Текст книги "The Book of Lost Tales, Part Two"

Автор книги: John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

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The character of Tъrin as a boy reappears in every stroke of the description in the Narn (p. 77):

It seemed that fortune was unfriendly to him, so that often what he designed went awry, and what he desired he did not gain; neither did he win friendship easily, for he was not merry, and laughed seldom, and a shadow lay on his youth.

(It is a notable point that is added in the tale: ‘at no time did he give much heed to words that were spoken to him’). And the ending of all word between Tъrin and his mother comes about in the same way-increased guard on the mountains (Narn p. 78).

While the story of Tъrin and Saeros as told in The Silmarillion, and in far more detail in the Narn, goes back in essentials to the Tale of Turambar, there are some notable differences—the chief being that as the story was first told Tъrin’s tormentor was slain outright by the thrown drinking-cup. The later complications of Saeros’ treacherous assault on Tъrin the following day and his chase to the death, of the trial of Tъrin in his absence for this deed and of the testimony of Nellas (this last only in the Narn) are entirely absent, necessarily; nor does Mablung appear—indeed it seems clear that Mablung first emerged at the end of the Tale of Tinъviel (see p. 59). Some details survived (as the comb which Orgof/Saeros offered tauntingly to Tъrin, Narn p. 8o), while others were changed or neglected (as that it was the anniversary of Tъrin’s departure from his home—though the figure of twelve years agrees with the later story, and that the king was present in the hall, contrast Narn p. 79). But the taunt that roused Tъrin to murderous rage remained essentially the same, in that it touched on his mother; and the story was never changed that Tъrin came into the hall tousled and roughly clad, and that he was mocked for this by his enemy.

Orgof is not greatly distinct from Saeros, if less developed. He was in the king’s favour, proud, and jealous of Tъrin; in the later story he was a Nandorin Elf while here he is an Ilkorin with some Gnomish blood (for Gnomes in Artanor see p. 65), but doubtless some peculiarity in his origin was part of the ‘tradition’. In the old story he is explicitly a fop and a fool, and he is not given the motives of hatred for Tъrin that are ascribed to him in the Narn (p. 77).

Though far simpler in narrative, the essential element of Tъrin’s ignorance of his pardon was present from the outset. The tale provides an explanation, not found later, of why Tъrin did not, on leaving Artanor, return to Hithlum; cf. the Narn p. 87: ‘to Dor-lуmin he did not dare, for it was closely beset, and one man alone could not hope at that time, as he thought, to come through the passes of the Mountains of Shadow.’

Tъrin’s prowess against the Orcs during his sojourn in Artanor is given a more central or indeed unique importance in the tale (‘he held the wrath of Melko from them for many years’) especially as Beleg, his companion-in-arms in the later versions, is not here mentioned (and in this passage the power of the queen to withstand invasion of the kingdom seems again (see p. 63) less than it afterwards became).

(iii) Tъrin and Beleg (pp. 76–81)

That part of the Tъrin saga following on his days in Artanor/Doriath underwent a large development later (‘Tъrin among the Outlaws’), and indeed my father never brought this part of the story to finality. In the oldest version there is a much more rapid development of the plot: Beleg joins Tъrin’s band, and the destruction of the band and capture of Tъrin by the Orcs follows (in terms of the narrative) almost immediately. There is no mention of ‘outlaws’ but only of ‘wild spirits’, no long search for Tъrin by Beleg, no capture and maltreatment of Beleg by the band, and no betrayal of the camp by a traitor (the part ultimately taken by Mоm the Dwarf). Beleg indeed (as already noticed) is not said to have been Tъrin’s companion in the earlier time, before the slaying of Orgof, and they only take up together after Tъrin’s self-imposed exile.

Beleg is called a Noldo (p. 78), and if this single reference is to be given full weight (and there seems no reason not to: it is explicit in the Tale of Tinъviel that there were Noidoli in Artanor, and Orgof had Gnomish blood) then it is to be observed that Beleg as originally conceived was an Elf of Kфr. He is not here marked out as a great bowman (neither his name Cъthalion ‘Strongbow’ nor his great how Belthronding appear); he is described at his first appearance (p. 73) as ‘a wood-ranger, a huntsman of the secret Elves’, but not as the chief of the marchwardens of the realm.

But from the capture of Tъrin to the death of Beleg the old tale was scarcely changed afterwards in any really important respect, though altered in many details: such as Beleg’s shooting of the wolf-sentinels silently in the darkness in the later story, and the flash of lightning that illuminated Beleg’s face—but the blue-shining lamps of the Noldor appear again in much later writings: one was borne by the Elves Gelmir and Arminas who guided Tuor through the Gate of the Noldor on his journey to the sea (see Unfinished Tales pp. 22, 51 note 2). In my father’s painting (probably dating from 1927 or 1928) of the meeting between Beleg and Flinding in Taur-nu-Fuin (reproduced in Pictuies by J. R. R. Tolkien, no. 37) Flinding’s lamp is seen beside him. The plot of the old story is very precisely contrived in such details as the reason for the carrying of Tъrin, still sleeping, out of the Orc-camp, and for Beleg’s using his sword, rather than a knife, to cut Tъrin’s bonds; perhaps also in the crushing of Beleg by Tъrin so that he was winded and could not speak his name before Tъrin gave him his death-blow.

The story of Tъrin’s madness after the slaying of Beleg, the guidance of Gwindor, and the release of Tъrin’s tears at Eithel Ivrin, is here in embryo. Of the peculiar nature of Beleg’s sword there is no suggestion.

(iv) Tъrin among the Rodothlim; Tъrin and Glorund (pp. 81–8)

In this passage is found (so far as written record goes, for it is to be remembered that a wholly erased text underlies the manuscript) the origin of Nargothrond, as yet unnamed. Among many remarkable features the chief is perhaps that Orodreth was there before Felagund, Lord of Caves, with whom in the later legend Nargothrond was identified, as its founder and deviser. (In The Silmarillion Orodreth was one of Finrod Felagund’s brothers (the sons of Finarfin), to whom Felagund gave the command of Minas Tirith on Tol Sirion after the making of Nargothrond (p. 120), and Orodreth became King of Nargothrond after Felagund’s death.) In the tale this cave-dwelling of exiled Noldoli is a simpler and rougher place, and (as is suggested) short-lived against the overwhelming power of Melko; but, as so often, there were many features that were never altered, even though in a crucial respect the history of Nargothrond was to be greatly modified by contact with the legend of Beren and Tinъviel. Thus the site was from the start ‘above a stream’ (the later Narog) that ‘ran down to feed the river Sirion’, and as is seen later (p. 96) the bank of the river on the side of the caves was higher and the hills drew close: cf. The Silmarillion p. 114: ‘the caves under the High Faroth in its steep western shore’. The policy of secrecy and refusal of open war pursued by the Elves of Nargothrond was always an essential element (cf. The Silmarillion pp. 168, 170),* as was the overturning of that policy by the confidence and masterfulness of Tъrin (though in the tale there is no mention of the great bridge that he caused to be built). Here, however, the fall of the redoubt is perhaps more emphatically attributed to Tъrin, his coming there seen more simply as a curse, and the disaster as more inevitably proceeding from his unwisdom: at least in the fragments of this part of the Narn (pp. 155–7) Tъrin’s case against Gwindor, who argued for the continuation of secrecy, is seemingly not without substance, despite the outcome. But the essential story is the same: Tъrin’s policy revealed Nargothrond to Morgoth, who came against it with overwhelming strength and destroyed it.

In relation to the earliest version the roles of Flinding (Gwindor), Failivrin (Finduilas),† and Orodreth were to undergo a remarkable set of transferences. In the old tale Flinding had been of the Rodothlim before his capture and imprisonment in Angband, just as afterwards Gwindor came from Nargothrond (but with a great development in his story, see The Silmarillion pp. 188, 191–2), and on his return was so changed as to be scarcely recognisable (I pass over such enduring minor features as the taking of Tъrin and Flinding/Gwindor prisoner on their coming to the caves). The beautiful Failivrin is already present, and her unrequited love for Tъrin, but the complication of her former relation with Gwindor is quite absent, and she is not the daughter of Orodreth the King but of one Galweg (who was to disappear utterly). Flinding is not shown as opposed to Tъrin’s policies; and in the final battle he aids Tъrin in bearing Orodreth out of the fight. Orodreth dies (after being carried back to the caves) reproaching Tъrin for what he has brought to pass—as does Gwindor dying in The Silmarillion (p. 213), with the added bitterness of his relation with Finduilas. But Failivrin’s father Galweg is slain in the battle, as is Finduilas’ father Orodreth in The Silmarillion. Thus in the evolution of the legend Orodreth took over the rфle of Galweg, while Gwindor took over in part the rфle of Orodreth.

As I have noticed earlier, there is no mention in the tale of any peculiarity attaching to Beleg’s sword, and though the Black Sword is already present it was made for Tъrin on the orders of Orodreth, and its blackness and its shining pale edges were of its first making (see The Silmarillion pp. 209–10). Its power of speech (‘it is said that at times it spake dark words to him’) remained afterwards in its dreadful words to Tъrin before his death (Narn p. 145)—a motive that appears already in the tale, p. 112; and Tъrin’s name derived from the sword (here Mormagli, Mormakil, later Mormegil) was already devised. But of Tъrin’s disguising of his true name in Nargothrond there is no suggestion: indeed it is explicitly stated that he said who he was.

Of Gelmir and Arminas and the warning they brought to Nargothrond from Ulmo (Narn pp. 159–62) the germ can perhaps he seen in the ‘whispers in the stream at eve’, which undoubtedly implies messages from Ulmo (see p. 77).

The dragon Glorund is named in the ‘lengthening spell’ in the Tale of Tinъviel (pp. 19, 46), but the actual name was only introduced in the course of the writing of the Tale of Turambar (see note 11). There is no suggestion that he had played any previous part in the history, or indeed that he was the first of his kind, the Father of Dragons, with a long record of evil already before the Sack of Nargothrond. Of great interest is the passage in which the nature of the dragons of Melko is defined: their evil wisdom, their love of lies and gold (which ‘they may not use or enjoy’), and the knowledge of tongues that Men say would come from eating a dragon’s heart (with evident reference to the legend in the Norse Edda of Sigurd Fafnisbane, who was enabled to understand, to his own great profit, the speech of birds when he ate the heart of the dragon Fafnir, roasting it on a spit).

The story of the sack of Nargothrond is somewhat differently treated in the old story, although the essentials were to remain of the driving away of Failivrin/Finduilas among the captives and of the powerlessness of Tъrin to aid her, being spellbound by the dragon. Minor differences (such as the later arrival of Glorund on the scene: in The Silmarillion Tъrin only came back to Nargothrond after Glaurung had entered the caves and the sack was ‘well nigh achieved’) and minor agreements (such as the denial of the plunder to the Orcs) may here be passed over; most interesting is the account of Tъrin’s words with the dragon. Here the whole issue of Tъrin’s escaping or not escaping his doom is introduced, and it is significant that he takes the name Turambar at this juncture, whereas in the later legend he takes it when he joins the Woodmen in Brethil, and less is made of it. The old version is far less powerfully and concisely expressed, and the dragon’s words are less subtle and ingeniously untrue. Here too the moral is very explicitly pointed, that Tъrin should not have abandoned Failivrin ‘in danger that he himself could see’—does this not suggest that, even under the dragon’s spell as he was, there was a weakness (a ‘blindness’, see p. 83) in Tъrin which the dragon touched? As the story is told in The Silmarillion the moral would seem uncalled for: Tъrin was opposed by an adversary too powerful for his mind and will.

There is here a remarkable passage in which suicide is declared a sin, depriving such a one of all hope ‘that ever his spirit would be freed from the dark glooms of Mandos or stray into the pleasant paths of Valinor’. This seems to go with the perplexing passage in the tale of The Coming of the Valar and the Building of Valinor concerning the fates of Men: see p. 60.

Finally, it is strange that in the old story the gold and treasure was carried out from the caves by the Orcs and remained there (it ‘lay by the caves above the stream’), and the dragon most uncharacteristically ‘slept before it’ in the open. In The Silmarillion Glaurung ‘gathered all the hoard and riches of Felagund and heaped them, and lay upon them in the innermost hall’.

(v) Tъrin’s return to Hithlum (pp. 88–91)

In this passage the case is much as in previous parts of the tale: the large structure of the story was not greatly changed afterwards, but there are many important differences nonetheless.

In the Tale of Turambar it is clear that the house of Mavwin was not imagined as standing near to the hills or mountains that formed the barrier between Hithlum and the Lands Beyond: Tъrin was told that never did Orcs ‘come hither deep into the land of Hisilуmл’, in contrast to the Narn (p. 68), where ‘Hъrin’s house stood in the south-east of Dorlуmin, and the mountains were near; Nen Lalaith indeed came down from a spring under the shadow of Amon Darthir, over whose shoulder there was a steep pass’. The removal of Mavwin from one house to another in Hithlum, visited in turn by Tъrin as he sought for her, was afterwards rejected, to the improvement of the story. Here Tъrin comes back to his old home in the late summer, whereas in The Silmarillion the fall of Nargothrond took place in the late autumn (‘the leaves fell from the trees in a great wind as they went, for the autumn was passing to a dire winter,’ p. 213) and Tъrin came to Dor-lуmin in the Fell Winter (p. 215).

The names Brodda and Airin (later spelled Aerin) remained; but Brodda is here the lord of the land, and Airin plays a more important part in the scene in the hall, dealing justice with vigour and wisdom, than she does later. It is not said here that she had been married by force, though her life with Brodda is declared to have been very evil; but of course the situation in the later narratives is far more clear-cut—the Men of Hithlum were ‘Easterlings’, ‘Incomers’ hostile to the Elves and the remnant of the House of Hador, whereas in the early story no differentiation is made among them, and indeed Brodda was ‘a man whom Mavwin trusted’. The motive of Brodda’s ill-treatment of Mavwin is already present, but only to the extent that he embezzled her goods after her departure; in the Narn it seems from Aerin’s words to Tъrin (p. 107) that the oppression of Morwen by Brodda and others was the cause of her going at last to Doriath. In the brief account in The Silmarillion (p. 215) it is not indeed made explicit that Brodda in particular deserved Tъrin’s hatred.

Tъrin’s conduct in the hall is in the tale essentially simpler: the true story has been told to him by a passer-by, he enters to exact vengeance on Brodda for thieving Mavwin’s goods, and he does so with dispatch. As told in the Narn, where Tъrin’s eyes are only finally opened to the deception that has been practised upon him by the words of Aerin, who is present in the hall, his rage is more passionate, crazed, and bitter, and indeed more comprehensible: and the moral observation that Tъrin’s deed was ‘violent and unlawful’ is not made. The story of Airin’s judgement on these doings, made in order to save Tъrin, was afterwards removed; and Tъrin’s solitary departure was expanded, with the addition also of the firing of Brodda’s hall by Aerin (Narn p. 109).

Some details survived all the changes: in the Narn Tъrin still seizes Brodda by the hair, and just as in the tale his rage suddenly expired after the deed of violence (‘his wrath was grown cold’), so in the Narn ‘the fire of his rage was as ashes’. It may be noticed here that while in the old story Tъrin does not rename himself so often, his tendency to do so is already present.

The story of how ‘Tъrin came among the Woodmen and delivered them from Orcs is not found in the Tale of Turambar; nor is there any mention of the Mound of Finduilas near the Crossings of Teiglin nor any account of her fate.

(vi) The return of Gumlin to Hithlum and the depar ture of

Mavwin and Nienуri, to Artanor (pp. 91–3)

In the later story the elder of Tъrin’s guardians (Gumlin in the tale, Grithnir in the, Narn) plays no part after his bringing Tъrin to Doriath: it is only said that he stayed there till he died (Narn, p. 74); and Morwen had no tidings out of Doriath before leaving her home—indeed she only learnt that Tъrin had left Thingol’s realm when she got there (The Silmarillion, p. 211; cf. Aerin’s words in the Narn, p. 107: ‘She looked to find her son there awaiting her.’) This whole section of the tale does no more than explain with what my father doubtless felt (since he afterwards rejected it almost in its entirety) to be unnecessary complication why Mavwin went to Tinwelint. I think it is clear, however, that the difference between the versions here depends on the different views of Mavwin’s (Morwen’s) condition in Hithlum. In the old story she is not suffering hardship and oppression; she trusts Brodda to the extent of entrusting not only her goods to him but even her daughter, and is said indeed to have ‘peace and honour among the men of those regions’ the chieftains speak of the love they bear her. A motive for her departure is found in the coming of Gumlin and the news he brings of Tъrin’s flight from the lands of Tinwelint. In the later story, on the other hand, Brodda’s character as tyrant and oppressor is extended, and it is Morwen’s very plight at his hands that leads her to depart. (The news that came to Tъrin in Doriath that ‘Morwen’s plight was eased’ (Narn, p. 77, cf. The Silmarillion p. 199) is probably a survival from the old story; nothing is said in the later narratives to explain how this came about, and ceased.) In either case her motive for leaving is coupled with the fact of the increased safety of the lands; but whereas in the later story the reason for this was the prowess of the Black Sword of Nargothrond, in the tale it was the ‘great and terrible project’ of Melko that was afoot—the assault on the caves of the Rodothlim (see note 18).

It is curious that in this passage Airin and Brodda are introduced as if for the first time. It is perhaps significant that the part of the tale extending from the dragon’s words ‘Hearken to me, O son of Ъrin…’ on p. 87 to ‘…fell to his knees before Tinwelint’ on p. 92 was written in a separate part of the manuscript book: possibly this replaced an earlier text in which Brodda and Airin did not appear. But many such questions arise from the earliest manuscripts, and few can now be certainly unravelled.

(vii) Mavwin and Nienуri in Artanor and their meeting

with Glorund (pp. 93–9)

The next essential step in the development of the plot—the learning by Mavwin/Morwen of Tъrin’s sojourn in Nargothrond—is more neatly and naturally handled in The Silmarillion (p. 217) and the Narn (p. 112), where news is brought to Thingol by fugitives from the sack, in contrast to the Tale of Turambar, where Mavwin and Nienуri only learn of the destruction of the Elves of the Caves from a band of Noldoli while themselves wandering aimlessly in the forest. It is odd that these Noldoli did not name Tъrin by his name but only as the Mormakil: it seems that they did not know who he was, but they knew enough of his history to make his identity plain to Mavwin. As noted above, Tъrin declared his name and lineage to the Elves of the Caves. In the later narrative, on the other hand, Tъrin did conceal it in Nargothrond, calling himself Agarwaen, but all those who brought news of the fall to Doriath ‘declared that it was known to many in Nargothrond ere the end that the Mormegil was none other than Tъrin son of Hъrin of Dor-lуmin’.

As often, unneeded complication in the early story was afterwards cleared away: thus the elaborate argumentation needed to get Tinwelint’s warriors and Mavwin and Nienуri on the road together is gone from The Silmarillion and the Narn. In the tale the ladies and the Elvish warriors all set off together with the full intention that the former shall watch developments from a high place (afterwards Amon Ethir, the Hill of Spies); in the later story Morwen simply rides off, and the party of Elves, led by Mablung, follows after her, with Nienor among them in disguise.

Particularly notable is the passage in the tale in which Mavwin holds out the great gold-hoard of the Rodothlim as a bait to Tinwelint, and Tinwelint unashamedly admits that (as a wild Elf of the woods) it is this, not any hope of aiding Tъrin, that moves him to send out a party. The majesty, power, and pride of Thingol rose with the development of the conception of the Grey-elves of Beleriand; as I have said earlier (p. 63) ‘In the beginning, Tinwelint’s dwelling was not a subterranean city full of marvels…but a rugged cave’, and here he is seen planning a foray to augment his slender wealth in precious things—a far cry from the description of his vast treasury in the Narn (p. 76):

Now Thingol had in Menegroth deep armouries filled with great wealth of weapons: metal wrought like fishes’ mail and shining like water in the moon; swords and axes, shields and helms, wrought by Telchar himself or by his master Gamil Zirak the old, or by elven-wrights more skilful still. For some things he had received in gift that came out of Valinor and were wrought by Fлanor in his mastery, than whom no craftsman was greater in all the days of the world.

Great as are the differences from the later legend in the encounter with the dragon, the stinking vapours raised by his lying in the river as the cause of the miscarriage of the plan, the maddened flight of the horses, and the enspelling of Nienor so that all memory of her past was lost, are already present. Most striking perhaps of the many differences is the fact that Mavwin was present at the conversation with Glorund; and of these speeches there is no echo in the Narn (pp. 118–19), save that Nienor’s naming of Tъrin as the object of their quest revealed her identity to the dragon (this is explicit in the Narn, and may probably be surmised from the tale). The peculiar tone of Glaurung in the later narrative, sneering and curt, knowing and self-possessed, and unfathomably wicked, can be detected already in the words of Glorund, but as he evolved he gained immeasurably in dread by becoming more laconic.

The chief difference of structure lies in the total absence of the ‘Mablung-element’ from the tale, nor is there any foreshadowing of it. There is no suggestion of an exploration of the sacked dwellings in the dragon’s absence (indeed he does not, as it appears, go any distance from them); the purpose of the expedition from Artanor was expressly warlike (‘a strong party against the Foalуkл’, ‘they prepared them for battle’), since Tinwelint had hopes of laying hands on the treasure, whereas afterwards it became purely a scouting foray, for Thingol ‘desired greatly to know more of the fate of Nargothrond’ (Narn p. 113).

A curious point is that though Mavwin and Nienуri were to be stationed on the tree-covered ‘high place’ that was afterward called the Hill of Spies, and where they were in fact so stationed in The Silmarillion and the Narn, it seems that in the old story they never got there, but were ensnared by Glorund where he lay in, or not far from, the river. Thus the ‘high place’ had in the event almost no significance in the tale.

(viii) Turambar and Nнniel (pp. 99–102)

In the later legend Nienor was found by Mablung after her enspelling by Glaurung, and with three companions he led her back towards the borders of Doriath. The chase after Nienor by the band of Orcs (Narn p. 120) is present in the tale, but it does not have its later narrative function of leading to Nienor’s flight and loss by Mablung and the other Elves (who do not appear): rather it leads directly to her rescue by Turambar, now dwelling among the Woodmen. In the Narn (p. 122) the Woodmen of Brethil did indeed come past the spot where they found her on their return from a foray against Orcs; but the circumstances of her finding are altogether different, most especially since there is in the tale no mention of the Haudh-en-Elleth, the Mound of Finduilas.

An interesting detail concerns Nienor’s response to Turambar’s naming her Nнniel. In The Silmarillion and the Narn ‘she shook her head, but said: Nнniel’ in the present text she said: ‘Not Nнniel, not Nнniel.’ One has the impression that in the old story what impressed her darkened mind was only the resemblance of Nнniel to her own forgotten name Nienуri (and of Turambar to Tъrin), whereas in the later she both denied and in some way accepted the name Nнniel.

An original element in the legend is the Woodmen’s bringing of Nнniel to a place (‘Silver Bowl’) where there was a great waterfall (afterwards Dimrost, the Rainy Stair, where the stream of Celebros ‘fell towards Teiglin’): and these falls were near to the dwellings of the Woodmen—but the place where they found Nнniel was much further off in the forest (several days’ journey) than were the Crossings of Teiglin from Dimrost. When she came there she was filled with dread, a foreboding of what was to happen there afterwards, and this is the origin of her shuddering fit in the later narratives, from which the place was renamed Nen Girith, the Shuddering Water (see Narn p. 149, note 24).

The utter darkness imposed on Nнniel’s mind by the dragon’s spell is less emphasized in the tale, and there is no suggestion that she needed to relearn her very language; but it is interesting to observe the recurrence in a changed context of the simile of ‘one that seeks for something mislaid’: in the Narn (p. 123) Nнniel is said to have taken great delight in the relearning of words, ‘as one that finds again treasures great and small that were mislaid’.

The lame man, here called Tamar, and his vain love of Nнniel already appear; unlike his later counterpart Brandir he was not the chief of the Woodmen, but he was the son of the chief. He was also Half-elven! Most extraordinary is the statement that the wife of Bethos the chieftain and mother of Tamar was an Elf, a woman of the Noldoli: this is mentioned in passing, as if the great significance and rarity of the union of Elf and Mortal had not yet emerged—but in a Name-list associated with the tale of The Fall of Gondolin Eдrendel is said to be ‘the only being that is half of the kindred of the Eldaliл and half of Men’ (p. 215).*

The initial reluctance of Nнniel to receive Turambar’s suit is given no explanation in the tale: the implication must be that some instinct, some subconscious appreciation of the truth, held her back. In The Silmarillion (p. 220)

for that time she delayed in spite of her love. For Brandir foreboded he knew not what, and sought to restrain her, rather for her sake than his own or rivalry with Turambar; and he revealed to her that Turambar was Tъrin son of Hъrin, and though she knew not the name a shadow fell upon her mind.

In the final version as in the oldest, the Woodmen knew who Turambar was. My father’s scribbled directions for the alteration of the story cited in note 23 (‘Make Turambar never tell new folk of his lineage…’) are puzzling: for since Nнniel had lost all memory of her past she would not know the names Tъrin son of Hъrin even if it were told to her that Turambar was he. It is however possible that when my father wrote this he imagined Nнniel’s lost knowledge of herself and her family as being nearer the surface of her mind, and capable of being brought back by hearing the names—in contrast to the later story where she did not consciously recognise the name of Tъrin even when Brandir told it to her. Clearly the question-mark against the reference in the text of the tale to Turambar’s speaking to Nнniel ‘of his father and mother and the sister he had not seen’ and Nнniel’s distress at his words (see note 24) depends on the same train of thought. The statement here that Turambar had never seen his sister is at variance with what is said earlier in the tale, that he did not leave Hithlum until after Nienуri’s birth (p. 71); but my father was uncertain on this point, as is clearly seen from the succession of readings, changed back and forth between the two ideas, given in note 15.

(ix) The slaying of Glorund (pp. 103–8)

In this section I follow the narrative of the tale as far as Tъrin’s swoon when the dying dragon opened his eyes and looked at him. Here the later story runs very close to the old, but there are many interesting differences.

In the tale Glorund is said to have had bands of both Orcs and Noldoli subject to him, but only the Orcs remained afterwards; cf. the Narn p.125: