Tasarinan is the Land of Willows, Nan-tathren in The Silmarillion; the early word-lists or dictionaries give the ‘Elvish’ form tasarin ‘willow’ and the Gnomish tathrin.* The Battle of Tasarinan took place long after, in the course of the great expedition from Valinor for the release of the enslaved Noldoli in the Great Lands. See pp. 219–20.
(iii) The geography of the Tale of Turambar
The passage describing the route of the Orcs who captured Túrin (p. 77) seems to give further support to the idea that ‘the mountains fencing Hisilórnë from the Lands Beyond were continuous with those above Angband’ (p. 62); for it is said here that the Orcs ‘followed ever the line of dark hills toward those regions where they rise high and gloomy and their heads are shrouded in black vapours’, and ‘there are they called Angorodin or the Iron Mountains, for beneath the roots of their northernmost fastnesses lies Angband’.
The site of the caves of the Rodothlim, agreeing well with what is said later of Nargothrond, has been discussed already (p. 123), as has the topography of the Silver Bowl and the ravine in which Turambar slew Glorund, in relation to the later Teiglin, Celebros, and Nen Girith (pp. 132–3). There are in addition some indications in the tale of how the caves of the Rodothlim related to Tinwelint’s kingdom and to the land where the Woodmen dwelt. It is said (p. 95) that ‘the dwellings of the Rodothlim were not utterly distant from the realm of Tinwelint, albeit far enough’ while the Woodmen dwelt ‘in lands that were not utterly far from Sirion or the grassy hills of that river’s middle course’ (p. 91), which may be taken to agree tolerably with the situation of the Forest of Brethil. The region where they lived is said in the same passage to have been ‘very far away many a journey beyond the river of the Rodothlim’, and Glorund’s wrath was great when he heard of ‘a brave folk of Men that dwelt far beyond the river’ (p. 103); this also can be accommodated quite well to the developed geographical conception—Brethil was indeed a good distance beyond the river (Narog) for one setting out from Nargothrond.
My strong impression is that though the geography of the west of the Great Lands may have been still fairly vague, it already had, in many important respects, the same essential structure and relations as those seen on the map accompanying The Silmarillion.
(iv) The influence of the Valar
As in the Tale of Tinúviel (see p. 68), in the Tale of Turambar also there are several references to the power of the Valar in the affairs of Men and Elves in the Great Lands—and to prayers, both of thanksgiving and request, addressed to them: thus Túrin’s guardians ‘thanked the Valar’ that they accomplished the journey to Artanor (p. 72), and more remarkably, Úrin ‘called upon the Valar of the west, being taught much concerning them by the Eldar of Kôr—the Gnomes he had encountered—and his words came, who shall say how, to Manwë Súlimo upon the heights of Taniquetil’ (p. 77). (Úrin was already an ‘Elf-friend’, instructed by the Noldoli; cf. the replacement passage on p. 72.) Was his prayer ‘answered’? Possibly this is the meaning of the very strange expression ‘as the luck of the Valar had it’ (p. 79), when Flinding and Beleg found Túrin lying near the point where they entered the Orc-camp.*
Dreams sent by the Valar came to the chieftains of the Rodothlim, though this was changed later and the reference to the Valar removed (p. 83 and note 10); the Woodmen said ‘Would that the Valar would lift the spell that lies upon Níniel’ (p. 101); and Túrin ‘cried out bitterly against the Valar and his fate of woe’ (p. 111).
An interesting reference to the Valar (and their power) occurs in Tinwelint’s reply (p. 95) to Mavwin’s words ‘Give me but a woodman’s cot and my son’. The king said: ‘That I cannot, for I am but a king of the wild Elves, and no Vala of the western isles.’ In the small part of Gilfanon’s Tale that was actually written it is told (I.231) of the Dark Elves who remained in Palisor that they said that ‘their brethren had gone westward to the Shining Isles. There, said they, do the Gods dwell, and they called them the Great Folk of the West, and thought they dwelt on firelit islands in the sea.’
(v) Túrin’s age
According to the Tale of Turambar, when Túrin left Mavwin he was seven years old, and it was after he had dwelt among the woodland Elves for seven years that all tidings from his home ceased (p. 74); in the Narn the corresponding years are eight and nine, and Túrin was seventeen, not fourteen, when ‘his grief was renewed’ (pp. 68, 76–7). It was exactly twelve years to the day of his departure from Mavwin when he slew Orgof and fled from Artanor (p. 75), when he was nineteen; in the Narn (p. 79) it was likewise twelve years since he left Hithlum when he hunted Saeros to his death, but he was twenty.
‘The tale tells not the number of days that Turambar sojourned with the Rodothlim but these were very many, and during that time Nienóri grew to the threshold of womanhood’ (pp. 91–2). Nienóri was seven years younger than Túrin: she was twelve when he fled from Artanor (ibid.). He cannot then have dwelt among the Rodothlim for more than (say) five or six years; and it is said that when he was chosen chieftain of the Woodmen he possessed ‘wisdom great beyond his years’.
Bethos, chieftain of the Woodmen before Túrin, ‘had fought though then but a boy in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears’ (p. 101), but he was killed in a foray, since ‘despite his years he still rode abroad’. But it is impossible to relate Bethos’ span (from ‘a boy’ at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears to his death on a foray at an age sufficiently ripe to be remarked on) to Túrin’s; for the events after the destruction of the Rodothlim, culminating in Túrin’s rescue of Níniel after her first encounter with Glorund, cannot cover any great length of time. What is clear and certain is that in the old story Túrin died when still a very young man. According to the precise dating provided in much later writing, he was 35 years old at his death.
(vi) The stature of Elves and Men
The Elves are conceived to be of slighter build and stature than Men: so Beleg ‘was of great stature and girth as such was among that folk’ (p. 73), and Túrin ‘was a Man and of greater stature than they’, i.e. Beleg and Flinding (p. 80)—this sentence being an emendation from ‘he was a Man of great size’ (note 8). See on this matter I.32, 235.
(vii) Winged Dragons
At the end of The Silmarillion (p. 252) Morgoth ‘loosed upon his foes the last desperate assault that he had prepared, and out of the pits of Angband there issued the winged dragons, that had not before been seen’. The suggestion is that winged dragons were a refinement of Morgoth’s original design (embodied in Glaurung, Father of Dragons who went upon his belly). According to the Tale of Turambar (pp. 96–7), on the other hand, among Melko’s many dragons some were smaller, cold like snakes, and of these many were flying creatures; while others, the mightier, were hot and heavy, fire-dragons, and these were unwinged. As already noted (p. 125) there is no suggestion in the tale that Glorund was the first of his kind.
III
THE FALL OF GONDOLIN
At the end of Eltas’ account of Úrin’s visit to Tinwelint and of the strange fates of Úrin and Mavwin, Túrin and Nienóri (p. 116), the manuscript written on loose sheets in fact continues with a brief interlude in which the further course of the tale-telling is discussed in Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva.
And so saying Eltas made an end, and none asked further. But Lindo bid all thank him for his tale, and thereto he said: ‘Nay, if you will, there is much yet to tell concerning the gold of Glorund, and how the evil of that worm found its last fulfilment—but behold, that is the story of the Nauglafring or the Necklace of the Dwarves and must wait a while—and other stories of lighter and more happy things I have to tell if you would liefer listen to them.’
Then arose many voices begging Eltas to tell the tale of the Nauglafring on the morrow, but he said: ‘Nay! For who here knows the full tale of Tuor and the coming of Eärendel, or who was Beren Ermabwed, and what were his deeds, for such things is it better to know rightly first.’ And all said that Beren Ermabwed they knew well, but of the coming of Eärendel little enoug
h had ever been told.
‘And great harm is that,’ said Lindo, ‘for it is the greatest of the stories of the Gnomes, and even in this house is Ilfiniol son of Bronweg, who knows those deeds more truly than any that are now on Earth.’
About that time Ilfiniol the Gong-warden entered indeed, and Lindo said to him: ‘Behold, O Littleheart son of Bronweg, it is the desire of all that you tell us the tales of Tuor and of Eärendel as soon as may be.’ And Ilfiniol was fain of that, but said he: ‘It is a mighty tale, and seven times shall folk fare to the Tale-fire ere it be rightly told; and so twined is it with those stories of the Nauglafring and of the Elf-march1 that I would fain have aid in that telling of Ailios here and of Meril the Lady of the Isle, for long is it since she sought this house.’
Therefore were messengers sent on the next day to the korin2 of high elms, and they said that Lindo and Vairë would fain see the face of their lady among them, for they purposed to make a festival and to hold a great telling of Elfin tales, ere Eriol their guest fared awhile to Tavrobel. So was it that for three days that room heard no more tales and the folk of Vanwa Tyaliéva made great preparations, but on the fourth night Meril fared there amid her company of maidens, and full of light and mirth was that place; but after the evening meat a great host sat before Tôn a Gwedrin,3 and the maidens of Meril sang the most beautiful songs that island knew.4
And of those one did afterward Heorrenda turn to the language of his folk, and it is thus.5
But when those songs had fallen into silence then said Meril, who sate in the chair of Lindo: ‘Come now, O Ilfiniol, begin thou the tale of tales, and tell it more fully than thou hast ever done.’
Then said Littleheart son of Bronweg…(Tale of Gondolin).[sic]
This then is the Link between the Tale of Turambar and The Fall of Gondolin (an earlier ‘preface’ to the tale is given below). It seems that my father hesitated as to which tale was to follow Turambar (see note 4), but decided that it was time to introduce The Fall of Gondolin, which had been in existence for some time.
In this Link, Ailios (later Gilfanon) is present (‘I would fain have aid…of Ailios here’) at the end of Eltas’ tale of Turambar, but at the beginning of Eltas’ tale (p. 70) it is expressly said that he was not present that night. On the proposal that Eriol should ‘fare awhile’ to Tavrobel (as the guest of Gilfanon) see I.175.
The fact that Eltas speaks of the tale of Beren Ermabwed as if he did not know that it had only recently been told in Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva is no doubt to be explained by that tale not having been told before the Tale-fire (see pp. 4–7).
The teller of the tale of The Fall of Gondolin, Littleheart the Gong-warden of Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva, has appeared several times in the Lost Tales, and his Elvish name(s) have many different forms (see under Changes made to names at the end of the text of the tale). In The Cottage of Lost Play he is said (I. 15) to be ‘ancient beyond count’, and to have ‘sailed in Wingilot with Eärendel in that last voyage wherein they sought for Kôr’ and in the Link to The Music of the Ainur (I.46) he ‘had a weather-worn face and blue eyes of great merriment, and was very slender and small, nor might one say if he were fifty or ten thousand’. He is a Gnome, the son of Bronweg/Voronwë (Voronwë of The Silmarillion) (I. 48, 94).
The texts of ‘The Fall of Gondolin’
The textual history of The Fall of Gondolin, if considered in detail, is extremely complex; but though I will set it out here, as I understand it, there is no need in fact for it to complicate the reading of the tale.
In the first place, there is a very difficult manuscript contained in two school exercise-books, where the title of the tale is Tuor and the Exiles of Gondolin (which bringeth in the great tale of Eärendel). (This is the only title actually found in the early texts, but my father always later referred to it as The Fall of Gondolin.) This manuscript is (or rather, was) the original text of the tale, dating from 1916–17 (see I.203 and Unfinished Tales p. 4), and I will call it here for convenience Tuor A. My father’s treatment of it subsequently was unlike that of Tinúviel and Turambar (where the original text was erased and a new version written in its place); in this tale he did not set down a complete new text, but allowed a good deal of the old to stand, at least in the earlier part of it: as the revision progressed the rewriting in ink over the top of the pencilled text did become almost continuous, and though the pencil was not erased the ink effectively obliterates it. But even after the second version becomes continuous there are several places where the old narrative was not over-written but merely struck through, and remains legible. Thus, while Tuor A is on the same footing as Tinúviel and Turambar (and others of the Lost Tales) in that it is a later revision, a second version, my father’s method in Gondolin allows it to be seen that here at least the revision was by no means a complete recasting (still less a re-imagining); for if those passages in the later parts of the tale which can still be compared in the two versions shew that he was following the old fairly closely, the same is quite probably true in those places where no comparison can be made.
From Tuor A, as it was when all changes had been made to it (i.e. when it was in the form that it has now), my mother made a fair copy (Tuor B), which considering the difficulty of the original is extremely exact, with only very occasional errors of transcription. I have said in Unfinished Tales (p. 5) that this copy was made ‘apparently in 1917’, but this now seems to me improbable. * Such conceptions as the Music of the Ainur, which is referred to by later addition in Tuor A (p. 163), may of course have been in my father’s mind a good while before he wrote that tale in Oxford while working on the Dictionary (I.45), but it seems more likely that the revision of Tuor A (and therefore also Tuor B copied from it after its revision) belongs to that period also.
Subsequently my father took his pencil to Tuor B, emending it fairly heavily, though mostly in the earlier part of the tale, and almost entirely for stylistic rather than narrative reasons; but these emendations, as will be seen, were not all made at the same time. Some of them are written out on separate slips, and of these several have on their reverse sides parts of an etymological discussion of certain Germanic words for the Butcherbird or Shrike, material which appears in the Oxford Dictionary in the entry Wariangle. Taken with the fact that one of the slips with this material on the reverse clearly contains a direction for the shortening of the tale when delivered orally (see note 21), it is virtually certain that a good deal of the revision of Tuor B was made before my father read it to the Essay Club of Exeter College in the spring of 1920 (see Unfinished Tales p. 5).
That not all the emendations to Tuor B were made at the same time is shown by the existence of a typescript (Tuor C), without title, which extends only so far as ‘your hill of vigilance against the evil of Melko’ (p. 161). This was taken from Tuor B when some changes had been made to it, but not those which I deduce to have been made before the occasion when it was read aloud. An odd feature of this text is that blanks were left for many of the names, and only some were filled in afterwards. Towards the end of it there is a good deal of independent variation from Tuor B, but it is all of a minor character and none has narrative significance. I conclude that this was a side-branch that petered out.
The textual history can then be represented thus:
Since the narrative itself underwent very little change of note in the course of this history (granted that substantial parts of the original text Tuor A are almost entirely illegible), the text that follows here is that of Tuor B in its final form, with some interesting earlier readings given in the Notes. It seems that my father did not check the fair copy Tuor B against the original, and did not in every case pick up the errors of transcription it contains; when he did, he emended them anew, according to the sense, and not by reference back to Tuor A. In a very few cases I have gone back to Tuor A where this is clearly correct (as ‘a wall of water rose nigh to the cliff-top’, p. 151, where Tuor B and the typescript Tuor C have ‘high to the cliff-top’).
Th
roughout the typescript Tuor is called Tûr. In Tuor B the name is sometimes emended from Tuor to Tûr in the earlier part of the tale (it appears as Tûr in the latest revisions), but by no means in every case. My father apparently decided to change the name but ultimately decided against it; and I give Tuor throughout.
An interesting document accompanies the Tale: this is a substantial though incomplete list of names (with explanations) that occur in it, now in places difficult or impossible to read. The names are given in alphabetical order but go only as far as L. Linguistic information from this list is incorporated in the Appendix on Names, but the head-note to the list may be cited here:
Here is set forth by Eriol at the teaching of Bronweg’s son Elfrith [emended from Elfriniel] or Littleheart (and he was so named for the youth and wonder of his heart) those names and words that are used in these tales from either the tongue of the Elves of Kôr as at that time spoken in the Lonely Isle, or from that related one of the Noldoli their kin whom they wrested from Melko.
Here first are they which appear in The Tale of Tuor and the Exiles of Gondolin, first among these those ones in the Gnome-speech.
In Tuor A appear two versions (one struck out) of a short ‘preface’ to the tale by Littleheart which does not appear in Tuor B. The second version reads:
Then said Littleheart son of Bronweg: ‘Now the story that I tell is of the Noldoli, who were my father’s folk, and belike the names will ring strange in your ears and familiar folk be called by names not before heard, for the Noldoli speak a curious tongue sweet still to my ears though not maybe to all the Eldar. Wise folk see it as close kin to Eldarissa, but it soundeth not so, and I know nought of such lore. Wherefore will I utter to you the right Eldar names where there be such, but in many cases there be none.