The Book of Lost Tales - J. R. Tolkien [69]
Then Turambar with a roar took his throat and shook him, saying: “Thou liest—thou evil son of Bethos”—but Tamar gasped “Nay, accursed one; so spake Glorund the drake, and Níniel hearing knew that it was true.” But Turambar said: “Then go commune in Mandos with thy Glorund,” and he slew him before the face of the people, and fared after as one mad, shouting “He lieth, he lieth” and yet being free now of blindness and of dreams in his deep heart he knew that it was true and that now his weird was spent at last.
So did he leave the folk behind and drive heedless through the woods calling ever the name of Níniel, till the woods rang most dismally with that word, and his going led him by circuitous ways ever to the glade of Silver Bowl, and none had dared to follow him. There shone the sun of afternoon, and lo, were all the trees grown sere although it was high summer still, and noise there was as of dying autumn in the leaves. Withered were all the flowers and the grass, and the voice of the falling water was sadder than tears for the death of the white maiden Nienóri daughter of Úrin that there had been. There stood Turambar spent at last, and there he drew his sword, and said: “Hail, Gurtholfin, wand of death, for thou art all men’s bane and all men’s lives fain wouldst thou drink, knowing no lord or faith save the hand that wields thee if it be strong. Thee only have I now—slay me therefore and be swift, for life is a curse, and all my days are creeping foul, and all my deeds are vile, and all I love is dead.” And Gurtholfin said: “That will I gladly do, for blood is blood, and perchance thine is not less sweet than many a one’s that thou hast given me ere now” and Turambar cast himself then upon the point of Gurtholfin, and the dark blade took his life.
But later some came timidly and bore him away and laid him in a place nigh, and raised a great mound over him, and thereafter some drew a great rock there with a smooth face, and on it were cut strange signs such as Turambar himself had taught them in dead days, bringing that knowledge from the caves of the Rodothlim, and that writing said:
Turambar slayer of Glorund the Worm
who also was Túrin Mormakil
Son of Úrin of the Woods
and beneath that was carven the word “Níniel” (or child of tears); but she was not there, nor where the waters have laid her fair form doth any man know.’
Now thereupon did Eltas cease his speaking, and suddenly all who hearkened wept; but he said thereto: ‘Yea, ’tis an unhappy tale, for sorrow hath fared ever abroad among Men and doth so still, but in the wild days were very terrible things done and suffered; and yet hath Melko seldom devised more cruelty, nor do I know a tale that is more pitiful.’
Then after a time some questioned him concerning Mavwin and Úrin and after happenings, and he said: ‘Now of Mavwin hath no sure record been preserved like unto the tale of Túrin Turambar her son, and many things are said and some of them differ from one another; but this much can I tell to ye, that after those dread deeds the woodfolk had no heart for their abiding place and departed to other valleys of the wood, and yet did a few linger sadly nigh their old homes; and once came an aged dame wandering through the woods, and she chanced upon that carven rock. To her did one of those woodmen read the meaning of the signs, and he told her all the tale as he remembered it—but she was silent, and nor spoke nor moved. Then said he: “Thy heart is heavy, for it is a tale to move all men to tears.” But she said: “Ay, sad indeed is my heart, for I am Mavwin, mother of those twain,” and that man perceived that