The Book of Lost Tales - J. R. Tolkien [68]
Now all this did Tamar behold, and to him the light of the new sun seemed dark, but turning from those places he went to the hill-top and there was already gathered a great concourse of folk, and among them were those three that had last deserted Turambar, and they made a story for the ears of the folk. But Tamar coming stood suddenly before them, and his face was terrible to see, so that a whisper ran among them: “He is dead” but others said: “What then has befallen the little Níniel?”—but Tamar cried aloud: “Hear, O my people, and say if there is a fate like unto the one I tell unto thee, or a woe so heavy. Dead is the drake, but at his side lieth also Turambar dead, even he who was first called Túrin son of Úrin,30 and that is well; aye very well,” and folk murmured, wondering at his speech, and some said that he was mad. But Tamar said: “For know, O people, that Níniel the fair beloved of you all and whom I love dearer than my heart is dead, and the waters roar above her, for she has leapt o’er the falls of Silver Bowl desiring never more to see the light of day. Now endeth all that evil spell, now is the doom of the folk of Úrin terribly fulfilled, for she that ye called Níniel was even Nienóri daughter of Úrin, and this did she know or ever she died, and this did she tell to the wild woods, and their echo came to me.”
At those words did the hearts of all who stood there break for sorrow and for dread, yet did none dare to go to the place of the anguish of that fair lady, for a sad spirit abideth there yet and none sets foot upon its sward; but a great remorse pierced the hearts of those three cravens, and creeping from the throng they went to seek their lord’s body, and behold they found him stirring and alive, for when the dragon died the swoon had left him, and he slept a deep sleep of weariness, yet now was he awakening and was in pain. Even as those three stood by he spake and said “Níniel”, and at that word they hid their faces for ruth and horror, and could not look upon his face, but afterward they roused him, and behold he was very fain of his victory; yet suddenly marking his hand he said: “Lo! one has been that has tended my hurt with skill—who think ye that it was?”—but they answered him not, for they guessed. Now therefore was Turambar borne weary and hurt back among his folk, and one sped before and cried that their lord lived, but men knew not if they were glad; and as he came among them many turned aside their faces to hide their hearts’ perplexity and their tears, and none durst speak.
But Turambar said to those that stood nigh: “Where is Níniel, my Níniel—for I had thought to find her here in gladness—yet if she has returned rather to my halls then is it well”, but those that heard could no longer restrain their weeping, and Turambar rose crying: “What new ill is this—speak, speak, my people, and torment me not!” But one said: “Níniel alas is dead my lord,” but Turambar cried out bitterly against the Valar and his fate of woe, and at last another said: “Aye, she is dead, for she fell even into the depths of Silver Bowl,” but Tamar who stood by muttered: “Nay, she cast herself thither.” Then Turambar catching those words seized him by the arm and cried: “Speak, thou club-foot, speak, say what meaneth thy foul speech, or thou shalt lose thy tongue,” for his misery was terrible to see.
Now was Tamar’s heart in a great turmoil of pain for the dread things that he had seen and heard, and the long hopelessness of his love for Níniel, so did rage against Turambar kindle suddenly within him, and shaking off his touch he said: “A maid thou