanded all the logbooks from the time of the Dagor Bragollach until the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.  Every report and update, no matter how futile, had been recorded by Melkor’s administration ever since his return from Valinor; now he felt sure that these pages would yield something useful, “Search for anything, anything out of the ordinary” he demanded of his clerks.  For two hours they droned aloud any log they thought might aid their lord, and he listened.  They went on in this fashion, “Dorthonion: Phantoms witnessed in black trees, Brethil: Boys lost in mist at the ford, Falas: Unknown ships sailing west…”  Suddenly Melkor shouted “STOP! The ships that is it”, and to himself he said “So Turgon you seek unseat me by going the long way around, craven, at least your father and brother dared to face me and mine in battle, and you will fail as did they”.  Melkor turned again to his record keeper and demanded that every log concerning the Elves of the coast be presented to him in writing without delay, and so it was done.  The next day Melkor sat poring over the hastily prepared document, and a picture as yet unforeseen grew in his mind.  He began to understand the prominence of Cirdan the builder of ships, he rued his lack of sea faring capability and cursed Ulmo, and he guessed near at the subtle alliances between Cirdan and the other Elven Lords.  He noted how that folk from seemingly unconnected places now flocked towards the coast, especially in the vicinity of the Havens at Brithombar and Eglarest.  And finally, Melkor resolved to put at an end to the puny coastal landings that now disrupted his captains.

Once Melkor had made ready his plans he visited Hurin again.  “The day has come”, said Melkor gleefully “Ah Hurin, now at last I have something to show you that I can be proud of, shall we see it together?”  Melkor brought forth an Orb more than ten times the size of Hurin’s and held it out with his outstretched arm, “Live sport is so much better on a bigger screen” he said licking his lips.  Hurin amazed on hearing Gothmog’s voice answering his master’s transmitted call; Melkor smiled and said “Yes, my larger Orbs have the capacity to work both ways.  It pleases me, Hurin, that you are finally impressed by my skill, but this is not even the beginning of it, watch!”  Melkor turned his attention to his Orb again and said “My High-Captain Gothmog, we have a guest for ‘Today’s Entertainment’ therefore if you would be so kind as to appraise us once more of our status thus far!”  Hurin flinched at how the Balrog’s head appeared larger then life-size before his eyes.  “My lord,” said Gothmog, looking askance at Hurin, “The machinery has moved through the mountains of Hithlum and Nevrast…” Melkor interrupted impatiently “Yes, Yes that was days ago, I meant today, Oaf, what is happening now?”  Hurin’s thoughts turned immediately to his wife in Dor-Lomin, that place lay between the regions that Gothmog had just identified; Hurin now regretted not taking Morgoth’s offer of being able to look upon his homeland.  “My Lord,” resumed Gothmog, now sneering at Hurin, “As I speak to you now our strength advances freely along the rivers Brithon and Nenning and shall reach ‘The Havens’ directly.  I have already posted Orb Officers at strategic vantage points ahead of our forces so that you may view all the proceedings, and I await your further commands”.  “Very good, carry on!” said Melkor “… Oh! And Gothmog, DO NOT, EVER AGAIN, BE ILL-MANNERED TO ANYBODY I NAME AS GUEST!!!”  The abashed Balrog nodded as his face faded from view.  “I see that you have been newly cleaned…” Melkor said, rubbing his thigh, “Have you yet dined, Hurin?” he asked.  “I have” replied Hurin; at that Melkor produced a freshly severed Troll leg and began to devour it, and whilst still chewing and with blood dripping from his lips, Melkor said “Let us have some sport!”

Hurin watched in helpless revulsion as the day’s events disentangled ahead of him.  He saw Gothmog’s blood-thirsty Orc hordes come in many waves of stealth and brake upon the under-equipped and under-prepared Elves of the coast.  Hurin tried to divert his gaze by looking into own Orb, and therefore elsewhere, but he found the lesser was subject to the greater and he could not un-view the horrific events.  For overlong had Cirdan trusted in his mighty walls and towers; but now his enemies came with engines that undid brick and stone, and they brought fire and many citizens were cruelly slain.  The Havens were utterly destroyed and many of Cirdan’s folk were cut off and driven into the sea, or taken as captives; but some escaped.  Cirdan himself took to his ships and sailed to the Isle of Balar, and with him went his ward, Ereinon, the son of King Fingon who died at Gothmog’s hand some years before.  Beyond the water Gothmog would not go, and so those that could go on followed Cirdan to freedom.  Hurin was suffered to look upon every evil deed else that followed in the aftermath until Melkor had his fill. 

Melkor put down his Orb and extended his tired limbs saying “Ah! It is good to stretch - is it not? …Hurin?”  But Hurin was sat in traumatised silence.  Melkor asked “What ails you Hurin?”  On receiving no reply, Melkor spoke again as one realising something new, “Oh! Of course, you have not stretched your limbs for over a year have you?  Well you cannot run from here, I suppose I could give you five minutes…”  But Hurin interjected, “You truly are The Morgoth; you slaughter the undefended and innocent without restraint and this delights you, then you speak to me of stretching my limbs as though I am a child, your child.  You are the child, Morgoth, a treacherous wicked child that knocks down what is not its own, and one that knows no boundaries.  You are the deadly brat that cannot share with its siblings, and I pity you for it, but all the more do I hate you.  I am not your secret friend, I am not your confidant, look at me I am your prisoner but I will no longer be your plaything.  I say to you now Morgoth, with the eyes of death - keep your plans to your own and get thee gone from my sight!”  And Melkor went; for a long time he spoke to no other, and he never forgot Hurin’s words and he never forgave them, but Hurin he slew not.  

For many days Hurin sat in anxiety and anticipation of the repercussion against his words to Morgoth.  He expected to be beaten or tortured or starved or to be left in his own filth; but his fears came not to pass and the deadening tedium continued as before.  In effect, his days became less evil for he now did not have to suffer the petty whims of Morgoth, who visited not, and for long years ahead his life continued thus.  Always present though was the Orb; Hurin knew that whenever he looked into it and whatever he saw would become eventually known to his enemy, however, if he did not use it at all then he would provoke unwanted attention.  So Hurin proceeded in the following way; he would randomly flit from Orb to Orb and back again so as to scramble what he was seeing, and possibly veil any doings that may prove useful to his foes.  Furthermore, if somebody was monitoring him, Hurin hoped that this activity would leave the impression that he was impatient and bored.  Hurin became so proficient at doing this that he was able to follow the threads of previous scenes from particular Orbs and therefore he formed a coherent, if somewhat disjointed, picture of the world without.  Whilst scouring his Orb, Hurin wound happen on a specific view that would never change, and for a long time its location puzzled him, for all other Orbs were used portably.  The Orb in question showed gentle slopes with long grass in the foreground and beyond, splitting the image into semicircles, was a seemingly forgotten dust road.  The only thing that ever altered in that view was the onset of the seasons and the passing of wildlife.

Now the second anniversary of the fall of the Havens was approaching and Melkor declared ‘A Day of Revelry and Debauchery' in honour of Gothmog.  Melkor did this for two reasons; firstly as a release from Hurin's words, harassing him still in his head, and second because ever since that day his captains perceived that their lord suffered from some unknown malady, and this was Melkor's way of taking charge again.  Melkor decreed that all in Angband will attend, there will Elf flesh on the spit, there will blood in the cup and there will be much sport for thralls.  Hurin heard of this because the Orc children that soaked him weekly goaded him about his absence from ‘The Party'.  The day came with much noise and much evil; Hurin found it difficult to concentrate on the Orb and his scanning of it became erratic, the images whizzed and blurred together like they did of old, and Hurin became nauseous.  Suddenly the images stopped, but not by Hurin's will, and the Orb settled on the scene that never changed.  The noise from below began to dissipate as Hurin gazed upon the beauty of the countryside now being shown to him, and he had neither the will nor the ability to change what he was seeing.  All sound now came through the Orb and Hurin delighted in the song of autumn birds somewhere out of his vision; presently he heard other voices singing, faint at first but growing louder and sweeter.  He knew the song to be in the Elven tongue but he knew not the words they sang.  Hurin hoped desperately that they would pass by so that he could look upon the Fair Folk once more, and so it happened.  Hurin received more than he wished for, because these Elves were from Gondolin and his heart leapt at the sight of one in the company that he knew.  Hurin shouted aloud "Voronwe, it is Hurin calling to you, I am lost to the world, please hear me"; but Voronwe heard him not, for Hurin's Orb was unlike to Melkor's.  Hurin wept as the Elves moved on, and all that was to left to him was the scene with which he was so familiar for the birds followed after them.  In all his time as a captive, Hurin had never felt so abandoned and alone and he said "Oh Orb, I thank you dearly for showing me this, but your gift is bittersweet for I am a prisoner without hope and they sing aloud in freedom.  Oh! If only I could, I would follow them willingly 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 good or evil, a heartfelt prayer of gratitude is heard all the clearer by The Powers of the World; for so it was on this day, and a thing undreamt of happened before Hurin's eyes.  The Orb in the long grass began to roll forward and follow along in the direction that the Elves of Gondolin had taken, it made no sound upon the dusty ground as it moved and the Elves were unaware of it.  The Elven group already had made a lot of ground before the rolling Orb began its pursuit; again the sound of singing was heard before they came into view.  Hurin watched in wonder as he saw his friend waking ahead of him; he spoke again "Oh Voronwe, could it be that you heard my call?  Even if it not so, I pray that The Powers protect you in payment for the kindness you showed my brother and I in Gondolin, and for blessing of seeing you again this day."  The Elves stopped abruptly and Voronwe said "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 spoke "But this would take us too long and time is pressing.  Cirdan cannot wait for us overlong, Voronwe; your ship awaits you in the delta".  A younger Gondolindrim pointed towards a thicket "look lords, down here, our road lays beyond this copse.  The ground is not too steep and I can see a way through" he said.  So lead by the young Elf, the party continued on their way and the stray Orb followed.  By going along this route the travellers saved two hours journeying and they met Cirdan in good time.  The stronghold at The Mouths of Sirion compared little to the lost Havens but the harbourage was good.  The Orb stopped atop a sheer rock face which had steps carved into it leading down to plateau below that served as a jetty, there stood Cirdan and the Gondolindrim.  All Hurin could see now were wild waters leading out to wide sea beyond and his heart was stirred as never before.  The winds were kindly that day and Hurin was able to hear the Elves below.  Cirdan said "As I spoke to Turgon's Herald, I say again to you now, this is the last ship I will build for you. I urge you not to take it.  Many of your kinfolk have tried this errand and have been lost".  Voronwe replied "I fear you are right, kind lord, but I must do my king's will" and all about him assented.  Hurin suddenly gasped with horror; and although he feared for Voronwe, he realised that listening to this conversation could hand vital information to Morgoth.  He tried frantically to will the Orb to stop but he could not; he shouted and begged and cajoled but all to no avail.  As abruptly as his panic began it was assuaged by the words "...all is safe" calmly spoken by Cirdan.  Hurin heard many blessings and farewells; then he watched with a heavy heart as the Last Ship of Gondolin sailed out into The West.  Last of all Hurin heard Cirdan ascending the cliff stairway, but before the shipwright reached the top the Orb rolled over the edge and fell into the crashing waters below.  Hurin experienced the onrush of that plummet before the Orb broke asunder and was no more; his words returned to him, "...I would follow them willingly to whatever end it would take me and I would glad."  Hurin sat cold thought as the riotous carousing of Angband invaded his senses once again.

All of this became known in Valinor and Manwe was dismayed.  Once Hurin's plea was heard; Manwe's Eagles were sent abroad, and then when the Orb split Thorondor was summoned to tell all that the Eagles had seen.  He came, as directed, to the House of Aule and there Manwe awaited him.  Present also were the Elven Lords Ingwe, Olwe and Finarfin; Manwe spoke "I have asked Thorondor to appraise us of matters now moving in Middle-Earth before I call a council at the Mahanaxar".  Thorondor began "My lords, for over three years now we have observed a figure imprisoned in a seat high above Melkor's stronghold.  Today we got close enough to identify him as Hurin, son of Galdor.  He saw us not because he was held enthralled by a black glass-like globe fixed to his chair.  Strange also was the fact that none were posted about Angband but there was great noise within.  Many cries of distress and travesty were heard, and we ventured not inside.  Away to the south, we saw a delegation of Gondolindrim being followed by another globe - like to the one at Angband.  And there at Sirion's Mouths we saw them sailing West in a ship provided by Cirdan".  Finarfin said "Strange indeed, for you have told us before that Turgon lays hidden away and sends not his people abroad. Tell me, Thorondor, is this man of Angband connected somehow to my nephew?"  The Eagle told of Hurin and Huor's time in Gondolin and of Hurin's fame among Elves and Men since the year of lamentation.  Ingwe spoke next "What of these globes, could it be that the craft of Feanor has been bestowed upon Melkor?"  Manwe answered "Nought of this has ever been reported to me by Mandos, I will discover more at the council".  Olwe asked "What of the ship, will Ulmo have to be summoned?"  Manwe spoke again "A difficulty has arisen which we all must consider, for the matter is not simply about preventing this unlawful ship from reaching our shores.  For you see, when the winds brought Hurin's utterances to me I heard much, which I will discuss later, but I perceived at the time that it was more than just a cry in the wind.  This voice came strong and clear to my ears without any meditation, so seems to me now that I attuned to an amplified source which was the globe.  I felt no evil from it, although it appears to an agent of my brother's..."  Aule interrupted "That is because it made of the stuff of Arda and not intrinsically evil, but I fear this substance has been put to evil uses".  Manwe spoke for the last time "Thank you Aule, I came to your abode to speak of this further.  However, regarding the question of Ulmo, yes he will be called.  For during the discourse with the globe, Hurin called sincerely upon The Powers to protect one aboard that ship called Voronwe in payment for kindness also Hurin deemed it a blessing to see him again, albeit from afar.  I am touched in heart by this man's plight and I ask you, Thorondor, to watch over him and keep me informed of his condition.  Go now with the blessings of Eru!  Come Aule, we have much to discuss!"

The evil activities at Angband continued through the night and well into the following morning, and Hurin slept not at all.  So when the time to eat came he was fast asleep and he missed plenty of leftovers from the day before.  Although he went hungry for a day, Hurin would have been disgusted by the fare that was on offer; and so when the carrion bird returned with a full bag, the Orcs said "All the more for us" and they scoffed the lot.  When Hurin awoke again it was getting dark, he was not accustomed to using the Orb at this time of day and he was happy to leave it dormant.  Although all that was at the forefront of his mind was the Orb, and what he had seen in it the day before.  He considered the many coincidences of the day and asked himself many questions.  For example: "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 road, the one I always wondered about?  Why Voronwe, and what errand was he on?  Why could I not will the Orb to stop?"  His head began to swim with these unanswerable questions and doubt crept into his heart.  "Have I unwillingly betrayed Turgon by some malice of Morgoth, did HE set the other Orb in motion? Hurin asked himself.  But he recalled Cirdan's words "...all is safe" and how this reassured him.  Then he remembered he taunts of the Orc children "...everyone in Angband will be there and you're not going, Har-Har-Har!"  Hurin dared to hope that everyone meant EVERYONE, and none would be there to monitor what he saw.  Hurin laughed aloud and said "Ha! Morgoth, on the very day you tighten your grip on your own and loosen your grip on me, your hope cheats you.  Great indeed is Illuvatar; for whatsoever you do in his despite, Morgoth, in the end redounds only to his glory".  That night Hurin felt no hunger and he slept soundly, secure in this knowledge.

In the following years Morgoth reasserted his strength across the vanquished Northlands of Beleriand.  He rooted out all the secret byways and laid heavy guard upon them so that the people became cut off from each other.  Those who rebelled were slain or taken as thralls, and soon enough Angband's mines were swelled.  Regrettably, Hurin took to viewing only the places that were wholly under Morgoth's domination and he witnessed much evil.  He hoped as before, that in doing this that he would not give away anybody else who opposed his enemy; but in the end this proved futile as Morgoth's power only ever increased.  After five years, the day arrived that Hurin had long dreaded; Morgoth at last sent his Orc garrisons into Hithlum which already suffered under the boot of the Easterlings.  Lorgan, their chief was displeased at this because these lands were gifted to him by Morgoth in return for his treachery at The Fifth Battle.  Morgoth feigned that he wanted to bolster Lorgan's power with a peace-keeping force but everybody guessed that this was a thinly veiled behest; and Lorgan knew also that little could be done to prevent ‘his land' from being eventually occupied.  Although, and alas for the poor folk, Lorgan still held sway in Hithlum for many years after and for the most part the Orcs submitted to his will.  In those days Hurin feared that his wife and daughter would be sought out and brought before Morgoth, however, he did not know then that The Great Enemy had other plans for them and they were left alone.  Yet Hurin would not allow his anxiety to stop him from using the Orb to seek for them in Dor-Lomin, but Nienor he did not know by sight and Morwen went never abroad.  He worried that they might be dead and ever hoped that they had followed his son Turin.  But Hurin knew Morwen's heart too well and he felt sure that she would not lightly renounce her home or the land where they had once governed.  Hurin often saw his kinswoman Aerin, but her plight saddened his heart; for she was taken perforce into marriage by an Easterling named Brodda, The Overlord of Dor-Lomin.  Now Aerin lived in relative comfort, compared to her neighbours, and she secretly helped her folk whenever Brodda was away from home.  Always in mind she kept Morwen; but the proud wife of Hurin was loath to accept charity but ultimately she had to for Nienor's sake.  Oftentimes Hurin noticed a particular fair-haired girl of about seven years that would regularly receive a basket from Aerin and furtively sneak away; and had he but been able to follow her footsteps home then he would have known that he was looking upon his youngest child.  Now Nienor was slender and wan in appearance for she was born in hungry and evil days; she was somewhat unlike to her merrier departed sister, and her mother and brother were both dark of hair and complexion after Morwen's kin.  There was a child of the same age though who Hurin could not mistake because he so resembled his brother as a boy; and when he first spotted, Tuor, his nephew among the Elves of Mithrim he thought that he had fallen into a daydream of reminiscence.  

Now Morgoth's true reason for taking control in Hithlum was that rumour had reached him of the covert migrations to Cirdan's Isle by the displaced Elves of Mithrim.  And since he was not prepared to tolerate this, the exodus was compelled to halt and the Elves were again forced to continue to live by stealth in the Caves of Androth about the Mountains of Mithrim.  Morgoth fell ever impatient with the unsuccessful capture of Mithrim Elves and he sought in his private counsels to come at them by another course.  Within a year he sent a superintended gang of thralls out of the mines to the river sources about the mountains at Ered Wethrin.  Morgoth required them to find fissures, caves and tunnel complexes, so as to discover an alternative pathway to flush out the hidden Elves.  All this was done in secret, but with great transport of thralls, overseers, Orcs and machinery; however there came the inevitable overflowing of undesired elements about the Northern Marches of Doriath.  King Thingol was put on the alert for he would not suffer any Orcs to patrol this close to his lands.  Queen Melian wisely advised against provocation, deeming that "A hot dispute can soon lead to an avoidable war" but Thingol sent armed wardens out to meet them.  As always, the words of Melian proved true; and though Morgoth could not come against the enchanted woods of Doriath, still he enlarged his military force there because he was determined that his plan would work.  For several years the thralls of Angband endured back-breaking work, but the mountains were too densely clustered and Morgoth's hope was wholly denied.   

It has been told that Morgoth informed Hurin in the first year of his imprisonment that is son had left Dor-Lomin; he was told of the place where the boy was last seen but it was not known at that time where Turin went.  This news had always given Hurin hope, because in the days before the Nirnaeth Arnoediad he advised Morwen to flee to his mother's kin in Brethil if the battle went ill, but she favoured Doriath; and since both these places lay along the route that Turin took, Hurin felt certain that his son would be safe.  It would soon become apparent to Hurin that Morwen chose as her instinct guided, all those years ago; for when the War of the North Marches began in earnest, Hurin saw one fighting alongside the Elves of Doriath arrayed in the Dragon Helm of Dor-Lomin; the heirloom of Hador's House.  Hurin was never apt to wear the helm in battle himself but he looked on in wonder at how well it suited Turin, likewise he marvelled at how his son of seventeen years looked and fought like a mighty man and his heart swelled.  Hurin was further heartened by the constant presence of Beleg Strongbow at Turin's side in battle; this impressive Elf was King Thingol's Chief March-Warden and a famed warrior amongst Elves and Men.  Together they slew many foes in battle and ever the more did Turin grow in prowess, and always he came back the stronger after treatment of wounds.  Hurin perceived that there was a strong bond between the two and always did this sting his heart; not because he begrudged Beleg, indeed he thanked him often from afar for his guardianship of Turin, but because he felt robbed of his son and in this time Hurin's hatred of Morgoth knew no bounds.  For three years more Hurin longed to look upon his son's face but he only ever saw him dressed as for war.  There came a day of summer when Turin did not rejoin the fray, this seemed odd for he was seldom gone for more than a day, and when Beleg returned alone Hurin feared the worst.  The only flicker of hope that Hurin had in that time was that Beleg gave no visible indication that one he cared for had died, nor was there any battle ritual to honour him in death such as the Elves were wont to give; "But my son is no Elf" Hurin thought coldly.  Nevertheless Turin was gone and his father knew not if or when he would see him again.  Soon afterwards Beleg would not return to the Northern Wars and Hurin's concern deepened, and as two more winters passed neither sight nor sound of them reached him in his towering captivity on pitiless Thangorodhrim.  In the months following the departure of ‘The Bow and Helm' the Northern War went ill for Thingol and he withdrew his troops from the battlegrounds of Dimbar, but ever the power of Melian protected Doriath.  Morgoth abandoned his plans to root out the Mithrim Elves and returned his thralls to Angband; some however turned on the slave-drivers with crude handmade weapons and escaped into the blackened forests of Dorthonion.  Even so Morgoth now turned his greedy eye southwards being emboldened by the forays against Thingol.

After the taking of Dimbar Hurin's gaze drew north-westerly again to his homelands and ever and anon his eyes would light on the sad pretty girl receiving aid from Aerin; and on the boy he took for his nephew growing ever stronger and bolder under the shadow of the mountains.  At this time there were no men over the age of twenty-five years in Hithlum because the males who too young to fight in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad but still old enough to rebel were taken to Angband; but now the younger boys who suffered the Easterling invasion were coming into their early manhood.  Although they spent their youth in thraldom many now were resentful and unbowed,  unfortunately for them Morgoth reinforced Lorgan at the time when most were pre-adolescents who had lost their fathers in the war, "How difficult it is to see my young flowers strangled by lesser weeds" said Hurin bitterly.  He looked to other places also in these days, always with the faint hope of hearing news of Turin; by now he had long given up any hope of secrecy in his searching deeming Morgoth's grip to be overly strong.  The only victories against the enemy that he witnessed were petty and sporadic raids by ragged, houseless men; unwanted outlaws without hope or nurture.  Hurin knew not then that their chief was his self-exiled son Turin, who operated under the false name of Neithan, the Wronged.  

For a long while nothing of note occurred in the Orbs until the day came when absolutely nothing happened in one of them.  This was Sauron's Orb and it was veiled; at this Hurin wondered much, "What new evil has Morgoth got planned, or could it be that the ‘Wolf Keeper' has stuck out on his own?" he thought.  A dreadful realisation struck Hurin as he remembered the setting out of Voronwe and the events of that day.  "It was Sauron who followed them down Sirion," he said, "He was the only one of consequence not at Angband that day; I should have known it was a conjurer's trick to trap the unwary."  Hurin then pondered on Morgoth's actions since then and said "So my guess is near the mark for Morgoth assails Cirdan not and looks to find him by catching migrating Elves.  Could it be that Sauron now wishes to regain the favour of his master by clearing the way south for him, but Morgoth has strength enough of his own for that; Sauron you dare to conceal information and to hide from Morgoth's eye, what is it you want?"  It would not be long before Hurin set his eyes on Sauron again because Morgoth sent out a host out Angband that went by the hastily rebuilt Tol-in-Gaurhoth and Sauron stood at his doorway and watched them go forth.  Hurin noticed how impersonal Sauron seemed for he made no gesture of allegiance to the Orb carrying captain and Hurin said aloud to himself "You are brave indeed wicked one, but today I see your true face and I perceive your trickery".  The Orc captain heard these words and looked steely into Sauron's eyes and neither withdrew their gaze until he passed Sauron's door; the captain looked into his Orb to see the source of those words but Hurin had already diverted his sight elsewhere.  

Though these Orcs were great in number, this was but a scouting force sent by Morgoth as a show of strength and a challenge those who opposed him.  They came in the springtime and set up their camp under the eaves of the forests of Brethil, in sight of lonely mound of Amon Rudh.  The great hill stood between the vales of Sirion and Narog about the Guarded Plain; here no Orc came as yet and they were unfamiliar with ways of the moorlands about Amon Rudh.  This stony peak had many clefts, with hidden ways inside, and it had no plant life about it; save for the seregon that blazed fiery red upon its flat roof in the sunshine.  In the previous year Turin and his band of outlaws had settled in Amon Rudh.  It is said that they stayed there as the guest of a Petty-Dwarf named Mim; but afterwards it was accepted that he allowed them to stay perforce in ransom for the lives of his son and himself.  There also came Beleg Strongbow in the preceding winter after long searching the wilderness for Turin.  So it was that rumour of ‘The Bow and Helm' spread quickly across those lands and many men were drawn to them.  Several Orcs were routed from their encampments and they quailed at the approach of the Two Captains.  In order to keep secret from the enemy that the captains were stationed at Amon Rudh, many guarded settlements were established in the overwhelmed Orc camps; and in those days the Red Hill stood as a flaming beacon of hope to all free folk beset by Angband.  During this time no aid came from the Elves of Nargothrond for this place was still unknown to Morgoth and his plan to draw them out was foiled.  Despite this the men of this land found new valour and achieved many victories against the groping hand of Morgoth, and by the summer the Orcs were forced back; all of this was witnessed by Hurin and his heart was high within him.

Melkor sat on his lonely throne considering the dais with Sauron's seat ripped away from it and he wondered what action to take regarding his most effective devotee.  He mused over the veiling of the Orb and Sauron's cool defiance (if that is what it was) at the passing of the Orcs; and the one thing Melkor felt sure of was that his greatest servant had an undisclosed plan, and this bothered him.  He did not wish to appear uneasy in front of his captains again, as he did after his last words with Hurin, but he wanted to voice his concerns.  Therefore Melkor's thought turned toward Glaurung, the father of all dragons; for here he had a creature bred by his own wickedness that most closely resembled him in bestial form and mind.  Melkor rose from his seat, and passing through the mine entrance and beyond the molten crater, he descended into a smouldering cave mouth.  Therein slept the Uruloki, the fire serpents of the old world, and none save Melkor dared to wake them lest they be consumed by wrathful flames.  

"Awake, Glaurung!" called Melkor, "Your master commands you".

The golden armour of the Great Worm shimmered in the half-light of the subterranean cavern as he stirred from a heavy slumber.  He expanded to an enormous length when he stretched himself and expelled a draught of hot steam from his nostrils before greeting Melkor with a thin smile.  "Yes, My Lord" said Glaurung.

"Walk with me!" commanded Melkor and they made their way back to the cooler throne room; Melkor sat enthroned and the dragon curled himself about the dais at the feet of his ruler. 

After a weighty silence the dragon spoke "How may I comfort you my master, for I perceive that a burden troubles your brow".

"If it was comfort I required, Glaurung, then I would have taken a different path long ago" said Melkor, "No; my need is far more fundamental than that.  I created thee from my basest self and it is from that source that I need counsel now".

The dragon's eyes widened and he said "How so?"

Melkor told Glaurung about his banishment of Sauron and the use of his chair to imprison Hurin, of his later dealings with Hurin and of Sauron's recent actions. "I am in doubt," he said "I have allowed my forces to be pushed back but this has not yielded any of my true enemies, I deem that the son of the mortal overhead gives the father pleasure that I begrudge him and Sauron seems to openly defy me in front of my captains.  What should be done?"

"Nothing..." said Glaurung, and after a pause he continued "...Petty victories and pleasure are short lived and they only embolden a foolish heart.  Let the mortals have their time in the sun for I deem that winter bites them much harder.  And if the Elves wish to cower and hide then I say let them, for if they will not oppose you then how can they stop you?  As for Sauron, all I can offer is that you know him best; but it seems to me he is telling you indirectly, since you will not countenance him, that he wants your attention.  Sauron is cunning but he is no fool, master, I believe from what you I told me that he wants to win back your favour.  However, since he has veiled his plans I cannot guess how; I would say this though, it does no good to vex the mind with what it cannot fathom because this only clouds the judgement".

"Would Sauron move against me?" asked Melkor.

The dragon shook his head and said "He cannot and he dare not.  My Lord, I do not believe that Sauron is your problem or even some irksome Elves.  I apologise ahead of time if I speak out of turn, but I feel that you want me to say this; you have allowed the words of a bass-born mortal to infect your mind.  Allow me, lord, to rid you of this parasite with a blast of fire or let him see his home and loved ones go up in flames".

"NO!" said Melkor "That would be too simple.  Of one thing you are right, Glaurung, I have listened the echo of Hurin's words for too long and I shall release you on to him, but not yet; however, he will be consumed by his own fire and not yours.  You have counselled me well today and in payment for this I shall leave Sauron to his own devices, though I trust him little, and I hope he realises what an ally he has in you.  As ever, with the Elves I will have to be patient; go now to your rest Glaurung, and I shall call on you at need!"

"By your will, Lord!" said the dragon and he crawled back to his pit.  Melkor felt refreshed by his council with Glaurung, and alone he appraised anew his dark plans in his dark thought in his dark chamber.

As the summer ripened all seemed well with the fortunes of the Two Captains, but Turin flaunted the Dragon-Helm with escalating pride and renamed himself again as Gorthol, the Dread Helm; furthermore he claimed the land between Teiglin and Doriath and called it Dor-Cuarthol.  Turin's overconfidence increased further as Morgoth ordered more troops to withdraw; however enough remained to give the semblance of a field of battle whilst Angband's elite scouts came unseen and surrounded Amon Rudh.  They could not yet descry the secret ways of the mound but reported every movement of Turin and his men to Morgoth and he rejoiced, knowing that his captive overhead grew ever the more fretful.  Hurin despaired when he heard Orc Captains deriding his son's folly, "This man thinks that his exaggerated army will burn the very hand that will crush him" said one; "He thinks only of fighting and does not even know how to maintain his own people, how will he feed them in less bountiful days?" added another, "And what of the Elf, can he not contain this fool's conceit? So much for fair words and ancient lore," said a third, and they all laughed raucously.  Hurin blanched when he heard a fourth unseen voice calmly say "Laugh if you will Captains, but the Great Lord of the North perceives that the power of the High Elves has been instilled into this ‘so-called fool' of yours.  He is minded to bring the son of Hurin to Angband so as to compel him into revealing their secret dwellings, or at the least suffer the same fate as his father."  The Orcs granted deference to the bearer of these words and they laughed no more.  Both Melkor and Hurin knew this to be the voice of Sauron, and at last they understood his intentions since the veiling of his Orb.  Melkor pronounced "If you bring me this gift of penitence, Sauron, I shall reconsider your position in my favour.  Your boldness has earned you temporary command of the field but you shall report EVERYTHING to me!  Do not make me regret this decision!"  The voice of Sauron replied "By your will, Lord."

The days began to shorten and an ill-tended harvest yielded little store; a chill wind blew across Dor-Cuarthol, and those who had homes took to them as Turin's fighting force depleted.  Beleg was kept busy trying to sustain the remnant of Men holed up in the old Orc camps on the outer perimeters of the battle field, while Turin pushed back an everlasting trickle of feint enemy attacks; only Mim from the safety of a high vantage point on Amon Rudh saw the entrenched spies of Angband.  The old Dwarf had already delayed overlong in the gathering of fleshy roots for his winter larder, but now as the fighting reduced he took his chance.  So it was that he set out with his son, Ibun, without telling any other what he knew of the Orc spies.  None now can tell his true motive for this omission but it was certainly true that Mim resented sharing his home with uncouth outlaws and that he hated Beleg, as he did all Elves; but Mim had taken Turin to his heart and shared much with him, yet he shared him jealously with others.  Also strange was the fact that Mim and Ibun knew lay of the land so well, and the places where small folk could easily hide, and yet they fell into the net of the Orcs.  The Petty-Dwarves were set in bonds and led before an Orc captain.

"Sir, we found these two ‘Water Rats' sneaking across the wetlands, you commanded that anyone we caught be brought to you alive" said an Orc guard.

The Captain looked upon the prisoners and said "Sentry, these are no soldiers of Men - kill them!"

"NO... pity us, we are but poor folk scavenging for food" pleaded Mim.

The Captain said coldly "...And of no use to me; Sentry, proceed!"

"WAIT!" cried Mim, "I know of the soldiers that you speak, I know of their hiding places for I am held to ransom by them and I would be rid.   I have already lost one son to them, so you see Great Captain I owe no allegiance to faithless brigands and wicked Elves.  Mayhap we could strike a bargain?"

The Captain laughed, "Ha! Bitter words often speak true," he said "but what is to stop me from squeezing out this information from you, or yours?"

Mim looked darkly on the Captain and said "You know little of the hardihood of Dwarves.  I have the information not my son, but even if you tormented him in my stead our resolve would toughen and you would learn nothing.  I know that many now spy on my domain; so I say to you why not listen to my terms, and why prolong in gaining the favour you would earn in return for my knowledge?"

The Captain considered Mim's statement and said "Speak your terms!"

Now Dwarves will not suffer to be held in bonds, so Mim demanded that their chains be released before he would utter another word.  When this was done he began, "You will pay me the weight in iron for each man you catch or slay; save only the Two Captains, their weight shall be paid in gold!  My home and I shall be left unmolested once they are gone!  Oh yes, and more of the Captains; you shall release the man unharmed and the Elf, umm, the Elf will be left behind alive and bound for me to deal with!"  The Captain said "Your demands are steep but I deem that you will not budge, therefore I will have to acquire permission to pay such ransom."   

Thus it was that Sauron would learn the hidden places of Turin's hiding; he repaid Mim's betrayal with his own, for he happily consented to the Dwarf's terms with no aim of honouring them, save one.  In addition Sauron asserted that Ibun must be kept as a retainer in case the bargain failed, here Mim lost heart and tried to undo the contract but he was now trapped by his own greed and treachery.  All this was done in the absence of an Orb because Sauron had previously ordered that all news of prisoners come through him alone; in this way he wanted to put on an open display of his guile in the capture of Turin.  Therefore no word of these events reached the ears of Melkor, and this was the first disobedience of Sauron.  So it was that Sauron removed the fighting Orcs from battle in a manner that gave their opponents delusions of absolute victory.  News of this reached Melkor and he was incensed that his elites appeared as cravens before the eyes of their foes; he demanded that Sauron report to him immediately.

"Why hast thou disobeyed me Sauron, when I freely gave an opportunity to renew again my affection for thee?" asked Melkor.

"My Lord, how have I done you disobedience when all I do is your will?" replied Sauron.

"MY WILL?" roared Melkor "It was my will that you report everything to me, and yet I hear from my captains that you emasculate their prowess and command them to flee like, like Elves.  How is this doing my will?"

"Please Lord, if you would but indulge me..." oozed Sauron "I understood it that your primary wish was the capture of Hurin's son, and with this in mind I have taken the appropriate action.  I took it that because you, in your ultimate wisdom, were using stealth and spies to catch him unawares that I would continue in this trend.  I wholly apologise if I have taken action that offends you or detracts for your supreme plans; but my master you did grant to me control of the field, albeit on temporary basis of course, and since my plans are as yet unripe I did not wish to trouble you with a half-done deed.  I see now why you are disappointed with me and I prostrate myself before your godly compassion," and Sauron spread himself face-down in the dirt.  

Hurin was repulsed by what he had just witnessed and his captor responded in like manner.  "Always you sicken me with this politician's voice, is this how I taught you?  I think not; Get up you worm!" said Melkor, Sauron arose and his smiling mask slid away to reveal a stone-faced criminal.  Melkor continued, "Ah! There you are... Tell me now, in plain words and with nothing hidden, what you have planned and I shall decide whether or not if you can proceed!"   

Sauron spoke, "As you know the insurgents are stationed within the Bare Tor but our, your spies could not discover its passages.  After much study, I am now confident that I know its secrets.  I decided that the best way to assemble our enemies in that place would be to put them in a celebratory mood and this is why I feigned a shameful defeat.  It now appears that I was correct in this because word has reached my ears that Turin plans a victory feast this very night.  Forgive me Lord, but I wanted prove beyond any doubt my obeisance to you with a grand demonstration of the snaring of Turin and the butchery of his men," and he bowed.

Melkor responded, "It seems that Glaurung counselled me faithfully when he told me that you are true to me.  When you knock on my brazen doors with a new dog on a chain, only then will I let you in.  Then we shall discuss how you uncovered the ways of Amon Rudh when my best spies could not.  I am displeased with your methods, Sauron, and your attempts at deception, but now you are revealed to me and the outcome seems good; however, if you fail me this time then you had better run and hide the best you can for I will not hesitate in forging you anew by dragon's breath, is that understood?"

"Completely, Lord"; and when the discourse ended Sauron laughed to himself "Attempts at deception? Ha! I am the Master of Deception," he said, and this was the second disobedience of Sauron.

Melkor gloated on his throne; he was tempted to visit Hurin again to watch the events unfold with him as he did of old at The Fall of the Falas, but pride mastered him and he remained alone.  He gorged upon a platter of unholy meats whilst awaiting the hour and he laughed aloud, imagining Hurin's agony.  The time of Mim's betrayal came and Sauron ensured that the Petty-Dwarf was ever surrounded by Orcs, "Watch that this little snapper does not bite you and abscond, encircle him at all times," he said; but the real reason for this was to obscure Mim from Melkor's view.  Turin's hill-top sentinels espied them too late for they came in stealth and were only revealed on reaching the rocky entrance to Amon Rudh.  The stone walls were too sheer and uneven for their aim as many arrows went astray, injuring none.  The Orcs entered in with great noise and fury and many were slew whilst unprepared for battle.  In the midst of the fray Mim escaped unseen as Turin's chiefs were forced to flee.  There were stairways carved inside the mound that lead out to the summit; and it was here that Turin and Beleg Strongbow, with a lessened host, made their final stand; one by one they were slain or mortally wounded, until at the last The Two Captains remained and the Orcs floored them with heavy nets.  One Orc took four looped iron pins and hammered them into the ground; there Beleg was taken and bound hand and foot and left to struggle, this was the only part of the bargain with Mim that Sauron kept.  Melkor assumed that this done so that Beleg could be tormented later under interrogation and he did not notice the hidden knife wielding Petty-Dwarf revelling in a secret cave mouth.  Hurin tears stung him as he watched his son being set in a steel collared yolk with wrist manacles at each end; Sauron stepped into view and with an overweening grimace and he lead Turin away by a chain.  The Orb bearer led the way as Turin was dragged stumbling down a crooked stairway, and his father witnessed the ruin of ‘The House of Ransom' and Mim's treachery was completed.

That night Hurin did not sleep and throughout the following punishing day he saw Turin driven on in the same fashion under the sting of many lashes.  Now Sauron had already gone on ahead and ordered the host to meet him at the Crossings of Teiglin where he awaited them there at dusk with a pack of Werewolves.  Sauron gave Turin a draft of thick dark-brown liquid to dull his senses and released him from the yolk.  Turin collapsed on the soggy ground with exhaustion and the effects of the fluid; he was unable to break his fall because his arms were so numbed by being held in a fixed position for too long.  Sauron dismissed the main body of Orcs to Hithlum saying "Our road now leads us through Taur-nu-Fuin; this way is better sniffed out by beasts, so I will require eight Scouts and a Whip-Master, oh and of course I will need this Orb.  Go now, in the sure knowledge that you have done a great service to Lord of Angband!"  Turin, still reeling and helpless, was then bound with thick straps onto a two-wheeled A-Frame which would later be harnessed to a sturdy Wolf.  The next morning Sauron mounted a great black horse that had no known name and said "On now to the Pass of Anach and home to Angband!"  Turin's wits began to emerge slowly as he was pulled along through the Eaves of Brethil and he soon recalled his plight; he tugged at his restraints to no avail, "It is no good to thrash about Boy," said an Orc laughing at his side and Turin reluctantly conceded that it was better for him to relax his muscles as much as possible.  It was long past midday by the time they crossed the Ford of Brithiach and Turin was supported by an Orc holding the lower strut of the frame; he welcomed the splashes that came over him from the pure waters of Sirion but when they reached the other side of the ford the Frame-Bearer let go of the strut so that Turin crashed down hard and the Orcs laughed uncontrollably.  Now before the company came into Dimbar they passed under the Crissaegrim and since Turin was bound face upwards he was the only one to see the Eagles of Thorondor wheeling overhead about their eyries in the westering sun.  They halted for the night at the sources of the River Mindeb, which lay before the Pass of Anach, because they wanted to steer clear of Ered Gorgoroth (for that place was even more terrible after dark) and they set up their camp.  Turin's frame was propped against a rock and only his arms were freed whilst he ate and drank greedily; his bonds were reset and he was placed flat on the ground as the unsleeping Wolves circled him throughout the night. Now at last Hurin was able to sleep for he knew that, at least for a little while, his son was at rest.

Of old Sauron fled to Taur-nu-Fuin after his defeat to Huan and Luthien, and there he hid until Melkor discovered his location and summoned him to Angband to await judgement.  At that time Sauron had left much behind which he wanted to recover; so now in the dead of night, Sauron called his chief Werewolf to him and said "We go tonight to our old abode in the dark forest for we have much to prepare, I leave it to you to tell your sentinels where to meet us."  The Wolf Chief asked "What of the prisoner, should we not bring him along?"  But Sauron was in haste and he did not want an extra burden, and so when his will was done they vanished from the camp; this was the third disobedience of Sauron.  It also proved to be a grave error because Sauron had already dismissed the ranking Orcs to Hithlum and the pack that he abandoned at the camp were now leaderless and unruly.  Hence it transpired that the Orcs and Wolves fought amongst themselves; the Orb was knocked aside in the scuffle and it rolled into a burlap sack thus concealing their deeds, in the end they went on a looting rampage and did not rejoin Sauron, and consequentially Melkor assumed that Sauron was plotting against him.  After a week of waiting Sauron was in fright and he sought for the wayward Orcs, they were met on the way to his residence with much plunder and more captives.  Sauron demanded to know all that had passed in his absence, and when it was revealed that these captives were escaped thralls and he saw a chance at redemption; he declared that all should feign that they were ambushed by crazed Elves and in the melee the Orb was lost, but the strength of the agents of Melkor overcame them.  "Say that they scattered but we hunted them down, one by one, and we brought their treasures in tribute to Melkor," said Sauron, and he insisted that the Orb now be destroyed but none could find it; "If the Orb be truly lost then this deception is too good to fail," he said, and he ordered extra lashes to drive on the captives as they proceeded with all speed to Angband. 

Storm clouds started to gather as they came along the north road that led out of the burnt forest to the high slopes of Taur-nu-Fuin.  The Orcs made camp for the night in a sheltered dirt basin on the marches of Anfauglith, and in celebration they began drinking riotously.  The high peaks of Thangorodhrim could be seen afar off from their site and Sauron's heart was stirred; he left the revellers for what would be a moment and climbed onto a boulder to get a better look, this led him to a high ridge and a clearer view.  Darkness fell and a wave of pride roused him further as he strode on towards his destiny, he began to laugh and a distant peel of thunder sounded a reply.  He stood then with his head back and with outstretched arms in the charged air as though challenging the approaching tempest; and eventually he heard the clatter of rainfall on his breastplate, slow at first but rapidly increasing and soon becoming torrential.  Thunder and lightning and wind crashed about him and he laughed ever the harder.  The storm reached its height and Sauron cried out loud, "Here I am Melkor, I return to you triumphant and thou shall know my worth.  I have withstood your wrath and now I come to claim my deserved honour and glory from thee. Thou shall not deny me and obeisance will be mine, for I am Sauron the Deceiver and the one true heir to your cruel might and majesty."  A lightning bolt struck his breastplate with a heavy boom and raw electricity shot out from his limbs and head as he screamed in exaltation.  When the torrent abated his smouldering form yet remained motionless in the same position until at last he crumpled to the ground.  He awoke at first light and pulled himself up from the damp earth, and as he caught sight of the jagged pinnacles of Angband he said "I am already forged anew."  He looked back towards the encampment and a dread took him for he did not realise until now how far out he came to meet the storm.  

Sauron sped back to the ridge and his anxiety turned to desolation as looked down on the boulder, for spread upon it was the carcass of his chief Werewolf with an arrow through its neck.  He climbed down and inspected the arrow and knew to be that of Beleg Strongbow, the famed archer of Doriath, and he understood his error.  He cupped his head and rubbed his eyebrows with flattened palms not wanting to look upon the scene that now awaited him, but fate finally caught up with Sauron that day.  He turned around delirious and inadvertently kicked another dead Wolf and he recognised the bearer of Turin; panic-stricken he looked towards the tree where the Orcs bound Turin the previous night and saw only an empty bark with knives stuck in it, with broken fetters hanging limp from a branch and chains strewn about its roots.  He saw the remainder of his Wolves scattered and lay in like fashion to the first; and he saw impressions of footprints divided in many directions, some Orkish and some Elven, and deep within him he tasted true betrayal and failure.  But fate had not yet finished with him, for at the very last an intense beam of sunlight dazzled his eye as it reflected from the Orb which had rolled out from the burlap sack at some point during the night.  Thus it was that Sauron took to flight and he enters no more into this tale; it is told by The Wise that he fled far beyond the Eastern Mountains and came not again into Middle-Earth until the aftermath of the War of Wrath when in the end he did obeisance to the Herald of Manwe.

THERE HAS BEEN MUCH DEBATE AMONG THE WISE REGARDING THE TIME SPAN IN RELATION TO THE SUBSEQUENT EVENTS.  IT SEEMS THAT THE DATES GIVEN FOR THE YOUNG DAYS OF TUOR AND THE ACTIVITIES OF TURIN SINCE HIS RELEASE ARE AT VARIANCE.  HOWEVER THERE ARE CERTAIN POINTS IN THEIR LIVES THAT ARE FIXED AND WITH THIS IN MIND THE AUTHOR REGRETS ANY AMBIGUITY THAT MAY BE OFFERED IN THE FOLLOWING TEXT WITH REFERENCE TO THIS PROBLEM.

It has been told that Sauron forsook the encampment at Anfauglith as the Orcs made merry before the last stage of their journey to Angband.  The Elf captives were herded together, bound and linked by a long chain; Turin was separately tied up against a tree whilst under the influence of Sauron's narcotic.  When the Orcs unpacked their gear the Orb that they thought was lost fell out of the bag unnoticed; so now under the direction of Sauron, they erroneously believed that their present deeds were going unseen and that they would escape punishment for their non-compliance to Melkor.  They took to drinking and boasted of their perceived victory over the tyrant and hailed the cleverness of Sauron.  Hurin watched enraged at the ill-treatment of his son but he was also relieved to see him alive after a week of uncertainty and worry; his turmoil soon turned into joy as he witnessed the daring of Beleg Strongbow, whom he thought surely dead or in torment.  He also heard the scream of Sauron amid the lightning and saw the rousing and cowardice of the fleeing drunken Orcs, and he laughed in his heart.  Although none save Gwindor witnessed the tragic slaying of Beleg by Turin's hand, who in a confused stupor believed him to be an enemy, at the height of that terrible thunderstorm.  However, it was seen by all that Sauron returned to the camp the following morning and that he beheld the complete undoing of his plans and fled in terror.  Of the fate of Ibun nothing is told, but it can only be assumed that he was slain when the errand of Sauron failed.

For long Melkor sat in fury as each deception of Sauron reached his ears, but it also became apparent that he erred at the first by banishing him in his rash desire to punish Hurin.  He finally realised that he had lost his most valuable asset; for if Sauron was capable of such deceit in order regain favour then what would he able to do more in allegiance with Angband, and ever Melkor feared he would supplant him.  Furthermore his plans to occupy the southlands seemed to be always hampered by trifling rebellion and the ineffectiveness of his servants.  Even now he had not captured the Mithrim Elves, or penetrated Doriath, or drew out Nargothrond and still Turgon evaded him and he was wroth.  Vengeance against Hurin permanently disturbed his heart; Melkor resented him even the slightest bit of joy amid his torment and he looked for ways to fulfil the curse against the mocker and his kin, but now Turin was lost to him and once more his contentment was postponed.

The tale turns again to Hithlum and the places where Hurin still yearned to be; for even in the years prior when Turin was revealed to him he always looked upon his homeland in the hope of seeing his beloved Morwen and his kin.  But Morwen he still saw not, for even now the Orcs and Easterlings never dared to venture near her home thinking her a witch because of the strength of will that was in her, and in spite of everything she would not leave her home.  Rumours of her power passed through the locality thus Hurin knew that she lived and he was glad; he often said clearly "They will not conquer her," and he ever saw Morwen's semblance in the face and grey eyes of Turin and his love for her deepened the more.  Now the house closest to Morwen's, which was forever tantalisingly out of view, was occupied by Brodda the Easterling and Hurin's kinswoman Aerin; and as been already told she would succour those about her in need.  It chanced one day that Nienor was receiving a basket of food from her neighbour as she did in previous times, when Hurin heard Aerin say "Tell Morwen that Brodda is going abroad tomorrow and I will visit you and your mother then!"  At long last he recognised her as his daughter, who had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and he wept tears of joy and sorrow.  Hurin often took thought for his nephew too, and he often looked towards Mithrim because he knew of Morgoth's desire to capture the Elves that fostered Tuor.  As the boy developed he learnt how to handle weapons, and though he was skilled with a bow he favoured the axe as did Huor his father.  Seeing him in these days reminded Hurin of his kin in Brethil; for Huor was of a similar age to that of his son when he and Hurin fought the Easterlings with Haldir their uncle, and when they became lost in the mists at the Brithiach and from there were taken by Thorondor to Gondolin.

Now after many years of spying on the Elves of Mithrim; the secret ways about the caves of Androth began to unravel before their enemies and life became ever harder for them, it was decided by Annael that they would again chance the road to the Mouths of Sirion.  Their leaving did not go unseen and they were ambushed by a great force of Orcs and Easterlings.  The main body of Elves managed to escape through hidden passageways, for this march had been long in the planning; but Tuor would not flee and he fought his foes with few friends about him.  Eventually he stood alone and slew many enemies but in time he was overcome by the greater force and taken captive.  Hurin grieved at this, remembering his own fate at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and he feared for Tuor who had not yet reached his full stature.  He was brought before Lorgan who, in hatred for the kin of Hador, kept Tuor as his own personal slave and dealt with him cruelly.  Now as has been told, Morgoth knew of Tuor's existence because he informed Hurin of the rumour of Rian's babe being left in the care of Elves; therefore it must have pleased him to leave the boy in the hands of Lorgan knowing that when Hurin looked on his homeland he would see one of his kin in thraldom.  Again Morgoth's malice overreached his aim because after three years Tuor escaped and returned to Androth; there he lived as an outlaw, like his cousin before him, and now approaching his early manhood he would at whiles assail his foes by stealth.  The days of Tuor became less evil when war was renewed in the south about the Guarded Plain, for unexpectedly Orodreth the Lord of Nargothrond changed his tactics of hidden ambush to open attack; this development was a boon to Morgoth for a bridge was built across the River Narog and Orodreth's halls were revealed to him.  Rumour came out that land of a mighty warrior known as The Mormegil; tall was he and dreadful to look upon for his was arrayed in black with a golden Dwarf-Mask and well nigh impenetrable Dwarf-Armour, he wielded a black sword with pale fire at its edges named Gurthang, Iron of Death.  Many Orcs were brought from Hithlum to join the war and many quailed at the oncoming of the Mormegil, and few believed that ‘The Black Sword' could be slain in battle.  During the war Morwen and Nienor fled from Dor-Lomin and Tuor left the caves of Androth; although Hurin did not witness their leaving it would not be the last time he saw them again, and always he looked out for any news of Turin since his rescue by Beleg Strongbow.

It has been told before that Melkor took twisted enjoyment from the bloody ruin of his foes and that he knew how much this distressed Hurin; he is the cruellest master of slow torment and it has always been his wont to take captives, by his wicked practices he gained much intelligence about his enemies and would repay a betrayal with death or slavery.  In this way he learnt plenty concerning the fortunes of Turin and not all seemed favourable to the character of Hurin's son; accordingly, if Melkor ever heard anything that he knew would unbalance Hurin then he had to wrestle between the urge to gloat before him or the will keep his own pride intact, in which his pride always won out.  Now an opportunity arose to heavily demoralise Hurin and Melkor pondered on how best to achieve this without having to look upon him or hear his hated voice.  Thus it was that Melkor turned again to Glaurung and he told the Dragon all he knew and all that was rumoured about the life of Turin.  

He said "I trust in your malice because it was born of my own; let my words absorb within, and when you are ready you may twist them into the heart of Hurin by whatever by you deem fit." and with that he stroked Glaurung's dry golden-green scales with his pointed fingers.  

The Dragon quivered at his touch, saying "My Lord, I will take my rest for one month and then so do the first part of your will, afterwards I will await further instruction from you;" now, in order to concentrate energy and thought a Dragon requires total rest and replenishment.

Melkor said, "Afterwards you have complete leave to go where you will and whatsoever you claim shall be your own, all I ask is that you fulfil my curse," they both bowed and Glaurung returned to his cave. 

It was late spring and the war in the south had eased; Hurin's kin had already left Hithlum and he grew uneasy since he knew not if they were slain, captured or free.  Now the time of day came for Hurin to eat and his right arm was temporarily released; whilst he was eating he heard a scurrying sound beneath him and with his arm free he was able to crank his neck and twist to see what caused the sound.  He saw a long reptilian beast spiralling up the cone of the central pillar of Thangorodhrim and for a moment he thought that Morgoth was come again in changed form, but this was Glaurung and Hurin had never seen his like before though all the warriors of Beleriand knew his name.  As the huge Dragon head came into full view the runes on Sauron's chair lit and Hurin's arm snapped down; the carrion bird gingerly flew between them and collected the half eaten bag of food.  

"It is the iron in your blood you know," said Glaurung to a stunned Hurin, "Yes, the chair magnetises your blood but the Binding-Spell allows your circulation to continue flowing.  You have to agree my master is truly a genius, No?  Oh!  Where are my manners?  Hail Hurin!  I would say well met but, hmm, well look at you; you are hardly intimidating now, are you?" 

"What do you want, Glaurung?" said Hurin defiantly.

The Dragon shimmied and said, "You know me, I am honoured, I did not know that my fame spread so far upwards since I cannot fly..."

"I said what you want?" repeated Hurin.

Glaurung shook his head and said, "Well, do not say I have not tried to be nice!  What I want is, is to announce ‘A New Year of Lamentation' because I know that you remember the last one," and with that he fixed his eye on Hurin.   Now it seemed to Hurin that Glaurung's eye resembled an Orb, being black and flecked with gold, but this was living and serpentine; the Dragon comprehended his thought and said, "My eyes are far more powerful than tumbled stone, Son of Galdor, for they see far deeper than just the material before it.  Although, as I now attune to your Orb you will be able to see all that I do when I am abroad, for I will be my master's emissary and he did promise you that nothing would be hidden from you.  However I am here today on other business, I come bearing news."

"What news?"  Hurin asked reluctantly.

"News of you son, Turin," said Glaurung wryly, "I am sure you must be worried about him, after all it has been a while since you saw his face," and he smiled.

"Then does he yet live?" said Hurin.

"Yes he lives, for now, but I am sure you guessed at that since you witnessed his pathetic rescue, but there is much more to know besides that," said Glaurung.

"I would have you tell me; what do you know of him?" demanded Hurin.

"Well, speaking of ‘that rescue' did you know that your son slew the very one that saved him?" said Glaurung; to punctuate his remark he spat Beleg's bow into Hurin's lap and continued, "My master's servants dug this up with the Elf's body in a thicket not far from the encampment, oh and they found this there also," and he produced the Dragon-Helm.  "It seems the Elf was going to return it to Turin," he laughed "Yet since he did not want it and you are Hador's living heir I believe this is yours, but because you cannot use it my master said that he will keep it safe for you."

"This proves nothing" said Hurin bitterly.

"Unfortunately it does," condescended Glaurung, "We have studied the Elf corpse and the blade marks match exactly with those of others that your son has slain."

"How do you know who my son has, or has not slain?" retorted Hurin.

"Then have you not guessed?" said Glaurung, "Turin is ‘The Mormegil' I cannot believe you did not know: the craven mask, the stupidity of open assault, the bridge; oh I love the bridge, was it not obvious?" and he emitted dark smoke as he laughed.

Hurin sat desolated by this news but Glaurung had more, "Beleg is not the only Elf he has rashly slain..." he began, "This is only a rumour mind, yet my master's techniques are very effective and he usually squeezes out the truth of a matter; but I digress.  There was in Doriath who was wise, by Elven standards, for he took an instant dislike to you son, even as a boy; Saeros was his name, and he rightly begrudged the fostering of Turin by that dotard Thingol and the favour the king gave to your son.  Do you remember when Turin went missing from the Northern War?  Of course you do; well, it seems that he returned to Thingy's Hall and had a disagreement with Saeros.  Then the following day, still hot with wrath, he cruelly forced Saeros into a ravine at sword point; this is the reason why King Thingy banished him, but quite why the archer committed treason to side with Turin is not known.  Still they did seem rather close, do you not think so?  I do not know if Turin is one for the girls because it is rumoured that there is one in Nargothrond, the king‘s daughter no less, whom your son has spurned.  Yet and all she is betrothed to an escaped thrall, I believe you know him; Gwindor, he who rashly charged to his capture at the glorious fifth battle, and it is said that he saved your son from the madness of grief after the murder of the Elf he loved."

"You disgusting worm," said Hurin.

"Great Worm, if you do not mind!" said Glaurung, "But since you say disgusting, answer me this!  Why is it that your son, who has grown in might and is able to call many to him, has NEVER ONCE attempted to come against our forces at Hithlum with a force of his own on behalf of, or in aid of your kin?"

"My kin have left Hithlum," said Hurin forlornly.

"Turin does not know this, but he would if he ever dared to try that which I have just asked; and besides you have not answered my question because you cannot, you are right to be ashamed of such an ill-gotten son," said Glaurung spitefully.

"I am not ashamed of my son; you ask what cannot be answered without seeing both sides of the argument.  I say that it was wisdom that led him not into your trap and courage that keeps him fighting my foe," replied Hurin.

"Then you are deluded by a father's pride; you speak of wisdom then I say it is folly, you say courage then I say cowardice for I have told you of Turin's deeds," said the wicked beast, "However this matters little because I am confident that I will meet your son and we shall see then who is right.  I leave you now Hurin, with these words; look for me beyond Brethil," and with that the formidable Dragon descended the tower and took to his slumber.

Hurin soon understood the dreadful meaning behind Glaurung's last words, when a few days later Morgoth sent a mighty battalion of Orcs upon the houses of Brethil to guarantee the taking of the Crossings of Teiglin.  The Orcs came at them on unawares but the Men of Brethil fought valiantly though they were few at first; their lord Handir, the cousin of Hurin, joined the conflict but was slain and the lordship passed to his son  Brandir, who is called ‘The Lame' because of his club foot.  The fighting Men were forced back into the forest and contained there whilst the Orcs collected about the Pass of Sirion; their strength became so great that the Men of Brethil were compelled to hide in their own lands throughout the summer as the forces of Morgoth mustered for battle.  Hurin mourned for Handir and feared what would become of Turin and his other kin; he did not forget his shaming by Glaurung and dreaded what evil as yet unforeseen may come to pass.

The autumn came in cold that year and throughout the previous summer the Orc muster waited impatiently; they had long been ready for battle but no order to advance came from Angband, and as yet there was no sign of Glaurung.  Hurin combed the Orbs for news but all he saw in those days, as the icy wind bit, were jaded Orcs with no sport or routine activities in far off outposts.  The day came at last when the Dragon awoke and Hurin's Orb began to vibrate to point where he thought that it would come free of its holders.  The golden swirls inside the Orb shone white and converged into two glowing and pulsating spots of light.  Suddenly the light propelled outwards in straight beams and entered Hurin's eyes; the intensity of the pain caused Hurin to scream aloud and he became as one blinded, and a searing whiteness filled the inside of his head.  The remote voice of Glaurung echoed inside Hurin's head as if it spoke within the vastness of an empty cavern, and said "Hail Hurin, I am impressed that you can withstand me, now I will say well met; I told you some months ago that my eyes were infinity more effective than bare stone and they can see far deeper than any others.  Know this!  Your Orb is now subject to my vision and whenever I am awake your being shall be mine; you shall see as I do, you shall know my thought, whatever sustains me shall sustain you, but I shall not break your spirit for that pleasure belongs to Our Lord, Melkor.  I say ‘Our Lord' because you will feel my reverence for him, whether or not you would choose to, and you shall feel my pleasure even when I hurt the innocent and destroy all the lands that you deem fair.  Only when I rest shall you be free in mind and able to contemplate what I have shown you, and only then will your Orb operate in its usual manner; yet when I awake you shall know again the pain of my rousing.  All this shall happen as long as I live or until my master and I release you, be it permanent or temporary; so I say to you now, Hurin, Son of Galdor and Father of Turin, BEHOLD!"  

It appeared to Hurin that his field of vision had widened exponentially and it seemed as though he could see out from his temples; yet all the while he still only regarded the Orb, but via his senses he perceived so much more.  Hurin felt the Dragon's anger surge within him as he passed out of Angband and across the Anfauglith, Dragon-Fire burnt at his throat as the enormous reptile despoiled the Vales of Sirion about Ered Wethrin and the Eithel Ivrin.  Hurin dizzied with the rushing of Glaurung's adrenaline when he led the Orcs into the Guarded Plain; and his heart laughed as the scouts of Nargothrond lit beacons to announce their coming, for Hurin-Glaurung knew the hour of devastation had come.  Glaurung's attention switched to another Orb and Hurin witnessed the riding forth of Orodreth with the Mormegil on his right side; Hurin saw one that he recognised riding on the King's left, it was Gwindor, but he now looked as an aged and careworn man and not the grand valiant who was the first one to ride out to meet his enemies at the Nirnaeth.  Glaurung made straightway for the Bridge of Nargothrond; but his mind constantly focussed on the coming battle with Orodreth and the Orcs and this was all that Hurin saw, but whilst the Dragon's attention was diverted he recovered a semblance of his own senses again.  Hurin felt his own anguish at the slaying of Orodreth and the mortal wounding of Gwindor, and pride filled him as he observed the heroism in battle of his son Turin, the Mormegil.  The Orb bearer must have been slain because Hurin's vision blurred with a flying and tumbling motion, and the scene settled anew at the edge of the forest beyond the battlefield.  A figure carrying a body in his arms came into view and Hurin looked again on the face of his son for the first time since the rescue at Anfauglith.  He had reached his full manhood, but Hurin saw the same boyish expression of tear-stained compassion and empathy as Turin lay the dying Gwindor on the ground.  Hurin heard Gwindor telling Turin to leave him to die because his hurts were too deep to heal, he heard Gwindor bemoan Turin's pride and folly and he berated him for bringing ruin on Nargothrond; Gwindor told Turin that, though he loved him, he regretted aiding in his rescue and bringing him to his home because he was robbed of the love of Finduilas, Orodreth's daughter.  And with his last words Gwindor said, "Haste you now to Nargothrond, and save Finduilas; she alone stands between you and your doom.  If you fail her, it shall not fail to find you. Farewell!"

As Turin turned to flight the blinding whiteness filled Hurin's head and he was once more under the jurisdiction of the Dragon; he felt a greedy longing as Glaurung surveyed the riches of Orodreth's halls and Hurin smacked his lips.  The remnant of Nargothrond fought courageously to save their home but these were for the most part artisans, women and children; and they had few defenders about them.  Their defiance was short lived and those that were not slain were set in bonds and linked in a train to be taken into thraldom, and Finduilas was among them.  As the captives were readied the noise of battle amplified outside and Glaurung stepped forth; he cleared the dead and dying from his path with his fore-claws and came out onto the bridge.  Its architect charged at him in hot wrath, hewing down foes as he came; Turin bore his sword, Gurthang, aloft and sprung towards Glaurung, but the Dragon set his eye on him and Turin stood frozen, even as a statue in the great Elven halls.  Contempt spited Hurin's fear as his son watched helplessly immobile when the prisoners went by under the whips of the Orcs, and Hurin laughed at the desperate cries of Finduilas as she passed her unrequited beloved.  Glaurung spoke in the same twisted fashion to Turin as he did to his father earlier that year; he called him ‘Captain Foolhardy' and mocked the over-proud leadership of his armies, and he shamed him in manner as he did Hurin regarding his kin.  By Glaurung's design, Hurin's contempt for his evil and ungrateful son deepened to hatred as the Dragon withdrew his eye; and he wanted to see Turin burn as he attacked again.  But Glaurung withheld his blast and told Turin to hurry if he could to Dor-Lomin and redress the hurts of his mother and sister, and warned him not to spurn this gift of freedom.  So it was that Turin sped on his fool's errand and he entirely deserted Finduilas in her hour of need; Hurin sensed Glaurung's contentment at a job completed, and fire filled his throat again as the Dragon routed the plundering Orcs.  All that could flee from his fury went on heedlessly before the bridge was broken and cast down into the river.  Finally Hurin felt release when at last Glaurung heaped together the hoard of Nargothrond about him in its deepest halls and went to sleep amid the hill of treasure.

Hurin sat dejected and heartbroken on lonely Thangorodhrim; he stared unthinking at the Orb for now it was still and vacant, and all that it showed was his distorted reflection and he despised it.  Hurin hung his head trying to fathom how he could feel what he did and he could not even guess how he would cope with his remorse, "That evil must have always been inside me," he said as he wept.  As though answering his tears with a malicious taunt; the freezing wind caught the ferocious laughter of Morgoth and lashed at him as would a thrall-master in the mines below.  Hurin took the hurt deep into his core and began to despair; eventually he feel into a dreamless sleep whilst driving sleet beat him throughout the night and into the next morning, he awoke early in the midst of the lessening downpour but the rain could not wash away his misery and he sobbed all the more bitterly.  The shower died away as Hurin remained soaking but drained of woe and mechanically he gazed into the Orb; he heard the sound of tramping feet, rough voices and the cracking of whips, the scene unfolded to show the northward march of the Nargothrond hostages.  Hurin found his vision and hearing to be far sharper and much clearer than ever before as he watched their slow unhindered progress through the decimated lands, he saw further too and perceived the otherwise unnoticed scouts surveying the slave party afar off in the Forest of Brethil.  Hurin wondered much at his new abilities and supposed them to be the after-effects of his encounter with Glaurung, for indeed they were, and he felt sure they would diminish but he was wrong.  For many long hours more the prisoners were driven mercilessly along the old road to the Crossings of Teiglin and through the Eaves of Brethil; even amid the coarse din and chatter, Hurin could hear the whispered plans of the Men of Brethil.  They resolved to ambush the Orcs, in vengeance of their fallen lord, and rescue the captured Elves of Nargothrond.  Unfortunately their stroke fell too early and the Orcs turned on the Elves and slew them; alas for poor Finduilas for she was their chief prize, an Orc captain thrust her against a tree and run her through with a spear, although before he could flee a Brethil arrow caught his jugular and he spewed black blood ere he died.  The Orb bearer bolted but Hurin heard Finduilas' dying words, "Tell the Mormegil that Finduilas is here;" and Hurin's blood ran chill when he remembered the last words of Gwindor and he feared that calamity would forever stalk his son. 

The first snow of winter fell that night, it came heavy and silent spreading southward across Beleriand.  The next day Hurin was grateful for the hot slops sent by the Orcs but the bird did not return for the food bag because of the cold; nevertheless a kindly whirlwind took it up and dropped it at the mine entrance, thus he did not go hungry thereafter and Hurin praised Manwe.  During that day nobody went abroad and the Orb was a whiteout so it happened that Hurin looked out towards his homelands in profound longing; however, that night a great fire rose up and he took it for a beacon but he soon descried that it came from Dor-Lomin and there were no beacons in that part of Hithlum that he knew of, he took to his Orb but it remained dormant and Hurin could not tell if the flames boded good or ill.  The morning after Hurin bent his will on the Orb, determining it towards Dor-Lomin, and soon enough he heard the prattle of gossip-mongering Orcs outside the burnt remnant of Brodda and Aerin's home.

"... What, you missed it?" said the first voice, "it was madness, dead bodies all over the place."

"I heard it was ‘Her Ladyship' as burned down the hall, through having had enough of her husband," said a second Orc. 

"Not quite," said a third, as charred remains came into Hurin's view, "she done it because an intruding man murdered that Brodda, right where he was sat as I understand, so she reckoned that Lorgan would be set on punishing her household for what that man did and she beat the Easters to it by doing herself in, is what I heard."

The second Orc said, "What man?" 

The third Orc beckoned the other two closer and said quietly, "Son of ‘Witch Wife' as lived next door," pointing towards Morwen's now derelict house, "apparently he threw Brodda headlong cross his board and broke his neck.  Seems he was looking for the witch and her waif but they have long gone, they say she went to stay with that King Thingy across the mountains, you know, where the magic trees lay beneath the spiders pass."

"How come there was all them dead Easters and thralls as I saw in heaps across the hall?" asked the first.

"Apparently the thralls grew some backbone and attacked the other Easters as they set about Brodda's killer.  Course they only had dinner knifes and such while the Easters had their weapons, but still the thralls took a few out and the witch's son done the rest in a maddened rage.  Tell you what, them thralls is going to pay heavy for what went on because some helped the man escape to the Wethrin Mountains and that Lorgan is mighty angry," concluded the third.

An Orc captain angrily bade them to get on with the work of clearing the debris and Hurin shook his head in disbelief at the news of the death of another one of his kin.  He damned the curse of Morgoth and the lies of Glaurung; moreover, in his heart Hurin rebuked his son for the rash anger that left devastation in his wake, and he lamented Turin's reckless folly and ill fortune.

Throughout the ‘Fell Winter' the squalling winds blew ever the harshest about Thangorodhrim and the whiteness flurried from its peaks and drifted out as a speckled banner so that it looked like a flag of truce.  None but Hurin witnessed this ironic spectacle for nobody could endeavour so far no north in such wicked weather; the residents of Angband wisely stayed within its confines, and even the Eagles remained in their eyries.  Now amid all this compunction it chanced that after another week Hurin would come upon something to warm his frozen existence and cheer his sorrowing heart.  Now, when a portable Orb was not being used to send reports the bearer would carry the device on his belt in a leather container or it hung there by a net, and the one that Hurin looked upon this day was conveyed by the latter.  He saw a regiment of Orcs patrolling the byways about the Vale of Sirion that became alerted to an unknown presence about them.  They were commanded to disperse, and to hunt and kill whatever moved in the vicinity and so the chase was on.  Thus it happened that the Orc bearer's group blundered through the broken scrubs and undergrowth about the slopes of the roadside.  Among the snow and bracken Hurin saw two blurred grey shapes as the hunters passed by; Hurin shouted "Wait!" and the image inside his Orb stopped dead and he was amazed, he said "Go back!" and the images reversed in the same sequence that Hurin had just seen.  When he the grey forms came into view Hurin halted the images and before his mistrusting eyes he looked upon Tuor and Voronwe in hooded mantles hiding from the Orcs.  He stared dumbstruck on this static picture for a few moments until he realised that he could betray them and willed the Orb to show events in real time, and Hurin was surprised at how far ahead the Orcs had pushed on ahead of their quarry.  He was delighted to see his nephew alive and astounded that Voronwe had returned from what seemed to be a doomed voyage; his head flooded with many unanswerable questions and he whiled away many a frosty day pondering what happy chance brought them together.  Hurin regained new optimism for he knew that the travellers fared close to the realm of Gondolin, although he still knew not the exact location of Turgon‘s kingdom; and he prayed that the Lords of the West had bestowed Voronwe and Tuor with some means of salvation for the oppressed folk of Beleriand against Morgoth, or at the least sent them thither with a message of hope.  

Hurin would not see Tuor or Voronwe again and he would not live to experience the fulfilment of his brother's last words to Turgon at the Nirnaeth, "Though we part here forever, and I shall not look upon your white walls again, from you and from me a new star shall arise."  However a short time later, he would observe his son meet the doom that Gwindor declared at his death; for after taking flight from Dor-Lomin, Turin, came into Brethil in time to assist a party of woodsmen that were assailed by Orcs.  Turin heard the danger from a secluded coppice and feigned that he had a number of warriors at his command and cried out the attack; he charged out against the Orcs with such great noise that he deceived them and they scattered heedlessly into the forest dropping their Orb.  The woodsmen gave him great praise, and learning from Turin that he now wondered as a wild man, they bade him to live amongst them and welcomed his valour.  Turin declined their offer at first; informing them of his errand to discover Finduilas, but these were same archers who attacked the Orcs that cruelly slew the prisoners of Nargothrond and they told him of her fate and her words.  They knew him now as the Mormegil and esteemed him all the more for the fame of the ‘Black Sword of Nargothrond' had spread far across the land, but Turin was disconsolate and begged to know where her body lay and they took him to her burial mound.  The dropping of the Orb proved an evil in after days for these events were witnessed by the servants of Morgoth, and Hurin knew this too because of the ill fate pursuing his son.

The tale now turns to Doriath, and though the following events were as yet unknown beyond the confines of the Girdle of Melian they had a direct bearing on the days to come.  Now the handful of Elves that managed to escape the slaughter at Nargothrond wondered aimless for many months throughout Beleriand and barely surviving the onset of the winter they came to the marches of Doriath and were admitted by the will of Thingol.  It was the time of Yule and they reported all they knew to the sorrowing ears of the king and queen, they received healing and were granted new homes within the protected realm.  It has been told elsewhere that the Noldorin princess Galadriel had long dwelt in Doriath with Celeborn her husband, a kinsman of Thingol, and that she was instructed by the wisdom of Melian.  When Galadriel received the final confirmation that her brother Orodreth had died she was dreadfully grieved and wondered into the forest of Neldoreth to be alone, but Melian followed after her and found Galadriel weeping in a snow covered porch.

Placing her arm gently on Galadriel's shoulder, Melian said, "I mourn for Orodreth and for you too Galadriel, but please come back with me to Menegroth out of this bitter weather for I fear that its evil breath will also take you from us."

Galadriel dejectedly turned around saying "All of my brothers are lost, Melian," and she collapsed into her mentor's loving embrace.

They both wept together, and after a while Melian repeated softly "Come!"

But Galadriel was not ready to leave yet and she asked Melian to stay a while longer if she would not desert her to the elements, "The cold comforts me somehow," she said "for it bites at my numbness; Oh Melian, why does the ‘House of Beor' bring ruin upon my kin?"

Melian remembered how Finrod fell assisting Beren in the Quest of the Silmaril and now Orodreth (renowned for his caution) was gone, fighting at the side of impetuous Turin.  After pondering Galadriel's words she said, "Alas, I told Turin long ago that his fate was twined with that of the Elves, and that his bearing would influence it for good or ill; it seems evident that his over-boldness has led him to the latter end.  However I told him also, as I deferentially remind you my dear unhappy child, that Beren carried a far higher doom than he.  I know it is difficult to hear this now, and I do understand the grief behind your question, but please do not judge Beren and Turin to be the same because of their lineage; for Finrod aided Beren in the payment the oath that he swore to Beor's folk after saving his life in battle."

"I know you are right," said Galadriel "I am sorry; but I do regret the fate that Finrod's first meeting with the Edain has wrought, and hearing what I already knew in my heart of Orodreth makes it all the more difficult to countenance the kin of the man who hastened his demise."

"Morwen grieves too, and Nienor," said Melian "for they have lost the steadfast Hurin to the Great Enemy and they yearn for their long-time missing son and brother.  I deem that the mother's dignity, or pride if you will, has passed into Turin but I ask you in your greater wisdom to pity those who resist healing in place of so-called self respect.  Also would I say this: great were the judgements of Finrod in life do not regret them in his death, for I consider that far off both our lines will mingle with that of Beor's ere the long defeat, and from this shall spring hope for all free folk."

Galadriel knew not to gainsay the wisdom of Melian, even in grief, and at the last she gave way to the Maia's bidding and returned to the warmth and healing of Menegroth.  It appeared to all that Galadriel's mood eased somewhat and in after days she looked ever more kindly on the wife and daughter of Hurin, even after the news of Finduilas reached Doriath during the milder weather.  Now amid the rumours that came via the Nargothrond Elves to Doriath there was no sure news regarding the fate of Turin and Morwen grew ever the more uncertain.  Some said the Mormegil was slain by Orodreth's side, or that he was spellbound by a great Dragon, or that he fled the field of battle with Gwindor's body; but all confirmed that it was known in Nargothrond that the Mormegil was indeed Turin, son of Hurin.  This doubt spread throughout Doriath until finally Thingol declared that he would send forth a reconnaissance squad to discover the truth of the matter when the weather eased; his main concern lay in the report that Glaurung now occupied the Halls of Felagund and the obvious danger that this now posed to the southlands.  Morwen heard of the king's plan and determined that she would accompany his emissaries in order to gain tidings of her son.  Thingol forbade this telling her of the grave peril that she would face but Morwen was undeterred stating that she would go alone regardless of king's wishes.  Melian's counsels were unavailing and even the promise of Mablung, the Chief Captain of Thingol, to discover sure news of Turin's fate would not assuage the Lady of Dor-Lomin.  There came a day at the beginning of spring when Morwen grew restless and fey, and she told Nienor that she would depart that night urging her daughter to remain in the safety of Menegroth; however Thingol heard of this and he commanded Mablung and a party of Elves to follow her and if she would not relent in her rash mission then they must protect her and gain as much knowledge as they could along the way.  Thingol was displeased at this development for his strategy was as yet unprepared and the few riders he hastily sent were ill-equipped to deal with a monstrous Dragon.  The riders came at night to the Twilight Meres by the Falls of Sirion and boarded a ferry when Morwen noticed that an extra member had joined the company and Nienor was revealed to them.  Morwen pleaded with her daughter to return but Nienor stubbornly stated that she would not be parted from her mother if Morwen would go on and that if she could then she would finally set eyes on her brother.  Morwen saw her own fortitude mirrored in the resolute eyes of her daughter and against her will she surrendered to Nienor's choice; so it was that the wife and daughter of Hurin rode without pause or doubt towards their destiny into the once fair lands now desolated by Glaurung the Uruloki, and into the web of the Curse of Morgoth against Hurin‘s kin.

In the days after Yule the winter had deepened to the point that Hurin's Orb had frosted over and nothing more could be descried.  The last thing of note that he had seen was the recovery of the dropped Orb in Brethil, but Hurin felt some relief in those days that Turin was now bestowed with his distant kin.  Hurin pondered much in those empty days; he thought of what may have been had Morwen sent their son to Brethil in the first place as he desired before the Nirnaeth, but in the end he deemed that Turin gained more through the prowess of the Elves and that he would probably have been slain in one of the many attacks on that land.  Always the cruel winds reminded Hurin of Lalaith, but instead of woe this recollection took him back to his days of bliss before evil befell his people.  He never forgot the effects of the last encounter with Glaurung and he searched in his mind how manage his next inevitable confrontation with the beast.  At feeding time the food came via the pulleys used by the Orc Children for the carrion bird was still loath to fly in the harsh climate; but Hurin remembered the wind that took up the hemp bag and he took thought of The Powers.  For his last sight of Voronwe reminded him of the time when the last ship of Gondolin sailed to The West; he had already guessed that Sauron summoned the Orb to follow, but the other deeds of that day were not of evil doing and Hurin knew that stronger forces were at work.  He began to pray amid the winds to Manwe on a daily basis saying, "Oh Lord of Winds hear my prayer as you did of old!  I desire that you destroy this accursed Orb but I know that my enemy would simply replace it.  Since this cannot be, I humbly beg that you request of Eru to bequeath me with the strength to contest with the wicked Dragon that now holds me in its thrall.  I wholly repent of the evil concepts that this creature evoked in me and of the deeds done in my stead albeit by the Dragon's malice.  Without your assistance I am utterly lost, and I thank you always for showing me the things that make my days here less evil."

Springtime reluctantly came at last, but during the three days that passed since the departure of Morwen an uneasy foreboding had troubled Hurin's spirit; he guessed that it had something to do with the reawakening of Glaurung and he girded himself for the discord to come.  Hurin approximated the time of Glaurung's arousing and he woke two hours before the rising of the sun on the following day to ready himself, thus it came to pass that the Orb of Thangorodhrim began to violently shudder in its clasps and he knew the Dragon was stirred.  He faced the blinding light head on with steely eyes but the blazing whiteness was too powerful for him and Hurin screamed aloud a resounding "NO!" in spite of his torment.  Then a stroke unlooked for by Glaurung confounded his will; for the whiteness transformed into a tranquil blue and the silhouette of an ascending Eagle broke the veil of colour and said "Hurin, you are full heard," and with that the vision vanished.  Hurin had the same sense of vision as before and he perceived the Dragon's wrath but it did not and could not consume him.  Glaurung thrashed wildly as would a lassoed unbroken horse and shots of intermittent flame blasted from his snout; he scorched the Elven tapestries hanging in the king's chamber and smelted much of the treasure in his hoard.  When the writhing ceased Glaurung panted heavy smoke and he was furious, for he had wasted more energy than he intended and the Dragon would now need to relax to conserve his vigour.  As often happened with Morgoth's designs, this delay proved to be an evil because Glaurung wished to announce his presence to the southlands with a grand burning but now he was constrained to lie in wait by the gaping doors of Nargothrond.  Had Glaurung come forth as he wanted then the riders out of Doriath would have seen him and fled; for they were but a league away encamped on Amon Ethir, the spy-hill of Felagund, and they did not go unnoticed by the gloating Dragon.

The remote voice of Glaurung spoke to Hurin, "So my medicine was too strong and you sought an antidote, well met Son of Galdor.  As I said to your ‘Captain Foolhardy' ere my slumber, ‘they lie who say that we of our part do not honour the valour of foes,' none have dared to ever contest with me thus, once again you impress me; for who among the mighty would have guessed that a mere mortal could defend himself from my power?"

"Your perverse magic is no match for the divinity of The Powers" said Hurin boldly.

Glaurung laughed, "Ha! I like you mortal, but I will not err as did my compassionate lord when you spurned his instruction. THAT, Hurin was your gravest error; and do not speak to me of The Powers!  Where are they now and how is it, if they are so divine, that they lurk still on their isle and do not contend with the true Master of the Fates of Arda?"

"Your questions are nonsense: when it is you that lurks here in a doorway and your craven lord does not budge from his throne," replied Hurin amid a far distant peel of northerly thunder, "your kind knows nothing of chances of the world, or the designs of nature and you see none of its beauty."

"We see much you pious fool, and we always seize our chances; behold!" spitted the Dragon whilst focussing his eye on the spy-hill, "What do we see on yonder hill, a party of runagates perhaps, or maybe the envoys of Manwe come to your salvation? No, it is but a group on nosing Elves seeking treasure no doubt; but lo, they have with them a pair of mortal women, now I wonder who they could be?"

Hurin answered not, because he saw with enhanced vision his wife and daughter arguing with Mablung who commanded them to stay put whilst he embarked further; he wondered greatly at this sight and feared what evil might now befall them.  Hurin watched with increasing dread as Mablung and his division crept down the tree-clad hill; spreading out across the Guarded Plain and stealthily converging again along the western banks of the Narog nigh to the broken bridge, and Glaurung laughed to himself as the Elves deliberated on how to ford the foaming torrent.  Glaurung suddenly emerged with great fire but he did not pursue the fleeing followers of Mablung, instead the Dragon climbed down the deep cleft of rocks towards the river; there he emitted another blast and a great hissing of steam enveloped the gorge and nobody noticed Mablung hiding amid the rocks waiting for the boiling vapours to disperse.  Hurin was dismayed because Glaurung maintained this veil of steam, causing him to see little else but fog, and he knew not that an evil wind carried the mists of Narog about Amon Ethir.  Hurin was still bound by his senses to Glaurung and he reeled at the disgusting stench of mingled river-haze and Dragon-reek; he tasted foul chemicals and sulphur, he heard many screams of fright and the panicky neighing of horses, and he despaired on hearing the voice of his wife calling out in blind terror, "NIENOR, NIENOR!" 

The mists before Hurin's eyes gradually cleared as the Dragon made his surreptitious progress up the spy-hill and Glaurung spoke remotely to Hurin once more, "I wonder, what we shall discover atop Meddler's Mound?"

Hurin said at a whisper, "Nothing, I hope."

"Oh come now! We have not ventured this far for nought," said Glaurung as his head peered over the summit, "Ah! We are not disappointed; lo! It is a beautiful maiden looking for her companions."

Hurin shared Nienor's fright as she turned about to see the terrifying Dragon examining her grimly, but her father's pride grew apace when she stood firm and did not falter against Glaurung's eye.  Glaurung compelled her to tell him who she was and what or who she sought, and when at last the daughter of Hurin was revealed to his malice the Dragon laughed within.  Glaurung held her transfixed as he spoke again to Hurin, "Well, this is an unexpected boon; my master will be delighted.  What to do, what to do?  Hmm, well Hurin, it seems that payment for your daring against me has arrived earlier than I expected.  It would be a shame to separate you both after all these years of being apart, after all you hardly know the girl."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Hurin.

"Just this," said Glaurung coldly, "I hereby and henceforth relinquish my hold upon you, but not your Orb.  Since I now hold in my sway a father and daughter who have never met, I deem that it would be cruel not to join them together albeit from afar.  Therefore Hurin I will it, you shall remain unchanged yet you shall experience all that Nienor does, but she will know nothing of this; and as I speak to you now I am casting a spell of forgetfulness upon her with my ‘perverse magic' and she will have to begin her life anew and relearn everything afresh.  Think of it as a second chance for you to get to know your estranged child; for when all is said and done, as I told you before, we reward the valour of our foes," and he laughed long and dim.

Hurin discerned the Dragon's oily presence ebbing away and heaved with disgust; he vomited profusely and, though the smell of bile would last for days, he felt relieved and cleansed inside.  He expected to see through Nienor's eyes but there was only a silent blackness and he feared that his daughter was slain by the brunt of the Glaurung's magic.  He spent a hour or so in doubt and grief until he heard a muffled but kindly voice expressing perplexity and concern; soon after he felt a gentle grasp on his left hand and the crunching of footfalls but all remained dark, the footsteps ceased when the grip released and all became stagnant again, the sense of movement would resume only when Hurin felt a touch on his hand.  Now, it became known to many in after days that Mablung chanced the river crossing and entered the ruins of Nargothrond in Glaurung's absence; and returning he found a wide-eyed Nienor heedless and catatonic on the summit of Amon Ethir, she responded not at all and stood as one whose fea had departed its hroar.  Mablung searched unavailing for the others that he left on the hill prior to his task, and Morwen was gone; so it was that he led his charge by the hand, and stopping and starting along the way, they drew on slowly towards Doriath.  They travelled thus for many days and were later joined by three other escaping Elves; Hurin felt that his daughter was safe with her unnamed assistants and he was comforted, he did not know then that Nienor slept not during this time until a morning came when he felt her drowsiness and relaxation.  Hurin had naturally assumed that his enhanced senses would become separate when Glaurung renounced his control, and Nienor's present condition only lent credence to his notion; but it was not the case, for when his daughter fell asleep Hurin's hearing sharpened manifold.  He heard the Elves bemoaning how the impetuosity of the Lady of Dor-Lomin led them such an end; they feared how Morwen would fare now astray in the wilderness, and they expressed the sincere hope that Nienor could be healed by Melian's skill.  Although it was early spring, the winds blew chill that day and Hurin listened as Mablung discussed their road home by a diminishing fire: they would pass through the Forest of Nivrim and follow the River Esgalduin down to the secluded bridge of Menegroth.  The tired Elves now deemed that since Nienor slept they would not need to take turns in guarding her, and all took the opportunity to rest before continuing with their journey; they slumbered nigh to the eaves of Nivrim on the west-marches of Doriath, north of Amon Rudh.  Their weariness was such, that the Elves paid little regard to the rumours of Orcs still secretly patrolling these lands beyond the days of the betrayal of Mim; thus it was that Hurin sat in a tense silence whilst waiting for the company to pick up again. 

At length Hurin heard the familiar ungainly tramping of Orc feet but he could not detect their proximity since the Orb still showed nothing; and an icy dread took him when he heard an Orkish voice say, "Wait!  I smell Elf-meat and, umm, Man-flesh over there beyond the magic trees."  The drawing of weapons noised amid brutish battle-cries and pounding feet, but the assault was met by the sound of swift arrows, flying spears and the ringing of iron on steel.  Suddenly brilliant sunlight shone forth from Hurin's Orb and dazzled him; he gasped as Nienor awoke and saw the onslaught, and whilst he comprehended her insecurity and panic, at the same Hurin fully recognized the dauntless Mablung fighting three enemies at once and a father's gratitude filled his heart.  Within seconds Nienor turned to flight and Hurin experienced a surge of speed like never before.  She darted without stopping for breath, dodging trunks and ducking branches as she flew, and in those moments her father knew how a hunted beast must feel; for the Orcs gave chase and the Elves raced after.  It soon became apparent to Hurin that the Elves caught up to their foes because he heard many Orkish death-cries and Elven voices calling for Nienor to stop; but she sped on without thought or reason and became only the second of the race of Men to pierce the Girdle of Melian without the prior summons of Thingol and his queen.  Those who enter unbidden into the forests of Doriath experience a profound bewilderment; for the power of Melian was such that within Thingol's realm a wall of shadow and deceptive mazes prevented the wayfarer from entering in, unless one came with a greater power or fate delivered them, and it is not known if such bewilderment took Nienor for she was already under the spell of Glaurung.  Hurin's heart thumped violently and he felt grasping claws tearing at his clothing; since his arms were fixed to the chair and no others were present, he realised that Nienor was ripping off her garments as she ran and he wept for the terror that she underwent.  Yet she ran on unrelenting until eventide when at last she collapsed with exhaustion among some long fern brakes; she slept there throughout the night oblivious of her nudity, the dropping temperature or any peril, and Hurin's concern for his daughter's wellbeing deepened all the more. 

Hurin supposed that Nienor's madness had passed when she woke the next morning for she seemed at peace; however he sensed her confusion, because it appeared as though she looked upon everything in that fair land as though it was something new and wonderful to behold.  Presently the snapping of twigs behind the bracken startled Nienor so that she scaled an apple tree and from its low branches she observed a young doe nosing for food; she marvelled at the fallow deer's beauty but would not budge until the creature had long moved on.  Nienor surveyed the regions about her before climbing down; to the north she saw the pure waters of Teiglin and Brethil Forest beyond, and it was not until this time that Hurin shared her thirst.  Nienor headed furtively towards the river, but because of her agitation at anything that moved she strayed too far east and came at length to the inaccessible ravines of Teiglin; from those heights she glimpsed the same river crossing that Sauron and the Orcs carried her captured brother across many years before.  Driven forth by dehydration, she wearily stumbled her way along the perilous precipices with her eyes fixed rigidly upon the distant ford.  Hurin feared that she might plunge into the rapids below at any given time for the ground was rocky, loose and uneven but Nienor strode as one entranced and did not perceive any danger.  After two hours travelling thus, the land became less sheer and more green; but Nienor grew fearful, for storm clouds came up from the south charging the air with static electricity and she ran at all speed towards the crossing.  Parched and panting, she reached a level bank and finally quenched her thirst; at this time the rains came and she desperately sought cover, she did not wish to turn back since the shadow of Glaurung lay behind her and ahead lay the forest of Brethil.  She crossed the ford at length and, drenched and shivering, she noticed a sheltered glade; in its midst lay the Haudh-en-Elleth, the burial mound of Finduilas, and with utter fatigue Nienor, daughter of Hurin, dropped unconscious upon it and fell into a fearful and troubled slumber.  

Melkor pondered the events of the previous year and was in doubt; for he endlessly craved the mastery of all wills and hated that free folk made decisions autonomously, moreover, his voracity was such that he was loath to suffer the loss of command and summit his will to those who served him.  Therefore he considered the advisability of releasing Glaurung unrestrained into the world and his old suspicions of usurpation niggled at him.  It was already known to all in Angband that their lord promised much to the Dragon in payment of the fulfilment of the curse; hence Melkor could not be seen to renege on his word now, in private though he did not approve of Glaurung's stealthy tactics and he grew impatient, he would have preferred that Turin and Nienor be now AT HIS MERCY.  Once again it seemed to him that rash pledges surpassed his schemes; yet he remembered how Glaurung wanted to reduce Hurin and his kin to ashes in the first place and said, "I did stay his fire, did I not?  Hmm, mayhap Glaurung takes me fully at my word and plays a longer game, but he gambles too much with fate for my liking and I shall have to rein in my fiery collaborator and show him how stack the odds in our favour at his next rousing.  Although, Glaurung hides nothing from me, but he consults not with me either; I shall simply have to trust in the malice that I poured into him otherwise I will drive myself into madness.  Why will they not just surrender to my benevolence and let me tend to the world, MY WORLD, after all am I not the fittest to rule, am I not the mightiest in body and the cleverest in mind?  Ah!  I am friendless and nobody understands that I too love the earth and would shape it to the benefit of all, by mine own hand.  It is difficult being the Elder King and heavy lays my crown tonight; oh Melkor, you worry too much and that is your only failing, take your rest now and all will become clearer in the morning!"

Hurin was also in doubt; for as his daughter slept on the mound of Finduilas he too pondered recent events and especially the words of Mablung at the camp fire, "Alas for Morwen the proud and fey, if only the Lady of Dor-Lomin had but waited a little time longer as bidden, then she would not be lost and we would be all the more ready and able to met our foe."  Hurin replied posthumously, "You err Mablung, for how could you know whether the beast slept or not?  If you had waited then Glaurung would have been ahead of you and no doubt my intrepid wife and daughter would be as floating cinders on the wind.  But for her haste, I would not now behold my little one astray in the wilderness; Oh Morwen proud and beautiful, where are you?  Please find your way to our children ere the end!"  Hurin would have wept for his sorrows then and there, but Nienor was presently awoken by a riotous peel of thunder and the sound of fighting.  She cowered on the mound, pelted by rain, as the Men of Brethil slew the remnants of an Orc sortie that dared approach the Haudh-en-Elleth.  Suddenly a burst of lightning illuminated the glade and the Men gasped in horror at the sight of Nienor believing her to be the wraith of Finduilas.  Hurin recognised his son among the Men and wondered if Turin remembered the slaying of Beleg at the storm at Anfauglith; and ever did it seem to the father in after days that in those split-seconds of intense light the fate of the son was turned to a more evil end, for even now Turin quailed at this scene as a frightened child.  Before long, a member of the company approached the mound cautiously but Nienor fled not, though a great fear had taken her; she being naked and soaked had now neither the strength nor will to run helplessly into the forest again, and she fell into a weary swoon.  When it was established that Nienor was not a phantom but indeed living flesh and bone, the Men of Brethil erected a hastily built stretcher and carried her away from the grassy cairn to a nearby hunter‘s lodge, and there she rested by the warmth of a fire.

The first thing that Hurin saw as Nienor awoke were a pair of beautiful grey eyes looking back him and for a moment he thought the Morwen was found; however, as they pulled back the compassionate face of Turin revealed itself to him.  Nienor withdrew her right arm from the animal skins that covered her bed and she reached out to the kindly figure before her.  Hurin perceived the lightening of Nienor's spirit as Turin took her hand and reassured her that all was safe.  Had Hurin knew what this first meeting of brother and sister would bring then he would not has been so filled in his heart at this glad encounter.  Yet it seemed to all that a shadow departed from the unfortunate maiden when she rose in that lodge.  The Men, out of concern, asked her many questions but she could answer none; not because she would not but because she could not, for so vicious was Glaurung's spell that Nienor was struck mute and did not know anything of her previous life, and she wept with frustration.  Seeing her distress, they questioned her no more but they feed her and gave her water which she accepted gratefully; the Men of Brethil bade her rest and saying that they would bring Nienor to their homes and there they would take care of her.  At the last Turin said, "Do not be troubled!  Maybe the tale is too sad yet to tell.  But I will give you a name, and call you Niniel, Maid of Tears."  Hurin wondered much at the nearness of his son's guess for her true name means ‘Mourning' and he wondered still as his daughter looked up, shaking her head, and said, "Niniel"; this was her first word since her meeting with the dreadful Glaurung and ever after would she go by that name.    

The next morning Hurin awoke in a fever which seemed strange to him since no illness had ever beset him during his incarceration on Thangorodhrim, however, he soon realised that he but felt the side effects of his daughter's exposure to the wild elements; yet through the malaise, Hurin clearly heard Turin speaking with the other Brethilim.  

"My lord Turambar," said one named Dorlas, "the lady is too unwell to chance the road to Ephel Brandir."

Turin answered, "I agree, we shall tend her here the best we can.  I shall send you forward, good Dorlas, to bring back such aid as we need."

Another named Hunthor wisely interposed, "But Lords that would take too long; and besides my kinsman the Lord Brandir is skilled in healing, the sooner we reach him the better he aid her."

Dorlas said, "Yes, that is why I will go now and return with him," and with that he ran on ahead.

Hunthor continued, "I know the way is perilous but Niniel's need is great; if you care for this unfortunate, Turambar, then I beseech you, let us go now and increase her chances of survival." 

Turin relented to Hunthor's will and the Men of Brethil bore Niniel aloft once more made for their homes; Hurin was relieved that his son saw sense in that end but he shook his head disappointedly on hearing that he had changed his name again, and even as Gwindor spoke many years ago in Nargothrond, Hurin said, "The doom lies in yourself, not your name."  And Hurin disliked this new name, which signified Master of Doom, for he deemed it too alike to his enemy‘s favourite title, Morgoth, Master of the Fates of Arda.  Thus it was that they transported Niniel along the sloping road towards Dimrost, the Rainy Stair; which lay aside the narrow ridge of splash worn and step-carved rocks leading up to the crossing of, the swiftly plummeting and rocky, stream of Celebros.  The jagged and slippery turns of this ledge were difficult enough to negotiate when travelling in single file and were especially perilous whilst baring an invalid on a stretcher, but this was the only way to reach the wooden bridge that spanned the stream.  By taking this way the travellers saved hours but the cold air and spraying waters deepened Niniel's fever; consequently, they came with much haste to the expansive wooded hill of Amon Obel, upon which stood the stockade walls of the Ephel Brandir where the woodmen had their homes.  They were met by the long prepared nurse-maids of the town and Niniel was brought to the house of Brandir, Son of Handir, for healing and long he tended to her ailments; but she rested uneasily with much agitation and she moaned unintelligibly in her sleep, save only when Turambar stayed by her bedside.  Hurin endured his daughter's symptoms, although they did not afflict him, and he felt her relief when Turin sat with her; their father hoped that the bond of blood would bring healing to the insensible Nienor and he felt sure that once she recouped somehow their kinship would reveal itself and the siblings would be together at last. 

Hurin's chief fear in those days lay in the certainty that his enemy would assail his children and mar their happiness; indeed all this did was known to the Dark Lord of Angband but he laughed rather than grow wrathful, for he saw what Hurin could not and was perfectly happy to let matters take their course.  Finally, Melkor now understood the designs of Glaurung and he was glad; he wondered why he had not devised this plan himself since the Uruloki sprang from his creation and he said, "Our malice is the same but our bodies are different, he needs sleep and I take none, mayhap I should rest more and let my fuse burn slower.  I have erred in the past, for in my eagerness to create and imbue I have not replenished myself; Manwe knew this, how could he let his own brother spend himself thus?  Ha!  Once again dear brother I have uncovered your deepest secrets and once again I will be more than ready to meet you in the days that hasten.  I was right to expend my power, for who can defeat me when I conceive such things that surpass even mine own expectation?"  For long years after Melkor remained untroubled in mind; he believed that if let his ongoing creations grow unhampered and if he convalesced, then his final victory would be undisputed amid the trammels of Ea. 

No news of Morwen reached Hurin's ears in those days and nobody knew for certain whether or not she lived, or indeed where she might have fled to.  However, when Mablung returned to Menegroth empty handed he told what he knew of Morwen and Nienor; and deeming himself a failure he offered to surrender his captaincy, but the king and queen would hear none of it, declaring that he came as bidden with news of Nargothrond and they told him that there was no dishonour in being outmatched by a greater foe.  Still, Mablung was not reassured and felt responsible for losing his wards; he begged the king's leave to search for them and bring them back if he could to the safety of Doriath and Thingol granted him three years.  Thus Mablung went far across the lands in pursuit of them but when at last he returned unavailing the king said, "It is no fault of yours that those whom your tidings touch nearest are beyond hearing.  Grievous indeed is this end of Hurin's kin, but it lies not at your door." 

Hurin watched with increasing relief and gratitude as Nienor's health returned; respect for the son of his cousin grew and he thought him a wise and kindly man, Hurin also sensed that Brandir's compassion towards his daughter had deepened and he saw well the love light that shone in his eyes.  Conversely, the father did not perceive the same feelings from his daughter, but she was still weak in those days and her confusion was great.  In these matters Brandir was always on hand to tend to her needs and he taught her much in the identification of things.  The spring turned ever fairer and after a month the patient emerged from her rest; she stepped out linking the arm of her healer into the village on the verdant hill, brilliant in glittering low sun.  Brandir said to those assembled at his threshold, "Behold! Our Niniel is healed, she has surfaced from the shadow that lies behind her and is now a lady of Brethil."  She shrank into the shoulder of Brandir as the villagers applauded heartily, but her heart leapt as she glanced up and saw Turambar among the group smiling warmly towards her.  This sensation was palpable to Hurin and he felt sure that in her heart she recognised her brother, but he acknowledged to himself that in her mind she did not; furthermore, Hurin knew that they had never met as siblings but he saw in his son the same kindness and protective instinct that Turin bore for his first sister.

The womenfolk of Ephel Brandir took kindly to Niniel, for she was as an innocent child without device or motive, and she was eager to learn all that they would teach.  They would take her for prolonged woodland-walks in the glorious summer days of that year and at length she discovered all the names that she had lost.  It seemed to her that the sunlight illuminated every new word and emblazoned it into her memory; there was peace in Brethil in those days and Niniel walked in the security the guarded forest and in the gladness of her new found friends.  Now, it has been told that Brandir was club-footed and of gentle temper, for this reason when Niniel would walk at whiles with him in the forests they linked arms and their pace was slow; however, he would expand on what she had already learnt and patiently show her the ways of the living world.  He was an erudite and forbearing leader but he was unlovely, and it seemed to many that this was the foremost reason that he had no wife; but there was much talk among the villagers regarding the close bond between their chief and the foundling girl, and since she remained in his house it was hoped by several folk that she would indeed become The Lady of Brethil.  Yet for all this Niniel was not merry, she would not laugh unless she found herself perchance in the company of Turambar making japes with the other Forest-Wardens.

Turin too had found a semblance of happiness in Brethil; for it seemed to him that he regained some honour among valiant allies, since it was he who saved them from the Orc ambush at his coming to these lands.  Yet his arrival on that day was not greeted with gladness by all, for when Brandir first met Turin in his wild desolation a black foreboding descended on the Lord of Brethil and he declared the wayfarer as ‘The last bane of our people."  Dorlas and the others protested, telling Brandir of his great deed in assisting them, of his grief at the loss of Finduilas and that he was none other than the mighty Mormegil of Nargothrond.  Brandir's mood softened and he took Turin into his care; thus, as it was with Gwindor so it was with Brandir, Turin was healed of his woes and by early spring he became hale again.  It was then that he took his new name, Turambar, and he entreated with Brandir and the others to be counted of one of the Brethilim and when this was done he swore allegiance to them.  He could by right claim kinship with Brandir through his father's lineage but Turin for that time renounced his kin, deeming them safe with Thingol and Melian, and he wished to leave behind him the evil shadows of his past.  He set aside his black sword and took up the bow and spear as was the wont of the woodsmen; this did not mean that his courage had forsaken him, on the contrary he fiercely guarded the Crossings of Teiglin, and he contested with and slew any Orcs that came nigh to the Haudh-en-Elleth.  The warriors of Brethil, out of esteem and love, would follow him into any affray and their hearts were high within them. 

Hurin's contentment augmented throughout that year as his children's sorrows melted away in the golden heat of the summer; once again he recalled his earlier advice to Morwen to send Turin to Brethil as a child and now he deemed his judgement was good.  Like his son he reasoned that it would have been better if his kind had not meddled in the greater affairs of the Elves, and at this time Hurin regretted his own valour which had led him to such a fate and he cursed his enemies, wishing now for a simpler life.  Melkor also felt refreshed, for he took his own advice and rested easy in his pit; furthermore, the time for Glaurung's waking drew near and there was much to discuss ere the final stroke.  Even in Angband the warmth of that season was felt and across all the lands nobody rushed as the lingering summer strolled lazily towards a dazzlingly beautiful autumn.

Gold gave way to red and purple as the days shortened in the ripening of the year and, though the heats were never oppressive, the nights were now tempered by a gentle breeze.  Niniel delighted in walking alone in this climate and on such an evening she happened upon Turambar undertaking sentry duty; he sat by a tree atop a hill with a gentle slope that overlooked the Teiglin, he was watching the dancing silver flickers of reflected moonlight on the river as she silently sat beside him.  At length Niniel stated that she did not know his name and they both laughed, wondering how this could be after all this time.  He paused for a moment when she asked what his name portended, and told her it meant ‘Master of Dark Shadow'; saying that he too had lost precious things in a darkness which lay behind him, but like her he too had seemingly overcome the shadow.  Niniel inquired if his flight from darkness led him to Brethil as it had her, and Turambar confirmed this; they both agreed that their days had brightened since they met and that they had found peace of mind.  Hurin now fully discerned his daughter's attraction to this man without mistake and he was dismayed; he tried desperately to read his son's face but only saw an expression of bemusement, for Turin was recalling the day when he found Niniel on the mound of Finduilas and wondering if this event was a sign of fate, up until that moment this cold thought had not ruled him.  Presently, Hunthor arrived to relieve a restless Turambar who departed without a word to his friend or visitor.  Hunthor said, "The hour grows late my lady, shall I send for an escort to see you home safely?" but Niniel shook her head in stunned silence and fled in tears towards the lights of Ephel Brandir.

The autumn and winter months remained ever pleasant, yet an indeterminate disquiet began to spread throughout the southlands; the very nature of this weather somehow felt unnatural but always remarkable.  Still, there was a bountiful harvest for all peoples and food-stocks were piled high, especially after the privations of the previous Fell Winter.  The free-lands were unsullied by roaming Orcs and families were not harried or plundered in this time; but the wise, even among lesser folk, knew or sensed that this happy situation could not continue too much longer.  Men-at-Arms prepared for battles that never came and, though the conditions were conducive to wandering and adventure, mothers kept their impatient children close to home.  Melkor celebrated this climate of fear, for this was just the circumstance he had wished for ere the awakening of Glaurung; once again The Great Enemy gloated that by his desire alone a status better than his design could come about, and he was most pleased.  Thus it was as the nights expanded, Melkor sent forth a host out of Angband; not to assail scurrying peasants and jaded Elves, but to deliver his commands to the over-lazy Dragon and to bolster the Great Worm at need.  The vast movement of the Orcs went unnoticed by the Men of Brethil for they steered clear of the lands about Teiglin; they passed rather under the shadows the Ered Wethrin and coming to Eithel Ivrin they followed the River Narog down to the once proud and beautiful Nargothrond, now Glaurung's scorched and foul smelling lair.

Debatably the unease of these days was felt mostly by Hurin, who witnessed the regression of his daughter and underwent her sickness of heart; for since her last encounter with Turambar she had fallen into a long silence, and she went not abroad but brooded overlong in her quarters.  Brandir knew not what ailed her and for many days she spurned the presence of any visitors, and would hardly eat.  Brandir graciously let her be and pressed her not, until after a week of Niniel merely pecking at her food he insisted that she eat properly.  At length her malaise lightened and she thanked her host once more for his kindness and patience towards her; however, beyond that she would not go and Niniel spoke not to Brandir of Turambar, or her feelings for him, though she guessed rightly that Hunthor reported to his lord what he had witnessed that night, which in effect was not very much to speak of.  Soon enough Niniel came back to herself and walked out with her friends but oftentimes they found her distracted in her own thought, staring out at the trees beyond Ephel Brandir.  She took to walking alone again in the early dusk, saying that she wanted to savour the last of the sun, but in truth Niniel hoped to catch a glimpse of Turambar on the evening watch.  She was disappointed in her searching because he now continually requested a far out posting; moreover, Brandir always sent out attendants to follow her in secret, and if she tarried too long in the darkness they would feign a chance meeting and bring her home.  Niniel soon tired of their over-protectiveness and would leave Brandir's house earlier in the day to ensure that she returned before nightfall.  This ultimately proved fortuitous for her because now she saw Turambar among his colleagues before he departed into the dense woods; and so it was, the shorter the days became the sooner she would leave the safety of the stockade and furtively watch her beloved at his work.  Those waning days grew ever the sadder for Brandir because his dearest spent less time with him, and whenever she was at home her eyes were always turned towards the door.  Yet his kindness never wavered, and since they had not plighted any troth there was little he could do to restrain her movements; therefore in the most part, Brandir forewent his grief and he provided Niniel with all the security she ever needed and they enjoyed the limited semblance of a happy home together.

There came a day of winter when Hurin watched his daughter and Brandir taking their early morning constitutional, and her father listened to them as they walked as usual with linked arms. 

Brandir said, "Today is beginning of the month of Yule, we shall have a fine celebration this year for the weather is yet kind to us and our stock in plentiful."

Niniel enquired, "What is Yule?"

Brandir smiled wistfully and said, "It is the day when we mark the returning of the light by giving thanks to The Powers, for you will see in after days that the sun will chase away the night."

"How is this possible?" said Niniel, now even more confused. 

"This is what we call the changing of seasons, Niniel" he said genially, "It is difficult to explain this to you since the climate has hardly changed this year but I will try." Brandir went on to explain the changing of weather patterns and finished by saying, "After Yule we will gradually move on to the spring; it was during the last springtime that you came here to us, yet somehow it seems much longer."

"So, it is at Yule that I should thank The Powers for leading me out of my darkness to this place of safekeeping and love?" said Niniel.  

Staggered by her words; Brandir said, "Yes!  I am thankful too for your coming here and I deem that since then our days in Brethil have never been brighter.  It pleases me greatly that you have found solace here, but it also saddens my heart when you speak of the dark times that lay behind you; tell me, Niniel, do you remember anything of those days, for I sense that they haunt you still?"

They stopped walking and she rested her head on his shoulder, pausing for thought; immediately Brandir regretted his questioning and, unlinking his arm from hers, he grasped her shoulder in a gesture of support.  At length Niniel said, "I was looking for something, no somebody but I know not..."  Just at that moment Turambar happened to pass by with his company and, for the first time since their last converse, he met Niniel's glance and they both smiled coyly at each other.  When he had moved beyond hearing, she suddenly she blurted out the word "Brother"; Hurin's heart pounded for joy at this, because now he believed that his hope had come to pass and that she finally recognised her sibling.  Alas, this fatherly wish fizzled to ashes as his daughter continued, "...I was looking for my brother but this is all I can remember.  Although this matters not to me any longer, for I have found the finest brother I could ever wish for in YOU my darling Brandir," and she kissed him softly on the cheek.

At that precise moment, before Hurin could hear Brandir's response, the Orb of Thangorodhrim suddenly shut down dead.  Hurin watched with trepidation as the gold inside it began to churn with increasing speed for he knew that the Dragon was roused; he cursed his own lack of readiness for this eventuality, remembering Glaurung's ruling not to surrender control of the Orb.  Surprisingly, the flecks did not amalgamate into solid light but instead span in the opposite direction than they had before, and Hurin wondered much at this change.  The circular motion would cease sporadically and resume again with a hypnotic flurry; until after an hour it stopped completely and the Orb settled to reveal a muddy brown viscous fog.  The nauseating murk began stretching and kneading itself into a thin veil of mist and eventually the golden constellations began to reorganise in the obsidian night of that globe.  Presently the bleak vision of Glaurung the Mighty materialized, smiling so broadly that his eyes became as slits; Hurin said no word but lowered his head to avoid the creature's dread gaze.

Glaurung laughed dimly and said, "Is this how my once valiant opponent would greet me?  Poorly met, Hurin, I am disappointed." 

Hurin remained bowed and said, "I am unwilling to speak with you, be gone!"

Glaurung said, "Unwilling? Ha! Unprepared more likely, surely you must have known that we would have another dialogue together ere the end?"

"I guessed it," said Hurin as he looked up, "What do you want?"

"You are looking old, Hurin," said Glaurung, "Have the responsibilities of fatherhood taken their toll, or could it be too much for you that the little ones are making their own way in the world?"

Hurin intentionally yawned and said, "You are too predictable, beast; but I am in no humour to trade insults today or to indulge in intellectual wrestling, if this is all that you desire then fetch your tirade and have done."

"Older and wiser, very well I shall be brief," said the Dragon, "I have scanned the contents of your Orb and everything that has transpired since our last encounter is now known to me.  You cannot hide your thoughts from me, for as I said before ‘you will feel as your daughter feels.'  I must say I did not expect her to fall into her brother's arms, as she surely will, but I hoped rather that our pretty little Nienor would lead my master to the Halls of Menegroth or reveal the ways Doriath to him."  

Hurin laughed saying, "Ha! Then my enemy is disappointed?"

Glaurung retorted, "On the contrary he is very happy at this outcome, for you surely must see that the fulfilment of his curse is nigh, no?  It is for this reason that he permits them to live now in happiness for a while in this unblemished and mild weather.  Know this mortal, I am fully set and over-anxious to raze Brethil to the ground but my ever romantic master errs to patience and wants to give love a chance.  With this in mind, I have been permitted to offer you two choices: first, stay as you are and sit in the vain hope that you will not witness your children unite as sweethearts or second, return to your original state of gathering reports through myriad Orbs and maybe find news of your hapless wife.  Though whichever choice you take, be aware that I will be watching you ever and anon also, and this is non-negotiable, you shall enjoy the final strike on Brethil in my company; you have until Yule."

Hurin said straightway, "I choose the second evil."

Glaurung said, "I am taken aback that you would abandon your children so quickly; I have given you a month to decide, why not take it?"

"Their fate is beyond my control," said Hurin, "Yet, I know whilst Brethil stands my children are safe and that those lands will be valiantly defended, moreover I would have news of my Morwen if any is to be found."

The Dragon paused and turned his head aside, as though in pity, and looking back he said solemnly, "They will be destroyed, you know this; I deem also that they will destroy themselves in the process, in more ways than one."

"The future is unknown," said Hurin defiantly. 

"Some things ARE KNOWN," continued Glaurung, "Heed my words Hurin, and do not rebuke the honour of a truthful foe!  My master will not brook any resistance or defiance and this is why Brethil cannot stand.  It is his will alone that shall triumph; and it is his will that the curse shall play itself out whether you or I like it or not.  Believe me or no, Hurin, in my heart I was made for battle and I hope that is how I shall end my days; I too wish for glory and valour but if my lord demands that I play games of malice then it is what I must do."

"Truth or no; my heart is cold and I have made my choice," said Hurin.

"So be it," said Glaurung, "Until we meet again at the end," and with that the countenance of the Dragon faded from Hurin's view. 

Hurin sat in bewildered silence as the enormity of what had just happened sunk in; his first comprehension was that Nienor was gone and he immediately felt the loss, he questioned then if he had made the right decision.  He became disorientated as a flood of thoughts and words engulfed him; he felt sickly as of old before gaining mastery of the Orb and finally swooned under the dominance of this sensation.  He awoke after an undetermined span of time with a crashing headache; and though the sun was still high, he sat with his eyes closed for the rest of the day not daring to look at the Orb, lest its power overtake him again.  Remaining thus for many hours focussed Hurin's mind and at length he began to enjoy the feeling of detachment from the world beyond and the wicked ways of Morgoth; furthermore it aided his sleep, which lasted undisturbed through the early evening until to next morning.  His first sight upon waking was as usual the Orb but now it held no fear for him and the phantoms of his doubt dispersed in the early sunlight.  He thought turned now to food, for in his fainting he had missed yesterday's feed and he was famished; alas, he would have to wait some hours before his hunger was sated but he determined not to chance the Orb on an empty stomach in case nausea took hold once more.  Meanwhile, as the morning dragged on, he considered the context of the words of Glaurung and when at last the time came for Hurin to delve into the Orb, he sought north and west for any scrap of news about wife and did so for many months beyond.  That is not to say he abandoned his beloved children in his thought, for he prayed at least once daily to The Powers for their safekeeping and constantly he formed their likenesses in his memory.

It is been told elsewhere by the wise, that in the Yule of that year the son and daughter of the last Lord and Lady of Dor-Lomin had fallen in love; and thus it was, the anxieties of Hurin and the spiteful purpose of Melkor entangled and came to pass.  Yet these were happy days, for there was still peace across all the southlands and the fine weather of the old year continued into the new.  Now, by the following spring Turambar and Niniel plighted their troth and everybody in Brethil considered that their union of would be blessed, save one; for Brandir ever urged Niniel not to rush into this marriage.  Whilst it was true that he too dearly loved her, his motives in this were not wholly selfish; for as has been told, he felt great unease on first meeting Turin Turambar and deemed him a portent of doom.  Brandir relayed his concerns to Niniel but she told him that he worried needlessly, telling him that her betrothed and she had discussed the passing of their own shadows since finding peace in the secluded woods.  Brandir pressed his case by stating that Turambar was, of old, a fearsome warrior and foreboded that the shadow of his past would master him should he return to battle.  Niniel thanked Brandir for his ‘brotherly concern' but asserted that the sooner she and Turambar were wed, the better placed she would be to restrain his will to engage in warfare.  

In after days Brandir became forlorn, for he knew in his heart that he could not dissuade Niniel from her course and that his only hope of love was lost; however, his words reached her and she was troubled in mind.  When Turambar heard of Brandir's counsel he was wroth but rather than react hotly, as was his wont, he give Niniel this choice: either to do as her heart bids and marry as they had planned otherwise he would take to the wild again and wage war against his foe.  This also he added; should they be wed, he pledged never to go into battle again, even if evil came to their land, lest it be in defence of her alone.  So it was on the day of mid-summer NARN I CHIN HURIN, The Tale of Children of Hurin, reached its culmination and they were wed; there was joy in Brethil but the blot on Brandir's heart grew ever the blacker as the shadows lengthened.  Never afterwards, whilst the remaining years of Beleriand lasted, was there a fairer day than that of the wedding of Turambar and Niniel; for heavy clouds soon blighted the blue skies and the last of the summer was beset with fat and thunderous rain.  In this time no news, be it by Orb or by Orc, came to Hurin's ears of the union of his children; however on mid-summer's day an uncommon change did come to Angband, for in the deeps of that hell-pit there was heard the echoing of enthusiastic laughter, and Hurin recognised the rasping timbre of that screech and he knew that his enemy was much amused but at what he could not guess.  

Now, to any degree of certainty, all that is known of Morwen thus far has already been told.  She was a contradiction to all that knew her; for even as she aged and through her many privations, she never lost her air of nobility whilst always maintaining a measure of beauty, and hitherto nobody's will could ever overwhelm her keen determination when The Lady of Dor-Lomin set about a task.  Even now, beyond that sundrenched day, Hurin continued looking for her as the premature autumn came in cold, robed with a muddy grey-brown mantle.  His hope began to wane somewhat in these darkened and dismal days for he knew that she would need a better shelter than the wilderness could provide.  Hurin also knew, as did Mablung, that there were only a few places south of Ered Wethrin where free folk yet dwelt that could aid her; and even in spite of all this, the husband of Morwen never lost faith in her ability for endurance.  In addition, it subsequently became known to the wise in after days that she did indeed survive the encounter at Amon Ethir and despite her age, quickened by grief, she journeyed stealthily across the wide lands and many rivers of Beleriand into Brethil.  Melian and Galadriel were saddened by her plight but both marvelled at how she achieved this feat without leaving any trace or rumour of her movements, and the fortitude of ‘Mother Morwen' has long passed into the annals of Elven lore.

There came a day in late autumn when Hurin received news that would divert his gaze; for in his fruitless search for Morwen he would only direct his focus on the few Orbs situated west of the Narog, however on this day he discerned new voices.  After first noticing the scarce heard thump of many marching feet in that part of Beleriand, Hurin met sight of a hefty Orc General barking at an officer. 

"Your troops are too slow, Scum, hurry them up!  If we do not reach the Dragon-King by sundown then I will personally see to that..."  Hurin jolted out of concentration on hearing this for he realised that he had tarried overlong combing the western wilds whilst the ‘Dragon-King' apparently grew in power.  On resuming his surveillance Hurin heard, "...Understand?  Your troops came highly recommended; perhaps this has inflated their conceit?  I am unimpressed by their dispassion; go back to your whinnying girls and reiterate our orders, and remind them that tardiness will lead to frontline service in Brethil, go!"  

Presently, the Orb Bearer turned to the General and said, "Sir we are making good time, surely you would not recommend that ‘Ravenous Watch' should merely serve as arrow-fodder?"  

The General looked askance at the Bearer and said, "Are you questioning my command, Slime?"  And after a charged silence the General punched the Bearer's shoulder, then with a deep throaty laugh he continued, "Ha!  You are too deferential and that is why you are still a Bearer.  Never show respect to subordinates!  Ha!  What am I saying?  That is fine advice to give to an Orb Bearer, ha, ha, ha!"

The sound of The General's laughter faded as Hurin hastily redirected his gaze towards Brethil in the frantic pursuit for news of his children.  He flitted uselessly from Orb to Orb, as an inept conjurer seeking that missing but vital card in a loaded deck, until after a half hour he saw familiar faces engaged in battle.  He alternated between two affrays on the marches of Brethil, one lead by Dorlas and the other by Hunthor; and whilst both fought hardily with little loss, Hurin could not help but wonder why his son was not fighting with them.  His thought naturally turned to the worst and he feared that Turin was slain by some ill chance; but then again if this were so then his enemies would not resist the opportunity to gloat before him, either way Hurin needed an answer.  He remembered Morgoth's words, ‘Nothing will be hidden from you' and he considered the mode in which the Orb relayed information; it was here that Hurin determined to call upon Glaurung if he could, since it was only at these meetings when he could converse remotely.  Hurin closed his eyes tightly and girt himself, then with a concentrated yell he called upon the Dragon by name; he persisted unavailing for some time with a clear and loud, "Glaurung, Glaurung!"  

After a short rest he steeled himself again and shouted, "I, HURIN OF DOR-LOMIN, CALL UPON GLAURUNG THE MIGHTY, GREAT WORM OF ANGBAND; AND I DEMAND THAT HE ANSWER ME FORTHWITH!"  

Hurin was not surprised when the Orb responded with a shudder but he not expect the livid flames that ranged wildly across its glass face, and he did not presume that the Dragon would be so agitated at this summons.  Glaurung said, "How?  How dare you venture to beckon me at your own whim, speak mortal, what do you what?"

"Just one thing," said Hurin resolutely, "I know of your reinforcements and your assault on Brethil; tell me Dragon, does my son live?"

That boastful smile, typical of old, returned to Glaurung's face and he said, "It must be such a disappointment to have such a craven whelp for a son; one whom deserts his new found brethren at the first sign of, heat."

"Answer me plainly, Glaurung, and I will not bother you again!" said Hurin.

"That is twice now," said The Dragon to a silent Hurin, "Twice you have addressed me properly by my name; once just now and the other at your summons, I am glad that the years have tempered you with some respect.  Thus I will answer you plain but the bargain I will take also, and if you ever dare to whisper my name again without my bidding then I will pour out my malice double-fold, understood? Yes, your son lives." 

Hurin nodded but said no word; and at the last Glaurung said, "Well met again son of Galdor." 

The onslaught upon Brethil deepened with the first bite of winter and it soon became apparent to all factions that the woodsmen would be worsted and their homes overrun.  Those who watched these proceedings from afar waited expectantly for the arising of Turin Turambar; for it was the chief objective of Glaurung to snare him and Nienor Niniel and bring them before his master, and to this end he would employ ‘The Ravenous Watch.'  Now this breed of Orc was prized mainly for its cunning, strategy, and stealth; they were numerous but functioned in small units that could spread far across the arena of war.  To a greater degree they were fully autonomous and operated independently of the common soldiery; because of this they would often run foul of Orc commanders if their missions clashed.  The Ravenous Watch were so named because they vowed not to eat any enemy-flesh until their assignment was completed, also by law, they were not permitted to share the spoils of war with regular Orcs.  The influx of these ‘New Orcs' did not go unnoticed by the wardens of Brethil; and when it became known that they could be espied inland from the wooden bridge at Dimrost, only then did Turambar take up the Black Sword, Gurthang, once again.  Now as fierce and fell as The Ravenous Watch was, these Orcs were not apt to the woods; for they were trained in Angband and better suited to mounds, rocks and dirty plains, indeed their closest forest was Taur-nu-Fuin in the long-time burnt out remains of Dorthonion.  The charred sticks of the north were no equivalent to Brethil's lush trees, which in all Beleriand are most akin to the woods of Doriath.  So it happened that Glaurung's endeavour ultimately failed; for as is known, Turin Turambar was in his beginnings taught by one Beleg Strongbow, the most skilled in the ways of forestry and warfare.  Moreover, Turambar was not idle in Ephel Brandir whilst his colleagues fought marauding Orcs; he had organised the non-combatant villagers, instructing them in strategic defence and hand-to-hand combat, ever should the sentinels be overcome without.

Thus Turambar came with greater host than the Orcs had anticipated and they were routed by the Men of Brethil to the least and very last of them.  Before long new tidings came to the captains, for now a greater Orc host had already issued from Nargothrond and was in far sight of the river; therefore Turambar caused ‘The Dead Watch' Orcs to be hung from the trees that lined the banks of the Teiglin in a direct challenge to them.  Scores of enemies quailed at the sight of their presumed elite members displayed like carrion fodder on gibbets; furthermore, they became ensnared by several ambushes and the Orcs on that day knew that the Mormegil was returned, and the dread of him was upon them.  And even though they had little hope of victory and nobody foresaw it, the Men of Brethil won out; few Orcs survived to tell the tale of that battle but that mattered little, for the woodsmen heaped all the slain on bonfires and in a great burning they told Glaurung in the plainest terms that his day was lost.  The infuriated Dragon stood alone and defeated in the empty hall of kings; he knew that he would have answer for the wastage of a specialised company, but more than this, he had underestimated his foe and he realised now that he was blinded by his own vanity in aspiring to parade Hurin's children before Melkor, unbidden so by his lord.  Glaurung resolved that such stratagems were better left to the lawmakers and since he now found himself un-kinged he again took to himself the role of Melkor's vassal.  He was wholly aware that he alone would now have to raze Brethil to the ground; but he knew also that he would require much rest in order to accomplish this, therefore the Men of that land enjoyed peace for a season or two more.

The fame of the Men of Brethil spread far and wide, and the renown of their deeds grew in the telling; all eyes across Beleriand now looked to that land with increasing hope and respect, for peace had returned to the south.  Now, it is not known if in this time whether Morwen chanced her secret excursion towards Brethil; for it was plain to all that the Mormegil wielded the Black Sword there once more, and that name was held in high honour by any who spoke it.  Yet in the midst of optimism one of Morgoth's enemies remained subdued, since he already knew what the future held and could tell nobody of it; and by the late spring of the following year the day came that Hurin had long dreaded.  For Glaurung was risen again and he took control of the Orb of Thangorodhrim; but the worm did not, or could not, fully overthrow Hurin's mind as he had feared, indeed, Hurin perceived the Dragon's might, wrath and malice but he did not undergo it as of old, and for this small mercy he silently thanked The Powers with a prayer. 

Glaurung spoke, "So Hurin, we come to it at last; this is the day that the defiance of your son ends and the folly of Men will be revealed."

Hurin answered, "Since I have no power against you and my will wavers, I have no words." 

"Very well," said Glaurung, "Let us have at it!"

The Dragon burst forth from Nargothrond and greeted the morning sun with a high shot of jetted flame.  He left the great doors swinging behind him as he traversed an Orkish bridge which replaced the old one of stone, destroyed in Orodreth's day; his weight was such that metal twisted and wood creaked as he went, and the hastily built crossing almost gave way before he alighted on the other side.  It seemed strange to Hurin that Glaurung forsook the king's hoard and left it unprotected thus, but the Dragon was fey and ready to meet whatever now lay before him.  The crashing of Narog below compounded this sense of peril as Glaurung stopped for a moment to survey the desolate plain and consider his best course.  Perhaps the jeopardy lay in Hurin's heart, for he was only able to interpret sharp focus and single-minded determination from his mighty foe at that moment.  Looking, Glaurung recalled the location of the burning of his troops and those humiliating flames stung at his black heart and belly, therefore he strode apace headlong in that direction; he advanced with great fire and no living thing withstood his coming be it stalk, root or flesh.  Hurin was utterly dismayed by this action but alas he no longer had the resolve to voice his disgust and wept inside, besides such protestation would not have reached this fell creature for it was totally self-absorbed in bloodlust.  Gone now from Glaurung was any sign of intellect and Hurin could scarce believe that a beast blinded by rage such as this had the use of cunning words or even a sense of humour, wicked though it be; and for the first time since meeting The Great Worm of Angband, and despite all previous evil, Hurin truly feared him.

After the first day of travelling thus, reason once again mastered Glaurung's wrath and the ever canny beast relaxed, the more to conserve his strength.  It was not long before tidings reached Brethil that the Dragon was abroad and terrorising the land, and it seemed to Hurin that he tarried in his burnings to give fair warning to his foes or at the very least to cast down a challenge before them; for despite his now slowed pace Glaurung never diverted from his path.  However the closer to Brethil Glaurung got, the more he bought to bear and the longer he stayed awake.  Hurin was unable to rest whilst the Dragon was active, and this was the only influence of Glaurung that he could not vary; this state not only had a physical effect on his person but he detected a strange impingement on the Orb also.  Now, Hurin was never wont to overuse the Orb for any prolonged length of time, simply because this was too taxing; and for the twenty-seven years or so in Hurin's company it grew accustomed to his routines, in addition, howsoever perverted, perhaps living rock is not meant for extensive misuse.  Consequently: when Glaurung did rest, the gold within the Orb would burn brightly as glowing embers that eventually flickered out until all was wholly black, and after a few days the flecks were all but gone. 

There was one who watched the coming of Glaurung with both trepidation and relish; and when it became plain that Dragon would pass by and not assail Amon Rudh the Petty Dwarf, Mim, thought greedily about the treasure of Nargothrond.  For ever since his lengthy exile from Belegost, long before the coming of the sun, Mim's kin were among the first to delve in the location of Felagund's halls.  And though it is that his people were hunted to near extinction by Doriath's hunters, it was not until the Dwarves of mightier stock did commerce with Thingol that the Petty Dwarves were let be; all the same, these foraging people never contributed to the majesty and glory of Nargothrond under the Noldorin Kings.  Yet and all, ever did Mim's kin eye those halls with great jealousy and harbour a longing to return.  So now, Mim watched and waited in the secret fissures of Amon Rudh to see whether the Dragon would continue northwards or return to his stronghold when his evil was done.  Still, when Glaurung drew nigh to Brethil Mim's heart misgave him; for he too had heard the rumours that the Mormegil had returned to that land and he also knew him to be his friend of old.  In truth, Turin, or at least the memory of him, was the closest thing Mim had left to living kin since his son Ibun had indeed been killed when the treachery of the old Dwarf failed; but since he could not make amends in the face of a Dragon, Mim easily forsook his woe and allowed lusty greed to govern his existence.    

At length the Great Worm came within two leagues of Brethil; up until this point his course led straightway to the Crossings of Teiglin but now he halted for he was in doubt.  He recalled the route which Nienor's rescuers took when they carried her to Amon Obel and he deemed that the wet walls about Dimrost may be too treacherous to negotiate.  Moreover, he guessed that since there was no secret about his advance, then surely the Men of Brethil would lay cunning devices in his path to hinder his progress if he went that way; therefore he waited awhile before moving forward.  Now, ahead of him in a small copse at the forest eaves hid a frightened deer; it watched terrified as the Dragon drew to a standstill, and after a prolonged wait the nervous animal decided to run for it.  Glaurung had already marked the deer's location with his keen vision, as it cowered behind the leaves; but rather than seek to destroy it he decided to see what it would do.  The young doe flew at all speed southwards, staying as close to the edge of the forest as possible; suddenly a wild cat leapt out from behind, barely catching her, and immediately the she sprang onto some rocks in order to cross the now rushing Teiglin.  On the other side, the she continued her breathless flight and disappeared from the Dragon's view; he followed in that direction and saw her run down towards the high ravines, cut deep in the long ages by the river.  At length, the deer stopped at narrowest point and with a great leap it safely traversed the gap and ran into the southern clearing of Brethil Forest.  Glaurung now knew what course to take and turning aside he followed to deer down to the ravines, and at the tapered cleft he waited.  Heavy clouds crammed overhead filling the twilight air with thunderous electricity, but there was no rain to cool a Dragon‘s heat or quash his flames.  The Dragon lay motionless on the high ledge of Cabed-en-Aras, ‘The Deer's Leap', listening to the rushing of the waters of Teiglin below; he felt somewhat at ease here, for the sound of the rapids reminded him of Nargothrond but there was misgiving too, faint at first and indistinguishable.  Hurin also sensed his hesitation and at this he wondered much, since the Worm was never before wont to hold back once he held seemingly good ground.  Glaurung hardly stirred as he looked long at the chasm before him; all his reason told him that he could easily make the gap and the craving to burn gnawed at his throat, but still he delayed, why?  

His thought now turned to Hurin and he grew wrathful and remotely spoke to him, "What spell of doubt hast thou cast upon me, Hurin son of Galdor?  Could it be that some other aids you by impeding me?"  

Hurin said nought and feyly laughed; but the truth of the matter was that he did not possess magic, let alone enough to stop a Dragon, and that night he received no sign that any was done, save that of evil.  Alas for Hurin, his perceived insolence roused the Glaurung's wickedness and he spoke again to him, "Spell or no, your foolish laughter has spurred me on; watch now as your feckless children smoulder in my flames and see how they bring ruin to those in the refuge of their choosing!"

Accordingly, Glaurung rent the ground before him with his monstrous fore-claws until he attained firm footholds with which to spring forward from; he lit his way with a powerful blast, and flaming saliva drooled from his mouth igniting the floor below him.  The wall of the ravine rumbled as he tensed himself for the jump, unsettling many loose rocks which crashed about the dangerous waters beneath.  With a great pounce, Glaurung cast his huge bulk into the gorge and effortlessly caught hold of the firm loam on the opposite side; he then began the process of hauling the sagging, massive girth of his serpentine body over the ravine, amid much destruction to both of its walls.  At no time during Glaurung's adjournment at Cabed-en-Aras did he or Hurin notice any other living thing about the ravines of Teiglin.  At no time did they mark the coming of two stealthy night-time wayfarers along the perilous river that courageously scaled the cliff face opposite, and clung for life under its dark overhang.  At no time during the crossing of the Dragon did they hear the cries of one who fell to his death by means of a plummeting rock striking his head.  At no time did Glaurung expect the coming of one in wrath who fatally smote his putrid, dripping belly from below with a large and lethal blade.  And at no time in all Beleriand was there heard such a shriek since the confrontation of Melkor and Ungoliant at Lammoth ere the coming of the Noldor.  In his death throes, Glaurung's undercarriage heaved upwards rending his flesh as the pommel of the sword left its bearer's grasping fingers; and with mighty convulsions the remainder of the Dragon thrashed its way to the furthermost cliffside.  He twisted and flung about himself in agony, unable to reach or dislodge the bitter blade that voraciously held fast; until at last amid the carnage and flames there was silence.  However, there were tears of laughter and relief on the seat that lay embedded in the shag-packed central cone of Thangorodhrim as Hurin witnessed the unlooked for stroke against his foe; and beneath him the walls of Angband shuck with rage, but the tale of Glaurung was not yet through.

Some time later as the waning Dragon lay inert and hardly breathing, Hurin heard footsteps approaching the fallen beast; he recognised his son's voice hailing Glaurung in mockery and bidding him a swift death.  Hurin discerned a blow to his gut as Turin yanked out the sword from the belly of the Father of the Uruloki, which sent forth a column of black combustible blood that burnt Turin Turambar's right hand.  At his slayer's cry, Glaurung flickered open his sinister eyes and with all the malice he could muster he gazed so evilly upon Turin so that he fainted where he stood; to Hurin's horror the last sight he had of his son was one of a fallen valiant, prostrate at the side of his enemy.  Hurin quailed as the tremors of Angband shook his chair to such a  degree that the Orb clattered and dropped down a fraction in its brazen claws; he erroneously took as a sign that the Dragon was now dead but, once the quaking below had abated, he soon realised his mistake as he heard the slow rasping breath once more.  Indeed for the longest time, this was the only sound in the cold dark stillness; until again there was heard the muffled approach of running footsteps.  Glaurung was weakening fast, so Hurin could only barely make out the faint voice of a weeping woman and he could discern no words.  At length the Dragon opened his eyes for the last time and hailed the daughter of Hurin; he told her that the search for her brother was over since he now lay at her feet, and he congratulated her on the conception of their child.  Hurin's final sight of her was so loathsome to him that he wept at the very thought it; for at this final revelation, the spell of forgetfulness finally left Nienor and her father saw her pained expression as she was beset by past memories and harsh reality, then Glaurung died at last.

The Orb blackened completely for there was no gold left in it to catch the moonlight and Hurin sat utterly isolated and miserable in the dark.  At length, the caverns of Angband shuddered once again and he wished now that the tremors would take him crashing down, chair and all; the brazen rods actually bent out and started to loosen from the seat and the Orb nearly departed, being now precariously held by single points at each side.  But now instead of wrath, Hurin heard the sounds of riotous laughter and celebration and he realised that Morgoth's concern was not for Glaurung's wellbeing but rather for the fulfilment of his curse.  For this fact alone he would have pitied the Dragon, since to use a valuable asset in such a wasteful way brings dishonour to his memory; but this was the beast that brought ruin to his children and he hated him, and laughed at his disgrace.  And as happened with Nienor, a veil of deceit lifted from Hurin's eyes and the folly of his false hopes stung his heart; and that night for the last time, his tears unloosed and he wept for himself in the bitter night, until at last he fell asleep through total exhaustion.  The morning came bright and early, dazzling Hurin's already stinging eyes and causing his head to throb.  He came around slowly and his senses gradually returned to him.  In the light of day Hurin remembered the previous night and immediately thought of his children; he craned his neck to look upon the now drooping Orb in order to find out what had become of them.  This new position soon became most uncomfortable, but in desperation he persisted; at length he heard Orkish voices sensationalising about the night before.

"So the Dragon-King's dead then?" said the first.

"Killed in the night he was, done in by them forest men; chopped him to bits as I heard," said a second.

A third interrupted, "Then you heard wrong, since he cannot be pierced with axes or spears or arrows and I know that for a fact."

"He's right," said the first.

"Alright," said the second angrily, "If you're so clever, then what killed him?"

After a short pause the first said, "Don‘t know, maybe the Dark Lord took revenge for Ravenous Watch; after all he had it coming."

"Nah!" said the third, "He'd a done it ages ago, and why would he do it on the doorstep of the enemy?  That's daft; I think one of us should ask the boss."

The other two said in unison, "Go on then, it was your idea!" and as he left they laughed together and said, "Numpty!"

Presently, the third Orc returned and said, "He chewed us out for gossiping, but..."

"Well?" said the others expectantly.

"Well," said the third, "Turns out, by all accounts that the Worm was stabbed in the belly by the Black Sword as he crossed the ridges over the river.  But before he died he got the man, so we don't have worry about him any more," and he smiled smugly. 

"And?" said the second.

"And what?" protested the third with a grin.

The second Orc said, "I know that stupid smirk; come on, what else?"

"Apparently," said the third, "His bird came along and found him dead alongside old Glaurung.  Seems like she couldn't take it and legged it over the top, and drowned; here's the best bit..."

Suddenly an authoritative voice interjected and said, "Right you lot, that's enough..."

Just then, the brazen rods creaked and detached from Hurin's seat and went clanging down to the hard rocks of Angband below, and so ended the Orb of Thangorodhrim.  Hurin fell back aghast into his seat; it took him a moment to comprehend what had just happened, and what he had just heard.  The sense of loss for his Orb was profound and panic set in almost immediately, and he felt cut off from the outside world.  There were so many questions left unanswered: what now?    
 

For many grim days Hurin sat in bitter loneliness on high Thangorodhrim, and for the first time since his imprisonment, he sickened; nevertheless he continued under the influence of the binding spell, hence remaining physically intact.  Fear and doubt gnawed at him, for he knew not for certain the true fate of his children; and since the departure of the Orb he was devoid of any news or whispered rumour.  In the days that followed he spent long hours mentally replicating that last conversion of the Orcs, until in the end his own dark thought blended with actuality and he could not confidently remember all that had been said.  However enlarged reports of the fate of Turin and Nienor quickly proliferated all over Beleriand, and Melkor soon knew all that had transpired beyond the loss of Glaurung; and when the facts were sifted through the distortion he was glad, and he gloated thereafter for many days.  He sneered smugly when he recalled the law of Mandos: that damnation would befall any siblings that brought forth life between them, be it born to the world or not.  And Melkor boasted, "Ha!  Truly my curse is now accomplished and the House of Hador is despoiled.  Only I could have contrived that the pious law of my siblings should bring ruin upon the children of my foe, who in their turn serve my greatest foes, my siblings.  I am Melkor, The Master of the Fates of Arda."  

Once a great evil has been fully achieved its perpetrator soon tires and craves a more thrilling pursuit.  Thus it ever was with Melkor and before long he grew restless again; and for long months after the Lord of Angband, wholly forgetting his victory, now brooded alone in his chamber, looking for superior foes to defeat.  And sure enough his sinister thought returned to Thingol and Melian, and it bent especially upon Turgon.  To this end he sent out spies to seek out the hidden ways of his enemies but they always returned unavailing.  Melkor sought in his heart for new counsel but found no solution; and since Sauron and Glaurung were gone, he turned instead to his High-Captain, Gothmog.  He said to himself, "After all, he has never once disobeyed me or failed in his duty."  So it was that the mighty Balrog answered his master's summons and stood before Melkor in that vast inner hall.

"How may I serve you My Lord?" said Gothmog, bowing low.

Melkor smiled, and gesturing with his hand he said, "Come and sit with me a while my friend!  It has been far too long since we last spoke together and I require your counsel."

"My counsel, Lord?" enquired Gothmog.

Melkor laughed, "Ha!  Do look so shocked old friend; to whom else should I turn in matters of war?"

Still surprised, Gothmog said, "My Lord, you flatter me but..."

"But?" said Melkor impatiently, "You dare to gainsay me when I beckon you here in friendship?"

"Forgive me, Lord" said Gothmog hastily, "I, I, that is; how may I offer you counsel?" 

"Hmm!" uttered Melkor, now thinking that it may have been an error to converse thus with an over-glorified soldier.  However after a short silence he continued, "Gothmog, you are a brilliant strategist in battle, and therefore my High-Captain; so I forgive you for being an inept counsellor.  But what you should understand, my dear old Balrog: counsel and strategy are one and the same.  That being said; I have some problems that I want you to put your military mind to, so that we might devise a strategy in the solving them."

"Ah!" said Gothmog, "Please say on, Lord!"

Melkor fingered his scar saying, "Whilst my adversaries wander freely in their hidden realms, Middle Earth remains unconquered.  I cannot, and I will not tolerate this; for as I said to my brother long ages ago, ‘This shall be my own kingdom; and I name it unto myself!'  Melian confounds me with a girdle of enchantment about Thingol's land; and even though I know where she skulks with her silver fox, I cannot assail her.  And the other, the dead-eye, Turgon; long has the memory of his glance in Valinor vexed me, and for far too long has he eluded me.  It is on him, of all my foes, that I would relish in applying my slow arts; yet, it is he who remains hidden from my sight.  Would that my winged Uruloki were full grown, they could seek him out; but I deem that his lands are guarded by the ones who notched my face."

"An impasse indeed, Lord," said Gothmog, "In such a situation I would use a ‘Rover' to gather intelligence." 

The Dark Lord said mockingly, "A what?" 

"A Rover, Lord," continued Gothmog calmly, "It is difficult to define because it is not any one thing in particular.  A Rover is one, or sometimes more, that is non-Orc and that has something to lose, or maybe to gain; a Rover must be independent and not assailed because it is followed in secret, and its actions are noted according to its motives.  I am sorry that I could not clarify my explanation in better terms My Lord."

"Nay Gothmog, it is I that should apologise to you," beamed Melkor, "That is fine counsel indeed; tell me, where would I obtain such a thing as this Rover?"

Gothmog said contritely, "That is just it: I do not know.  My usage of them has been mainly amongst Men; you know, family held hostage, false rumours of riches and such.  But your need is of High Elves and they are tricky customers to compromise, let alone to follow if magic is involved.  Besides, and begging your pardon, Rovers are not obtained; they just are.  You see Lord, in battle the majority of my work is done beforehand by observing the unguarded actions of a foe; and this is obviously best achieved when what is being studied is ignorant of your presence, this is why we follow a Rover at unawares.  At first nothing apparent may be yielded; but always after reassessing the given circumstances I have gleaned something useful."

"Ha!  I have such a one at my disposal," laughed Melkor, "O Unsung Balrog, how didst thou devise such simple genius?"

"It was not I, Great Master, but the Lord Sauron that first utilised the Rovers in the war against Dorthonion," said Gothmog.

Melkor snorted audibly at that name and said curtly, "Very good High-Captain, you may return to your duties."

Gothmog's counsel gave Melkor pause for extensive contemplation; for at the very first he knew that Hurin would be his best vessel as a Rover, but even after all these years he felt unready to face him.  He was as an adult that irrationally feared a spider and he knew not why, and much worse he was ashamed.  For indeed he was stayed by shame; shame for truth that Hurin told, and shame that this truth penetrated his dark heart and festered there.  Moreover, it perplexed him that he allowed no other who had the courage to contest with him to live or remain further unpunished; but he remembered the curse on Hurin's House and his desire to see it through to its bitterest end.  He questioned now why this was so, and wondered if he had wasted too much time in chasing down this feeble mortal.  "No!" he said, "He is friend to my foes, and therefore my foe; he is cunning of word and that is my province, he rejected my tuition and would not break, he is not to be trusted."  He cajoled himself, "Just let it go; let it scuttle off and be rid of it", but pride intervened, "Listen to yourself, who is the master here?  You know what is required; do it!"  And thus he went on for several days until at last his wrath conquered him and he set aside triviality.  Now, it so happened that the anniversary of the death of Glaurung was near and Melkor chose this day to commence with his plan, and until then he waited in silence.

The day came fair and bright but Hurin had no idea of its significance until he heard the familiar sounds of platform assembly below, which the Orc children would use to soak him.  This struck him as odd since he was only cleaned but two days ago, and for a moment he thought that he was losing his senses.  Indeed it is true that Hurin knew not the connotation of this particular day, or in fact that the years of his captivity now exceeded twenty-eight years; but he always found a way to mark the time of any given week, even more so since the loss of the Orb.  At length, the mechanical noise of the platform grew louder and Hurin prepared for his customary drenching; however, to his surprise, a great iron crown appeared bearing two beautiful white gems that exalted the light of the morning sun, and the prisoner of Thangorodhrim knew that his most hated enemy was come.  The Dark Lord appeared exactly as Hurin had remembered him, save that his eyes had yellowed somewhat; but to Melkor's eyes, his captive had aged considerably, and yet for one so old his eyes were as steel.

Melkor raised his head as he gazed down upon Hurin, and with a half smile he said, "I have been remiss, I promised that nothing would be hidden from you; and since the Orb is lost, I come now personally to fulfil my oath.  What wouldst thou know?"

"What doom has befallen my children?" said Hurin coldly.

"Doom indeed," said Melkor, "But surely you heard the rumours after the end?"

"Rumours are worthless," snapped Hurin.

"Not entirely, but I take your point," retorted Melkor, "I see that the years have not dimmed you resolve.  Very well, but do not question what I tell you for I shall not be repeating it; after all you have spurned my knowledge before and..."

 "I promise that I shall listen intently," interrupted Hurin, "Please continue."

 Melkor remembered their debates of old and laughed, "Ha!  Glaurung has trained you well;" and after pausing for a while he said, "Hmm Glaurung.  Your son murdered my closest ally and fell in the process, but he did not die..." 

"Then he is not dead?" blurted Hurin.

Aghast; Melkor said, "What did I say, just a moment ago, about questioning me whilst I speak?"

Hurin looked up sheepishly and said, "Not to, my apologies; but..."

Melkor repeatedly slapped his own forehead with an open palm saying, "But, what but?  There is no but; I speak and you listen, otherwise I go and you rot.  Last chance; what is it to be?"

"I speak and you rot; no, no, I listen and you speak," said Hurin nervously, "I am sorry, please..." 

Melkor shook his head in disbelief and said, "But, but; now where was I?"

After a lengthy pause and some more ‘buts' Hurin offered, "But he did not die..."

"That is right, he did not die; who did not die?" teased Melkor.

"My son," said Hurin reluctantly.

"Your son?" smirked Melkor, "Oh yes, your murderous son; but your daughter, his wife, thought him dead.  Of course you know this already, and you know then that you had a grandchild on the way.  That is right; I said had, for you see when Glaurung's spell lifted from her she remembered, everything.  Imagine, Hurin, her grief at the loss of a husband and brother at the same time, coupled with the realisation that she carried an abomination in her womb; it proved too much for the delicate flower so she ended her own life, and its, by leaping into the rushing waters below, where she finished up none can say.  As for your son; by the way what was his name, he had so many?  Do not answer!  He did not die, then; however, I love this part, there was one who loved your daughter, whom she called ‘brother', and he saw everything as we did, and when he afterwards spoke the truth your son unjustly slew him as a liar.  Only later did he learn of the wickedness of his folly; only then, and only once in his wretched life, did your son act justly by surrendering to that accursed blade of his."

After a stretched silence, Melkor said coolly, "Anything else?"

Hurin, desperately staying his tears said, "My Wife?"

Melkor said, "No, nothing; any more?"  

Hurin, half answering and half pleading said, "No more."

"Then we are done," said Melkor, "You may go."

"Done, go; what do you mean?" said a stunned Hurin. 

"You have paid for your insolence; my curse is complete and I am avenged," said Melkor, "Go!"

"You are letting me go, just like that?" quizzed Hurin.

"Just like that," said Melkor smiling as softly as his contorted face would allow, "The truth is, Hurin, I feel that I may have been too harsh with you at the first; but you see, a curse is a curse and it must run its course.  They called you Thalion, The Steadfast, did they not?  If only such endurance, such steadfastness, were shown in better cause, surely then would it have been otherwise rewarded.  But now, your little life is waning and I have no further use for you; of course, if you wish to work in the mines again then that can be arranged, hmm?"

"I will go," said Hurin.

"Oh good!" said Melkor insincerely. 

The Dark Lord chanted a spell of reversing; and the lit runes on the Seat of Sauron that had held Hurin captive for so long began to dim, until at last their sickly pallid light died forever.  Melkor extended his hand and bade Hurin to stand up, and in so doing the unsteady man collapsed into that immense and scorched palm.  Pain unthought of ripped through Hurin's limbs and he writhed in agony as his body moved freely for the first time in twenty-eight years; at length he was given a hot draught of Orc brew to limber him up, with a narcotic constituent to make him sleep.  He did not know how he had slept for; save only that an early sun now rose in the sky when he awoke and he was lay outside on a rug of knotted hair, Elvish he thought.  A familiar voice said, "We tried to place you in a bed but you would not have it; it must be all that night air you are use to."  Hurin rolled over to see the evil colossus stood by him arrayed in burnished black armour and an iron crown; how fragile he felt at that moment, how easy it would have been for Melkor to squash him underfoot, but that was not to be his fate.  

Melkor pointed towards a meagre bundle containing tatty rags and scraps of food, also their was a sturdy walking staff of black wood; and as though bestowing his former prisoner with a mighty gift he said, "Take now these things to aid you on your way.  My elites will see to it that you shall return to your homeland unmolested and there you shall be free at last.  I can say truthfully, Hurin son of Galdor, that it really has been a pleasure having you to stay at my humble home; farewell."

Hurin said nought since he ill trusted his enemy's bitter honey-dipped words; and though he scarce knew or the reason for his release, he took his freedom gladly and he walked unbowed ahead of the great host.  They came out of Angband to the ash ridden desert of Anfauglith that lay between Hurin and home; but he knew that nobody awaited him there, and that one coming thus arrayed would receive a scant welcome.

Two weeks and more had passed since Hurin's departure from Angband and Melkor waited for news; he had decided not to use Orbs for the transmission of information since his quarry was well attuned to their use, and he wanted it to appear to Hurin that he was held as one in honour and not one to be spied upon.  Now it was on a day of mid spring that the first coterie of Orcs came back to Angband with report of Hurin‘s movements; Melkor greeted them well in his throne room and bade them to tell from the beginning all that they knew.

The Captain of the Orcs began, "There is little to tell of our actual journey towards Hithlum, save that Hurin walked obstinately before us in bitter silence; he ate and slept alone whilst making no attempt to escape us.  Although it later became apparent Lord; on the day after our setting out, news reached Hithlum that our vanguard was heading in their direction and it seemed that rumours soon flourished about the place that Hurin, as your emissary, led a greater number of us than had actually come forth."

Melkor laughed and said, "Ha!  As ever in a climate of fear, that which is most feared is always over-exaggerated"

"Indeed," said the Captain, "Thereafter, It was reported to us that the Easterlings' thralls grew fearful and wailed ‘What evil has become of our Lord, that he now marches against us?'; and Lorgan for his part, worried too that Hurin was sent out to overthrow him and take back his former lands as your fief.  But I am getting ahead of myself; your pardon, My Lord?"

"Granted; say on, my Captain!" grinned Melkor.

The over-deferential Orc bowed low and continued, "Those in the homesteads below the Eastern Mountains fled at the rumour of our coming but we made no assault, as was thy bidding.  Yet by now, the whole place was rank with fear and I must confess that it tasted good upon our parched throats.  But, as was previously arranged by thy great self, Lord, every fear proved unfounded and we left Hurin alone at the boundaries to enter into Hithlum as a free man; therefore, the bannered Orcs returned to Angband and we convened with the fore-comers and clad ourselves in regulation gear.  We presented your orders to the Governor-General, and without any undue scepticism we assimilated with the Hithlum-Corps easily enough.  So it was, because the grandeur of his coming; nobody prevented Hurin's return to Dor-Lomin or hindered any of his movements, but many of his former people avoided him out of fear and suspicion.  He soon grasped that the situation in his homeland had diminished beyond the point of reawakening or uprising; consequently, the obvious weakness of his once valiant folk embittered his heart and he renounced his lordship of them, and would soon be gone.  Indeed, there were only seven out of all his people that remained loyal to him, and they themselves had lived perilously as outlawed Men." 

At this point the Orc ceased speaking and cleared his throat, gazing longingly towards a hastily prepared table.  Melkor, seemingly oblivious to his signal impatiently said, "You tell a pleasing tale, but why do you delay?  I will hear the rest; continue!"

"Begging your indulgence, Great Lord," said the Orc, "We have travelled far and are in need of sustenance, would that we may partake of some refreshment?"

Melkor eyed him curiously, "Hmm," he said, "I see no disguise in your form but your bearing betrays you; you are no Orc."

"Not one of thy breeding; but rather of thy seizing and moulding," the Captain replied, "Indeed, I am descended from the last of the Cuivienen Elves and among those longest in your service; and whilst it is true that I have never been granted the privilege to report to you thus, my record is well documented and my loyalty and valour are fully proven, Lord." and the other Orcs readily grunted in agreement.

"What do they call you?" quizzed Melkor.

The Orc, lowering his eyes, said ashamedly "Toff, My Lord." 

Melkor creased with laughter for several minutes whilst intermittently repeating the word ‘Toff' and pointing at his captain.  Mopping his eyes, Melkor said, "O!  For the entertainment alone you deserve a feast; come now my dear Toff, and dine with me!  However, the remainder of the tale had better be worth the adjournment."

"I am quite sure it shall please your ears, My Lord." said Captain Toff smugly, ignoring the disbelieving others as he took his seat at the board.  

Toff tucked in greedily as his famished company stood by, daring not to talk unbidden in the presence of their lord; at length one Orc side-kicked his Sergeant's foot and gestured with his head for him to speak up, but the officer stiffened and shook his head in denial.  Melkor noted their antics from his throne and smiled; saying to Toff, "Is the food to your liking Captain?" who in turn nodded in full-mouthed approval.  However, Melkor grew impatient and clapped twice to summon his table staff; he bade them to clear up long before the food was gone and said, "Take this rabble to the kitchen and give them what is left over; when they are refreshed, return them here and have them await my summons outside the great door!  For now, my captain and I have urgent matters to discuss."  

The chamber fell silent once all was done and Melkor beckoned his captain closer.  Toff came to the dais and stood confidently in the gap where once lay the seat that remains embedded still in the central cone of Thangorodhrim.  Melkor looked askance at the captain and said angrily, "Again your bearing betrays you, servant of Sauron; you presume to speak to me of breeding and moulding when thou knowest nought of my skill, thou dolt.  I need no records to read the heart of my subjects; when one such as thee allows faithful subordinates to go hungry if he thinks it buys him my favour.  Cuivienen you say?  How dare mention that name before me in my own hall; loyalty you say, explain then how it is that long ago I bade my old deputy to brake the template of my creation, and yet you stand before me in the very spot where he sat?  Where is loyalty, Captain Toff, when my orders remain incomplete?  You should be dead, and you will be dead if your tale is not to my liking.  Speak now, for your life depends on it; and spare not the melodic words that you learned from he that spared you, and whom you stink of now!"

Toff quailed under the wrath of his master, scarce comprehending why he had wronged him; save by wanting to make a good impression.  Truly he had no knowledge of a ‘Cuivienen Purge' and he was always led to believe that longevity of service would be looked upon as favourable; thus as Melkor spoke, Sauron had deceived him.  In after days Toff pondered why he and his dwindling kind should be spared when it went against the will of Melkor, "We hold no special rank in the Dark Lord's armies," he thought; however in long ages beyond this one, Sauron would have plans of his own.  

But now, Captain Toff needed to think fast whilst recapturing his earlier composure, for his master wanted a story told in fair words; luckily for him he had an optimistic tale to tell.  "Hurin had vanished with his ramshackle band into the hills for some two  days or more," be began, "When at last he came in great wrath to the house of Lorgan demanding to know what had become of a kinswoman of his; Aerin I believe she was named.  An argument broke out when Lorgan reported news of her death and that of the old servants of Hurin's wife's house; in retribution for the slaying of Brodda at the hands of Turin..." 

Melkor, interrupting the account, abruptly raised a halting hand whilst he digested the news that Turin had seemingly roamed freely about the lands which were long held as a baited trap.  He silently cursed his own complacency and the lack of communication between his Orb readers; and shaking his head in despair, he resolved in his thought that the Chieftain of the Easterlings would pay for this incompetence.  And sighing aloud, Melkor rolled his right index finger in a gesture for his captain to continue. 

"The tension eased somewhat when Hurin declared his intention to leave Hithlum." said Toff, "Indeed, rumours went abroad on the streets that Lorgan was relieved to be rid of Hurin at the cost of only seven companions, confirming his fears of usurpation or possibly mass exodus."

"A craven lord receives both in the end," said Melkor coldly.

"Quite so," said the Orc with budding assurance, "For Hurin left his house with great enmity, calling down vengeance on Lorgan's folk; be it by your will, Lord, or from another source."  He stopped at this point, smiling expectantly: hoping that his master would be pleased and redirect his anger again at Lorgan, but Melkor gave no sign, forcing Toff to resume in doubt. 

"Nonetheless, in his eagerness to separate Hurin from his folk, Lorgan stubbornly sent forth a detachment with great ceremony to escort the emigrants out from ‘his lands' and across the great river, via the far eastern mountain passes.  Unfortunately, this hindered our surveillance by forcing us to speed on ahead; thus I have little more to tell regarding Hurin's departure from Hithlum.  However, those mountains offer many places to hide and there are wide views of the narrow lands and the vale below, so we were soon able to mark their going.  We crossed over and followed them south as far as we dare along the river since they drew nigh to the eyries of the Eagles; but we went unnoticed and watched them turn back west into the vale of the little rivers by way of the ford.  Fortune favoured us with heavy clouds that afternoon bringing an almost early dusk, and we soon spotted the wayfarers campfire by the northern outliers of Brethil.  Presently, there was sudden movement above us and the great birds wheeled overhead; but we were not assailed, and I feel secure in saying that our hiding was not discovered by them for they flew eastward in great haste.  Therefore, we came out and gingerly crept downriver under the shadow of the Eagle Cliffs with the intention of catching up with the travellers, and once more we struck lucky; for as we reached the southwest bend of the circling wall, there we saw the lone figure of Hurin fording the river towards our bank." 

Melkor leant forward with eyes widened and Toff knew now that he had captured his master's attention; he continued with poise, "Our contingent, here present, followed after Hurin and the others went to spy on his companions once Hurin passed beyond sight the river.  In a final blessing, a fierce northerly wind pushed the clouds away southwards; revealing the last of the blood-red sun behind us and the old man marching purposely before us.  He passed into Dimbar and made for the roots of the mountains; indeed, Hurin almost came straight upon us but instead he turned again east and followed the chain around until he reached, and scaled, a lofty mound of fallen boulders.  For the longest time he stood there motionless leaning on his staff, red against the dying light; he then surveyed the skies as the sun dropped away and cried out aloud.  The wind took up his voice and we heard, Turgon! Hurin calls you, will you not hear in your hidden halls..."

Melkor stamped his foot and clapped with glee, for at long last he was aware of the region where his enemy dwelt; beaming he said, "What else did he say, what else happened?"

"Nothing much else, Lord," said Toff, "Save that in his ranting he mentioned the battle ere your glorious victory, possibly calling back a debt of valour; however no answer came in reply, and in the darkness he stumbled on the loose rocks.  We ventured closer since he had fallen hard and was unmoving, but we found him unconscious and breathing.  Therefore we thought it best leave him unmolested, as thou requested Lord, and we turned back to see what our colleagues had discovered on the other mission..."

Halting the captain, Melkor bade him to summon the waiting Orcs inside for a draft of grog and a well earned rest.  There was much merriment as cups and plates were filled and it was not long before the chamber filled with course singing, led by Melkor himself.  At length he turned to Toff; coolly asking, "What did the others discover?"

"We were met at the crossing by our collaborators, saying that night sentinels were patrolling the north marches of the forest," said Toff.  "They could have easily taken them but in keeping with secrecy they drew back..."

"Yes, yes," said Melkor with irritation, "What did they say?"

Toff cleared his throat; nervously continuing, "When they reached their camp the fire was quashed and the wanderers were asleep.  They then decided to reassemble with us; thus we met at the ford.  We found good hiding and exchanged accounts; there we thought to wait and see if Hurin would return.  Early the next morning we found to our dismay that the encampment had been deserted and we knew not if Hurin's companions were taken by the sentinels or whatever; yet many footprints led into the forest.  Alas, our night scout had fallen asleep at his post and for this he was duly slain.  However all was not lost; for presently, Hurin came by as one dazed, heedlessly repeating the name ‘Morwen' over and over, and completely unaware that we were watching him at close range.  We followed him for the rest of the day around the edge of the forest, and ever did it seem that he walked in a stupor.  By early evening however, we could go no further without being seen since we drew nigh to a large outpost of Forest Men close to the crossings where the Ravenous Watch were slain.  Hurin though was undeterred and passed them by, curiously nobody went near him; indeed they avoided him with fear in their eyes.  Perhaps in the mist they thought him a wraith?  We had now reached an impasse and I was eager to bring back this news to you; thus it was decided that we should split up again so that the others might track Hurin as they may, and we could return hence."

Melkor slowly clapped his hands and said, "Congratulations Toff, this tale has earned you your life; but not my leave."  And with that he tossed a set of manacles onto the table, smashing the crockery; and he cruelly said to the other Orcs there assembled, "Seize this, this Elf and take him to the mines!  Set him to work with his brethren and let his pedigree be known to all, Orc and thrall alike; tell everyone to spread this story so that it shall be known that I will not brook dirty blood in my ranks, however pristine their service record!" 

Even as Melkor spoke, Toff darted towards the door but he was quickly wrestled down and laid in bondage.  His former subordinates laughed as they dragged him with mockery through the corridors of Angband to the pits of hell.  The chief-overseer scarce believed their tale for he had long known and even respected the hapless prisoner; but not wanting to incur his master's wrath, he placed Toff in a holding cell until this account could be confirmed.  So it was, even until the War of Wrath, that poor Captain Toff lived out his days in thraldom; being neither accepted as either Orc nor Elf, and his days were ever miserable and lonely.  It was said in after times as he died in the Tumults of Angband, when the Valar came with destruction, that Toff was taken before Mandos.  There his many sins were weighed against him, and his time of waiting was long; but since he was judged by Melkor as an Elf, so he was by Mandos and in that judgement he found purging and redemption. 

Many months passed before Melkor received further word regarding the movements of Hurin; and since the archaic method of ‘Surveillance by Rover' had served him so well before, he felt no need to alter it.  However during this time of waiting he was not idle, and long did he scheme against Turgon; he sent forth many minions upon on spying errands about the regions of the encircling mountains, but all the ways of Gondolin were shut to them, and indeed if any did return to Angband they did so with empty mouths.  But Melkor was patient and had many legions of Orcs and thralls at his disposal; therefore he fretted not, and he knew that if he never took his eyes from that territory then he would surely glean some usable news of the true whereabouts of his foe.  Now, the summer of the year of Hurin's release had long passed into winter when the second party of Hurin's hunters returned to Angband.  They came with great trepidation, since the rumour of the fate of Captain Toff had long since been spread abroad with many embroidered additions; and the scouting Orcs understandably feared that this reflected poorly upon them.  Indeed, on their arrival they endured many rigorous and intrusive examinations to determine their true Orkishness; little did they know then, that all in the service of Melkor were encouraged to do the same without being told why, and those which refused or did not attend at the time appointed to them, were classified as traitors and assumed to be Elves.  Alas, many ‘innocents and ignorants' suffered under this new and unwelcome directive. 

However, the returning Orcs all received a clean bill of health and were instructed to wear red rags about their arms at all times whilst walking within the confines of Angband; this was but a part of Melkor's new edict.  At length, their Chief Orc was admitted before the Dark Lord of the North, who began unenthusiastically; "Before we proceed, I take it that you have fully appraised your predecessor's report, you have been fed and watered, so there will no need for any delays?"

"Yes, Lord; no, Lord," stammered the hefty Orc, "Thank you Lord, that is, I am very comfortable."

"Then you may begin," said Melkor.

So doing; he said in monotone, "I agree with everything that was said in Captain Toff's report..."

"Thrall Toff," interjected Melkor.

"Yes, Lord; sorry Lord," said the Orc, nervously wringing his hands. 

"Yes Lord, no Lord, I am scared stiff, Lord; get on with it!" barked Melkor.

"Yes, Lord," he began unwittingly, and wincing he said; "When Cap, er, the others left us to carry on with the mission we knew that we would not be able to follow Hurin because of the stationed Men at the crossing.  We decided instead to spread out into the forest; and once we had found a suitable base of operation, which was not easy as we had to burrow underground while making it look like the land above was not disturbed..."

Melkor yawned as the Orc droned on with unnecessary details, and he almost wished that the more eloquent Toff were there in his place; "...And since none of us were gardeners, we did not do too badly," heard Melkor after a minute of not listening.  He was tempted to bawl at him again but this would only serve to make him nervous, leading to more intolerable ‘Yes Lords, No Lords'; therefore, Melkor was doomed to listen to this tedium for hours as yet uncounted.  Still, the Orc was very thorough with his facts and Melkor learnt much from him; here follows in part the information that was painstakingly conveyed to the Lord of Angband.

A change had come over Brethil within the last year; for a dispute arose regarding who held the lordship of those lands since the death of Brandir, and the resolving of this matter was not to everybody's satisfaction.  The new Chieftain, one Hardang, welcomed not any outsiders into his province and had no love for the House of Hador; especially those which claimed fealty to Turin Turambar or his kin, howsoever valiant their renown.  It was under these conditions that Hurin's companions were seized and led before Hardang; and it was his ruling to expel them beyond his borders nigh to Doriath, blindfolded and under guard.  Therefore, they missed Hurin's return from Dimbar and the Encircling Mountains; and since they had honestly reported who they were travelling with, the Men of Hithlum were accordingly held at bay outside Brethil and could not warn their lord of any potential danger that may befall him.  Now, it has been told that Hurin entered into Brethil unhindered, appearing to the March Wardens of Teiglin as a phantom; for he came as one in an otherworldly deathly swoon, desperately seeking  for his wife, who called to him now in dreams.  Hurin had walked thus for several leagues since awaking in a daze at the foot of Turgon's heavily concealed mountain doorway; and now he traversed the perilous ravines along the southern reaches of Brethil until he arrived at the place where Glaurung met his doom.  In the meantime, orders reached the western outliers that if one came within the boundaries of the forest calling himself Hurin then he should be taken and led before Hardang.  Hence a small company was sent out after him but they found him not; however the despatch proved unnecessary, for Hurin returned to Teiglin and laid him to sleep by the mound of Finduilas, and there he was found at first light.  

The long diagonal journey from the Crossings of Teiglin to the Halls of Hardang was always hazardous and this time it proved particularly strenuous; for the Forest Men were hampered by a stumbling and belligerent old man.  Although Hurin's demeanour ingratiated him little with the company; there was one who was chief among them, Manthor brother of Hunthor, who remembered the allegiances of old and treated the aged warrior with due respect, he even tried to assist Hurin over difficult terrain but the curmudgeon proved too obstinate to help.  Now it was on this expedition that they were espied by the Orc party tracking Hurin who stealthily followed them on their north-easterly way.  At length they arrived at the newly refortified stronghold of Obel Halad that stood slightly north of the old stockade.  Its main feature was the Hall of the Chieftains which was in a courtyard enclosed by an earthen wall with a strong gate.  And at the rear there was a meeting place enclosed by a fence of high logs with sharpened crests; this was carved into the side of the hill and surrounded by seven tiers of seats in a horseshoe shape.  It was said that Hardang removed his seat from Ephel Brandir and re-established Obel Halad since a natural successor could not be found after Brandir's childless death.  In this he feigned that his actions were done out respect whilst the people grieved for their fallen lord, and to give them time to select a new chieftain; but many complained to no avail that he was too quick in assuming power and forming his own alternative government without due process. 

News of Hurin's coming reached Hardang long before his arrival and he awaited him with mounting unease; he sat for long hours pondering what ill may befall his leadership, for he knew that those who opposed him still honoured the Edain.  Thus he treated the wanderer with suspicion, and afterwards with discourtesy when Hurin defied him; then after a heated exchange, Hurin cast a stool at Hardang that smote his head and was consequently taken prisoner.  He was held in a dungeon in the dank caverns below whilst awaiting the judgement of Hardang.  Many claimed that it would be just to immediately slay the ‘embittered old fool' for assaulting their chieftain in this way; but Hardang was craftier than that and he saw an opportunity to unify the people behind him by deferring Hurin's fate to their will.  The day of arbitration was set for three days hence; thus, the heads of every household in Brethil were summoned to convene at the Moot-Ring at Obel Halad.  In this time, and after initial resistance and much pleading; Manthor persuaded Hurin to allow him to represent the old man at the hearing.  Now, the rumour of Hurin's trail had increased daily and many more people than were necessary arrived at Obel Halad, and most of Brethil's villages were  emptied; it seemed to all that everybody was there, save for those required to patrol the borders.  

The Moot-Ring soon swelled to capacity and many people were shut out, being forced to watch the proceedings from gaps in the log fence or to best find whatever vantage point they could; here the hooded Orcs easily blended in with the noisy crowd.  There was great murmuring and booing as Hurin was led forth into the courtyard; although many later maintained that this was because he appeared ill-treated and was held in bonds, even before being convicted.  In the centre of the ring lay a great flat stone where the Halad would sit in judgement; however, since Hardang was the Halad and could not by law recite a crime against his own self he needed another to do this in his stead.  For this task he hastily chose, Avranc son of Dorlas; this choice was unpopular among the elders since the young man was often haughty and insolent, yet he had found the favour Hardang by spreading malice and acting as an unsanctioned spy.  Avranc accused Hurin of being an emissary out of Angband with evil intent, which manifested itself in an attempt on Hardang's life.  Hurin made no reply and Avranc took this as a sign to proclaim his guilt to the crowd, and called for his death; but Manthor protested that the prisoner's silence was due to his being unfairly fettered, which went against the customs of the land.  Hardang noted that the crowd muttered restlessly against this and he ordered that Hurin should be released, much to Avranc's chagrin.  Hurin addressed the crowd by stating his name and his deeds, and he angrily renounced the court and its disrespect toward him.  Avranc and Hardang made no protest, believing that Hurin was sealing his own fate; but Manthor courteously restrained him whilst proclaiming that Hurin was provoked in his attack on the Halad.  He named Avranc ‘Runagate' since he was there present at Hurin's finding and under Manthor's command; but he deserted his post and overtook them in order to cast Hurin in a poor light before his master, when indeed it was he, Avranc, that misused the then witless old man with cruel words and wicked counsel among his colleagues.  Manthor claimed also that Hurin's food had been drugged during his incarceration, and called upon witnesses to confirm this since he had tested his theory on the jailor's dog.  He told of the scorn with which Hardang treated Hurin in his hall, when one of such close kin to greater lords of Brethil should have been received with honour and respect.  Pandemonium arose among the assembly, but when Manthor settled them down there was clearly heard the voice of Hardang saying that he should have let Avranc shoot Manthor with an arrow when he had previously asked; to which the crowd demanded Hurin‘s freedom and the removal of Hardang from the office of Halad.

Hurin mounted the Doom-Rock where stood Hardang and Avranc, but instead of facing them directly he turned towards the crowd and rebuked them, stating that since his children had died in this land then surely it would be natural for a father to seek their graves; moreover, he noted that whilst he had been in Brethil not one person had ever spoke their names to him.  He shamed those that were in power at the time of the threat of the Great Worm, in which they were ready to let Turin fight Glaurung but did nothing afterwards to aid him; claiming that some of griefs that followed may have been prevented.  He asserted that none in Brethil could match his son in valour and offered a father's forgiveness to those that bore him no ill will.  However, he would not forgive the fact that he found an old beggar-woman in the shade of the standing stone erected in honour of Turin and Nienor, who was left neglected there to die there as an outcast.  This woman he named as Morwen Eledhwen, his wife; and Hurin alleged that since Hardang had treated him such as a pariah, then it must have been he who commanded that Morwen meet the same fate, but she starved and died of exposure.  Many there assembled pitied Hurin and offered him gifts of penitence; however Hardang, abashed and afraid, edged himself away and Hurin lunged for him so that he retreated with speed to his guardsmen, and surrounded he pulled back toward the gate.  Several people took this as an admission of Hardang's guilt and took out their weapons against the Halad; yet there were others who remained loyal and readied themselves to defend him, at least until these charges were properly heard.

Manthor did his failing best to prevent bloodshed by standing between the baying groups with raised arms; but his cries were lost amid the noise, and indeed those in rebellion against Hardang took his gestures as a call to arms.  The people gathered outside fled in panic as the gate collapsed under the weight of the ensuing battle; alas, many fell in melee but Hardang escaped with most of his company to Obel Halad ere his pursuers caught up and surrounded his hall.  An anxious silence descended about the place and Manthor took his opportunity to parley with the besieged Hardang; he called for an end to the kin-slaying and began to maintain a semblance of calm.  Unfortunately as he was finalising arrangements to reconvene at the Moot-Ring; Avranc, from a window, fired a short past his ear and wrath erupted once more, there was a rush on the great doors and many fell, pierced by arrows from above.  But the people without were many, being now swelled in numbers by the onlookers, and the Halad's arrows could not puncture them all; maddened with anger, they came with great store of wood which they piled against the earthen wall encompassing the hall.  They gave the inhabitants until nightfall to come out; otherwise they would burn the grand old wooden structure to the ground, with them inside.  After sunset nobody emerged, so the people piled the wood against the hall and set it ablaze amid a shower of wild arrows; in this deed only Manthor stood aside, lamenting its wickedness.  As the fire spread many indeed surrendered, but Hardang and Avranc sought to flee via the back door; but they were espied and pursued, and Avranc being younger and fitter made good his escape but Hardang fell, being speared in the back.  Before he died he was brought before Hurin who looked down upon him with a sneer; Hardang returned his gaze and told him that he knew in his heart that the coming of the Lord of Dor-Lomin would bring forth his doom and this he told him also, that the last accusation against him was false but before he could elaborate, he died.  Hurin took this as Hardang's final malice ere his death, but Manthor standing close at hand thought otherwise; he doubted not Hurin's account of where she lay, rather it was because of this that he believed Hardang.  He told Hurin that ever since the raising of the Stone of the Hapless, that place was now hallowed in memory of his children and out of reverence nobody dared to tread foot nigh to that spot; however, because their mother now lay there he would find folk of the purest hearts to assist in her interment.

The following morning the folk of Brethil called upon Manthor to claim the mantle of the Halad but he refused, for now; stating that the matter should be taken up properly in the Moot-Ring which required sanctification after its despoilment, furthermore he had the funeral of Morwen to coordinate.  Therefore, the burial party went in slow procession down to the site of the burning with Manthor and Hurin in the van.  They reached that hallowed place in the early evening and there they did Morwen great honour in death, in recompense for her abandonment in life; there she was laid to rest beside her valiant son and her name was added to the stone.  Hurin declared that dread had now left this place, and it was his wish that it should become a spot for those to come to find solace for a grieving heart; for Morwen's search was over and she was with Turin at last.  Hurin thanked Manthor for his kindness, telling him to return to his folk and accept their offer of leadership; for now Hurin's errand in Brethil was complete and he would depart west over the Crossings of Teiglin.  Alas as they said farewell, a secret arrow fatally wounded Manthor and ere his death he saw Avranc fleeing through the trees; there were none present that were able to pursue, but his face was marked by all and justice would not be far behind him.  So it was that Hurin went from Brethil in sadness and he deemed also that his own shadow was not far behind him; and even so it came to pass, for the Orc party had rarely let him out of their sights and wherever he went they would follow.

The Orcs now marked the route by which Hurin would leave, but they knew that they would have to go out the way they came because of the strength of Men at the Haudh-en-Elleth.  At the crossing, Hurin was greeted by his companions; for they were discovered prowling about the southern eaves of the forest and escorted there at the request of Manthor that previous night.  Now, it was long past sunset and the foresters urged Hurin and his companions to stay in their shelter overnight so that they might continue refreshed the next morning.  At the urging of the others, Hurin reluctantly consented to this but his decision proved an ill, for the scouting Orcs readily spotted their going as they set upon the Old South Road to Nargothrond.  This presented the Orcs with further problems given that for the most part the road lay on open plains in which the traveller has wide views.  Therefore the Orc party were forced further north, and they went up river in all haste to the sources of Narog and south again on the opposite side.  The spies were fortunate in that Hurin's company did not waver from the road, and because of their leader's age they travelled at a considerably slower pace. So it was after three days the agents of Melkor arrived in time to see Hurin being assisted across the foaming river over the dangerous stones of the broken bridge that his son had once raised.  Once they were safely over to the other side the sight of new repaired doors surprised them and Hurin's companions stood aside as he purposefully smote upon the door.  To his great displeasure Mim answered demanding to know his intent; Hurin demanded entry to Felagund's House but the Petty Dwarf denied him, stating that it was his folk who delved there first and since he was last of the line the hall and all its contents were his.  Hurin grew wrathful, stating who he was and that he knew of Mim's betrayal of his son; the Dwarf cowered and begged for his life but the father of Turin drew his sword and slew Mim where he stood, Hurin then bade his attendants to cast him over the edge of the gorge of Narog where his small body would be dashed on the rocks and rushing waters below.  So they entered into the now dank and noisome Nargothrond, formerly a place of light and beauty; and the door remained shut for three nights, the Orcs set a watch upon it so that any movement in or out could be well marked.

However secrecy was not their aim, for on the fourth day the friends emerged with seven hastily crafted handcarts each laden with heavy caskets; Hurin though, came out last carrying a cobalt bag brocaded with gold filigree, in which the shape of a flat square box could easily be discerned.  They followed the River Narog north for two exhausting days until they reached its sources at the fresh springs below the mountains at Eithel Ivrin.  They built there an encampment and after food and rest a scout was sent forth to find a suitable cavern in the Ered Wethrin where they might stash their haul.  At last when all was ready, Hurin declared that he would take his leave of them forever and he presented his share of the treasure to them in reward for their service to him, save only the contents of the velvet bag.  To this they greedily consented and only one of them, Asgon, offered continued aid to Hurin; but the old man said, "They say you were born with good luck my friend, and it seems to have rubbed off on your associates.  No, dear Asgon, I must now go on alone: unburdened.  My final road is clear ahead and I fear that it would bring ill fortune, even to you my truest and most loyal companion.  Therefore I go now with a happy heart, safe in the knowledge that the treasures of Valinor rest not in the hands of treacherous Dwarves, or foul Worms or even the foulest himself, Morgoth.  Farewell."

Hurin went away east under the shadow of the mountains but not all the Orcs followed him; for his the final words stirred them to anger and they sought to bring the treasure to Angband in Hurin's spite.  Therefore the two quickest Orcs were ordered to follow Hurin until nightfall and after he fell asleep one would return stating his location.  Meanwhile the remaining Orcs waited for an hour after Hurin's departure from Eithel Ivrin and they ambushed and cruelly slew Asgon and his friends.  They loaded the booty onto the carts and followed Hurin in the same fashion, using swift runners to report his whereabouts each night.  Melkor was most pleased by their actions and it went greatly in the reporting Orc's favour; explaining also why it had taken so long for them to return with news.  Now, Hurin came again through the Vale of Sirion and nigh to the eaves of Brethil, he remembered to valour of Manthor but he did not stop there; he crossed the Brithiach into Dimbar and he remembered the Eagles of the Crissaegrim but he did not look to the sky, he went instead downriver to the Twilight Meres nigh to the west marches of Doriath and there he sought the admission of the king.  Here the Orc's report ended for none could enter therein save only by Thingol's will; moreover the way became too perilous, for indeed the runners had been spotted and one barely escaped alive in time to testify Hurin's last movements.  Luckily for the Orcs, they were able to conceal themselves and their cargo before an Elven hunting party came in pursuit; in which they only found the dead deserted Orc with no visible tracks around him, thus they came at length to Angband and this was the last time that Melkor would hear sure news of the wanderings of Hurin, but the tale of the son of Galdor does not end here.

Melkor sat in long contentment; knowing that the evil of his curse had lingered whilst Hurin was abroad, for it seemed that in his freedom he brought ruin wherever he went.  And as is already told, Melkor now knew of the region where Turgon dwelt; and this knowledge would shortly bear fruit with the seizing of Maeglin.  In addition, Hurin's departure from Brethil brought disarray to that land; for now its people had no sure Chieftain and they fell into petty infighting, and rival households vied for supremacy being fuelled by long held grudges.  Thus it seemed to the Dark Lord that the same would come to pass within the confines of Doriath; and Melkor laughed in his dark thought, saying, "Let Melian keep the hapless wanderer inside her garden; there too let it be seen that my will prevails.  In ‘Little Valinor' let my malice poison the enchanted trees so that they will wither; and let she who fled to Middle-Earth ere the ‘Great Darkening' know the utter destructiveness of my power, when all that she hath created be laid bare in ruins before her.  Then let her kneel before my might; let her fall into my web being now trammelled in flesh and without power, or at the very least let her steal away over the sea and flee to Valinor where she can never trouble me again, ha, ha, ha!"  Even so, much of what Melkor desired came to pass but not all; however, if the Orc scouts were but able to tarry but a while longer they would seen that Hurin departed from Menegroth on the same day that he arrived, and the Enemy therefore would have surely learnt how he met his end.  

Now as is known by all the wise, Hurin brought forth out of Nargothrond the fabled Necklace of the Dwarves, The Nauglamir, and he cast it hastily at the feet of Thingol and Melian in contemptuous payment for their ‘fair keeping' of his kin.  But the queenly Melian graciously appeased Hurin's disdain and she set his vision aright, which had long been distorted by the malevolence of Melkor and his fell devices.  After a prolonged silence Hurin gathered up the strewn Nauglamir, and setting it properly in its box he offered the fine necklace to Thingol in a gesture of penitence and respect.  The King accepted this precious token, and Hurin silently bowed as he departed from the beautifully ornate and many pillared royal hall.  Thingol would that he had stayed a while longer to receive healing and counsel, but Melian had seen into Hurin's eyes and she stayed her husband's tongue even before he spoke.  However, Mablung was there present also for he had admitted Hurin into Doriath; so, once the old man had left the chamber, King Thingol beckoned his Chief Captain to the throne, saying, "Do not hinder his going if he will be gone, Mablung: but if he will listen to you, tell him all that you have learnt on your travels, and if he is willing, learn what you can from him!" And Melian added, "Have a care, Mablung, Hurin has witnessed much evil and with skewed sight, but now for the first time in many long and arduous years he sees clearly; therefore be kindly to him and forego any affront, for still he suffers greatly, though it be now that his well of tears runs dry."

Mablung bowed before his sovereigns and quickly turned on his silent elven toes in pursuit of Hurin; and it did not take very long to find him, doddering his way along the lofty corridors out of Menegroth.  He called after him, "Hurin, Hurin, will you not allow me to escort you safely to our borders?" 

Hurin halted, and without turning about he said, "Why, am I in danger?"

"Not at all, Lord," said Mablung, "But it is a shame to see you leave thus alone."

"So Captain," said Hurin, still not moving, "You think I shame to Thingol's Hall?"

"Nay, not you; but I," said Mablung, now catching up.

"How so?" quizzed Hurin.

Mablung knelt before Hurin with downcast eyes and said, "My Lord, your wife and daughter were left to my charge but through my failure they were lost to me.  There is much I can tell which I have learnt in my searching; but alas, I found them not," and he wept openly at Hurin's feet.  

Hurin was exceedingly touched by the sincerity of this remarkable Elf warrior and he bade him rise and face him, and with an outstretched arm on Mablung's shoulder he said, "I know your deeds, I saw them firsthand; for you see I was bewitched as was my daughter, but unlike her I was aware of all that you said and did.  Therefore do not weep, Mablung, because the shame is not yours!  It is their's: the wicked one and his fiery-beast.  Indeed it is I that should sob at your feet; in gratitude for all that you did for my daughter.  And as for Morwen: I doubt that even your elvish eyes could see through that fiendish Dragon's smoke and I doubt also that there was little you could have done to aid her amid all the reek and chaos.  So now if you will permit, let me answer you properly: I would be delighted in your mighty company, if you will escort me and say what else you know."  

They stood together a little while longer, unblinking; and in that moment Hurin read in the depth of Mablung's eyes that in all his long years he had never cried before, not even as a child.  As the Elf slowly closed his eyes and turned to Hurin's side, the old man realised then how profound and draining this experience was for the proud archer; and at length, after walking in silence, Hurin asked if they might take some refreshment before continuing, in essence he did this more for Mablung's benefit than his own.  Now, they were already nigh to the great doors of Menegroth which led out to the bridge that spanned the River Esgalduin and Mablung gestured in that direction.  The sun was climbing high and the fragrance of high summer was all about them as they stepped outside, but rather than cross the bridge Mablung ushered Hurin left and left again.  There, and cunningly hidden from view, was a slender doorway which led back into the sidewall of the grand portico-gateway; however this did not rejoin the main corridor as Hurin first thought, instead there was a narrow stairway to his right lit by the blue radiance of Feanorian crystals, which Finrod Felagund had brought out of Valinor.  The steps were carved long ages ago by the Dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost, and took devious turns in the rock; therefore, Mablung linked Hurin's arm who soon began to tire and regret his request.  Still, the climb did not take too long and it was well worth the effort, as Hurin found out; for they emerged out onto a wide crescent shaped veranda with far views of the forest and lands beyond, it was unfenced but rather ringed by flowered shrubs of beautiful and divers colours and there were many ornately carved tables and chairs of the finest White Spruce.  They were seated and attended by two Elf-Maidens who brought them a wine filled decanter and a platter of fine meats.  Hurin admired the craftwork that went into the furniture and Mablung told him that the wood came from the tropical regions of the south and was a gift from Cirdan, who also used it in the building of his ships.

At length Hurin asked, "What happened after Nienor fled; that is I heard the death cries of the pursuing Orcs but that was the last I heard of your company, and I wonder how you fared?"

"We all survived unharmed," said Mablung pausing to sip his wine, "I took full responsibility for the failure of my mission but my sovereigns, and now you, graciously absolved me.  The king granted me three years to seek out your wife and daughter, those that returned from Nargothrond went with me and eight others also.  Thingol's wardens scoured the southern forests nigh to the ravines of Brethil for any sign of Nienor, but alas her tracks were washed away in the rains; meanwhile, we returned to Amon Ethir and attempted to glean any marks left by Morwen.  Unfortunately, the ground was scorched and the few prints that remained were damaged and chaotic; yet as I stood in a barren patch, the wind picked up some loose ash that swirled about my legs and bore it northwest towards Nevrast, I fancied then that it recalled Morwen's cries and we followed in that direction."

"That is odd, for I too remember losing her voice on the wind," said Hurin, and he went in to greater detail of how he saw and heard things during his captivity; and he finished by saying, "Alas, for twenty-eight years and more my senses were skewed by the will of evil, but now ere the end I have been allowed to see straight once more." and he nodded at the grim-faced Mablung, bidding him to continue.   

"We sought the reaches of the desolate northern coastal lands for many weeks," resumed the Elf, "Not only did we find no sign of your wife, but the few homesteads that lay round and about were now wholly deserted.  We turned back east, for we knew of the scattered clans who dwelt in the shadow of the Ered Wethrin and hoped to find news of her there.  Indeed, a vagrant woman matching her description had passed through those lands but I understood soon enough that few made her welcome due to her unhinged ravings; although we found one family took pity on Morwen and offered her scant lodgings but after three days she vanished, and it was believed by them that she headed south to face the Dragon head on, or so she said.  Whether or not this was true I cannot say, but we returned from whence we came and from the hill I ventured again to Nargothrond.  There I half-expected, or more rightly dreaded, to encounter Glaurung once again but the Gates of Felagund were completely barred and all was deathly quiet, save for the rushing of Narog.  I scaled the perilous outer walls of Nargothrond to seek out any fissures or natural vents that might allow me entry by another means but all ways were shut, either blocked by solid rock or clogged up with sulphur.  I knew that one as frail as Morwen would not have been able to do as I did; and furthermore, it was my assertion that if indeed she came this way and was met by the same forbidding sight as I, then surely she would have moved on by now unless she had actually smote upon the door and roused the Dragon which I now doubted.  Thus I returned to my companions on the hill, but I bade them to come away from there in order to discuss our next plan of action for I no longer trusted that place.  We had no reason to assume that she had not come this way and therefore deemed that she would continue downriver to the willow forest of Nan-Tathren and maybe into the safekeeping of Cirdan; perhaps now news had reached Doriath and the mariners awaited our arrival, or so we hoped.  Thus it was with high hearts we followed the River Narog, and for a second time in as many days I saw the threatening walls of the once beautiful Nargothrond."

Hurin perceived the sorrow in Mablung's voice as he recalled the former majesty of Felagund's realm and he said, "Alas for Orodreth for I saw his downfall from afar, and that of the Falas of Cirdan too, though he still endures; have heart Mablung, for Doriath yet stands and Gondolin also.  I have seen the valour of both lands at close quarters and with my own eyes, whereas our enemy has not; believe me when I tell you, for as mighty as the Northern King is he knows fear, especially in that which he cannot wholly dominate.  Am I not living proof?"

"I marvel at your words Hurin," said Mablung, "Indeed you are Thalion, the Steadfast.  Middle-Earth was truly robbed of your valour when Morgoth hid you away from it; and surely, better wordsmiths than I could have written mighty songs of the great deeds that you and your son may have achieved together.  But valour alone is no contest for the machinations of wickedness, though I feel valour be the main province of we two old warriors; thus I regret it is here that my heart misgives me.  And whilst it is true that I have gained some wisdom in the experience of my long years; my chief delight remains in following the greater wisdom of others more qualified than I, and serving them how I may."

"Then no king could wish for a wiser subject than thee," said Hurin.

"Perhaps, but do not be so free with your praise just yet!" said Mablung, "There is still much to tell."

"Then, please; say on!" said Hurin.

"First let me ask, is it still your will to be gone this day?" enquired Mablung.

"It is," said Hurin.

"Then we must depart while time is," said Mablung, "I shall take you to whence you came, in order to ensure your passage on the ferry that crosses the Twilit Mere; but there is need of haste if we are to travel there by daylight, come!"  He took Hurin's canteen and filled it with the remaining wine, and he hastily requested that the attendants wrap the leftover meat in preserving leaves whilst his guest took one last melancholy glimpse at the beautiful vista around him.  At length they descended the blue-lit stairway and came out at the Gates of Menegroth once more, where they traversed the great stone bridge.  They followed the paths of Esgalduin to where it joined Sirion; and crossing again, they followed the great river along the western marches of Region until they reached the mere shortly after nightfall. 

In the interim Mablung told Hurin how on his arrival at Nan-Tathren he and his companions were met by the wardens of Cirdan whom he knew on friendly terms, and they gladly escorted them down to the Havens.  He learnt there that one alike to Morwen indeed had come to the willow forest and dwelt there in hiding for a season and more, but she rejected all advances of assistance; and since she caused no nuisance Cirdan let her be, though he set a watch upon her.  She had in fact departed west but a month before Mablung's coming and he cursed the deceptive ash-wind of Glaurung; even though it did not lie.  Thereafter he searched tirelessly abroad along all the western reaches of Beleriand: from the Delta-Havens to the ruined Falas and along the coasts and inlands to deserted Nevrast, beneath the Ered Wethrin to the Mountains of Shadow, even though he knew from her days in Doriath that Morwen would not venture so close to Dor-Lomin.  In all these long days of searching no rumour of her reached Mablung's ears and his appointed time granted by Thingol was more than half way gone.  It was in this time that the Elven party marked the coming of a great host out of the north and fled into the crevices of the Ered Wethrin as the ‘Ravenous Watch' convened at the Sources of Narog.  So significant did this news seem to Mablung, that he sent forth one from his group as a messenger to Menegroth whilst he watched from afar; and accordingly as the subsequent events unfolded, Mablung and Thingol organised a line of communication.  Now, ever after the first assaults on Brethil the lands about the Vale of Sirion were swelled with people seeking the protection of the little rivers; and Morwen came there after hearing the rumours that ‘The Mormegil has returned and defends the besieged forest'.  Mablung heard this too and he wished to venture south in the hope of finding Morwen whom he deemed rightly would follow news of her son, but duty restrained him until he could obtain the leave of his king.  Alas this departure came too late, for his approach was stayed by the chaos wrought by the coming of Glaurung and he passed Morwen by; amid the great anxiety of general fleeing and folk going into hiding.

Mablung paused for a moment and said, "We mark the passing of time differently you and I.  For you I am sure that the memory of evil deeds still haunts your fea and hroar, but we Elves retain that which we experience for much longer; far much longer.  Hurin, I can still feel the heat of dragon-fire, I can taste it, and I can smell the burning of flesh and wood: I can still see..."

Hurin consolably clasped the shaken Elf's shoulder, telling of his own experiences with Glaurung; he described in part the tale of the Orb and what he had seen in it, and he told of his imprisonment and some of his later wanderings, including the discovery of his wife.  Mablung marvelled at Hurin's fortitude and endurance, and accepted that his companion understood to some degree what he was trying to convey.  The captain of Doriath took up his account once more saying how he feared for Brethil on the night of doom.  His company arrived at the Crossings of Teiglin on the following day and there they found Turin witless and wailing by the mound of Finduilas.  Turin quizzed Mablung about the whereabouts of his mother and sister saying, "I was told in Dor-Lomin that they fled to the Hidden Kingdom."  Mablung ruefully told the son of Hurin all that he knew; and in his disbelief, Turin fled from the Elves in great haste towards the place where he left Glaurung to rot.  The Elves wandered what evil malady had taken hold of Turin and with a desire to aid him they pursued as quickly as they might, but once again it was Mablung's fate to follow too late.  At length they reached Cabed-en-Aras, finding the Dragon laying still and inviolate, save for his wound; there also alas, they found Turin at the ravine's edge bent forward and impaled by his Black Sword, Gurthang.

"My companions wept for Turin, but for me the grief only served to chill my heart," said Mablung; "I remembered you on that day, Hurin, and the last time I saw you, fighting courageously at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad all those years ago.  I thought also of my queen and the sorrow she would feel on hearing of the doom of your son; for she loved him well."

"Then Melkor-Morgoth spoke true, albeit with bitter delight," said Hurin distantly.

"I shudder at that name," said Mablung, "But tell me, what webbed truth did the wicked master of lies spin?"

"All that you have just recounted and more," said Hurin.

"I fear that the shadow has taken you again, my dear friend," said Mablung with great concern; "If you will, I have more also but my heart fails me, since I worry now that the tale will displease your ears."

"Shadows are fleeting," said Hurin, smiling narrowly; "Have no fear Mablung, for my ears have been disgraced with many lies tangled in truth.  Now I will hear the truth unfettered by deception; and no matter unpleasant that may be, at the very least it shall wash away the dregs of his poison." 

Mablung resumed: presently many Men of Brethil arrived, wanting to see the dead Dragon for themselves, and it appeared to the Elves that most of them were in great doubt.  Mablung greeted them in friendship and explained why he and his group had come to their lands.  The Elves assisted in removing the Black Sword from the lifeless warrior, but the blade fell and broke asunder as it smote the stony ground; Turin was taken up by many hands and carried with honour to the remainder of the Brethilim assembled at crossings by Nen Girith.  Many there marvelled at the tales of bravery that Mablung told of their fallen hero, hitherto unspoken by Turin; yet there were some among the gathering of Men who had little love for the son of Dor-Lomin and they withheld their praise.  This did not go unnoticed by the Elves but they kept their own counsel; seeing in many scornful expressions the seeds of the disharmony that was to follow.  However, the majority welcomed Mablung and bade him stay with them for a time whilst they took counsel together; to which all the Elves happily consented.  Mablung heard the tale of Turambar‘s arrival, and Niniel's, and much more besides; the most part of which Hurin was now able to confirm.  They told Mablung of Glaurung's approach and Turambar's accompaniment by Dorlas and Hunthor to the meet the beast, of the pursuit of Niniel and Brandir and of the deaths that took place.  Manthor wept for Hunthor his brother, whom he rightly supposed dead, even though his body was then undiscovered; yet the true extent of his heroism became later known, revealed by the fact that in the fall he landed on his back yet there was blood on his forehead and the rock beside him.  However Avranc, son of Dorlas, angrily stormed from the assembly when the deeds of his father were related to the Elves.  Although he was a valiant in war; Dorlas quailed at the final approach in facing the Dragon and he hid himself whilst his companions went on to uncertain doom.  And afterwards, when Brandir witnessed the sorrows of Niniel he encountered Dorlas on his return to Nen Girith, and the two quarrelled; Brandir disgusted at the cowardice that he found, and Dorlas berating the weak leadership of his chieftain, Dorlas aimed a punch at Brandir but the latter was quicker and he felled the craven with his sword. 

"He was a just man and he loved my daughter dearly," said Hurin thoughtfully; "Ah! Would that my wife had fled to Brethil at the first, as was my request.  Oh Morwen!" and remembering where he was, he added, "I am sorry Mablung, please continue!"

He said, "Brandir delivered his tidings, though at this time he still believed Turambar to be dead and he deemed it to be good news; revealing to his people the heritage of Turin and Nienor.  However, most of them were in grief and grasped not the true nature of what he had just told them; and they would away to their dead champion, but at the moment of their departure Turin came amongst them seeking Niniel.  After their initial shock, the people jeered Brandir as a fool and a liar; especially vocal was the mother of Avranc who disbelieved the tale of Dorlas' disgrace.  And Turin spoke in defence of their chieftain; until that is the wife of Dorlas repeated, in part, Brandir's words before Turambar's return and called them into disrepute.  Turin turned angrily on Brandir, naming him ‘Grudger of love'; and when it emerged that Brandir heard all that Glaurung had said to Nienor ere her demise, and when the profundity of what that entailed hit its mark, I regret to say, Hurin, that your son unjustly slew the man you named as ‘Just' but a moment ago."

"Then it is even as ‘The Enemy' said; though your words are kinder," said Hurin. 

"Alas!  I must impart more sorrow, in which I fear my perceived kind words will crumble before you like the very ash of Angband itself," said Mablung.

"Nay, Elf; your fear is your salvation, as is the truth you speak which crumbles not, say on my friend in a friendless world!" said Hurin.

Mablung said, "On the following morning we returned your son to the place where he fell.  There I was reminded of Turin's questioning of me regarding the location of his kin, and as I said then I repeat to you now, Hurin: ‘I also have been meshed in the doom of the Children of Hurin, and thus with words have slain one that I loved.'" and after pausing in grief, he tearfully began again, "We burned the carcass of the Dragon until its dust was all that remained on that barren patch; we placed Turin into the mound where he yet remains with his broken sword, and set upon it the great stone where you found your wife in its shadow.  I would sing for you one of the many laments from that day but my heart weighs too heavy; for you see Hurin, it was I that caused that ground to be hallowed, it was I that decreed that none should venture upon it and therefore, it was I whom sentenced your beloved to a lonely death."

"Weep not for that, Mablung," said Hurin; "Weep if you will, for the hurts of my house but not for the blessings which you have bestowed upon it!"

They walked the last stage of the journey in reflective silence, with the robust Elf linking the old man's arm in support; for the path became wetter and gladier as the River Aros came down from the east to join Sirion before its falls, between which lay the Twilight Meres.  They watched as the red light of the westering sun danced on the rushing waters of Sirion before it deflected into its myriad straits and vanished from sight in the evening mist.  At length they came to a great flat oval slab of rock which marked the end of the river path; and from this stone there were many other smaller ones of similar shape which formed a natural stairway that fell away downwards in a gentle bowed gradient, and this led onto an organic quayside from where the Elves would ferry across the mere.  However before they descended the stone stair, Mablung halted and said, "Hurin, before your leave taking there is more that I would tell you; for you see, my tale is not yet complete.  Here, alas, I must reveal the most grievous hurt that I have inflicted upon your house; though I did fully comprehend its full implication until we conversed together this day.  After my short sojourn in Brethil I was anxious to return to Menegroth and report to my sovereigns all that I learnt in regard to the fate of your children.  In so doing this I neglected my duty, which was to your wife; for I departed Brethil before the appointed time to seek for her was over, and it is more than apparent to me now that had I but waited the due course, even if there was the slightest chance that I could have found her, then I should have waited.  I knew this to be true then, but I went against my own better judgement; and it is in this knowledge that I call myself a failure, and it is in this knowledge that I deem myself unwise despite my years."

"Unwise you are, Mablung, but for one reason only," said Hurin; "You told me but a few hours ago that thee of Elvenkind retain that which is experienced.  If you are to be believed, which I know you are; then please, please do not take my sorrows onto thy immortal self!  Morgoth told me upon my release that my ‘little life is waning' and he was right, it is; therefore, Mablung, I beg of you, do not permit his malice outlive me by carrying it in yourself!  Time is short for me, True One, and my passing will be better eased by knowing that you are at peace with yourself.  Accept this wisdom from me, for indeed in this matter I am better qualified than thee; also, from one who has nothing to give, accept this gift in token of my forgiveness." and he kissed the back of Mablung's hand saying, "Weep no more, my friend!"

Mablung tried to answer but words failed him, and with a final choke in his throat he stood erect.  He extended his elbow to Hurin and with great dignity he led him down to the lamplit quay and requested passage for his friend.  Presently, Mablung left companion's side for a moment and spoke quietly with another Elf; and as Hurin was about to board the ferry, Mablung said, "The night grows chill, can I not persuade you to stay at the lamplighter's house until first light?"

"You cannot, but thank you; for everything," said Hurin, and he alighted the gantry.

Mablung bade the ferry barer to wait whilst he approached Hurin and handed him an envelope containing three pieces of gold, "There is a secluded outpost a mile along the western road by the pass of Andram Pass, give this to the lodge keeper, he will know whence it came; there you shall receive board for the night and better equipment for outdoor living.  Do this, Hurin; do it for me!" said Mablung.

"I will," said Hurin, grasping the Elf's hand.

Mablung nodded to the ferry barer and said, "Where will you go from there, Hurin?"

"Judging by the lay of the land, downhill seems easiest; south I guess," said Hurin, "Farewell, Mablung!"

"Farewell!" said Mablung, turning about and heading home.

Mablung reported all that had transpired between he and Hurin, and Melian listened intently; she ordered that all should be transcribed so that she might sift the meaning of each word.  Thingol though, was preoccupied with the contents of the box that Hurin presented to him; it was through this fascination that the final annals of Doriath would be written, in which the last evil caused by the release of Hurin would come to pass.  For as is well known to the wise, Thingol contrived it so that the Silmaril which Beren retrieved from Angband should be set into the Nauglamir; thus combining two of the rarest and most valued jewels of the Elder Days.  In so doing, the King of Doriath roused the lust of the Dwarves whom he treated with in this task and they viciously slew him in their greed, taking it for themselves.  The subsequent events are well documented elsewhere: sufficed to say, Melian indeed withdrew to Valinor and with her departure the girdle of enchantment about Doriath lifted and the land lay exposed to attack.  However after much bloodshed, Beren reclaimed the Silmaril-Nauglamir which he gifted to his beloved, Luthien; and their son Dior, who was previously named as Thingol's heir, took up the residence of Menegroth.  When his parents died the jewel was returned to Doriath but Dior sent it away with his daughter, Elwing, to the havens of Cirdan, and although the jewel survived, Dior did not; for rumour of the return to Menegroth of the Silmaril-Nauglamir reached the sons of Feanor, and in a second kin-slaying the new king fell with the mighty Mablung fighting at his side.  In this time also, Meaglin of Gondolin was captured when he ventured further than the laws of Turgon permitted and he was brought in bonds to Angband; so it was then, that much of what reached Melkor's ears seemed good to him, for the completion of his curse upon the House of Hurin was now ultimate.

As for Hurin: he took the road which Mablung recommended and he forged a great friendship with the lodge keeper of Andram, with whom he resided for many weeks, and well beyond the time which his payment stretched.  Mablung hoped that this would happen for he knew of the secluded lodge keeper's delight in tales and good company; moreover, Mablung hoped to catch up again with Hurin but he was not able to visit the lodge until the onset of autumn and by that time Hurin had already moved on.  Still, by all accounts; the old man of Dor-Lomin seemed to enjoy the isolated peace of those lazy summer days and he even permitted the lodge keeper to document some of his story.  And when the day came for Hurin to leave, he thanked his new friend for the hospitality but refused any offer of outdoor gear; saying, "I must be off now while time is and weather permits, tell Mablung that I know my road now and that I need to travel light!  Thank him for me; as I thank you now, farewell!" and with that he was gone.  He passed under the southern shadow of the Andram Wall until he came to the Falls of Sirion and then went downriver towards the Nan Tathren; there he hoped to find the dwelling place of Morwen and anything that she may have left behind.  The forest was not held in province by Cirdan, even though he set a watch about it; therefore, the coming of Hurin was marked and since he was no Orc they allowed him to enter in unmolested, nevertheless they knew him not.  And even though the land was small and he roamed about it freely; Hurin found not that for which he sought and he knew that his time was near. 

So it was in the dead of night that Hurin removed unseen from Nan Tathren; and following the route taken by the Orb that Sauron caused to move, he crept down to the Havens of Cirdan, halting at the very ledge where he witnessed the departure of Voronwe from the shores of Beleriand those many years ago.  He tossed his staff into the crashing sea beneath him and stood upright with his arms outstretched in the high wind; crying aloud, "Morgoth!  O Wicked One, thou believeth that thee hath won; nay!  Still now, there is one of my kin that escaped thee and he remains in the safekeeping of thy most feared enemy, for he is the son of my brother.  And as did Huor, I say now with the eyes of death; from my house and from Turgon's a new star shall arise..."  From below there came the clatter of harbour bells and the lighting of lamps as the Elves of Cirdan were roused.  Above them they discerned the silhouetted figure of the ranting Hurin although they could not make out his words in the fierce winds.  Unavailing, they call up to him; therefore, three Elves took to the stone carved stair to retrieve him, but before they could Hurin leapt from that high place in to the unforgiving waters below.  One among them fancied that he heard Hurin say, "Nienor," ere the end but since he was unfamiliar with that name he could not be too sure.  However, all this was reported in Doriath by Cirdan and in due course the last account of Hurin reached the sad ears of Mablung.

HERE ENDS THE ACCOUNT OF THE LODGE KEEPER OF ANDRAM.