The tale of Beren and Lúthien is not only mythic in Tolkien's Legendarium, it is mythic among Tolkien scholars and enthusiasts. And yet, it needs to be pieced together from The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, and other sources--and now, from a new publication that presents its expanded, true, or draft form, who knows? And it is not a story that enchants me, except insofar as it echoes a mythical past in The Lord of the Rings, giving the reader a taste of the vast history of Middle-earth. And yet, to talk about marriage, of the great love stories of Middle-earth, requires wrestling with the story of Beren and Lúthien. And frankly, I want to limit my scope rather than expand it, and I'm not sure whether this will be possible with the publication of The Tale of Beren and Lúthien in book form. So I admit that, in my re-reading and blog-note-taking, when Aragorn recites the song of Lúthien, I stopped. I put the book down and started other research. Which brings me to the present.
Beren and Lúthien are a bigger roadblock for me than Tom and Goldberry, so they have to be tackled sooner or later. One question that came up in a recent conversation was whether or not Beren and Lúthien are actually married; I puzzled over this one without investigating (because roadblock...), but it occurred to me that Arwen is descended from the pair, which for Tolkien, would generally imply marriage. So how are they married? How does the reader come to understand the nature of their "marriage"? There's an article somewhere about sex/consummation between Beren and Lúthien. It was weird, but if it's part of the scholarship, I might have to deal with that as well. The story of Beren and Lúthien is also used to support the theory that elves are reincarnated, which I do also need to look into a bit more, as that element of the mythos does not seem to fit within a Christian worldview. There are many questions I have about the Legendarium. I do not have an encyclopedic knowledge. BUT I also do not trust received wisdom on the topics. And so, I investigate. You have been warned.
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The first mention of Lúthien Tinúviel is in Book I of The Lord of the Rings, in the chapter "A Knife in the Dark," after the hobbits and Strider have left Bree. On Weathertop, as they keep vigil, Merry asks for the tale of Gil-galad, but Aragorn refuses because of the nature of the tale, involving as it does the defeat of the Enemy. Instead, he offers the "tale of Tinúviel," which he describes as "a long tale of which the end is not known; and there are none now, except Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old. It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may lift up your hearts" (I.11.191). Aragorn chants rather than sings or recites the tale, which is written in the text as nine 8-line stanzas (octaves). Each stanza has an abacbabc rhyme scheme, with a gerund as the "c" rhyme in each stanza except the last, and two of the gerund pairs--"shimmering" and "glimmering" and "glistening" and "listening" are repeated (first and eighth stanza, and third and seventh stanza, respectively); the meter is iambic tetrameter.
By way of chronicling the narrative structure of the poem:
Stanza 1: Sets the stage. The first two lines, "The leaves were long, the grass was green,/ The hemlock-umbels tall and fair," echo other poems in Middle-earth. Notably, Gimli will begin the song of Durin with the lines, "The world was young, the mountains green,/ No stain yet on the Moon was seen," which is written in 10-line rather than 8-line stanzas, setting the scene common to both--an uncorrupted vision of nature. The poem introduces Lúthien first, by her elvish name, "Tinúviel." We learn that she is dancing as if to music, or to music that only she hears, or to music that is heard, but seems to have no discernible source: "Tinúviel was dancing there/ to music of a pipe unseen" (l. 5-6). The "light of stars" in her hair and clothing is conspicuous in the last two lines of this stanza.
Stanza 2: Enter Beren. "He walked alone and sorrowing" (l. 12). Lost and alone, he catches a glimpse of Tinúviel. Notable details include the "hemlock-leaves" through which Beren peers and the "flowers of gold" on Lúthien's garments, the former perhaps foreshadowing death (the death of mortals), the latter, (for the reader of Lord of the Rings) Lothlórien (?) (an abode of immortals).
Stanza 3: Beren's weariness is taken away as he watches Lúthien, and he attempts to run to her, but catches only moonbeams. She flees to what is referred to as "Elvenhome," but though this generally refers to Eldamar, the home of the Elves in the Blessed Realm of Aman, which includes Valinor, the home of the Valar, "Elvenhome" in this poem refers to a location in Middle-earth, which is not specifically disclosed in the poem, but which we know from Aragorn's exposition following the poem is the realm of Thingol, her father, who was king of Doriath, which was eventually destroyed with Beleriand, none of which is included in the poem itself.* Beren is left "lonely still to roam/ In the silent forest listening" (l. 23-24).
Stanza 4: Beren continues to wander in the woods. He hears faint sounds of footsteps (or dancing) and music. The seasons change. Here again, we have the hemlocks, now withering as winter comes.
Stanza 5: Beren continues to search for Lúthien, explicitly in this stanza, though it was only implicit in stanza 4. He wanders deep into the woods until he finds her, dancing on a distant hilltop. Imagery in this stanza includes moonlight and starlight, frost, and silver mist at Lúthien's feet.
Stanza 6: Takes us beyond winter. Lúthien's song "released the sudden spring." Beren watches and longs to dance near her. "Spring" is ryhmed with "spring" in lines 2 and 5 of this stanza--used as a noun the first time and a verb the second. Though the first seems to refer to the season, neither use of "spring" is capitalized. This stanza has strange syntax in the last lines: "He longed by her to dance and sing/ Upon the grass untroubling." "Untroubling" seems to refer to the grass because of placement, but more likely refers to how he would dance near her--dancing near not with her, not troubling her. Mere closeness is enough.
Stanza 7: The climax: Lúthien tries again to flee, but beren is swift, and he calls her by name, which he has somehow learned (there's more to this that is not explained in the poem, but it is clear that this is important: "He called her by her Elvish name" (l. 51). Either his voice, or her name, or both, cause Lúthien to pause, allowing Beren to approach. First, it seems that she is entranced or intrigued to hear him speak her "Elvish name." Then, it seems to be his voice: "a spell/ His voice laid on her" (l. 53-54). His voice and his presence determine her fate ("doom fell on Tinúviel"). Our final image in this stanza is Lúthien, glistening in Beren's arms. Joined to him, she is now doomed. We do not learn, from the poem, the nature of her doom, though Aragorn explains after finishing his poem.
Stanza 8: Beren looks into Lúthien's eyes and sees starlight. This stanza seems to convey his awe at having her, "immortal maiden elven-wise," for his own, in his arms. Notable details include Lúthien's eyes, "the shadows of her hair" (an image repeated twice), and her arms "like silver glimmering." Hence, we know that she is not fair-haired. Her dark hair contrasts with her pale, silvery skin.
Stanza 9: This stanza is the only one in which the "c" rhymes do not end in "-ing." Instead, we are left with "morrowless" and "sorrowless." The final stanza summarizes and projects their fate and journey:
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away,
In the forest singing sorrowless.
Striking in stanza 9 are the "morrowless" woods, an allusion, perhaps, to the destruction of Beleriand, and the "sorrowless" singers in the forest (woods). There is both sorrow and the absence of sorrow in this final stanza.When Aragorn is finished the poem, he fills in some of the gaps in the story for the hobbits. First, and perhaps most importantly, he clarifies that Beren is mortal, while Lúthien the daughter of a King of Elves, Thingol. He introduces Morgoth, "of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant," and the Silmarils, which were the envy of all. Conspicuously, the Elves' war upon Morgoth to regain the Silmarils is described in purely heroic terms. There is no mention of the vast hubris of Fëanor, or even of Fëanor himself and the curse upon him and upon his kin and any who would try to possess the Silmarils. In Aragorn's telling, reclaiming the Silmarils is a just and noble pursuit, which in some ways it might be, but the entirety is infinitely more complicated than we know. We do learn that Beren and his father were aiding the Elves in this when Beren's father was killed, and that Beren was wandering away from the battle when he came upon Lúthien.
The naming of Lúthien in Aragorn's telling is curious; in the poem it seems that he has foreknowledge of her name, or that he has discovered it. In Aragorn's account, Beren "named her Tinúviel, that is Nightingale in the language of old" (I.11.193). The first seems more Rumplestiltskin-like. The second, more like he is asserting a kind of control over Lúthien. This, for me, is a puzzle that holds some clue to their dynamic. Either way I am reading it, there is the hint that naming is important, and that Beren, in naming her, possesses a kind of power over her, or gains a kind of access to her. There is an intimate knowledge implied here, which is probably where the poem and account tend--a knowledge that is instinctive and spiritual. Nevertheless, it is hard to separate this from something more creepy or insidious to a contemporary sensibility.
Aragorn also gives a very short account of the trials of Beren and Lúthien:
Many sorrows befell them afterwards, and they were parted long. Tinúviel rescued Beren from the dungeons of Sauron, and together they passed through great dangers, and cast down even the Great Enemy from his throne, and took from his iron crown one of the three Silmarils, brightest of all jewels, to be the bride-price of Lúthien to Thingol her father. Yet at the last Beren was slain by the Wolf that came from the gates of Angband, and he died in the arms of Tinúviel. But she chose mortality, and to die from the world, so that she might follow him; and it is sung that they met again beyond the Sundering Seas, and after a brief time walking alive once more in the green woods, together they passed, long ago, beyond the confines of this world. So it is that Lúthien Tinúvuel alone of the Elf-kindred has died indeed and left the world, and they have lost her whom they most loved. (I.11.193-194)Aragorn concludes with an account of the lineage of Beren and Lúthien, though it is unclear at what point in their story Lúthien would have conceived a child.
So what are the important points here? There are, I believe, more insights in Aragorn's introduction and exposition than in the poem itself, with the possible exception of the last four lines, and the question of naming Lúthien, which I intend to investigate further in the Silmarillion account. Aragorn's introduction specifies that he will be telling "a long tale of which the end is not known"; conspicuous here is that end not known. Why? Is it because no one quite knows what happened to Beren and Lúthien in their time together beyond the Sundering Seas, and that no one quite knows what happens to souls beyond death, particularly those that are joined in life? Or the more prosaic and likely interpretation, that the story in which the story of Beren and Lúthien is part is the same story of which the story of Frodo and the Ring is part?
In Aragorn's exposition after the poem, we learn that Beren and Lúthien were unified in their pursuits. Regardless of how we might interpret their courtship, with Beren bringing doom onto Lúthien when she hears his voice, with Beren seeming to have a hold over Lúthien, with Lúthien being "captured" (not literally), and laying passive in Beren's arms, we learn that she is an active participant in her fate and Beren's, and that we need have no fear of her willingness and consent. She is fierce in her consent and willingness to face every trial with him.
We also learn of what becomes "the choice of Lúthien": to choose mortality to remain with her beloved, her mate. We do not learn how she was granted this choice. But it seems to be Beren's death that prompts her--that, losing him, she should not be sundered from him forever.
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Interestingly, the second time Lúthien is mentioned in The Lord of the Rings is when Frodo resists the Black Riders in "The Flight to the Ford." On the far bank, Frodo cries out,
"By Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair, [...] you shall have neither the Ring nor me!" (I.12.214)This seems to anger the rider, who causes Frodo's tongue to cleave to his mouth. Frodo has evoked the name of Elbereth before against the Riders, but never Lúthien. As Lúthien was born an elf-maid, but died a mortal, her inclusion with Elbereth, who is Varda, High Queen among the Valar, is conspicuous, and perhaps not entirely appropriate? Certainly the two are not equivalent, even in legend. And yet, the reader is lead to associate the two because Frodo has done so.
What is interesting about this association is that Lúthien is evoked with the revered Elbereth, but Beren, her beloved, is not. The poem tells the story of Beren and Lúthien as though they are an inseparable unit, but Lúthien has her own importance and, presumably, her own power.
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*This illustrates what I find a bit maddening about analysis of the story of Beren and Lúthien or some of the other half-hidden glimpses of the history of Middle-earth that we find embedded in The Lord of the Rings. I love that they are there as glimpses; following rabbit-holes to recreate the history in order to write intelligently about the glimpses is another thing, as I like my stories to be self-contained. I see The Lord of the Rings to be complete in itself, and the allusions to the complete Legendarium add depth and the feeling of history, but I do not need to know the minutiae in order to appreciate the allusions. This is also how I read T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land. Telling me about the tarot deck does not increase my pleasure in the poem.
