Tianwen·Magweth Pengolodh

took him a lot of time.He finally mentioned to me his grand but general dream—that he would write a great poem about mortals, as we have done a great deal about elves.I gave him advice.I explained the main forms of poetry, told him not to write too long on the first attempt, and that it would be easier to hold his audience if he would take care to shorten the cruel and painful parts, and speak only when necessary.Di Javier did not accept this easily, and on several occasions he remained silent and argued.In the end, I still wish him luck.He was a guard and laborer, and when he wasn't on duty, I'd see him sitting alone, his lips moving, deliberating.The way he is troubled by a line or two is agonizing, like a bear clumsily plucking a harp.But he didn't give up. The progress of the work determined his mood. He was irritable and gloomy at one time, and ecstatic at the other.

Di Javier had decided that the story he wrote for the House of Hador would be about Húrin and his kin.It must be fate that he can write this story.Had it been another period, neither before nor since, it would have been impossible for Di Javier to meet those who came from Gondolin, Doriath, and Hithlum, and knew anything about the House of Hurin.And his good fortune reached its climax when a man named Anderwyr came to Sirion in the dead of winter.Anderwyr came with a company of ragged men, the son of Androg, the last of Turin's outlaws.For Anderville, the poetry writing project of Di Javier is also fortunate, because Anderville often petty theft and caused a lot of trouble. Only because of Di Javier's words, he was saved twice. was kicked out of the gate.Anderville was always a liar, a beggar, and a bandit, and he did not even love his dead father, nor was he interested in flattering Di Javier, and his tales of Turin were close enough to the truth.Di Javier's gratitude made Andwell become overconfident, thinking that he was protected by Di Javier, and his position in Sirion was unshakable.It sowed the seeds of his misfortune.Once, Anderville made a disgusting attempt to sully the chastity of a retarded mortal woman, and Di Javier himself threw him out.At last it was spring.

As spring drew to a close, de Javier said he was ready to share his great work with a few of us.Those of us who have helped have been invited to hear "The Children of Húrin" for the first time.At first, I was annoyed.His poems begin dark and grim; he defies the strict conventions of a genre like "Nunn";He broke every rule I laid out for him.When I listened to the first one, I thought my politeness was going to be severely tested.Two hours later, watching the bards and messengers weep uncontrollably, I threw all the old rules behind me.Di Javier's craft, like Turin's fate, triumphed over any attempt to restrain it.

Two days later, at our strong request, de Javier sang for more people, and received the credit he deserved.He had worried that the remnants of Hadow's family would criticize his work, but they said he had added luster to the old story.It was a voice that will never be forgotten, said our elf, and he laughed.I noticed that mortal women smiled positively at the acclaimed bard.But he was most delighted by the comment of a sad old man who told us that he said to him: "Now we, the Hadows, have a voice through the ages."

If Feanor's followers had not attacked, who knows what poetry he would have written?

The closest leader Sirion ever had was Eärendil, who sailed out to sea as his father had done, to seek Valinor, and beseech the mercy and pardon of the Mighty One, for the sake of Elves as well as mortals.Four years had passed since he had sailed away, and there had been no news of him, and the sons of Fëanor no doubt knew this when they sent their letters.Those letters belied tough demands in a so-called alliance, and I remember Elwynn reading them horrified but stubborn (like her grandfather Beren), who, like the rest of us, was involved in the curse of Mandos.Maedhros and Maglor demanded that Elwynn give up the Silmaril, or else he would become their enemies.They made three requests, and three times she refused.My hands trembled as I stamped the wax seal on her tidy third reply.We built the wall of the harbor to hold back the armies of Morgoth; but to hold it against others, who could have built the same wall, and built it better... I am not the only one who has a foreboding.

The army that Maedhros and Maglor brought against Brethombar would not be a large army in the Battle of Tears, but it is more than enough to threaten us.They approached slowly from the horizon like long gray shadows at dawn, and camped at the gate all day.I used to look upon their banners and shields with joy, but it was horrific when they attacked us instead.During the day, heralds come and go, negotiating and negotiating.Elwynn must have summoned in her heart the resilience of her grandmother and the stubbornness of her grandfather, and she told the host of the sons of Fëanor that she would not budge.So, as night fell, the battle began.

Our defenders had the upper hand at first, because it was the archers' battle at first.The Teleri shot well both day and night, but the mortals with us stomped and complained because they couldn't see at night and couldn't shoot.Suddenly, the attackers dragged out small machines hidden in the ranks, which fired hooked round rods that snapped into the stones of the harbor walls.These round rods were attached to ropes, and with the swiftness of lightning those among our enemies began to scale the walls with little need of further assistance.Some stopped and busied themselves en route, weakening the stone walls by mysterious means, and we archers aimed at them instead, not realizing that some had climbed the walls and were among us.

We didn't realize it until someone jumped nearby with a loud yell.I was shocked to the bone - I'd heard this raised voice before, and it was rave time.He had been Maedhros' squire, and to me he was no more than a friend met on a pleasant evening. "Lodendil, stop! Do you remember me?" I yelled, yanking off my helmet so he could see my face.The other person backed away, willing to let me try to appease him.

Lodendil turned towards me when he heard the sound, raised his light sword and stabbed at me.I managed to parry the blow with my knife, but only barely.When our swords met, I saw his eyes widen in his helmet, and he recognized me: "For the sake of that banquet in Nargothrond, surrender!"

I shoved him away with all my strength, and at the same time put a foot around his ankle, trying to trip him. "Don't make us do this!" I yelled.He was as fast as an eel, and he managed to keep himself from falling in time. Then he lowered his head and turned his sword upwards, stabbing behind my arm that blocked him.

It was Di Javier who rushed forward.As soon as he heard the sound of swords clashing, he climbed to our level.With a growl he slammed his pickaxe on the back of Lodendil's neck.Lodendil quickly leaned over, staggered a step, jumped over after avoiding the blow, and slashed at Di Javier's stomach with his left hand.Di Javier's leather breastplate was split by the sword, and I saw blood, but Di Javier yelled, "You are not of my kind—I will cut you! Ohhhhh!" Chased after Lodendil who was fleeing.Although I was unharmed, I couldn't help leaning against the wall.My heart was broken for such a betrayal, but hardened at the same second.This is our fight.

Soon the battle was centered on the gates of Brisombar.Facts have proved that the few subordinates of the Feanor family who have already entered the city are going to do the same thing as Lodendil. They are trying to open a way to put down the city gate.Others were clinging to the arch and were hewing at the keystone itself.We archers worked to get rid of them, and my comrades cheered when I shot an arrow through the gap between the vambrace and the breastplate, and shot down a member of House Feanor in plate armor.I grinned proudly at first before realizing what I had done.Our attackers turned us into kin-killers too.

Our attackers also realized what I did.Before long, someone pulled out a slingshot, swung it up, and hurled a metal ball from where they were perched onto the side of my head, still not wearing a helmet.The blow was hard enough that my last thought was: what a neat weapon.

No, I don't know if it was Lodendil who struck me down.You know, they wear helmets too.

I awoke dazed in an irregularly shaped wooden room, thinking the vertigo was the result of a headache.The person who saved me is by my side.He was a Haddo boy, and I knew he had great respect for Di Javier.He was with Di Javier when he died from multiple injuries.Seeing me fall but breathing, he dragged me out of captured Brisombar.He said that the sons of Fëanor took the stronghold, but did not get its treasure, and Elwynn threw himself into the sea with the Silmaril on. "Where are we?" I asked.

"On a ship in Cirdan, with Gil-galad's warriors, going to the Isle of Balal."

As we disembarked, my heart was broken yet again.Our comrades no matter