Chapter Text
THE LAY OF MORWEN AND LUTHIEN
Now gather round and let me tell
The story of a love
That when it died had burnt alight
The eldest elvish grove.
It started, then, in Elven-land,
There always light will shine;
In autumn-crowned Doriath
Two hearts then would entwine.
Raven-haired Luthien
Dances in the glade,
And such a vision there she is,
The shining elven maid.
Her raiment casts a glittering gleam
That shrouds her form with light,
And from the shadows of her hair
Her grey eyes glimmer bright.
A crown of flowers on her head,
A white and azure bloom;
And when the starlight filled the glade
The forest knew no doom.
The music for a skilled dance
By a master should be played,
And he who was the most renowned
Sits there in the shade.
With ferny crown and lavish garbs
He plays a silver pipe;
And golden Daeron's music was,
As fair as Aphrodite.
Only Maedhros, Feanor' son,
Was much more skilled than him;
But near the sea he wanders far,
The light in his eyes dim.
The music bubbles, ripples and shrills,
And faster move her dancing
Feet, faster and faster still,
'Til when it's seen advancing,
Over the wooden, blackened sea,
The moon in all its glory;
Even she would see the girl
Who would make history.
So beautiful her dancing is,
And such a lovely sight,
That stills then now the Moon herself
to see so pure a light.
Then suddenly the music stops
And in the woods the rings
A magic chant of endless power,
And high the words then spring.
Half wordless and half elvish tongue
It echoes through the land;
And Daeron, on the listening branch,
heartbroken, there he stands
His pipe then from his limp hands falls,
Forgotten in the grass
As if a numbing spell had there
Unknowingly been cast.
As soon as Luthien stops her chant
Abruptly he wakes up:
A thumping as of thudding feet
Announces now a trap-
His tourn arrives to cry to her
"Swift, my darling, flee!
A stranger walks this woods, alas,
And harm might mean to thee!"
But Luthien never had to fear,
Never in her life;
And bravely then she stands her ground,
Without even a knife.
But when she sees the ragged shape
Tumbling in the glade,
Fear then takes her and with a leap
She hides in darker shade.
In the dim light she can see
The haggard shadow fall,
And when its face comes into view
She forgets to crawl:
A woman's face she sees, surprised,
And not an evil one;
Her clothes are torn and streaked with blood
Of strength left, she has none.
Fear now grips the elven maid
So much, she dares not move:
A herd of horses could pass her by
And she'd not hear their hooves.
It was as when, the wise men say,
The snake's eyes find their prey:
Panic stricken, terrified,
She can do naught but stay.
An hour later, maybe more,
The woman stirs, her slumber
Breaking, and soon she sits upright,
The stars, they hide their number.
The stranger came from northern lands,
And Morwen was her name:
Her hardened face a result was
Of valour, not of shame.
In groping blindly through the glade
Amidst the moving trees
Shining spots of gold she sees
Inside a moonlight sea.
Elanor the flowers were,
That as the sun do shine;
Though Luthien loved them once before
On them she sets the crime.
For Morwen now looks in the trees,
The elven maid she spots:
Bewildered then she stares at her,
Her gaze she cannot drop.
A fiercer love in Morwen blooms
That even can be said:
Her heart is healed and slain anew,
And tears of joy she sheds.
but Luthien is gripped, so fast,
By terror, hot and grim,
That seizes her heart with iron hand
And makes the moon look dim.
No thought she has, not anymore,
Except to run away:
And fast she flees, as fast as bolt
Of lightning in dark clouds grey.
Too tired is Morwen to run,
She cries to no avail:
"O gorgeous one, do not retreat,
Your light, you see, it fails.
How could I harm you, Starlit one?
Perfection cannot die!
Of the Valar, which one are you?
To guess, do I have to try?"
But far by now the princess is,
Not heeding Morwen's words;
She flees in the heart of the deepest woods
Ignoring of love the force.