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Songs have recalled, by harpers sung

long years ago in elven tongue,

how Lúthien and Beren strayed

in Sirion's vale; and many a glade

they filled with joy, and there their feet

passed by lightly, and days were sweet.

Though winter hunted through the wood,

still flowers lingered where they stood.

Tinúviel! Tinúviel!

Still unafraid the birds now dwell

and sing on boughs amid the snow

where Lúthien and Beren go.

From Sirion's Isle they passed away,

but on the hill alone there lay

a green grave, and a stone was set,

and there there lie the white bones yet

of Finrod fair, Finarfin's son,

unless that land be changed and gone,

or foundered in unfathomed seas,

while Finrod walks beneath the trees

in Eldamar and comes no more

to the grey world of tears and war.

To Nargothrond no more he came

but thither swiftly ran the fame

of their dead king and his great deed,

how Lúthien the Isle had freed:

the Werewolf Lord was overthrown,

and broken were his towers of stone.

For many now came home at last

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who long ago to shadow passed;

and like a shadow had returned

Huan the hound, though scant he earned

or praise or thanks of Celegorm.

There now arose a growing storm,

a clamour of many voices loud,

and folk whom Curufin had cowed

and their own king had help denied,

in shame and anger now they cried:

'Come! Slay these faithless lords untrue!

Why lurk they here? What will they do,

but bring Finarfin's kin to naught,

treacherous cuckoo-guests unsought?

Away with them!' But wise and slow

Orodreth spoke: 'Beware, lest woe

and wickedness to worse ye bring!

Finrod is fallen. I am king.

But even as he would speak, I now

command you. I will not allow

in Nargothrond the ancient curse

from evil unto evil worse

to work. With tears for Finrod weep

repentant! Swords for Morgoth keep!

No kindred blood shall here be shed.

Yet here shall neither rest nor bread

the brethren find who set at naught

Finarfin's house. Let them be sought,

unharmed to stand before me! Go!

The courtesy of Finrod show!'

In scorn stood Celegorm, unbowed,

with glance of fire in anger proud

and menacing; but at his side

smiling and silent, wary-eyed,

was Curufin, with hand on haft

of his long knife. And then he laughed,

and 'Well?' said he. 'Why didst thou call

for us, Sir Steward? In thy hall

we are not wont to stand. Come, speak,

if aught of us thou hast to seek!'

Cold words Orodreth answered slow:

'Before the king ye stand. But know,

of you he seeks for naught. His will

ye come to hear, and to fulfil.

Be gone for ever, ere the day

shall fall into the sea! Your way

shall never lead you hither more,

nor any son of Fëanor;

of love no more shall there be bond

between your house and Nargothrond!'

'We will remember it,' they said,

and turned upon their heels, and sped,

saddled their horses, trussed their gear,

and went with hound and bow and spear,

alone; for none of all the folk

would follow them. No word they spoke,

but sounded horns, and rode away

like wind at end of stormy day.