The Love and Heroism of Beren & Lúthien

(a retelling for children using free artwork on the internet)1

Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the ancient days
of the elves there are some that still inspire joy. The fairest of these in the ears of
the Eldar, or high elves of the light, is the tale of Beren and Lúthien. Of their lives
during the Elven wars with Morgoth was made the Lay of Leithian, which means
the Release from Bondage. It is retold here briefly without verse.

Barahir was a lord of men in the north of Beleriand, a world in which the high
elves and their human allies faced the great evil of Morgoth, Lord of Angband in
the far north. Although Morgoth's forces had overrun his lands of Dorthonion,
which lay just south of the mountain fortress of Angband, Barahir would not
abandon his home. But at last there remained to him only twelve companions, and
they retreated to the sacred lake of Tarn Aeluin in the midst of the hills in south
Dorthonian, a pathless and untamed area where they could hide.
But eventually Morgoth's spies tricked one of Barahir's companions, Gorlim,
making him believe they had captured his lost wife. In fact, they had already slain

1
This version edited by John Davenport adapts portions from Tolkien's texts, mainly from the Silmarillion. For the
earliest version, see Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales vol.II. For a full retelling based on all the primary sources, see
Christopher Tolkien's Beren & Lúthien (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, May 2017). For the partial Lay of Lethian itself
in verse, see the History of Middle Earth vol.III. All rights belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. I make this version
freely available as a way of introducing younger children to one of Tolkien's greatest narratives, which stands at
the heart of his vision, as is most clear in the Silmarillion.
her long before. Using his spells of deception and guile, Sauron, a great evil spirit,
tricked Gorlim into revealing the hiding place of Barahir, and then killed poor
Gorlim. Thus Morgoth drew his net about Tarn Aeluin; and the Orcs (monsters
made from elves by Morgoth) came in the hour before dawn, surprised the men of
Dorthonion and slew them all, save one. For Beren son of Barahir had been sent by
his father on a perilous errand to spy upon the ways of the Enemy, and he was far
afield when his father's home was taken. But as he slept, the ghost of Gorlim
warned Beren in his dreams, and he ran home to find Tarn Aeluin ruined.
After Beren buried his father's bones, and raised a cairn of boulders above him, he
pursued the Orcs and slew them all -- for Beren was tall and mighty with a blade,
though he was still young. From the Orcs, he recovered the ring given to his father
by Finrod Felegund, the Elven lord of Nargathrond, a kingdom hidden in the hills
far southwest of Dorthonion. Thereafter Beren wandered still upon Dorthonion as a
solitary outlaw; but Morgoth set a price upon his head, and Sauron, the dreadful
servant of Morgoth, brought a host of werewolves to search for Beren. He was
driven south into the terrible mountains of Ered Gorgoroth, the mountains of horror.
For Sauron had cast shadows upon them under which evil things roamed. In the
wilderness of Dungortheb, south of the cliffs
of Gorgoroth, the sorcery of Sauron was met
and opposed by the power of Melian, a Maia
spirit equal in strength to Sauron himself.
Maia beings are like angels embodied in some
form on Earth, and Melian's subtlety was
great among them. Around the elven forest
realm of Doriath, she had set a wall of power
that was named the Girdle of Melian. Beren
fought his way though Dungortheb, fending
off terrible giant spiders that walked there like hallucinations in the madness that
arose from the battling powers of Sauron and Melian. Beren never thereafter spoke
of that terrible journey, and none save Lúthien knew how he found a way through
the barrier into the mazes that Melian wove about the kingdom of Thingol, even as
she had foreseen; for a great doom lay upon him.
Thus it is told in the Lay of Leithian that Beren came stumbling into Doriath grey
and bowed as with woe, so
great had been the torment of
his path. While any other
man who wandered into
Melian's Girdle unguided
would have been forever lost
in the illusions it created,
Beren's sorrow was so deep
that he did not perceive the
fair seemings and mirages of
the Girdle as he passed
through into the mild winter
of Doriath itself. Then,
wandering in the woods of
Neldoreth, he finally came
upon Lúthien, daughter of
King Thingol and Melian, the fairest of all elves ever born (for she was half-Maia
spirit herself), Beren first saw her from a distance in the evening under a full moon,
as she danced upon the unfading grass in the glades beside lake Esgalduin.

Upon seeing this vision, all memory of his

pain departed from Beren, and he fell into
an enchantment; for Lúthien was the most
beautiful of all the Children of God (or
Ilúvater as the elves name Him) who ever
walked upon this Earth. Her raiment was
blue as the unclouded heaven, but her
eyes were silver as the starlit evening; her
mantle was sewn with golden flowers, but
her hair was dark as the shadows of
twilight. As the light upon the leaves of
trees, as the voice of clear waters, as the
stars above the mists of the world, such
was her glory and her loveliness; and in
her face was a shining light.

But on seeing him, she vanished from

Beren sight; and he became dumb or speechless, as one that is bound under a spell,
wandering in the woods like a wary beast, seeking for her. In his heart he called
her Tinuviel, that signifies Nightingale, daughter of twilight, in the Grey-elven
language -- for he knew no other name for her. Each night he saw her from afar,
but when he caught up to her dancing place, she was vanished like a faerie. Then
finally, near dawn on the eve of spring, and Lúthien danced upon a green hill under
a full moon, and suddenly she began to sing. Her song was keen, heart-piercing,
like the lark that rises from the gates of night and pours its voice among the dying
stars, seeing the sun behind the walls of the world. For Lúthien was full of her
mother's arts and powers, and her song indeed came from beyond this world,
releasing the bonds of winter. During her threnody, the frozen waters thawed and
flowed, and flowers sprang from the cold earth where her feet had passed.
Then the spell of silence fell from Beren, and he called to her, crying "Tinuviel!"
And the woods echoed the name. At this, she halted in wonder, and fled no more,
and Beren came to her. But as she looked on him, doom fell upon her, and she
loved him. She did not immediately understand the love she felt; instead, it made
her afraid, as it was like nothing she had felt before. So she slipped from Beren's
arms and vanished from his sight even as the day was breaking. Then Beren lay
upon the ground in a swoon, as one slain at once by bliss and grief; and he fell into
a dream in which he was like a person stricken with sudden blindness, who seeks
with hands to find the vanished light. For he knew that Lúthien, being elven, was
undying: her people had no natural limit to their life-span; and though their bodies
could be killed by malice or accident, their spirits would remain with this Earth
until the End of Time when all things will be remade. Beren had seen a high elven
maiden once or twice in his youth, but Tinuviel was greater than these: her eyes
expressed a glory within her unlike anything he had ever beheld. For even among
the high elves Lúthien was special -- not only because she was the Princess of
Doriath, but because in all Middle Earth, only Lúthien had a Maian mother (a
being not only undying but immortal, made by God before this world).
But Lúthien remembered the rough-hewn human man whose name she did not yet
know, and she finally returned to him where he sat in darkness. Long ago there, in
the Hidden Kingdom of Doriath, she laid her hand in his and they spoke for the
first time. Thereafter often she came to him, and they went in secret through the
woods together from spring to summer; and no others of the Children of God, have
had joy so great, though the time was brief.
But Daeron the minstrel also loved Lúthien, and he espied her meetings with
Beren, and betrayed them to Thingol. Then
the King was filled with anger, for Lúthien
he loved above all things, setting her above
all the princes of the Elves; whereas mortal
Men he did not even take into his service.
Therefore he spoke in grief and amazement
to Lúthien, asking what she could see in a
mere human being; but she would reveal
nothing, until he swore an oath to her that
he would neither slay Beren nor imprison
him. Lúthien then led Beren into the great
underground eleven city of Menegroth
where Thingol and Melian had their thrones.
He walked in amazement through its halls
filled with fountains, jewels, and flowers as
if he were an honored guest.
Then King Thingol asked Beren in scorn, "Who are you who come hither as a thief,
and unbidden dare to approach my throne?" Beren at first felt too much dread to
speak, for the splendour of Menegroth and the majesty of Thingol & Melian were
very great. Thus Lúthien said: 'He is Beren son of Barahir, lord of Men, mighty foe
of Morgoth, the tale of whose deeds is become a song even among the Elves. But
Thingol demanded, ''Let Beren speak! Why have you entered this forbidden land,
and why should my power not punish you for such insolence and folly?"
Then Beren looking up beheld the eyes of Lúthien, and his glance went also to the
face of Melian, and love for Lúthien mixed with the pride of his ancestors. He
strode forward before the throne of elves and said:
My fate, O King, led me hither, through perils that even most of your elven lords would
never dare. And here I have found what I sought not indeed, but finding I would hold
forever. For it is above all gold and silver, and beyond all jewels. Neither rock, nor steel,
nor the fires of Morgoth, nor all the powers of the Elf-kingdoms, shall keep from me the
treasure that I desire. For Lúthien your daughter is the fairest of all the Children of the
World, and I would marry her, with your leave, oh king.

The whole hall of the King fell silent in shock, as if struck by a thunderbolt, and all
present feared that Thingol would rise up that instant to slay Beren. The King's
brow darkened like a thunderhead, and he said "These words would have earned
you death, if I had not sworn an oath in haste. What are you but a miserable wretch
without lordship or honor?" But Beren answered, "Death you can give me earned
or unearned; but I bear the ring of King Felagund, that he gave to Barahir my
father as thanks for our aid in battle long ago." Beren held up this great ring, with
two intertwining serpents made by elven smiths, and the whole court was amazed.
Slowly, Thingol then responded: "I see the ring, son of Barahir, and I perceive that
you are proud, and deem yourself mighty. But your father's favor rendered to
another elf-lord shall not win my daughter. Since you ask so much, perhaps I might
ask for a small token in return." And then the king laughed a scornful laugh. "Since
you boast that the threats of Morgoth do not daunt you, bring to me in your hand a
Silmaril from Morgoth's crown!! And then, if she will, Lúthien may marry thee!"
As King Thingol's dare reverberated through the
throne room, his court staggered in shock. The
elven lords there gasped in horror, and some of
the fine elven ladies even fainted -- so
impossible was the task that he proposed to poor
Beren, the bold young man from Dorthonion.
For the three Silmarils were the finest jewels in
the world, with powers beyond conception.
They had been made by Feanor, the greatest of
all elven smiths in the most ancient days. In
them, he captured the mingled light of the Two
Trees of Valinor, the giant trees grown by the
Valar, the highest of the angelic Maia, whose
gold and silver light lit the whole realm of the Valinor. Before they were destroyed
by Morgoth, these Trees stood over
10,000 feet high apiece, and every tree
we see today is a mere image or minor
reflection of their original glory. Yet
now their sacred light survived only
within the three Silmarils, which were
like giant diamonds larger each than a
man's hand. None could look upon
them without awe and amazement, for
the light blazing forth from their cores
was like a slice of the primordial Light
out of which God made the cosmos.
But Morgoth had stolen the Silmarils, and set them in
his terrible Iron Crown, where their glory pierced
through the shadows that smothered out hope in his
mountain fortress of Angband. This stronghold itself
was said to be impregnable; its outer walls were
unassailably high, and its deep caverns lying under the
Mountains of Shadow in the north could be reached
by only two entrances guarded by the most terrifying
monsters. And even if one could somehow cross these
threshold, a score of Balrogs ringed round Morgoth's
throne room. The Balrogs were terrible Maia spirits
turned evil by the dark malice of Morgoth's lies,
wielding whips of deadly fire. And beyond this, no
mortal could ever dare to challenge Morgoth himself,
mightiest of the Valar who turned to evil through his envy of God. He appeared on
Earth in giant form and he never removed his crown. Morgoth had already slain the
High King of the elves in direct combat, and no other elf or man could fight him.
Thus in his heart, Beren despaired on hearing Thingol's words, but his pride
remained. He laughed and replied, "For little price," he said, "do Elven-kings sell
their daughters. But if this be your will, O Thingol, I will accomplish it! And when
we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown!"
Then Beren said farewell to Lúthien Tinuviel, and after bowing before Thingol and
Melian, he departed from Menegroth alone. Lúthien wanted to follow him, but her
father restrained her; she was silent then, and from that hour she sang not again in
Doriath. Yet Thingol saw that Lúthien's heart might move her to go after Beren to
dissuade him from this fatal quest. So he had Lúthien imprisoned in a high tree
house reached only by an enormous ladder, which the guards removed each day
after they brought her food and attended to her needs. There Lúthien wept in
sorrow, but her mother Melian came to visit her often. Though she could not
gainsay the King's orders, Melian began to teach her daughter to recognize and use
more of the secret potencies within her; she instructed Lúthien in enchantments
beyond the abilities of even to the most lore-wise elves.
As Lúthien studied in her tree-house, Beren left Doriath and came at length to the
Falls of the Sirion, where the great river plunged. Climbing the falls, he looked
westward and descried afar the highlands of Taur-en-Faroth that rose above the
kingdom of Nargothrond. And being destitute, without hope or counsel, he turned
his feet thither. The plain he crossed was guarded by hidden elves but he held high
before him the Ring of Felagund as a sign and said, "'I am Beren son of Barahir,
friend of Felagund." Aforelong the guards brought him blindfolded through the
secret ways to King Finrod Felagund's realm deep within the mountains, and the
King knew him, welcoming Beren as a friend. In private they sat and Beren told
him everything that had transpired. Felagund heard his tale in wonder and disquiet;
but he remembered an oath he had sworn long ago to Barahir. "It is plain that
Thingol desires your death; and yet you seem determined to seek Angband." Beren
replied that this was true: "I will go there in search of the Silmarils, even without
hope; for Lúthien is dearer than life to me." "Yes," Felagund said, but you shall not
go alone! I will accompany you with a few of my most trusty warriors, as far as
may be. Hopeless as your cause may seem, I have arts that may yet aid thee."
Beren was amazed and thankful but tried to argue that it was too dangerous, that
the King should stay with his people. But Felagund was one of the purest and most
honorable of the high elven lords in Middle Earth, and he held his promise to
Barahir as sacred. So the next day, he gave his crown to Orodreth his brother to
govern in his stead. And then, on an evening in autumn, Finrod Felagund and
Beren set out northeast again, taking with them the great hound Huan, whose like
has never been seen again on Earth. Though his
form was like a dog, Huan was twice the size of
an ordinary wolf and full of Maia power. He had
been given by the Valar themselves to Finrod's
family long ago, and was blessed with the power
to speak three times in his life, at uttermost need.
So they set out with ten companions; and they
journeyed beside Narog to his source in the Falls
of Ivrin. Beneath the Shadowy Mountains they
came upon a company of Orcs, and slew them all
in their camp by night; and they took their gear
and their weapons. By the arts of Felagund their
own forms and faces were changed into the likeness of Orcs; and thus disguised
they came far upon their northward road, and ventured into the pass between Ered
Wethrin mountains on the left and the highlands of Taur-nu-Fuin on the right. But
this way ran right by the Tower of Tol Sirion, upon an island in the midst of the
great river. Sauron watched the way from that tower, and he doubted them,
because they went in haste and one of them moved more like a dog than an Orc.
When Beren saw that servants of Sauron were approaching to challenge them, he
sent Huan (in his orc disguise) away with an urgent plea: "Fly southeast towards
Doriath and tell Queen Melian that Beren is dead, so that Lúthien may not doubt
forever." Huan slipped away but the rest of Felagund's company was brought
before Sauron the shape-changer. Thus befell the contest between Sauron and
Felagund which is renowned among all elves. For Felagund strove against Sauron's
spirit with songs of might, and the power of the King was very great; but Sauron's
eye strove to pierce through his web of illusions. As is told in the Lay of Leithian:
He chanted a song of wizardry,
Of piercing, opening, of treachery,
Revealing, uncovering, betraying.
Then sudden Felagund there swaying,
Sang in a song of staying,
Resisting, battling against power,
Of secrets kept, strength like a tower,
And trust unbroken, freedom, escape;
Of changing and shifting shape,
Of snares eluded, broken traps,
The prison opening, the chain that snaps.
Backwards and forwards swayed their song.
Reeling foundering, as ever more strong
The chanting swelled, Felagund fought,
And all the magic and might he brought
Of Elvenesse into his words.
Softly in the gloom they heard the birds
Singing afar in Nargothrond,
The sighting of the Sea beyond,
Beyond the western world, on sand,
On sand of pearls on Elvenland.
Then in the doom gathered; darkness growing
In Valinor, the red blood flowing
Beside the Sea, where the Noldor slew
The Foamriders, and stealing drew
Their white ships with their white sails
From lamplit havens.
But the wind wails,
The wolf howls.
The ravens flee.
The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea.
The captives sad in Angband mourn.
Thunder rumbles, the fires burn.
And Finrod fell before the throne.

Then Sauron stripped them all of their disguise, but though their kinds were
revealed, Sauron could not discover their names or their purposes. He cast them
therefore into a deep pit, dark and silent, and threatened to slay them cruelly,
unless one would betray the truth to him. From time to time they saw two eyes
kindled in the dark, and a werewolf sent by Sauron devoured one of the
companions; but still, none betrayed their lord.

When Sauron cast Beren into the pit of despair, a weight of horror came upon
Lúthien's heart; from her mother, she learned that Beren lay in the dungeons of
Sauron without hope of rescue. For Melian could see this even without Huan's
tidings, as Beren did not know. Then Lúthien resolved to go to Beren herself to aid
him, and so she planned her escape from her tree house in Hirilorn. Using her arts
of enchantment, she caused her hair to grow to great length, and of it she wove a
dark robe that wrapped her beauty like a shadow, and it was laden with a spell of
sleep that would strike any who
saw her on her way. Of the
strands that remained she
twined a rope, and she let it
down from her window; and as
the end swayed above the
guards that sat beneath the
house they fell into a deep
slumber. Then Lúthien climbed
down from her prison, and
shrouded in her shadowy cloak
she escaped from all eyes, and
vanished out of Doriath to seek
Beren.
It chanced then that Huan saw Lúthien just as she was flying out of Doriath
through the Girdle of Melian; for nothing could escape the sight and scent of this
magic beast, nor could any enchantment
stay him, and he slept not, neither by
night nor day. Though he had loved only
his master Felagund before that day, Huan
perceived the noble heart of Lúthien, even
through her cloak of magic; and he was
struck by the beauty of her desperate will.
For the first time then in his life, Huan
spoke with human words, declaring, "O
Lady of Veiled Wonder, I know not
whether we can succour my master Finrod
and your beloved Beren. But I will help
you, and whether it may be done or no,
we shall try to the last!"
Then Huan humbled his pride and
suffered Lúthien to ride him, as he had
never allowed any human person before.
They raced together across the leagues
towards Sauron's tower on the island, for
Huan was swift and tireless.
In the pits of Sauron, Beren and Felagund lay alone; all their companions were
now dead. But Sauron focused on Felagund, perceiving him to be a high elf of
great might and wisdom, who kept the secret of their errand. Thus Sauron sent his
werewolf for Beren. But at that moment, Felagund put forth all his power, and
burst his bonds; and he wrestled with the werewolf, and slew it with his hands and
teeth; yet he was also wounded to the death. Then he spoke to Beren, saying: 'I go
now to my long rest in the timeless halls beyond the seas and the Mountains of
Valinor. But I bid you not to despair, for new hope may sometimes come from
places not yet imagined." He died then in the dark, in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, which once
had been the fair tower of Tol Sirion until Sauron made it a den of werewolves.
In that hour Lúthien came with Huan, and standing upon the bridge that led to
Sauron's isle, she sang a song that no walls of stone could hinder. Beren heard, and
he thought that he dreamed; for the stars shone above him, and in the trees
nightingales were singing. And in answer he sang a song of challenge that he had
made in praise of the Seven Stars, the Sickle that Elbereth, queen of the Valar,
hung above the North as a sign for the fall of Morgoth.
But Lúthien heard his answering voice, and she knew then that Beren was still
alive in the dungeons. And she sang then a song of greater power. The wolves
howled, and the isle trembled, but Sauron stood in the high tower, wrapped in his
black thought, and sent a werewolf over the bridge to meet this new enemy. Huan
slew it silently. Hearing no report, Sauron sent other werewolves one by one; and
one by one Huan took them by the
throat and slew them. Then Sauron
sent Draugluin, a dread beast, who
was sire of all the werewolves of
Angband. His might was great; and
the battle of Huan and Draugluin
was long and fierce. Injured to death,
Draugluin finally escaped, and
fleeing back into the tower, he died
before Sauron's feet; and as he died
he told his master: 'Huan is there!'
Now Sauron knew that his enemy
was the Hound of Valinor.
Therefore he took upon himself the
form of a werewolf, and made
himself the mightiest that had yet
walked the world; and he came
forth to win the passage of the
bridge. So great was the horror of his approach that even Huan leaped aside. Then
Sauron sprang upon Lúthien; and she swooned before the menace of the fell spirit
in his eyes and the foul vapour of his breath. But even as he came, falling she cast
a fold of her dark cloak before his eyes; and he stumbled, for a fleeting drowsiness
came upon him. Then Huan sprang. There befell the battle of Huan and Wolf-
Sauron, and howls and baying echoed in the hills. But by no wizardry nor spell,
neither fang nor venom, nor devil's art nor beast-strength, could Sauron overthrow
Huan without forsaking his body utterly. Finally, Huan pinned Sauron to the
ground, and Lúthien said to him: "Now we will slay your mortal body and send
your naked spirit back to Morgoth, to endure the torment of his scorn, pierced by
his eyes, unless thou yield to me the mastery of thy tower."
Then Sauron yielded, and Lúthien took the
mastery of the isle and all that was there;
and Huan released him. And immediately
Sauron took the form of a vampire, great as
a dark cloud across the moon, and he fled,
dripping blood from his throat. Lúthien
stood upon the bridge, and declared her
power: and the spell was loosed that bound
stone to stone, and the gates were thrown
down, and the walls opened, and the pits
laid bare; and many thralls and captives
came forth. But Beren came not. Therefore
Huan and Lúthien sought him in the ruins;
and Lúthien found him mourning by
Felagund's body. So deep was his anguish
that he did not believe it when Lúthien
spoke to him. "Beloved," he replied, "how
can your voice come to me in a dream in
this dark place? My mind is lost in grief." Then Lúthien shook him and Huan
howled in sorrow for the loss of his noble master, and Beren finally looked up in
wonder, and the sun rising over the dark hills shone upon them.
They buried the body of Felagund upon the hill-top of his own isle, and it was
clean again; and the green grave of Finrod Felagund son, fairest of all the princes
of the Elves, remained inviolate.
Now Beren and Lúthien Tinuviel went free again and together walked through the
woods renewing for a time their original joy; and though winter came it hurt them
not, for flowers lingered where Lúthien went, and the birds sang beneath the snow
clad hills. As winter deepened, though, Beren took thought of his vow; Lúthien
perceived his heart and said, "You must choose, Beren, between these two: to
relinquish the quest and your oath and seek a life of wandering upon the face of the
earth; or to hold to your word and challenge the power of darkness upon its throne.
But on either road I shall go with you, and our doom shall be alike."
Beren was awed, yet feared too much for her. Accepting his own death, he wanted
Lúthien to live. So finally, as she slept, Beren stole away northward on a horse
they had found, and came through the pass of Sirion, to the borders of wastes that
lay before Angband. There he sung Song of Parting, in praise of Lúthien and the
lights of heaven; for he believed that he must now say farewell to love and light:

"Farewell sweet earth and northern sky,

for ever blest, since here did lie
and here with lissom limbs did run
beneath the Moon, beneath the Sun,
Lúthien Tinuviel
more fair than mortal tongue can tell.
Though all to ruin fell the world
and were dissolved and backward hurled
unmade into the old abyss,
yet were its making good, for this-
the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea
that Lúthien for a time should be.

And he sang aloud, caring not what ear

should overhear him, for he was
desperate and looked for no escape. But
Lúthien heard his song, and she sang in answer, as she came through the woods
unlooked for. For Huan, consenting once more to be her steed, had borne her
swiftly hard upon Beren's trail. Thus Beren and Lúthien met again on the borders
of the northern wastes; and for a while he was silent and was glad; but after a space
he strove once more to dissuade Lúthien from this fell journey. "Thrice now I curse
my oath to Thingol," he said, "and I wish that he had slain me in Menegroth, rather
than I should bring you under the shadow of Morgoth."
Then for the second time Huan spoke with words; and he counseled Beren, saying:
"From the shadow of death you can no longer save Lúthien, for by her love she is
now subject to it. You can turn from your fate and lead her into exile, seeking
peace in vain while your life lasts. But if you will not deny your doom, then either
Lúthien, being forsaken, must assuredly die alone, or she must with you challenge
the fate that lies before you -- hopeless, yet not certain. Disguise yourselves as well
as now may be, and I will go with you to the very gate of Morgoth's Hell."
Then Beren perceived that Lúthien could not be divided from the doom that lay
upon them both, and he no longer sought to dissuade her. At Huan's direction they
put on disguises. By Lúthien's arts, Beren was arrayed now in the hame of
Draugluin the wolf, and she took on the winged shape of a bat, wheeling and flying
 above the werewolf
shape. In these grim
guises, they crossed the
wastes of Morgoth's
realms with Huan, and
came on the road
towards the Gates of
Angband. Black
chasms opened beside
the road, whence forms
as of writhing serpents
issued. On either side, the cliffs stood like embattled walls, and upon them sat
carrion fowl crying with fell voices.
Before them was the impregnable
Gate of Angband, an arch wide and
dark at the foot of the mountain;
above it reared a thousand feet of
precipice. There dismay took them,
for at the gate was an unexpected
guard. Rumor of plots against him
had come to Morgoth, and he had
heard the baying of Huan, the great
hound of war, whom long ago the
Valar unleashed. Then Morgoth chose one werewolf pup from the race of
Draugluin; and he fed him with his own hand upon living flesh, and put his power
upon him. Swiftly the wolf grew huge, until he could creep into no den, but lay
huge and hungry before the feet of Morgoth. There the fire and anguish of hell
entered into him, and he became filled with a devouring spirit, tormented, terrible,
and strong. Carcharoth, the Red Maw, he was named. And Morgoth set him to lie
unsleeping before the doors of Angband, lest Huan come.
When Huan saw this dread enemy from afar, his fir bristled as he prepared himself
for the challenge. But Beren forbade it, warning that such a fight at the gates would
alert all of Morgoth's city to their presence. Lúthien agreed, and the bade Huan
return some leagues across the wastes and wait for them. He agreed with a heavy
heart, and slunk back while the disguised pair crept closer to the fearful gate.
Now Carcharoth espied them from afar, and
he was filled with doubt; for news had long
been brought to Angband that Draugluin
was dead, yet here Beren appeared in
Draugluin's form. Therefore when they
approached he denied them entry, and bade
them stand; and he drew near with menace,
scenting something strange in the air about
them. But suddenly some power, descended
from of old from divine Maia, possessed
Lúthien, and casting back her foul raiment
she stood forth, small before the might of
Carcharoth, but radiant and terrible. Lifting
up her hand she commanded him to sleep,
saying: 'O woe-begotten spirit, fall now
into dark oblivion, and forget for a while
the dreadful doom of life.' And Carcharoth was
felled, as though lightning had smitten him.
So Beren and Lúthien went through the awful gate,
and down the labyrinthine stairs; and then together
wrought the greatest deed that has been dared by
elves or men. For they came to the very seat of
Morgoth in his nethermost hall that was upheld by
horror, lit by fire,
and filled with
weapons of death
and torment. And
the light of the
three Silmarils
pierced through the gloom like rays of gold and
silver. There Beren slunk in wolf's form beneath
Morgoth's throne; but Lúthien was stripped of her
disguise by Morgoth's will, and he bent his gaze
upon her. She was not daunted by his eyes; she
declared her own name, and offered her service to
sing before him, in the manner of a minstrel.
Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty
conceived an idea more evil than any before:
to make her his wife, in spite of the elves his
enemies. Thus he was beguiled by his own
malice, for he watched her, leaving her free
for awhile, and gloating over his capture and
his new plan. But suddenly Lúthien eluded
his sight, and out of the shadows began a
song of such surpassing loveliness, and of
such blinding power, that he listened
perforce; and a blindness came upon him, as
his eyes roamed to and fro, seeking her.
Then all Morgoth's court were cast down in
slumber, and all the fires faded and were
quenched; but the Silmarils in the crown on
Morgoth's head blazed forth suddenly with a
radiance of white flame; and the burden of
that crown and of the jewels bowed down
his head, as though the weight of the world were set upon it. Then Lúthien catching
up her winged robe sprang into the air, and her voice came dropping down like rain
into pools, profound and dark. She cast her cloak before Morgoth's eyes, and set
upon him a dream, dark as the outer Void where once he walked alone.
Suddenly he fell in sleep, as a hill sliding in avalanche; hurled like thunder from
his throne, he lay prone upon the floors of hell. His iron crown rolled echoing from
his head. All things in Angband were still in the dreadful silence of that moment.
Then Beren cast aside the wolf-hame.
and he drew forth the knife Angrist,
given to him by his father. Swiftly
he took up Morgoth's massive crown
and from its iron claws, Beren cut a
single Silmaril!
As he closed it in his hand, its
radiance welled through his living
flesh, and his hand became as a
shining lamp; but the jewel allowed
his touch and hurt him not. For several moments he and Lúthien were overcome
with wonder. But it came then into Beren's mind that he would go beyond his vow,
and bear out of Angband all three of the great Jewels of Fëanor. But this was not
fated: as he tried to cut the second Silmaril from the crown, the knife Angrist
snapped, and a shard of the blade went flying, smiting the cheek of Morgoth. He
groaned and stirred, and all the host of Angband started to move in their sleep.
Then terror fell upon Beren and Lúthien; with their rescued Silmaril, they fled,
heedless and without disguise, desiring only to see the light once more. They were
neither hindered nor pursued, but
the gate was held against their
going out; for Carcharoth had
arisen from sleep, and stood now
in wrath upon the threshold of
Angband. Before they were
aware of him, he saw them, and
sprang upon them as they ran.
Lúthien was spent, and she had
not time nor strength to quell the
wolf again. But Beren strode
forth before her, and in his right
hand he held aloft the Silmaril.
Carcharoth halted, and for a
moment was afraid. "Get you
gone, and fly!" cried Beren; "for
here is a fire that shall consume
you, and all evil things." And he
thrust the Silmaril before the eyes
of the wolf.
But Carcharoth looked upon that
holy jewel and the devouring
spirit within him awoke to sudden fire; gaping, he took suddenly Beren's hand
within his jaws, and he bit it off at the wrist. Then swiftly all his inwards were
filled with a flame of anguish, and the Silmaril seared his accursed flesh. Howling
he fled before them out the gate and across the wastelands, with cries of torment.
So terrible did he become in his madness that all the creatures of Morgoth that
abode in that valley fled far away, for he slew all living things that stood in his
path, and burst from the North with ruin upon the world. Of all the terrors that
came ever into Beleriand ere Angband's fall the madness of Carcharoth was the
most dreadful; for the power of the Silmaril was within him.
Now Beren lay in a swoon within the perilous Gate, and death drew nigh him for
there was venom on the fangs of the wolf. Lúthien with her lips drew out the
venom, and she put forth her failing power to staunch the hideous wound. But
behind her in the depths of Angband the rumour grew of great wrath aroused. The
host of Morgoth were awakened.
Thus the quest of the Silmaril
was like to have ended in ruin
and despair; but in that hour
above the wall of the valley
mighty birds appeared, flying
northward with wings swifter
than the wind. Among all birds
and beasts the wandering and
need of Beren had been noticed,
and Huan himself had bidden
all things watch, that they
might bring him aid. High
above the realm of Morgoth
Thorondor, King of Eagles and his kindred soared; and seeing now the madness of
the Wolf and Beren's fall they came swiftly down like a meteor from the sky.
They lifted up Lúthien and Beren from the Gate of Angband and bore them aloft
into the clouds. Below them suddenly thunder rolled, lightnings leaped upward,
and the mountains quaked. Fire and smoke belched forth from Thangorodrim, and
flaming bolts were hurled in Morgoth's infinite rage. But Thorondor took his way
far above the earth, seeking the high roads of heaven, where the sun daylong shines
unveiled and the moon walks amid the cloudless stars. Thus they passed swiftly
over the ruined lands, and looking down Lúthien saw far below, as a white light
starting from a green jewel, the City of Gondolin, most beautiful of all that have
ever been built encircled in its ring of protecting mountains. She wept, for she
thought that Beren would surely die, he spoke no word, nor opened his eyes, and
knew thereafter nothing of his flight. Yet he still lived when the eagles set them
down on the borders of Doriath, where Huan found his beloved masters once more.
Handmaidens of Melian came to aid Lúthien then in secret. But Beren's spirit
wandered upon the dark borders of death, knowing every an anguish that pursued
him from dream to dream. Then suddenly, when her hope was almost spent, he
woke again, and looked up, seeing
leaves against the sky; and he heard
beneath the leaves singing soft and
slow beside him Lúthien Tinuviel.
And it was spring again. Thereafter
Beren was named Erchamion,
which is the One-handed; and
suffering was graven in his face.
But at last he was drawn back to
life by the love of Lúthien, and he
arose, and together they walked in
the woods once more.
Doriath had fallen on evil days since her departure; Thingol barely spoke or ate in
his grief, and Melian would not counsel him, saying that his choices had driven
Beren and Lúthien towards their doom. The king sought news of his daughter and
heard rumors from Nargothrond, but
his messengers returning with news of
Felagund's death were imperiled by the
sudden onslaught of Carcharoth. In his
madness he had run ravening from the
north, and passing at length over Taur-
nu-Fuin upon its eastern side into the
inviolate woods of Doriath where he
raged like madness north of Menegroth.
Even in that dark hour Beren and
Lúthien returned to Menegroth, and the
news of their coming went before them
like a sound of music borne. Then
Beren led Lúthien before the throne of
Thingol her father; and he looked in
wonder upon Beren and joy on seeing
his daughter again. "What of your
quest, and of your vow?" the king
asked. Beren answered: "It is fulfilled. Even now a Silmaril is in my hand." But
when the king asked to see this miracle, Beren held up his right arm where his
hand had once been. Then Thingol's mood was softened; and Beren and Lúthien
sat with him and told all the tale of the Quest, while all the court listened in
amazement. And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was unlike all other mortal
Men, and among the great in Arda, and he perceived that his daughter's love for
him might not be withstood by any power of the world. Therefore at the last he
yielded, and Beren took the hand of Lúthien in marriage before all the court.
But they had no time for peace, because daily Carcharoth drew nearer to
Menegroth. Therefore the king and Beren prepared an armed party to go hunting
for this terrible wolf, worst of all that ever lived. To that chase went Huan the
Hound of Valinor, and Mablung of the Heavy Hand, and Beleg Strongbow, and
Beren Erchamion, and Thingol King of Doriath. They rode forth in the morning
and passed over the River Esgalduin while Lúthien remained behind at the gates of
Menegroth. Following the course of the river north, they came at last upon
Carcharoth in a dark valley where the river Esgalduin fell in a torrent over steep
falls. At the foot of the falls Carcharoth drank to ease his consuming thirst, and he
howled, and thus they were aware of him, But he espyied their approach and
waited while they set a ring about him.
Beren stood beside Thingol, and suddenly they were aware that Huan had left their
side. Then a great baying awoke in the thicket; for Huan becoming impatient and
desiring to look upon this wolf had gone in alone to dislodge him. But Carcharoth
avoided him, and bursting form the thorns leaped suddenly upon Thingol. Swiftly
Beren strode before
him with a spear, but
it only glanced
through the wolf's
side, and Carcharoth
felled Beren then a
second time, biting at
his breast. In that
moment Huan leaped
from the thicket upon
the back of the Wolf,
and they fell together
fighting bitterly; and
no battle of wolf and hound has been like to it, for in the baying of Huan was heard
the voice of the horns of the Valar, but in the howls of Carcharoth was the hate of
Morgoth and malice crueller than teeth of steel; and the rocks were rent by their
clamour and fell from on high and choked the falls of Esgalduin. There they fought
to the death; but Thingol tended Beren, seeing that he was sorely hurt.
Huan in that hour slew Carcharoth; but there in the woven woods of Doriath his
own doom long spoken was fulfilled, and he was wounded mortally, and the
venom of Morgoth entered into him. Then he came, and falling beside Beren spoke
for the third time with words; and he said farewell, bidding Beren to love Lúthien
as long as this world shall last. Beren spoke not, but laid his hand upon the head of
the dying hound, and so they parted.
Mablung and Beleg came hastening to the King's aid, but when they looked upon
what was done they cast aside their spears and wept. For Beren was also badly
wounded, lying close to death next to Huan. Then Mablung took a knife and ripped
up the belly of the Wolf; and within he was well nigh all consumed as with a fire,
but the hand of Beren that held the jewel was yet incorrupt. But when Mablung
reached forth to touch it, the hand was no more, and the Silmaril lay there unveiled,
and the light of it filled the shadows of the forest all about them. Then quickly
Mablung took it and set it in Beren's living hand; and Beren was aroused by the
touch of the Silmaril, and held it aloft, and bade Thingol receive it. "Now is the
Quest achieved,' he said, "and my doom full-wrought."
They bore back Beren son of Barahir upon a bier of branches with Huan the
wolfhound at his side; and night fell ere they returned to Menegroth and Lúthien
hurried to meet them. She sensed that Beren was dying, and knew that on his death
they would be sundered until God remade this world anew. For it was the destiny
of human souls to leave this world until the hereafter, while the spirits of fallen
elvenkind would remain with it in Valinor among the Valar (archangels).
But Beren's spirit tarried, and Lúthien at last appealed to Mandos, the Vala of Fate.
While she grasped the Silmaril in Beren's hand, Lúthien's spirit appeared also
before Mandos. He told her that fate was absolute and cannot change. But she sang
to him, and the song of Lúthien before
Mandos was the song most fair that ever in
words was woven, and the song most
sorrowful that ever the world shall ever hear.
Unchanged, imperishable, it is sung still in
Valinor beyond the hearing of the world, and
the listening the Valar grieved. For Lúthien
wove two themes of words, of the sorrow of
the Eldar and the grief of human beings. And
as she knelt before him her tears fell upon
his feet like rain upon stones; and Mandos
was moved to pity, who never before was so
moved. Therefore he called on his brethren
and it was decided that Beren could return to
Lúthien, but only if she gave up the
immortal life of the elves and joined Beren's
human fate.
When Beren awoke in Menegroth, King Thingol perceived that Lúthien was
changed. Though her beauty was greater than ever, she had become human, joined
in fate forever with Beren her soulmate. In token of her sacrifice, Thingol caused
his smiths to make a necklace of finest mithril silver, into which the Silmaril was
set. In thanks for their great service, Beren and Lúthien were given a land east in
Thingol's realm, where the light of the Silmaril on Lúthien's chest made a land
without darkness and sorrow, where ever broken hearts were healed by the sacred
light of the Two Trees shining from that sacred jewel. There Beren and Lúthien's
son Dior was born and raised, and he carried the Silmaril after his parents passing.
For both were now mortal, and they grew old in joy and peace. But no one on this
earth marked the moment of their death, and not even Dior found their bodies.
Some say, when they passed
together beyond this life,
like Beren's lost hand, their
bodies were absorbed into
that eternal crystal. Just as
the light of the Trees
mingled therein, so their
spirits are joined together
now in the heart of the
Silmaril.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

Endnote: my thanks to all the work of anonymous artists borrowed from the internet and used here to
bring this great romance to life for all. Tolkien believed that human persons were created to be artists who
would offer their wonders freely to all (as much as the need for a living might allow) -- recognizing that
none of us create anything absolutely from nothing, but owe our debt to the divine owner of everything.
It would be worth the effort, in my estimation, to make new paintings and drawings depicting Beren and
Luthien in different skintones and features. While this kind of fairy tale romance is a genre originating in
European cultures, and thus tends to feature persons with more Caucasian features, there is nothing
essential about that and it should be varied widely as fantasy romance becomes a global genre. Indeed this
story, from which so much of the Lord of the Rings later derived, is centrally about the transcending of
racial boundaries, and overcoming fears and doubts that have divided the opponents of evil to their ruin.
Finally I should emphasize that in effort to make a narrative readable by children as young as age 10, this
version shortens some of Tolkien's prose and leaves out some aspects of his story, including the subplot
with the sons of Fëanor trying to steal Lúthien away. I have also simplified the ending in which Lúthien's
spirit apparently leaves her body and travels to the Halls of Mandos to seek after Beren once more. I am
solely responsible for any infelicities that result and may try to improve this version in time. For now,
share it freely with all.
John J. Davenport (davenport.jj@gmail.com)