J. R. R. Tolkien — The Lay of Leithian - Canto II

Far in the Northern hills of stone in caverns black there was a throne by flame encircled; there the smoke in coiling columns rose to choke the breath of life, and there in deep and gasping dungeons lost would creep to hopeless death all those who strayed by doom beneath that ghastly shade. A king there sat, most dark and fell of all that under heaven dwell. Than earth or sea, than moon or star more ancient was he, mightiеr far in mind abysmal than the thought of Eldar or of Men, and wrought of strength primеval; ere the stone was hewn to build the world, alone he walked in darkness, fierce and dire, burned, as he wielded it, by fire. He 'twas that laid in ruin black the Blessed Realm and fled then back to Middle-earth anew to build beneath the mountains mansions filled with misbegotten slaves of hate: death's shadow brooded at his gate. His hosts he armed with spears of steel and brands of flame, and at their heel the wolf walked and the serpent crept with lidless eyes. Now forth they leapt, his ruinous legions, kindling war in field and frith and woodland hoar. Where long the golden elanor had gleamed amid the grass they bore their banners black, where finch had sung and harpers silver harps had wrung now dark the ravens wheeled and cried amid the reek, and far and wide the swords of Morgoth dripped with red above the hewn and trampled dead. Slowly his shadow like a cloud rolled from the North, and on the proud that would not yield his vengeance fell; to death or thraldom under hell all things he doomed: the Northern land lay cowed beneath his ghastly hand. But still there lived in hiding cold Beor's son, Barahir the bold, of land bereaved and lordship shorn who once a prince of Men was born, and now an outlaw lurked and lay in the hard heath and woodland grey. Twelve men beside him still there went, still faithful when all hope was spent. Their names are yet in elven-song remembered, though the years are long since doughty Dagnir and Ragnor, Radhruin, Dairuin and Gildor, Gorlim Unhappy, and Urthel, and Arthad and Hathaldir fell; since the black shaft with venomed wound took Belegund and Baragund, the mighty sons of Bregolas; since he whose doom and deeds surpass all tales of Men was laid on bier, fair Beren son of Barahir. For these it was, the chosen men of Bëor's house, who in the fen of reedy Serech stood at bay about King Finrod in the day of his defeat, and with their swords thus saved of all the Elven-lords the fairest; and his love they earned. And he escaping south, returned to Nargothrond his mighty realm, where still he wore his crowned helm; but they to their northern homeland rode, dauntless and few, and there abode unconquered still, defying fate, pursued by Morgoth's sleepless hate. Such deeds of daring there they wrought that soon the hunters that them sought at rumor of their coming fled. Though price was set upon each head to match the weregild of a king, no soldier could to Morgoth bring news even of their hidden lair; for where the highland brown and bare above the darkling pines arose of steep Dorthonion to the snows and barren mountain-winds, there lay a tarn of water, blue by day, by night a mirror of dark glass for stars of Elbereth that pass above the world into the West. Once hallowed, still that place was blest: no shadow of Morgoth, and no evil thing yet thither came; a whispering ring of slender birches silver-grey stooped on its margin, round it lay a lonely moor, and the bare bones of ancient Earth like standing stones thrust through the heather and the whin; and there by houseless Aeluin the hunted lord and faithful men under the grey stones made their den. Gorlim Unhappy, Angrim's son, as the tale tells, of these was one most fierce and hopeless. He to wife, while fair was the fortune of his life, took the white maiden Eilinel: dear love they had ere evil fell. To war he rode; from war returned to find his fields and homestead burned, his house forsaken roofless stood, empty amid the leafless wood; and Eilinel, white Eilinel, was taken whither none could tell, to death or thraldom far away. Black was the shadow of that day for ever on his heart, and doubt still gnawed him as he went about in wilderness wandering, or at night oft sleepless, thinking that she might ere evil came have timely fled into the woods: she was not dead, she lived, she would return again to seek him, and would deem him slain. Therefore at whiles he left the lair, and secretly, alone, would peril dare, and come to his old house at night, broken and cold, without fire or light, and naught but grief renewed would gain, watching and waiting there in vain. In vain, or worse—for many spies had Morgoth, many lurking eyes well used to pierce the deepest dark; and Gorlim's coming they would mark and would report. There came a day when once more Gorlim crept that way, down the deserted weedy lane at dusk of autumn sad with rain and cold wind whining. Lo! a light at window fluttering in the night amazed he saw; and drawing near, between faint hope and sudden fear, he looked within. 'Twas Eilinel! Though changed she was, he knew her well. With grief and hunger she was worn, her tresses tangled, raiment torn; her gentle eyes with tears were dim, as soft she wept: 'Gorlim, Gorlim! Thou canst not have forsaken me. Then slain, alas! thou slain must be! And I must linger cold, alone, and loveless as a barren stone!' One cry he gave — and then the light blew out, and in the wind of night wolves howled; and on his shoulder fell suddenly the griping hands of hell. There Morgoth's servants fast him caught and he was cruelly bound, and brought to Sauron captain of the host, the lord of werewolf and of ghost, most foul and fell of all who knelt at Morgoth's throne. In might he dwelt on Gaurhoth Isle; but now had ridden with strength abroad, by Morgoth bidden to find the rebel Barahir. He sat in dark encampment near, and thither his butchers dragged their prey. There now in anguish Gorlim lay: with bond on neck, on hand and foot, to bitter torment he was put, to break his will and him constrain to buy with treason end of pain. But naught to them would he reveal of Barahir, nor break the seal of faith that on his tongue was laid; until at last a pause was made, and one came softly to his stake, a darkling form that stooped, and spake to him of Eilinel his wife. 'Wouldst thou,' he said, 'forsake thy life, who with 'few words might win release for her, and thee, and go in peace, and dwell together far from war, friends of the King? What wouldst thou more?' And Gorlim, now long worn with pain, yearning to see his wife again (whom well he weened was also caught, in Sauron’s net), allowed the thought to grow, and faltered in his troth. Then straight, half willing and half loath, they brought him to the seat of stone where Sauron sat. He stood alone before that dark and dreadful face, and Sauron said: 'Come, mortal base! What do I hear? That thou wouldst dare to barter with me? Well, speak fair! What is thy price?' And Gorlim low bowed down his head, and with great woe, word on slow word, at last implored that merciless and faithless lord that he might free depart, and might again find Eilinel the White, and dwell with her, and cease from war against the King. He craved no more. Then Sauron smiled, and said: 'Thou thrall! The price thou askest is but small for treachery and shame so great! I grant it surely! Well, I wait: Come! Speak now swiftly and speak true!' Then Gorlim wavered, and he drew half back; but Sauron's daunting eye there held him, and he dared not lie: as he began, so must he wend he all must answer as he could, betray his lord and brotherhood, and cease, and fall upon his face. Then Sauron laughed aloud. 'Thou base, thou cringing worm! Stand up, and hear me! And now drink the cup that I have sweetly blent for thee! Thou fool: a phantom thou didst see that I, I Sauron, made to snare thy lovesick wits. Naught else was there. Cold 'tis with Sauron's wraiths to wed! Thy Eilinel! She is long since dead, food of worms less low than thou. And yet thy boon I grant thee now: to Eilinel thou soon shalt go, and lie in her bed, no more to know of war—or manhood. Have thy pay!' And Gorlim then they dragged away, and cruelly slew him; and at last in the dank mould his body cast, where Eilinel long since had laid in the burned woods by butchers slain. Thus Gorlim died an evil death, and cursed himself with dying breath, and Barahir at last was caught in Morgoth's snare; for set at naught by treason was the ancient grace that guarded long that lonely place, Tarn Aeluin: now all laid bare were secret paths and hidden lair.