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

Автор книги: John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

Then Nienуri hearing far cries and seeing the great mist roll toward them from the river turned back with her mother to the place of sundering, and there alighting waited in great doubt. Suddenly came that blind mist upon them as they stood, and with it came flying madly the dim horses of the huntsmen. Then their own catching their terror trampled to death that Elf who was their escort as he caught at the flying bridles, and wild with fear they sped to the dark woods and never more bore Man or Elf upon their saddles; but Mavwin and Nienуri were left alone and succourless upon the borders of the places of fear. Very perilous indeed was their estate, and long they groped in the mist and knew not where they were nor saw they ever any of the band again, and only pale voices seemed to pass them by afar crying out as in dread, and then all was silent. Now did they cling together and being weary stumbled on heedless whither their steps might go, till on a sudden the sun gleamed thin above them, and hope returned to them; and behold the mists lifted and the airs became clearer and they stood not far from the river. Even now it smoked as it were hot, and behold the Foalуkл lay there and his eyes were upon them.

No word did he speak nor did he move, but his baleful eye held their gaze until the strength seemed to leave their knees and their minds grew dim. Then did Nienуri drag herself by a might of will from that influence for a while, and “Behold,” she cried, “O serpent of Melko, what wilt thou with us—be swift to say or do, for know that we seek not thee nor thy gold but one Tъrin who dwelt here upon a time.” Then said the drake, and the earth quaked at him: “Thou liest—glad had ye been at my death, and glad thy band of cravens who now flee gibbering in the woods might they have despoiled me. Fools and liars, liars and cravens, how shall ye slay or despoil Glorund the Foalуkл, who ere his power had waxen slew the hosts of the Rodothlim and Orodreth their lord, devouring all his folk.”

“Yet perchance,” said Nienуri, “one Tъrin got him from that fray and dwells still here beneath thy bonds, an he has not escaped thee and is now far hence,” and this she said at a venture, hoping against hope, but said the evil one: “Lo! the names of all who dwelt here before the taking of the caves of my wisdom I know, and I say to thee that none who named himself Tъrin went hence alive.” And even so was Tъrin’s boast subtly turned against him, for these beasts love ever to speak thus, doubly playing with cunning words.²²

“Then was Tъrin slain in this evil place,” said Mavwin, but the dragon answered: “Here did the name of Tъrin fade for ever from the earth—but weep not, woman, for it was the name of a craven that betrayed his friends.” “Foul beast, cease thy evil sayings,” said Mavwin; “slayer of my son, revile not the dead, lest thine own bane come upon thee.” “Less proud must be thy words, O Mavwin, an thou wilt escape torment or thy daughter with thee,” did that drake answer, but Mavwin cried: “O most accursed, lo! I fear thee not. Take me an thou wilt to thy torments and thy bondage, for of a truth I desired thy death, but suffer only Nienуri my daughter to go back to the dwellings of Men: for she came hither constrained by me, and knowing not the purposes of our journey.”

“Seek not to cajole me, woman,” sneered that evil one. “Liever would I keep thy daughter and slay thee or send thee back to thy hovels, but I have need of neither of you.” With those words he opened full his evil eyes, and a light shone in them, and Mavwin and Nienуri quaked beneath them and a swoon came upon their minds, and them seemed that they groped in endless tunnels of darkness, and there they found not one another ever again, and calling only vain echoes answered and there was no glimmer of light.

When however after a time that she remembered not the blackness left the mind of Nienуri, behold the river and the withered places of the Foalуkл were no more about her, but the deep woodlands, and it was dusk. Now she seemed to herself to awake from dreams of horror nor could she recall them, but their dread hung dark behind her mind, and her memory of all past things was dimmed. So for a long while she strayed lost in the woods, and haply the spell alone kept life in her, for she hungered bitterly and was athirst, and by fortune it was summer, for her garments became torn and her feet unshod and weary, and often she wept, and she went she knew not whither.

Now on a time in an opening in the wood she descried a campment as it were of Men, and creeping nigh by reason of hunger to espy it she saw that they were creatures of a squat and unlovely stature that dwelt there, and most evil faces had they, and their voices and their laughter was as the clash of stone and metal. Armed they were with curved swords and bows of horn, and she was possessed with fear as she looked upon them, although she knew not that they were Orcs, for never had she seen those evil ones before. Now did she turn and flee, but was espied, and one let fly a shaft at her that quivered suddenly in a tree beside her as she ran, and others seeing that it was a woman young and fair gave chase whooping and calling hideously. Now Nienуri ran as best she might for the density of the wood, but soon was she spent and capture and dread thraldom was very near, when one came crashing through the woods as though in answer to her lamentable cries.

Wild and black was his hair yet streaked with grey, and his face was pale and marked as with deep sorrows of the past, and in his hand he bare a great sword whereof all but the very edge was black. Therewith he leapt against the following Orcs and hewed them, and they soon fled, being taken aback, and though some shot arrows at random amidst the trees they did little scathe, and five of them were slain.

Then sat Nienуri upon a stone and for weariness and the lessened strain of fear sobs shook her and she could not speak; but her rescuer stood beside her awhile and marvelled at her fairness and that she wandered thus lonely in the woods, and at length he said: “O sweet maiden of the woods, whence comest thou, and what may be thy name?”

“Nay, these things I know not,” said she. “Yet methinks I stray very far from my home and folk, and many very evil things have fallen upon me in the way, whereof nought but a cloud hangs upon my memory—nay, whence I am or whither I go I know not”—and she wept afresh, but that man spake, saying: “Then behold, I will call thee Nнniel, or little one of tears,” and thereat she raised her face towards his, and it was very sweet though marred with weeping, and she said with a look of wonderment: “Nay, not Nнniel, not Nнniel.” Yet more might she not remember, and her face filled with distress, so that she cried: “Nay, who art thou, warrior of the woods; why troublest thou me?” “Turambar am I called,” said he, “and no home nor kindred have I nor any past to think on, but I wander for ever,” and again at that name that maiden’s wonder stirred.

“Now,” said Turambar, “dry thy tears, O Nнniel, for thou hast come upon such safety as these woods afford. Lo, one am I now of a small folk of the forest, and a sweet dwelling in a clearing have we far from hence, but today as thy fortune would we fared a-hunting,—aye, and Orc-harrying too, for we are hard put to it to fend those evil ones from our homes.”

Then did Nнniel (for thus Turambar called her ever, and she learnt to call it her name) fare away with him to his comrades, and they asking little got them upon horses, and Turambar set Nнniel before him, and thus they fared as swift as they might from the danger of the Orcs.

Now at the time of the affray of Turambar with the pursuing Orcs was half the day already spent, yet were they already leagues upon their way ere they dismounted once more, and it was then early night. Already at the sunset had it seemed to Nнniel that the woods were lighter and less gloomy and the air less evil-laden than behind. Now did they make a camp in a glade and the stars shone clear above where the tree-roof was thin, but Nнniel lay a little apart and they gave her many fells to keep her from the night chills, and thus she slept more softly than for many a night and the breezes kissed her face, but Turambar told his comrades of the meeting in the wood and they wondered who she might be or how she came wandering thither as one under a spell of blind forgetfulness.

Next day again they pressed on and so for many journeys more beside until at length weary and fain for rest they came one noon to a woodland stream, and this they followed for some way until, behold, they came to a place where it might be forded by reason of its shallowness and of the rocks that stood up in its course; but on their right it dived in a great fall and fell into a chasm, and Turambar pointing said: “Now are we nigh to home, for this is the fall of the Silver Bowl,” but Nнniel not knowing why was filled with a dread and could not look upon the loveliness of that foaming water. Now soon came they to places of thinner trees and to a slope whereon but few grew save here and there an ancient oak of great girth, and the grass about their feet was soft, for the clearing had been made many years and was very wide. There stood also a cluster of goodly houses of timber, and a tilth was about them and trees of fruit. To one of these houses that was adorned with strange rude carvings, and flowers bloomed bright about it, did Turambar lead now Nнniel. “Behold,” said he, “my abode—there an thou listest thou shalt abide for now, but methinks it is a lonely hall, and there be houses of this folk beside where there are maidens and womenfolk, and there wouldst thou liever and better be.” So came it afterward that Nienуri dwelt with the woodrangers,* and after a while entered the house of Bethos, a stout man who had fought though then but a boy in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Thence did he escape, but his wife was a Noldo-maiden, as the tale telleth, and very fair, and fair also were his sons and daughters save only his eldest son Tamar Lamefoot.

Now as the days passed Turambar grew to love Nнniel very greatly indeed, and all the folk beside loved her for her great loveliness and sweetness, yet was she ever half-sorrowful and often distraught of mind, as one that seeks for something mislaid that soon she must discover, so that folk said: “Would that the Valar would lift the spell that lies upon Nнniel.” Nonetheless for the most part she was happy indeed among the folk and in the house of Bethos, and each day she grew ever fairer, and Tamar Lamefoot who was held of little account loved her though in vain.

Now came days when life once more seemed to contain joy to Turambar, and the bitterness of the past grew dim and far away, and a fresh love was in his heart. Then did he think to put his fate for ever from him and live out his life there in the woodland homes with children about him, and looking upon Nнniel he desired to wed her. Then did he often press his suit with her, yet though he was a man of valiance and renown she delayed him, saying nor yea nor no, yet herself she knew not why, for it seemed to her heart that she loved him deeply, fearing for him were he away, and knowing happiness when he was nigh.

Now it was a custom of that folk to obey a chief, and he was chosen by them from their stoutest men, and that office did he hold until of his own will he laid it down again being sick or gone in years, or were he slain. And at that time Bethos was their chief; but he was slain by evil luck in a foray not long after—for despite his years he still rode abroad—and it fell out that a new captain must be chosen. In the end then did they name Turambar, for his lineage, in that it was known among them that he was son of Ъrin, was held in esteem among those stout rebels against Melko, whereas²³ he had beside become a very mighty man in all deeds and one of wisdom great beyond his years, by reason of his far wanderings and his dealings with the Elves.

Seeing therefore the love of their new chief for Nнniel and thinking they knew that she loved him also in return, those men began to say how they would lief see their lord wed, and that it was folly to delay for no good cause; but this word came to the ears of Nнniel, and at length she consented to be the wife of Turambar, and all were fain thereat. A goodly feast was made and there was song and mirth, and Nнniel became lady of the woodland-rangers and dwelt thereafter in Turambar’s house. There great was their happiness, though there lay at times a chill foreboding upon Nнniel’s heart, but Turambar was in joy and said in his heart: “’Twas well that I did name myself Turambar, for lo! I have overcome the doom of evil that was woven about my feet.” The past he laid aside and to Nнniel he spoke not overmuch of bygone things, save of his father and mother and the sister he had not seen, but always was Nнniel troubled at such talk and he knew not why.²⁴ But of his flight from the halls of Tinwelint and the death of Beleg and of his seeking back to Hisilуmл he said never a word, and the thought of Failivrin lay locked in his deepest heart wellnigh forgotten.

Naught ever might Nнniel tell him of her days before, and did he ask her distress was written on her face as though he troubled the surface of dark dreams, and he grieved at times thereat, but it weighed not much upon him.

Now fare the days by and Nнniel and Turambar dwell in peace, but Tamar Lamefoot wanders the woods thinking the world an ill and bitter place, and he loved Nнniel very greatly nor might he stifle his love. But behold, in those days the Foalуkл waxed fat, and having many bands of Noldoli and of Orcs subject to him he thought to extend his dominion far and wide. Indeed in many places in those days these beasts of Melko’s did in like manner, setting up kingdoms of terror of their own that flourished beneath the evil mantle of Melko’s lordship. So it was that the bands of Glorund the drake harried the folk of Tinwelint very grievously, and at length there came some nigh even to those woods and glades that were beloved of Turambar and his folk.

Now those woodmen fled not but dealt stoutly with their foes, and the wrath of Glorund the worm was very great when tidings were brought to him of a brave folk of Men that dwelt far beyond the river and that his marauders might not subdue them. It is told indeed that despite the cunning of his evil designs he did not yet know where was the dwelling of Turambar or of Nienуri; and of truth in those days it seemed that fortune smiled on Turambar awhile, for his people waxed and they became prosperous, and many escaped even from uttermost Hisilуmл and came unto him, and store of wealth and good things he gathered, for all his battles brought him victory and booty. Like a king and queen did Turambar and Nнniel become, and there was song and mirth in those glades of their dwelling, and much happiness in their halls. And Nнniel conceived.²⁵

Much of this did spies report to the Foalуkл, and his wrath was terrible. Moreover his greed was mightily kindled, so that after pondering much he set a guard that he might trust to watch his dwelling and his treasury, and the captain of these was Mоm the dwarf.²⁶ Then leaving the caves and the places of his sleep he crossed the streams and drew into the woods, and they blazed before his face. Tidings of this came swiftly to Turambar, but he feared not as yet nor indeed heeded the tale much, for it was a very great way from the home of the woodmen to the caverns of the worm. But now sank Nнniel’s heart, and though she knew not wherefore a weight of dread and sorrow lay upon her, and seldom after the coming of that word did she smile, so that Turambar wondered and was sad.

Now draweth the Foalуkл during that time through the deep woods and a path of desolation lies behind, and yet in his creeping a very great while passes, until, behold, suddenly a party of the woodmen come upon him unawares sleeping in the woods among the broken trees. Of these several were overcome by the noxious breath of the beast and after were slain; but two making their utmost speed brought tidings to their lord that the tale aforetime had not been vain, and indeed now was the drake crept even within the confines of his realm; and so saying they fell fainting before his feet.

Now the place where the dragon lay was low-lying and a little hill there was, not far distant, islanded among the trees but itself not much wooded, whence might be espied albeit afar off much of that region now torn by the passage of the drake. A stream there was too that ran through the forest in that part between the drake and the dwellings of the woodmen, but its course ran very nigh to the dragon and it was a narrow stream with banks deep-cloven and o’erhung with trees. Wherefore Turambar purposed now to take his stoutest men to that knoll and watch if they could the dragon’s movements in secret, that perchance they might fall upon him at some disadvantage and contrive to slay him, for in this lay their best hope. This band he suffered not to be very great, and the rest at his bidding took arms and scoured about, fearing that hosts of the Orcs were come with the worm their lord. This indeed was not so, and he came alone trusting in his overwhelming power.

Now when Turambar made ready to depart then Nнniel begged to ride beside him and he consented, for he loved her and it was his thought that if he fell and the drake lived then might none of that people be saved, and he would liever have Nнniel by him, hoping perchance to snatch her at the least from the clutches of the worm, by death at his own or one of his liege’s hands.

So rode forth together Turambar and Nнniel, as that folk knew them, and behind were a score of good men. Now the distance to that knoll among the woods they compassed in a day’s journey, and after them though it were against the bidding and counsel of Turambar there stole a great concourse of his folk, even women and children. The lure of a strange dread held them, and some thought to see a great fight, and others went with the rest thinking little, nor did any think to see what in the end their eyes saw; and they followed not far behind, for Turambar’s party went slowly and warily. When first then Turambar suffered her to ride beside him Nнniel was blither than for long she had been, and she brightened the foreboding of those men’s hearts; but soon they came to a place not far from the foot of the knoll, and there her heart sank, and indeed a gloom fell upon all.

Yet very fair was that place, for here flowed that same stream that further down wound past the dragon’s lair in a deep bed cloven deep into the earth; and it came rushing cold from the hills beyond the woodmen’s homes, and it fell over a great fall where the water-worn rock jutted smooth and grey from amid the grass. Now this was the head of that force which the woodmen named the Silver Bowl, and aforetime Turambar and Nнniel had passed it by, faring home first from the rescuing of Nнniel. The height of that fall was very great and the waters had a loud and musical voice, splashing into a silver foam far below where they had worn a great hollow in the rocks; and this hollow was o’ershadowed by trees and bushes, but the sun gleamed through upon the spray; and about the head of the fall there was an open glade and a green sward where grew a wealth of flowers, and men loved that spot.

Here did Nнniel of a sudden weep, and casting herself upon Turambar begged him tempt not fate but rather fly with her and all his folk, leading them into distant lands. But looking at her he said: “Nay, Nнniel mine, nor thou nor I die this day, nor yet tomorrow, by the evil of the dragon or by the foemen’s swords,” but he knew not the fulfilment of his words; and hearing them Nнniel quelled her weeping and was very still. Having therefore rested a while here those warriors afterward climbed the hill and Nнniel fared with them. Afar off they might see from its summit a wide tract where all the trees were broken and the lands were hurt²⁷ and scorched and the earth black, yet nigh the edge of the trees that were still unharmed, and that was not far from the lip of the deep river-chasm, there arose a thin smoke of great blackness, and men said: “There lieth the worm.”

Then were counsels of many a kind spoken upon that hill-top, and men feared to go openly against the dragon by day or by night or whether he waked or slept, and seeing their dread Turambar gave them a rede, and it was taken, and these were his words: “Well have ye said, O huntsmen of the woods, that not by day or by night shall men hope to take a dragon of Melko unawares, and behold this one hath made a waste about him, and the earth is beaten flat so that none may creep near and be hidden. Wherefore whoso hath the heart shall come with me and we will go down the rocks to the foot of the fall, and so gaining the path of the stream perchance we may come as nigh to the drake as may be. Then must we climb if we are able up under the near bank and so wait, for methinks the Foalуkл will rest not much longer ere he draweth on towards our dwellings. Thus must he either cross this deep stream or turn far out of his ways, for he is grown too mighty to creep along its bed. Now I think not that he will turn aside, for it is but a ditch, a narrow rut filled with trickling water, to the great Foalуkл of the golden caves. If however he belie my counsel and come not on by this path, some few of you must take courage in your hearts, striving to decoy him warily back across the stream, that there we who lie hid may give him his bane stabbing from beneath, for the armour of these vile worms is of little worth upon their bellies.”

Now of that band were there but six that stood forward readily to go with Turambar, and he seeing that said that he had thought there were more than six brave men among his folk, yet after that he would not suffer any of the others to go with him, saying that better were the six without the hindrance of the fearful. Then did Turambar take farewell of Nнniel and they kissed upon the hilltop, and it was then late afternoon, but Nнniel’s heart went as to stone with grief; and all that company descended to the head of Silver Bowl, and there she beheld her lord climb to the fall’s bottom with his six companions. Now when he was vanished far below she spake bitterly to those who had dared not to go, and they for shame answered not but crept back unto the hill-top and gazed out towards the dragon’s lair, and Nнniel sat beside the water looking before her, and she wept not but was in anguish.

None stayed beside her save Tamar alone who had fared unbidden with that company, and he had loved her since first she dwelt in Bethos’ halls, and once had thought to win her ere Turambar took her. The lameness of Tamar was with him from childhood, yet was he both wise and kindly, though held of little account among those folk, to whom strength was safety and valour the greatest pride of men. Now however did Tamar bear a sword, and many had scoffed at him for that, yet he took joy at the chance of guarding Nнniel, albeit she noticed him not.

Now is it to tell that Turambar reached the place of his design after great labour in the rocky bed of the stream, and with his men clambered with difficulty up the steep side of that ravine. Just below the lip of it they were lodged in certain overhanging trees, and not far off they might hear the great breathing of the beast, and some of his companions fell in dread.

Already had darkness come and all the night they clung there, and there was a strange flickering where the dragon lay and dread noises and a quaking if he stirred, and when dawn came Turambar saw that he had but three companions, and he cursed the others for their cravenhood, nor doth any tale tell whither those unfaithful ones fled. On this day did all come to pass as Turambar had thought, for the drake bestirring himself drew slowly to the chasm’s edge and turned not aside, but sought to overcreep it and come thus at the homes of the woodmen. Now the terror of his oncoming was very great, for the earth shook, and those three feared lest the trees that upheld them should loosen their roots and fall into the rocky stream below. The leaves too of those trees that grew nigh were shrivelled in the serpent’s breath, yet were they not hurt because of the shelter of the bank.

At length did the drake reach the stream-edge and the sight of his evil head and dripping jaws was utterly hideous, and these they saw clearly and were in terror lest he too espy them, for he crossed not over at the spot where Turambar had chosen to lie hid because of the narrowness here of the chasm and its lesser depth. Rather he began to heave himself now across the ravine a little below them, and so slipping from their places Turambar and his men reached as swiftly as might be the stream’s bed and came beneath the belly of the worm. Here was the heat so great and so vile the stench that his men were taken with a sore dread and durst not climb the bank again. Then in his wrath Turambar would have turned his sword against them, but they fled, and so was it that alone he scaled the wall until he came close beneath the dragon’s body, and he reeled by reason of the heat and of the stench and clung to a stout bush.

Then abiding until a very vital and unfended spot was within stroke, he heaved up Gurtholfin his black sword and stabbed with all his strength above his head, and that magic blade of the Rodothlim went into the vitals of the dragon even to the hilt, and the yell of his death-pain rent the woods and all that heard it were aghast.

Then did that drake writhe horribly and the huge spires of his contortions were terrible to see, and all the trees he brake that stood nigh to the place of his agony. Almost had he crossed the chasm when Gurtholfin pierced him, and now he cast himself upon its farther bank and laid all waste about him, and lashed and coiled and made a yelling and a bellowing such that the stoutest blenched and turned to flee. Now those afar thought that this was the fearsome noise of battle betwixt the seven, Turambar and his comrades,²⁸ and little they hoped ever to see any of them return, and Nнniel’s heart died within her at the sounds; but below in the ravine those three cravens who had watched Turambar from afar fled now in terrror back towards the fall, and Turambar clung nigh to the lip of the chasm white and trembling, for he was spent.

At length did those noises of horror cease, and there arose a great smoking, for Glorund was dying. Then in utter hardihood did Turambar creep out alone from his hiding, for in the agony of the Foalуkл his sword was dragged from his hand ere he might withdraw it, and he cherished Gurtholfin beyond all his possessions, for all things died, or man or beast, whom once its edges bit. Now Turambar saw where the dragon lay, and he was stretched out stiff upon his side, and Gurtholfin stood yet in his belly; but he breathed still.

Nonetheless Turambar creeping up set his foot upon his body and withdrew Gurtholfin hardly with all his strength, and as he did so he said in the triumph of his heart: “Now do we meet again, O Glorund, thou and I, Turambar, who was once named brave”²⁹ but even as he spake the evil blood spouted from that wound upon his hand and burnt it, and it was withered, so that for the sudden pain he cried aloud. Then the Foalуkл opening his dread eyes looked upon him, and he fell in a swoon beside the drake and his sword was under him.

Thus did the day draw on and there came no tidings to the hill-top, nor could Nнniel longer bear her anguish but arose and made as to leave that glade above the waterfall, and Tamar Lamefoot said: “What dost thou seek to do?” but she: “I would seek my lord and lay me in death beside him, for methinks he is dead”, and he sought to dissuade her but without avail. And even as evening fell that fair lady crept through the woods and she would not that Tamar should follow her, but seeing that he did so she fled blindly through the trees, tearing her clothes and marring her face in places of thorny undergrowth, and Tamar being lame could not keep up with her. So fell night upon the woods and all was still, and a great dread for Nнniel fell upon Tamar, so that he cursed his weakness and his heart was bitter, yet did he cease not to follow so swiftly as he might, and losing sight of her he bent his course towards that part of the forest nigh to the ravine where had been fought the worm’s last fight, for indeed that might be perceived by the watchers on the hill. Now rose a bright moon when the night was old, and Tamar, wandering often alone far and wide from the woodmen’s homes, knew those places, and came at last to the edge of that desolation that the dragon had made in his agony; but the moonlight was very bright, and staying among the bushes near the edge of that place Tamar heard and saw all that there betid.

Behold now Nнniel had reached those places not long before him, and straightway did she run fearless into the open for love of her lord, and so found him lying with his withered hand in a swoon across his sword; but the beast that lay hugely stretched beside she heeded not at all, and falling beside Turambar she wept, and kissed his face, and put salve upon his hand, for such she had brought in a little box when first they sallied forth, fearing that many hurts would be gotten ere men wended home.

Yet Turambar woke not at her touch, nor stirred, and she cried aloud, thinking him now surely dead: “O Turambar, my lord, awake, for the serpent of wrath is dead and I alone am near!” But lo! at those words the drake stirred his last, and turning his baleful eyes upon her ere he shut them for ever said: “O thou Nienуri daughter of Mavwin, I give thee joy that thou hast found thy brother at the last, for the search hath been weary—and now is he become a very mighty fellow and a stabber of his foes unseen” but Nienуri sat as one stunned, and with that Glorund died, and with his death the veil of his spells fell from her, and all her memory grew crystal clear, neither did she forget any of those things that had befallen her since first she fell beneath the magic of the worm; so that her form shook with horror and anguish. Then did she start to her feet, standing wanly in the moon, and looking upon Turambar with wide eyes thus spake she aloud: “Then is thy doom spent at last. Well art thou dead, O most unhappy,” but distraught with her woe suddenly she fled from that place and fared wildly away as one mad whithersoever her feet led her.