Lay of Leithian Canto VII

This Canto tells how Beren, Finrod Felagund, and ten companions disguised themselves as orcs, Nereb and Dugalef, and their company. Thû from Wizard's Isle spotted them, and brought them in, where he questioned them, suspecting a trick. Then comes one of the most descriptive paragraphs, of how Thû "chanted a song of wizardry", and how Felagund responded with "a song of staying". They fought back and forth a battle of minds, until at last Felagund's power fell, and they returned to their own human forms. Then how Thû placed them in his dungeons, and every now and then sent down a werewolf to devour one of them, hoping another would name the errand they were on. But "none would yield, and none would tell".

The Canto

Thus twelve alone there ventured forth

from Nargothrond, and to the North

they turned their silent secret way,

and vanished in the fading day.

No trumpet sounds, no voice there sings,

as robed in mail of cunning rings

now blackened dark with helmets grey

and sombre cloaks they steal away.

Far-journeying Narog's leaping course

they followed till they found his source,

the flickering falls, whose freshets sheer

a glimmering goblet glassy-clear

with crystal waters fill that shake

and quiver down from Ivrin's lake,

from Ivrin's mere that mirrors dim

the pallid faces bare and grim

of Shadowy Mountains neath the moon.

Now far beyond the realm immune

from Orc and demon and the dread

of Morgoth's might their ways had led.

In woods o'ershadowed by the heights

they watched and waited many nights,

till on a time when hurrying cloud

did moon and constellation shroud,

and winds of autumn's wild beginning

soughed in the boughs, and leaves went spinning

down the dark eddies rustling soft,

they heard a murmur hoarsely waft

from far, and croaking laughter coming;

now louder; now they heard the drumming

of hideous stamping feet that tramp

the weary earth. Then many a lamp

of sullen red they saw draw near,

swinging, and glistening on spear

and scimitar. There hidden nigh

they saw a band of Orcs go by

with goblin-faces swart and foul.

Bats were about them, and the owl,

the ghostly forsaken night-bird cried

from trees above. The voices died,

the laughed like clash of stone and steel

passed and faded. At their heel

the Elves and Beren crept more soft

than foxes stealing through a croft

in search of prey. Thus to the camp

lit by flickering fire and lamp

they stole, and counted sitting there

full thirty Orcs in the red flare

of burning wood. Without a sound

they one by one stood silent round,

each in the shadow of a tree;

each slowly, grimly, secretly

bent then his bow and drew the string.

Hark! how they sudden twang and sing,

when Felagund lets forth a cry;

and twelve Orcs sudden fall and die.

Then forth they leap casting their bows.

Out their bright swords, and swift their blows!

The stricken Orcs now shriek and yell

as lost things deep in lightless hell.

Battle there is beneath the trees

bitter and swift: but no Orc flees;

there left their lives that wandering band

and stained no more the sorrowing land

with rape and murder. Yet no song

of joy, or triumph over wrong,

the Elves there sang. In peril sore

they were, for never alone to war

so small an Orc-band went, they knew.

Swiftly the raiment off they drew

and cast the corpses in a pit.

This desperate counsel had the wit

of Felagund for them devised:

as Orcs his comrades he disguised.

The poisoned spears, the bows of horn,

the crooked swords their foes had borne

they took; and loathing each him clad

in Angband's raiment foul and sad.

They smeared their hands and faces fair

with pigment dark; the matted hair

all lank and black from goblin head

they shore, and joined it threat by thread

with Gnomish skill. As each one leers

at each dismayed, about his ears

he hangs it noisome, shuddering.

Then Felagund a spell did sing

of changing and of shifting shape;

their ears grew hideous, and agape

their mouths did start, and like a fang

each tooth became, as slow he sang.

Their Gnomish raiment then they hid,

and one by one behind him slid,

behind a foul and goblin thing

that once was elven-fair and king.

Northward they went; and Orcs they met

who passed, nor did their going let,

but hailed them in greeting; and more bold

they grew as past the long miles rolled.

At length they came with weary feet

beyond Beleriand. They found the fleet

young waters, rippling, silver-pale

of Sirion hurrying through that vale

where Taur-na-Fuin, Deadly Night,

the trackless forest's pine-clad height,

falls dark forbidding slowly down

upon the east, while westward frown

the northward-bending Mountains grey

and bar the westering light of day.

An isléd hill there stood alone

amid the valley, like a stone

rolled from the distant mountains vast

when giants in tumult hurtled past.

Around its feet the river looped

a stream divided, that had scooped

the hanging edges into caves.

There briefly shudddered Sirion's waves

and ran to other shores more clean.

An elven watchtower had it been,

and strong it was, and still was fair;

but now did grim with menace stare

one way to pale Beleriand,

the other to that mournful land

beyond the valley's northern mouth.

Thence could be glimpsed from fields of drouth,

the dusty dunes, the desert wide;

and further far could be descried

the brooding cloud that hangs and lowers

on Thangorodrim's thunderous towers.