The Madness of Carcharoth...

Three new books arrived for me this morning (some Hildegard of Bingen; her style of Latin is unique but she can sometimes annoy me because she can't spell! and a book on Greek pederasty - is that a ''morbid'' interest I wonder?), so blogging might be slow over the next few days. My mother might tell you how engrossed I get in an interesting book; it's rather strange, I become oblivious to the outside world! I have long decided my Lenten abstinence, so I indulged in that for the last time (hopefully) for a while yesterday. The thing about my Lenten penances is that I try to carry them over and beyond Easter, but this doesn't always work. Lord willing, I shall be more successful this year. In the meanwhile, let's return to the Lay of Leithian. The Lay was incomplete, and we reached a fateful moment in the last post, but it suddenly cuts off. Tolkien composed various sketches for later stanzas, but I will leave all that out and rely now upon the narrative of The Silmarillion.

Beren thrust the holy jewel into the face of the great Wolf Carcharoth, saying: ''Get you gone, and fly! for here is a fire that shall consume you, and all evil things!'' But Carcharoth was not daunted, and gaping he bit the hand of Beren, still clutching the holy jewel, at the wrist. Suddenly, all his innards were filled with a devouring fire that ate away at him. Howling, he fled before them down into Beleriand, and all the creatures of Morgoth fled before him, such was the horror of his onset. Beren lay in a swoon before the great gates of Hell, for there was venom in the fangs of the Wolf, and Lúthien did all she could unaided to staunch and heal the wound. But they were in dire peril, for behind them in Angband was heard the rumour of fierce wrath suddenly kindled. The hosts of Morgoth were aroused from sleep.

Thus the Quest of the Silmaril was almost doomed to utter failure, but they were saved. For Huan the wise was vigilant, and he had bidden all things watch that they might render the lovers aid. Thus, even as the darts and bolts of the enemy assailed them, Beren and Lúthien were saved by Thorondor the mighty Eagle and his vassals, and souring above the lightning they escaped the wrath of Angband only just. Fire belched forth from Thangorodrim, and there were great quakes that rent the earth, and the lands about were ruined. Thorondor passed over Anfauglith, Taur-nu-Fuin and came over the hidden vale of Tumladen, and Lúthien beheld the white city of Gondolin amid the green jewel of the plain. But she wept, for Beren did not speak and she thought that he would surely die. The eagles set them down at the borders of Doriath and returned to the mountains...

Art: Ted Nasmith.