LITMIR.BIZ

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      At that there was a murmur in the hall; and the King lifted his hand, saying: ‘You bring graver news to my ear than seemed likely. Take heed now to all that you say; for this is a court of doom.’

      ‘So Beleg has told me,’ she answered, ‘and only for that have I dared to come here, so that Túrin shall not be ill judged. He is valiant, but he is merciful. They fought, lord, these two, until Túrin had bereft Saeros of both shield and sword; but he did not slay him. Therefore I do not believe that he willed his death in the end. If Saeros were put to shame, it was shame that he had earned.’

      ‘Judgement is mine,’ said Thingol. ‘But what you have told shall govern it.’ Then he questioned Nellas closely; and at last he turned to Mablung, saying: ‘It is strange to me that Túrin said nothing of this to you.’

      ‘Yet he did not,’ said Mablung. ‘And had he spoken of it, otherwise would my words have been to him at parting.’

      ‘And otherwise shall my doom now be,’ said Thingol. ‘Hear me! Such fault as can be found in Túrin I now pardon, holding him wronged and provoked. And since it was indeed, as he said, one of my council who so misused him, he shall not seek for this pardon, but I will send it to him, wherever he may be found; and I will recall him in honour to my halls.’

      But when the doom was pronounced, suddenly Nellas wept. ‘Where can he be found?’ she said. ‘He has left our land, and the world is wide.’

      ‘He shall be sought,’ said Thingol. Then he rose, and Beleg led Nellas forth from Menegroth; and he said to her: ‘Do not weep; for if Túrin lives or walks still abroad, I shall find him, though all others fail.’

      On the next day Beleg came before Thingol and Melian, and the King said to him: ‘Counsel me, Beleg; for I am grieved. I took Húrin’s son as my son, and so he shall remain, unless Húrin himself should return out of the shadows to claim his own. I would not have any say that Túrin was driven forth unjustly into the wild, and gladly would I welcome him back; for I loved him well.’

      And Beleg answered: ‘I will seek Túrin until I find him, and I will bring him back to Menegroth, if I can; for I love him also.’ Then he departed; and far across Beleriand he sought in vain for tidings of Túrin, through many perils; and that winter passed away, and the spring after.

       Túrin among the Outlaws

      Now the tale turns again to Túrin. He, believing himself an outlaw whom the king would pursue, did not return to Beleg on the north-marches of Doriath, but went away westward, and passing secretly out of the Guarded Realm came into the woodlands south of Teiglin. There before the Nirnaeth many Men had dwelt in scattered homesteads; they were of Haleth’s folk for the most part, but owned no lord, and they lived both by hunting and by husbandry, keeping swine in the mast-lands, and tilling clearings in the forest which were fenced from the wild. But most were now destroyed, or had fled into Brethil, and all that region lay under the fear of Orcs, and of outlaws. For in that time of ruin houseless and desperate Men went astray: remnants of battle and defeat, and lands laid waste; and some were Men driven into the wild for evil deeds. They hunted and gathered such food as they could; but in winter when hunger drove them they were to be feared as wolves, and Gaurwaith, the Wolf-men, they were called by those who still defended their homes. Some fifty of these Men had joined in one band, wandering in the woods beyond the western marches of Doriath; and they were hated scarcely less than Orcs, for there were among them outcasts hard of heart, bearing a grudge against their own kind. The grimmest among them was one named Andróg, hunted from Dor-lómin for the slaying of a woman; and others also came from that land: old Algund, the oldest of the fellowship, who had fled from the Nirnaeth, and Forweg, as he named himself, the captain of the band, a man with fair hair and unsteady glittering eyes, big and bold, but far fallen from the ways of the Edain of the people of Hador. They were become very wary, and they set scouts or a watch about them, whether moving or at rest; and thus they were quickly aware of Túrin when he strayed into their haunts. They trailed him, and they drew a ring about him; and suddenly, as he came out into a glade beside a stream, he found himself within a circle of men with bent bows and drawn swords.

      Then Túrin halted, but he showed no fear. ‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘I thought that only Orcs waylaid Men; but I see that I am mistaken.’

      ‘You may rue the mistake,’ said Forweg, ‘for these are our haunts, and we do not allow other Men to walk in them. We take their lives as forfeit, unless they can ransom them.’

      Then Túrin laughed. ‘You will get no ransom from me,’ he said, ‘an outcast and an outlaw. You may search me when I am dead, but it will cost you dearly to prove my words true.’

      Nonetheless his death seemed near, for many arrows were notched to the string, waiting for the word of the captain; and none of his enemies stood within reach of a leap with drawn sword. But Túrin, seeing some stones at the stream’s edge before his feet, stooped suddenly; and in that instant one of the men, angered by his words, let fly a shaft. But it passed over Túrin, and he springing up cast a stone at the bowman with great force and true aim; and he fell to the ground with broken skull.

      ‘I might be of more service to you alive, in the place of that luckless man,’ said Túrin; and turning to Forweg he said: ‘If you are the captain here, you should not allow your men to shoot without command.’

      ‘I do not,’ said Forweg; ‘but he has been rebuked swiftly enough. I will take you in his stead, if you will heed my words better.’

      Then two of the outlaws cried out against him; and one was a friend of the fallen man. Ulrad was his name. ‘A strange way to gain entry to a fellowship,’ he said: ‘the slaying of one of the best men.’

      ‘Not unchallenged,’ said Túrin. ‘But come then! I will endure you both together, with weapons or with strength alone; and then you shall see if I am fit to replace one of your best men.’ Then he strode towards them; but Ulrad gave back and would not fight. The other threw down his bow, and looked Túrin up and down; and this man was Andróg of Dor-lómin.

      ‘I am not your match,’ he said at length, shaking his head. ‘There is none here, I think. You may join us, for my part. But there is a strange look about you; you are a dangerous man. What is your name?’

      ‘Neithan, the Wronged, I call myself,’ said Túrin, and Neithan he was afterwards called by the outlaws; but though he told them that he had suffered injustice (and to any who claimed the like he ever lent too ready an ear), no more would he reveal concerning his life or his home. Yet they saw that he had fallen from some high state, and that though he had nothing but his arms, those were made by elvensmiths. He soon won their praise, for he was strong and valiant, and had more skill in the woods than they, and they trusted him, for he was not greedy, and took little thought for himself; but they feared him, because of his sudden angers, which they seldom understood. To Doriath Túrin could not, or in pride would not, return; to Nargothrond since the fall of Felagund none were admitted. To the lesser folk of Haleth in Brethil he did not deign to go; and to Dor-lómin he did not dare, for it was closely beset, and one man alone could not hope at that time, as he thought, to come through the passes of the Mountains of Shadow. Therefore Túrin abode with the outlaws, since the company of any men made the hardship of the wild more easy to endure; and because he wished to live and could not be ever at strife with them, he did little to restrain their evil deeds. Yet at times pity and shame would wake in him, and then he was perilous in his anger. In this way he lived to that year’s end, and through the need and hunger of winter, until Stirring came and then a fair spring.

      Now in the woods south of Teiglin, as has been told, there were still some homesteads of Men, hardy and wary, though now few in number. Though they loved them not at all and pitied them little, they would in bitter winter put out such food as they could well spare where the Gaurwaith might find it; and so they hoped to avoid the banded attack of the famished. But they earned less gratitude so from the outlaws than from beasts and birds, and they were saved rather by their dogs and their fences. For each homestead had great hedges about its cleared land, and about the houses was a ditch and a stockade; and there were paths from stead to stead, and men

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