In the typescript version of this Link it is further told that in the town where Eriol’s parents lived and died
there dwelt a mighty duke, and did he gaze from the topmost battlements never might he see the bounds of his wide domain, save where far to east the blue shapes of the great mountains lay—yet was that tower held the most lofty that stood in the lands of Men.
The siege and sack of the town were the work of ‘the wild men from the Mountains of the East’.
At the end of the typescript version the boy Ausir assured Eriol that ‘that ancient mariner beside the lonely sea was none other than Ulmo’s self, who appeareth not seldom thus to those voyagers whom he loves’ but Eriol did not believe him.
I have given above (pp. 294–5) reasons for thinking that in ‘the Eriol story’ this tale of his youth was not set in England.
Turning to the passages concerned with the later, Ælfwine story, we learn from (15) that Ælfwine dwelt in the South-west of England and that his mother and father were slain by ‘the sea-pirates’, and from (20) that they were slain by ‘the fierce Men of the Sea’ from (16) that he was ‘driven by the Normans’. In (15) there is a mention of his meeting with ‘the Ancient Mariner’ during his voyages. In (16) he comes to ‘the harbour of the southern shore’ of Tol Eressëa; and in (17) he ‘awakens upon a sandy beach’ at low tide.
I come now to the narrative that finally emerged. It will be observed, perhaps with relief, that Ing, Ingwë, and the Ingwaiwar have totally disappeared.
ÆLFWINE OF ENGLAND
There are three versions of this short work. One is a plot-outline of less than 500 words, which for convenience of reference I shall call. ‘Ælfwine A; but the second is a much more substantial narrative bearing the title Ælfwine of England. This was written in 1920 or later: demonstrably not earlier, for my father used for it scraps of paper pinned together, and some of these are letters to him, all dated in February 1920.18 The third text no doubt began as a fair copy in ink of the second, to which it is indeed very close at first, but became as it proceeded a complete rewriting at several points, with the introduction of much new matter, and it was further emended after it had been completed. It bears no title in the manuscript, but must obviously be called Ælfwine of England likewise.
For convenience I shall refer to the first fully-written version as Ælfwine I and to its rewriting as Ælfwine II. The relation of Ælfwine A to these is hard to determine, since it agrees in some respects with the one and in some with the other. It is obvious that my father had Ælfwine I in front of him when he wrote Ælfwine II, but it seems likely that he drew on Ælfwine A at the same time.
I give here the full text of Ælfwine II in its final form, with all noteworthy emendations and all important differences from the other texts in the notes (differences in names, and changes to names, are listed separately).
There was a land called England, and it was an island of the West, and before it was broken in the warfare of the Gods it was westernmost of all the Northern lands, and looked upon the Great Sea that Men of old called Garsecg;19 but that part that was broken was called Ireland and many names besides, and its dwellers come not into these tales.
All that land the Elves named Lúthien20 and do so yet. In Lúthien alone dwelt still the most part of the Fading Companies, the Holy Fairies that have not yet sailed away from the world, beyond the horizon of Men’s knowledge, to the Lonely Island, or even to the Hill of Tûn21 upon the Bay of Faëry that washes the western shores of the kingdom of the Gods. Therefore is Lúthien even yet a holy land, and a magic that is not otherwise lingers still in many places of that isle.
Now amidmost of that island is there still a town that is aged among Men, but its age among the Elves is greater far; and, for this is a book of the Lost Tales of Elfinesse, it shall be named in their tongue Kortirion, which the Gnomes call Mindon Gwar.22 Upon the hill of Gwar dwelt in the days of the English a man and his name was Déor, and he came thither from afar, from the south of the island and from the forests and from the enchanted West, where albeit he was of the English folk he had long time wandered. Now the Prince of Gwar was in those days a lover of songs and no enemy of the Elves, and they lingered yet most of all the isle in those regions about Kortirion (which places they called Alalminórë, the Land of Elms), and thither came Déor the singer to seek the Prince of Gwar and to seek the companies of the Fading Elves, for he was an Elf-friend. Though Déor was of English blood, it is told that he wedded to wife a maiden from the West, from Lionesse as some have named it since, or Evadrien ‘Coast of Iron’ as the Elves still say. Déor found her in the lost land beyond Belerion whence the Elves at times set sail.
Mirth had Déor long time in Mindon Gwar, but the Men of the North, whom the fairies of the island called Forodwaith, but whom Men called other names, came against Gwar in those days when they ravaged wellnigh all the land of Lúthien. Its walls availed not and its towers might not withstand them for ever, though the siege was long and bitter.
There Éadgifu (for so did Déor name the maiden of the West, though it was not her name aforetime)23 died in those evil hungry days; but Déor fell before the walls even as he sang a song of ancient valour for the raising of men’s hearts. That was a desperate sally, and the son of Déor was Ælfwine, and he was then but a boy left fatherless. The sack of that town thereafter was very cruel, and whispers of its ancient days alone remained, and the Elves that had grown to love the English of the isle fled or hid themselves for a long time, and none of Elves or Men were left in his old halls to lament the fall of Óswine Prince of Gwar.
Then Ælfwine, even he whom the unfaded Elves beyond the waters of Garsecg did after name Eldairon of Lúthien (which is Ælfwine of England), was made a thrall to the fierce lords of the Forodwaith, and his boyhood knew evil days. But behold a wonder, for Ælfwine knew not and had never seen the sea, yet he heard its great voice speaking deeply in his heart, and its murmurous choirs sang ever in his secret ear between wake and sleep, that he was filled with longing. This was of the magic of Éadgifu, maiden of the West, his mother, and this longing unquenchable had been hers all the days that she dwelt in the quiet inland places among the elms of Mindon Gwar—and amidmost of her longing was Ælfwine her child born, and the Foamriders, the Elves of the Sea-marge, whom she had known of old in Lionesse, sent messengers to his birth. But now Éadgifu was gone beyond the Rim of Earth, and her fair form lay unhonoured in Mindon Gwar, and Déor’s harp was silent, but Ælfwine laboured in thraldom until the threshold of manhood, dreaming dreams and filled with longing, and at rare times holding converse with the hidden Elves.
At last his longing for the sea bit him so sorely that he contrived to break his bonds, and daring great perils and suffering many grievous toils he escaped to lands where the Lords of the Forodwaith had not come, far from the places of Déor’s abiding in Mindon Gwar. Ever he wandered southward and to the west, for that way his feet unbidden led him. Now Ælfwine had in a certain measure the gift of elfin-sight (which was not given to all Men in those days of the fading of the Elves and still less is it granted now), and the folk of Lúthien were less faded too in those days, so that many a host of their fair companies he saw upon his wandering road. Some there were dwelt yet and danced yet about that land as of old, but many more there were that wandered slowly and sadly westward; for behind them all the land was full of burnings and of war, and its dwellings ran with tears and with blood for the little love of Men for Men—nor was that the last of the takings of Lúthien by Men from Men, which have been seven, and others mayhap still shall be. Men of the East and of the West and of the South and of the North have coveted that land and dispossessed those who held it before them, because of its beauty and goodliness and of the glamour of the fading ages of the Elves that lingered still among its trees beyond its high white shores.24
Yet at each taking of that isle have many more of the most ancient of all dwellers therein, the folk of Lúthien, turned westward; and they have got them in shi
ps at Belerion in the West and sailed thence away for ever over the horizon of Men’s knowledge, leaving the island the poorer for their going and its leaves less green; yet still it abides the richest among Men in the presence of the Elves. And it is said that, save only when the fierce fathers of Men, foes of the Elves, being new come under the yoke of Evil,25 entered first that land, never else did so great a concourse of elfin ships and white-winged galleons sail to the setting sun as in those days when the ancient Men of the South set first their mighty feet upon the soil of Lúthien—the Men whose lords sat in the city of power that Elves and Men have called Rûm (but the Elves alone do know as Magbar).26
Now is it the dull hearts of later days rather than the red deeds of cruel hands that set the minds of the little folk to fare away; and ever and anon a little ship27 weighs anchor from Belerion at eve and its sweet sad song is lost for ever on the waves. Yet even in the days of Ælfwine there was many a laden ship under elfin sails that left those shores for ever, and many a comrade he had, seen or half-unseen, upon his westward road. And so he came at last to Belerion, and there he laved his weary feet in the grey waters of the Western Sea, whose great roaring drowned his ears. There the dim shapes of Elvish28 boats sailed by him in the gloaming, and many aboard called to him farewell. But he might not embark on those frail craft, and they refused his prayer—for they were not willing that even one beloved among Men should pass with them beyond the edge of the West, or learn what lies far out on Garsecg the great and measureless sea. Now the men who dwelt thinly about those places nigh Belerion were fishermen, and Ælfwine abode long time amongst them, and being of nature shaped inly thereto he learned all that a man may of the craft of ships and of the sea. He recked little of his life, and he set his ocean-paths wider than most of those men, good mariners though they were; and there were few in the end who dared to go with him, save Ælfheah the fatherless who was with him in all ventures until his last voyage.29
Now on a time journeying far out into the open sea, being first becalmed in a thick mist, and after driven helpless by a mighty wind from the East, he espied some islands lying in the dawn, but he won not ever thereto for the winds changing swept him again far away, and only his strong fate saved him to see the black coasts of his abiding once again. Little content was he with his good fortune, and purposed in his heart to sail some time again yet further into the West, thinking unwitting it was the Magic Isles of the songs of Men that he had seen from afar. Few companions could he get for this adventure. Not all men love to sail a quest for the red sun or to tempt the dangerous seas in thirst for undiscovered things. Seven such found he in the end, the greatest mariners that were then in England, and Ulmo Lord of the Sea afterward took them to himself and their names are now forgotten, save Ælfheah only.30 A great storm fell upon their ship even as they had sighted the isles of Ælfwine’s desire, and a great sea swept over her; but Ælfwine was lost in the waves, and coming to himself saw no sign of ship or comrades, and he lay upon a bed of sand in a deep-walled cove. Dark and very empty was the isle, and he knew then that these were not those Magic Isles of which he had heard often tell.31
There wandering long, ’tis said, he came upon many hulls of wrecks rotting on the long gloomy beaches, and some were wrecks of many mighty ships of old, and some were treasure-laden. A lonely cabin looking westward he found at last upon the further shore, and it was made of the upturned hull of a small ship. An ancient man dwelt there, and Ælfwine feared him, for the eyes of the man were as deep as the unfathomable sea, and his long beard was blue and grey; great was his stature, and his shoes were of stone,32 but he was all clad in tangled rags, sitting beside a small fire of drifted wood.
In that strange hut beside an empty sea did Ælfwine long abide for lack of other shelter or of other counsel, thinking his ship lost and his comrades drowned. But the ancient man grew kindly toward him, and questioned Ælfwine concerning his coming and his goings and whither he had desired to sail before the storm took him. And many things before unheard did Ælfwine hear tell of him beside that smoky fire at eve, and strange tales of wind-harried ships and harbourless tempests in the forbidden waters. Thus heard Ælfwine how the Magic Isles were yet a great voyage before him keeping a dark and secret ward upon the edge of Earth, beyond whom the waters of Garsecg grow less troublous and there lies the twilight of the latter days of Fairyland. Beyond and on the confines of the Shadows lies the Lonely Island looking East to the Magic Archipelago and to the lands of Men beyond it, and West into the Shadows beyond which afar off is glimpsed the Outer Land, the kingdom of the Gods—even the aged Bay of Faëry whose glory has grown dim. Thence slopes the world steeply beyond the Rim of Things to Valinor, that is God-home, and to the Wall and to the edge of Nothingness whereon are sown the stars. But the Lonely Isle is neither of the Great Lands or of the Outer Land, and no isle lies near it.
In his tales that aged man named himself the Man of the Sea, and he spoke of his last voyage ere he was cast in wreck upon this outer isle, telling how ere the West wind took him he had glimpsed afar off bosomed in the deep the twinkling lanterns of the Lonely Isle. Then did Ælfwine’s heart leap within him, but he said to that aged one that he might not hope to get him a brave ship or comrades more. But that Man of the Sea said: ‘Lo, this is one of the ring of Harbourless Isles that draw all ships towards their hidden rocks and quaking sands, lest Men fare over far upon Garsecg and see things that are not for them to see. And these isles were set here at the Hiding of Valinor, and little wood for ship or raft does there grow on them, as may be thought;33 but I may aid thee yet in thy desire to depart from these greedy shores.’
Thereafter on a day Ælfwine fared along the eastward strands gazing at the many unhappy wrecks there lying. He sought, as often he had done before, if he might see perchance any sign or relic of his good ship from Belerion. There had been that night a storm of great violence and dread, and lo! the number of wrecks was increased by one, and Ælfwine saw it had been a large and well-built ship of cunning lines such as the Forodwaith then loved. Cast far up on the treacherous sands it stood, and its great beak carven as a dragon’s head still glared unbroken at the land. Then went the Man of the Sea out when the tide began to creep in slow and shallow over the long flats. He bore as a staff a timber great as a young tree, and he fared as if he had no need to fear tide or quicksand until he came far out where his shoulders were scarce above the yellow waters of the incoming flood to that carven prow, that now alone was seen above the water. Then Ælfwine marvelled watching from afar, to see him heave by his single strength the whole great ship up from the clutches of the sucking sand that gripped its sunken stern; and when it floated he thrust it before him, swimming now with mighty strokes in the deepening water. At that sight Ælfwine’s fear of the aged one was renewed, and he wondered what manner of being he might be; but now the ship was thrust far up on the firmer sands, and the swimmer strode ashore, and his mighty beard was full of strands of sea-weed, and sea-weed was in his hair.
When that tide again forsook the Hungry Sands the Man of the Sea bade Ælfwine go look at that new-come wreck, and going he saw it was not hurt; but there were within nine dead men who had not long ago been yet alive. They lay abottom gazing at the sky, and behold, one whose garb and mien still proclaimed a chieftain of Men lay there, but though his locks were white with age and his face was pale in death, still a proud man and a fierce he looked. ‘Men of the North, Forodwaith, are they,’ said the Man of the Sea, ‘but hunger and thirst was their death, and their ship was flung by last night’s storm where she stuck in the Hungry Sands, slowly to be engulfed, had not fate thought otherwise.’
‘Truly do you say of them, O Man of the Sea; and him I know well with those white locks, for he slew my father; and long was I his thrall, and Orm men called him, and little did I love him.’
‘And his ship shall it be that bears you from this Harbourless Isle,’ said he; ‘and a gallant ship it was of a brave man, for few folk have now so great a heart for th
e adventures of the sea as have these Forodwaith, who press ever into the mists of the West, though few live to take back tale of all they see.’
Thus it was that Ælfwine escaped beyond hope from that island, but the Man of the Sea was his pilot and steersman, and so they came after few days to a land but little known.34 And the folk that dwell there are a strange folk, and none know how they came thither in the West, yet are they accounted among the kindreds of Men, albeit their land is on the outer borders of the regions of Mankind, lying yet further toward the Setting Sun beyond the Harbourless Isles and further to the North than is that isle whereon Ælfwine was cast away. Marvellously skilled are these people in the building of ships and boats of every kind and in the sailing of them; yet do they fare seldom or never to the lands of other folk, and little do they busy themselves with commerce or with war. Their ships they build for love of that labour and for the joy they have only to ride the waves in them. And a great part of that people are ever aboard their ships, and all the water about the island of their home is ever white with their sails in calm or storm. Their delight is to vie in rivalry with one another with their boats of surpassing swiftness, driven by the winds or by the ranks of their long-shafted oars. Other rivalries have they with ships of great seaworthiness, for with these will they contest who will weather the fiercest storms (and these are fierce indeed about that isle, and it is iron-coasted save for one cool harbour in the North). Thereby is the craft of their shipwrights proven; and these people are called by Men the Ythlings,35 the Children of the Waves, but the Elves call the island Eneadur, and its folk the Shipmen of the West.36
Well did these receive Ælfwine and his pilot at the thronging quays of their harbour in the North, and it seemed to Ælfwine that the Man of the Sea was not unknown to them, and that they held him in the greatest awe and reverence, hearkening to his requests as though they were a king’s commands. Yet greater was his amaze when he met amid the throngs of that place two of his comrades that he had thought lost in the sea; and learnt that those seven mariners of England were alive in that land, but the ship had been broken utterly on the black shores to the south, not long after the night when the great sea had taken Ælfwine overboard.