Of Finrod and Bëor by losselen  

Canto V: Of the disquiet of the Green-elves and the passing of Men into Beleriand

V.

Of the disquiet of the Green-elves and the passing of Men into Beleriand

The autumn deepend. Red turned trees.

Softly falling one by one

were beechen-leaf in northern breeze

from branches bare. The distant Sun

streaked thin and wan in frosty air,

and leaping into kindled lights

was starry host so silver-fair

when dark and cloudless were the nights

in winter come. Then softly fell

the early snow on shaggy boughs.

And Bëor’s folk still dwelt in dell

by shallow streams and woody howes.

Houses small they built of wood,

felled from living groves of trees

that since the days of Twilight stood,

and this the Green-elves did displease,

who hid themselves from Bëor’s men.

Naught else did they treasured more    

than things that grow in wood and glen,

the leafy whirl on forest floor,

the rustling song of windy skies.

So Felagund the Nandor sought

his counsel and his kingship wise.

“These Men, Lord Finrod, we love not,

these strangers out of mountains east.

Their axes fall on many trees,

their careless spears on bird and beast.

Their fires give us great unease.

The woods of Ossiriand to us

are dearer than the fallow gold

or opal pale, and dearer thus

than diamond or silver cold,

or weapon hoards in treasury    

or shining arms. Above all worth

we hold in love and memory

the things that grow upon the earth

and bend and dance in windy glens.

We love this many-rivered realm

where nightly roam the roes and wrens,

and windy sighs the branching elm,

beneath the Moon; and near and far,

as silver on the shivering leaf,

are shadows swimming under stars

while windy sings each stalk and sheaf.

To them we give our heart and more,

as loved is every bough and stem

that weave the woods of Hither-shore

as dolven halls or carven gem

to Noldor-folk. Our love as deep

as roots unnumbered, deeper still,

for ever since the Twilit sleep

we lingered here, our songs did fill

these forests fair with fain delight,

in music made beneath the oak

in the endless years of starlit night.

So pray, lord, bade these stranger folk

depart from us, for is there not

some wood in yonder westward field,    

in your own realms where can be sought

a land or fief, for them to shield?”

Finrod gave thought unto this plea

that the newly-come should go forth

from Ossiriand, and at last agreed

to find them succor in the North.

So went the men of Bëor bold

westward to Beleriand,

across the Gelion’s waters cold,

the border of the Elven-land.

They dwelt in Estolad for a time,

until they over nothern hills

and snowy Himlad-plains did climb

through Aglon’s gorge. And onward still

they climbed by rocky highland pass

and near the founts of Rivil’s well

they northward saw the rolling grass

of Ard-galen ere the fires fell.

And on they walked in heathers wild

by Aeluin deep that windy ran

silver neath the Moonlight mild

and took as fief then, Bëor's clan,

the hills of Ladros, no more to roam

in eastern woods or mountains cold.

In Dorthonion they built their home

in green and gentle ridges rolled

in days of peace, when vigils kept

the Elven-lords on the Dreaded Foe,

who in his hold had seeming slept,

and woke not yet his beasts of woe.