The Lays of Beleriand (The History of Middle-Earth - Volume 3)

The book is comprised largely of two poems (both unfinished): "The Lay of the Children of Hurin" and "The Lay of Leithian." The first is written in alliterative verse, the second in octosyllabic couplets. The first poem is about 107 pages including commentary, and there is here included a second version of about 40 pages. The Lay of Leithian is approximately 200 pages, and how Tolkien ever managed to write so many eight-syllabled lines (in couplets!) about a fairytale is beyond me. In terms of the evolution of Tolkiens mythology, the lays predate the published Silmarillian but postdate the Lost Tales. Thus, throughout the book Chris Tolkien keeps us updated on the progression of the stories from the Tales through intermediate writings (mostly bits and pieces on random tablets) and into their form as we read them in the Lays. In my opinion, Chris Tolkien tends to go a little wild with the commentaries, and I do skip or skim most of them my first time through these books. "The Lay of the Children of Hurin" is the more incomplete of the two, bringing us only as far as Turin and Flindings (later renamed Gwindor) return to Nargothrond and the beginnings of Finduilas love for Turin. This poem, free from the heavier metric restrictions of the Lay of Leithian, is quite easy to read and occasionally evokes some gorgeous imagery:

"Never-dawning night was netted clinging
in the black branches of the beetling trees;
oppressed by pungent pinewoods odours,
and drowsed with dreams as the darkness thickened"

The description of Taur-na-Fuin is both haunting and beautiful. And dont even ask me about the death of Beleg! Im not going to spoil it for you, but the images contained in this poem of that tragic event are burned into my mind even now, almost one year after reading them. The moment is so poignant, vanquishing as it does all emotional veils of the modern pseudo-masculine disposition while still upholding the honor of the characters. If you read these lines slowly and with enough contemplation (perhaps also with some slow, melodious, Celtic flute music to accompany) you can almost feel yourself standing beside the noble Flinding as he gazes somberly out over the desolate planes of Dor-na-Fauglith to the mighty peaks of Thangorodrim. Turin at his side--weeping madly--bends one last time over the body of Beleg, bidding farewell to his faithful comrade before his body is at last covered lightly with the brittle leaves of an approaching autumn. Okay, so maybe I gave a little away...sometimes I just cant help myself! Moments like these make this book worth your effort. But--and this is a big BUT--you will likely get the most out of this stuff only if you read it when you are in the right mood, slowly and methodically (I prefer to pronounce each word to myself as if I were at a poetry reading, with proper inflections, emotions and all) exploring each image and scene in your mind as you go. This book is like a good feast-meticulously tasting each bit in its turn will be more worthwhile than devouring the entire thing as quickly as possible.

The Lay of Leithian differs in feel from the story of Turin. The rhyming scheme seems to make the poem as a whole less solemn and more fairytale-like. Here, Tolkien is at his best when we are confronted with the forces of evil. His descriptions of Huans confrontation with Thu (Sauron) and of Morgoths underground throne will certainly be a guilty pleasure for the dark at heart. The effect is not so much solemnity in the face of evil, but rather awestricken fascination at the power and majesty of the forces of darkness. Oddly enough, Morgoth comes off seeming like an oversized dope while his servant Thu is far more cunning. Oh well, cant get everything right. The poem begins slowly but builds and really takes off when Luthien and Huan head off to rescue Beren. Sadly though, it ends in the middle of the excitement. Nevertheless, Tolkienites the world over will relish in such enchanting poetic treasure.