A living soul, absolved from pain by Himring  

A living soul, absolved from pain

Hurin stumbled out of the dunes onto the beach. He was unsure why he had come here. He had learned at some point, he thought, that the Falas had long fallen as well. Well, at least he would do no more damage here to anyone.
‘Well, Ulmo,’ he challenged the grey waves, ‘can you wash me clean of Morgoth’s curse?’
He expected no answer. It did not matter now.

When had he fallen asleep? He sat up and saw a boat approaching.
‘Grandfather? When did you learn to row?’
‘Get in, Hurin,’ said Hador, ‘I’ve come to take you home.’

Chapter End Notes

The title is another line from Sassoon's poem.

Possible content warning: the poem is about the horrors of World War I, which you may expect, but also the idyllic memories invoked include fox-hunting. (From my point of view, the poet is totally overlooking  somewhat of a  connection, there...)