Of Finrod and Bëor by losselen  

Canto IV: Of the waking of Men and the conversation of Finrod and Bëor

IV.

Of the waking of Men and the conversation of Finrod and Bëor

The grass grew young upon the mould

and silent stood the mountain-sides

when first arose on Hither-world

the Sun from eastern margins wide.

Beneath the warm light they awoke

beside the waking meadows, Men

who wandered in the ancient oak

that grew untroubled in its glen.

They woke to beneath the rising Sun,

the last-borne fruit of Laurelin,

that first in stalwart course did run

upon the mortal day’s begin.

So woodland Elves they met at times,

the sundered folk from whom they learned

a simple tongue and rustic rhymes

made with lyres roughly formed.

But guideless they unknowing tread

the wayward forests of the east,

that twisted were and gnarled with dread,

beneath whose eaves they found but beasts

and other creatures cruel and fell

who hunted them like creatures wild,

and darkness came to mere and dell

and all by Shadow were beguilded.

But some repented, and some did seek,

by rumors growing in their midst,

the Light that dwelt beyond the peak

in west afar, though snow and mist

lay thickly on the mountain caps

between the east and surging Seas.

They wandered without guide or maps,

fleeing from cave to under trees;

of leaders brave they had but few

and many turned away, afraid,

many perished in mountains blue,

and many back to darkness strayed.

But one among them, Bëor bold,

through passes fell he deftly led

in blinding snow and endless cold

and found the paths that Dwarves would tread.

His people followed fast their lord,

over fen to trudge and ridge to climb,

through mountains sheer and icy ford

came Bëor’s folk upon a time

to Ossiriand. And now awoke

they, one by one, to Finrod’s song

while round them swayed the leafy oaks

in gentle winds and music long.

And there they hearkened, under spell

of Felagund’s voice, a melody clear,

and loud it echoed as peal of bell,

as sudden thrill that bound them there.

“O lord,” at last had Bëor cried,

“What god or herald visits us?

For wretched are we, as you’ve spied.

O’er mountains far in tatters thus,

in rags we’ve roamed. In ice and snow

we wandered lost for many a day,

by dell and pass, by heath and sloe,

at last we through the mountain-way

came hither without map or guide.

For rumors far of Light we heard

to western lands in hope we’ve hied

though naught we’ve found but beast and bird

til now. Indeed I see a Light

and wonder in your sweetest song

whose music breathed in image bright

and leapt my heart such distance long

to lands unseen, with sounds unheard,

as deep in music shimmering

was magic in your singing word

and living shadows glimmering.

What divine message do you convey,

O lord? Or maybe godly orders

and tidings borne from far away

beyond these mortal, earthly borders?”

“Soft,” there answered Finrod king,

and silence came on his command,

for loud he spoke and stilled the string.

The harp fell silent in his hand.

“None has sent me, O folk of Men,

no god nor herald am I to you    

though moving powers beyond my ken

had called me here. These mountains blue

and streaming waters of Ossiriand

did hold me here, my ways beguiled

by winding lodes in mountain land

by meadows and by flowers wild.

“Yet of your coming was foretold

by he the doomsman among Valar

o’er Sea and gnashing ice of cold

on Araman north, in West afar.

On silent mound he stood alone,

he spoke then of the Second-born,

the Men whose fates already sewn

within the fabric. And on that morn

that Sun first rose did then awaken

the sleeping Arda, beast and bird,

grasses green from slumber shaken,

and blooms and trees in Sunlight stirred.

So it was then that ye awoke

to rising morn, a second spring,

or so ’twas said among Elven folk

when Anor rose on flaming wing

from the Utter West. Though Eldar-folk

have heard no word nor rumors dim

ever reached us here that ye awoke

beyond Beleriand’s eastern rim

til now. You come from mountain ways

on many forgotten eastern roads

as Elves did too in bygone days

when high above the sky were sowed

the ancient stars by Varda, queen,

like jewels bright in sable field

was light beloved, quivering, keen,

an endless fabric thus revealed

in Cuiviénen beneath the stars.

Far east now lie forgotten lands,

those waking waters, waters far

from the shivering woods of Beleriand.

But no more we can we thither go

where lost now run the ancient ways

that Elven-fathers long ago

westward came in Twilit Days.

“But whence came you from yonder realm,

what waters fair, or tarn, or mere,

beneath what oak, or ash, or elm,

lay the sleeping waters clear?

For now I see you, child of Men,

alike to us in form and voice,

as Children twain, our brethren.

At this meeting do I rejoice,

and now I name ye, Second-born,

Atanatári, in Noldorin,

children of the Sun and morn.”

Then silence fell on all therein,

in wonder of the Elven name.    

And long they sat within the glade

while shadows thrown by dying flame

leapt about the circled shade.

Above them climbed the silver fire

of Valacirca’s sickled light,

and Finrod took up again the lyre

and music filled anew the night.

His power by his voice revealed,

and time itself did move to still.

While the earth listened, while stars wheeled,

his music rang from hill to hill.