In Doriath an elven-king
Took to himself a Maia queen:
Strange was that love, not spoken of
Ere then; its like was never seen.

Queen Melian a magic ring
Wove ’round their land, to shield it well
From orcish spies and prying eyes
And all who would its secrets tell.

As love had bound, so passion shaped,
And life there grew in Melian:
The elven-child grew strong and wild,
Her parents named her Lúthien.

Lúthien walked where snow yet draped
The woods, and when she’d dance and sing,
Ice warmed and broke, the river spoke,
And winter’s chill gave way to spring.

When many years had come and gone
She danced as ever ‘neath the trees.
Her sapphire gown blew out around,
And raven hair streamed in the breeze.

Her song brought spring with that pale dawn;
When from the air the chill had passed,
As deft and light as blossoms white
Her feet skimmed fleetly o’er the grass.

Not far from where she danced alone
Beren roamed lost within the wood.
He heard her song and followed long,
And finding her, he stilled and stood.

He watched her for a time unknown,
As swift she spun like wind-caught leaves.
In her grey eyes shone starry skies,
And golden flowers adorned her sleeves.

His weary feet were strong again,
And swift toward her Beren came,
Eager and spry, with longing cry:
“Tinúviel,” her elven name.

His coming startled Lúthien,
And like a deer she fled away.
But Beren sought, and she was caught:
Wrapped in each other’s arms they lay.

Fate cast its chains upon the two,
And though they knew naught of it yet
A doom more dire than dragon-fire
Would come to pass when time was set.

As seasons turned, love swiftly grew
Between them, and they wandered long
Beneath the trees where none could see,
And shared in laughter, dance and song.

As well there was a minstrel fair,
Daeron by name, who sought the heart
Of Lúthien, his childhood friend,
And oft had wooed her with his art.

One day he spied the lovers there,
Embowered in a forest glade:
With jealous mind and thoughts unkind
He watched in silence like a shade.

He left and told the elven-king,
Who summoned Beren to his hall,
With charges grim to lay on him
As though he were in evil’s thrall.

Lúthien hastened forth to bring
Beren unto him for herself,
And like a guest at his behest
He came and bowed before the elf.

There tales were told of hidden love
And fate’s chains wrought in secrecy.
King Thingol gazed on them unfazed,
And voiced a startling decree:

“Should Beren wish to earn the right
To claim my daughter’s marriage hand,
Let him depart, a quest to start,
And venture into shadowed land.

“In caves wrought by the Lord of Night
He shall traverse, as now I will:
There to take down from Morgoth’s crown
And bring to me a Silmaril.

“Let him present to me the jewel
In his right hand, or not at all.”
Then silence fell, and none could tell
What things were thought within that hall.

Beren spoke out, “Your word is cruel,
But for your daughter’s love I say
That I shall go where shadows grow,
The gem to take and bride to claim.”

Beren set out with Felagund
And ten more elves of high estate;
Disguised as orcs, they ventured forth
But by Sauron were they waylaid.

Felagund stood and did not swoon
Before their foe, but met his eye;
Then they engaged in battle waged
With songs of might beneath the sky.

First Sauron sang of evil might,
Of iron chains and mastery;
Of revealing, uncovering,
Of treason and of sorcery.

But Felagund sang then of light,
Of secrets kept and steadfast power.
Ever and on they fought with song,
As moments crawled away like hours.

At last Sauron did triumph o’er
His enemy; Felagund fell,
And Sauron cast away his mask
And laid the others bare as well.

He bade them come and stand before
His majesty in naked shame;
Their shapes and kins were shown to him,
But never could he guess their names.

He cast them all into a pit
Where lurked a werewolf huge and grey,
Waiting to feed mercilessly
Unless they would their lord betray.

Night after night the werewolf bit
And ate one of the captives there,
But none would speak aloud to break
The oath each to his lord did bear.

Lúthien felt a growing fear
Deep in her heart for Beren’s sake;
She tried to flee, but secretly
A shadow followed in her wake.

As through the forest like a deer
She moved between twilight and shade,
Sly Daeron came and called her name,
And she to Thingol was betrayed.

Within a tree-house she was held,
In a great beech of mighty girth.
She could not climb down from on high,
So far was it above the earth.

But by and by she cast a spell
To make her hair grow to great length,
Then wove of it a cloak to fit
Herself, enchanting it with strength.

And of the hair that yet remained
She twined a rope, and cast it down;
The guards below both slept, and so
She moved unnoticed to the ground.

Now hunting through the woods there came
Two elven brothers proud and fair,
Who spied her as she swiftly passed
Beneath her cloak of magic hair.

The younger brother, Celegorm
Saw Lúthien and was entranced
By her beauty, and craftily
He sought his station to enhance.

For she, the fairest that was born
To elvendom, he sought to wed;
Thus he would rise within the eyes
Of all his kin, in grace and dread.

They brought her into Nargothrond
And held her in captivity
Without her cloak, and thus she spoke
To none but them, as they decreed.

Now Celegorm’s great hound, Huan
Loved Lúthien since they had met;
He brought her cloak, and to her spoke,
And with his aid she swiftly fled.

Swift they departed from that land,
And Huan humbled his great pride.
To aid her quest, and with no rest
He offered her his back to ride.

Within the pits of dark Angband
Beren and Felagund lived still;
The werewolf came, Beren to claim,
And Felagund did brace his will.

Upon the beast Felagund leaped–
Bare-handed did he wrestle him.
The werewolf died, and by its side
Felagund lay, wounded and grim.

He passed into death’s endless sleep,
And Beren grieved in deep despair.
But even then came Lúthien,
And he knew not that she was there.

Upon the bridge Lúthien stood,
And sang a song both loud and clear;
It echoed down and all around,
Where Beren in his pit could hear.

He raised his head, as much he could,
And thought he dreamed of shining stars,
But in reply sang to the sky;
His voice, though weary, carried far.

Lúthien heard and sang again,
And Sauron, hearing her, did smile.
How he would rise in Morgoth’s eyes
Were he to capture Thingol’s child!

Thus out onto the bridge he sent
A hungry wolf, which Huan slew
Without a sound. The fearless hound
Killed all the wolves who followed too.

The last returned whence he had come,
Then at his master’s feet fell down.
He told Sauron about Huan,
Then died without another sound.

Sauron then swiftly changed his form
Into a wolf with stature great:
Huan, he cried, this night would die!
He rushed to seal the great hound’s fate.

He faced the hound of Celegorm
And Lúthien together; then
At his foul breath, reeking of death,
Did swoon the mighty Lúthien.

But as she fell, unwittingly
She cast before Wolf-Sauron’s eyes
Her cloak. He swayed, his onslaught stayed,
And Huan took him by surprise.

Then fiercely fought the enemies;
Sauron was locked in Huan’s teeth.
He shifted shape and sought escape,
But finally he knew defeat.

Huan released him, and he fled;
Then Lúthien went forth in haste,
And sang new songs with power strong
To lay those evil halls to waste.

There did they find Felagund dead,
With Beren grieving close beside.
Together they fled in the day,
And freely roamed the countryside.

Then faithful Huan soon returned
To Celegorm and stayed with him.
Soon out they rode from that abode
Upon a hunt in woodlands grim.

In Celegorm resentment burned
When they by chance saw Lúthien;
He turned his horse and thundered forth
In rage to trample bold Beren.

Celegorm’s brother Curufin
In that same instant moved to seize
Lúthien, but Beren leaped up
And from behind his throat he squeezed.

The rearing horse unbalanced him,
And soon all three fell to the ground.
Celegorm raised a spear to slay
Beren, but on him leaped the hound.

Huan forsook his master’s call
And guarded Beren stalwartly.
Soon Lúthien rose up and then
Did urge them all to stand in peace.

Then Curufin was stripped of all
His weapons, and cursed Beren’s name;
The brothers passed aside at last,
But Curufin was filled with shame.

He took his brother’s bow and turned,
Then shot at Lúthien in spite,
But Huan saw and gaped his jaw,
Seizing the arrow with a bite.

Curufin’s fury hotter burned,
And he let loose a second dart
At Lúthien, but swift Beren
Sprang forth — the shaft struck near his heart.

Lúthien joined her love and strength
With herbs that Huan brought to her:
The deep wound sealed; Beren was healed,
And they departed together.

To Doriath they came at length,
And when at night they lay asleep,
Soft Beren woke; no word he spoke,
But rose and left, his oath to keep.

To Angband he would go alone,
But Lúthien soon followed him:
“For love of you, I would pass through
Those selfsame halls and caverns dim.”

Knowing the King would not condone
Her aiding him, he bade her stay;
She shook her head and grimly said
Again that she would not be swayed.

Then Beren cursed his promise thrice,
And wished he had been slain instead
Of setting forth on this dark course
And bringing doom on both their heads.

But Huan spoke and gave advice,
Urging them not to leave their way
For now Beren and Lúthien
Were bound forever in their fate.

Exile or death would be their doom
If either chose to turn aside.
Then Beren knew the chilling truth,
And went with Lúthien beside.

They journeyed swiftly ‘neath the moon,
Well hidden by enchantments strong
Which Lúthien had laid on them
With skins of beasts and words of song.

In fell disguise as wolf and bat
They reached their goal and entered in,
And came before the Darkest Lord
Within his den of vice and sin.

Beneath the throne where Morgoth sat
Beren slunk down and laid to wait:
While Lúthien bowed low and then
Spoke words of guile that sealed their fate.

“O Lord, I come before you here
With services for you to bring:
If you desire, I have for hire
My minstrelsy, to dance and sing.”

He gave a nod and lustful leer,
And Lúthien began to dance.
Her cloak unfurled as swift she whirled
In grace and beauty to entrance.

She sang a song of holy might
That rang throughout the caverns deep:
And with a spell she crafted well
Sent Morgoth and his court to sleep.

The Dark Lord’s head drooped down and down,
As swift the song of might took hold.
Dark slumber twined around his mind
And knit him dreams of shadows cold.

There from his head the Iron Crown,
Where shone the jewels they hunted for,
Fell to his lap, then with a clap
Like thunder, rolled and struck the floor.

Lúthien hurried to the feet
Of Morgoth, who did not awake.
Then Beren rose from his repose
And grasped the crown, one gem to take.

When that was done did Beren speak:
“Why should we let just one be freed?
Here two are left, and Morgoth’s theft
Would be undone, had we all three.”

He moved to free the second one,
But ere he could, the knife-blade broke.
A sliver thin grazed Morgoth’s skin–
He stirred and murmured as he woke.

The lovers then were forced to run,
And swift they fled those caverns fell,
Until they found the monstrous hound
Who kept the gates of Morgoth’s hell.

Carcharoth gaped his hungry maw,
Then leaped on Beren, snarled and bit–
Fangs keen and cruel closed ’round the jewel,
And, too, the hand that clutched at it.

The wolf sprang back with bloody jaws
And gave a howl of greatest pain:
The Silmaril shone in him still
And burned his flesh with hallowed flame.

The wolf fled howling in the night
And steadfast Beren swayed and swooned
For poison grim had entered him
Where he’d received that gruesome wound.

Then Lúthien put forth her might
And swiftly drew the venom out:
So by her charm she healed his arm,
But soon behind them rose a shout.

Morgoth had woken in his wrath,
And hastened now to catch the thieves
Who from his crown had taken down
A Silmaril without his leave.

But sweeping down from cloudy paths
Came eagles swift and strong of wing:
Who bore the lovers high above
Where evil snared all earthly things.

The eagles bore them swift and far
And laid them down in Doriath,
Where creatures fell from Morgoth’s hell
Could never find the secret path.

Long Beren lay and did not stir,
His spirit roaming night to death,
But by his side his lover cried,
And sang to him with every breath.

At last he wakened, hearing her,
And saw green leaves against the sky.
Then swift they rose, and quickly chose
To meet King Thingol by and by.

They came before the King once more,
And Beren showed his empty hand.
Then Thingol knew, for it was true,
This was no ordinary man.

At last the lovers joined their hands
In wedded bliss, but bliss was brief.
For ever near to elven ear
Came news of urgency and grief.

Morgoth’s gate-wolf was in the land,
So many rose to hunt the beast.
Both elves and men, of whom Beren
Was neither last, nor was he least.

The hunt was long and wearying,
But finally they met their foe.
Impatiently Huan did see
His prey, and lunged to bring him low.

Carcharoth sprang to slay the King,
But Beren took the blow instead.
Then Huan leaped and and down deep
On wolf-flesh, and his fur was red.

As Thingol knelt at Beren’s side
Huan and Carcharoth waged war.
No evil might nor sword-like bite
Could slow the Hound of Valinor.

The wolf, defeated, fell and died,
But Huan took a mortal blow,
And ere his death, his final breath
Shaped words in tongues that men did know.

Huan to Beren bade goodbye,
And died with Beren’s hand on him.
When he had passed, there came at last
Two elves who stood and wept with them.

To Carcharoth the elf drew nigh
And slit his belly open wide.
What there he saw turned grief to awe–
Beren’s hand, with the jewel inside.

The maimed hand withered at a glance,
Showing to all the Silmaril.
This Beren took and stated, “Look,
At last my Quest has been fulfilled.”

To Thingol’s halls they bore him back,
And Lúthien wept bitterly.
She bade his soul not yet to go,
But wait for her beyond the Sea.

The stars were dim, the sky was black
In that same hour when Beren died.
Then as she grieved, her soul did leave–
They passed to Mandos side by side.

Then to her knees Lúthien fell,
And sang before Lord Námo’s throne:
She sang and wept, and pity crept
Into a heart as cold as stone.

Lord Námo sat and listened well,
Then gently raised her to her feet.
Manwë he called unto his hall,
And there in council they did meet.

To Lúthien did Manwë give
Two choices: first, to take her leave
Of Mandos and dwell in the land
Of Valinor, there ne’er to grieve.

Her second choice was thus: to live
A mortal’s life in Middle-earth,
With Beren at her side, and that
Could promise neither life nor mirth.

She chose the latter fate, and so
The lovers went to live again
Upon an isle where for a while
They shared in love and knew no pain.

Soon life in Lúthien did grow,
And after months had come and gone
A son she bore and named Dior;
In him their fate would linger on.

At last they both succumbed to time
And left the world once and for all:
Now neither lay nor tale can say
Where they are laid, in wood or hall.

But while there still be song and rhyme
Their story shall live on anew,
Of love so great it changed the fate
Not only of one race, but two.