2. Scene I
The Lay of Leithian Dramatic Script Project
THE SOJOURN IN NARGOTHROND: HOUSEGUESTS FROM HELL
Act II of The Lay of Leithian
retold in the vernacular as a dramatic script
(with apologies to Messrs. Tolkien & Shakespeare)
- From Doriath's enchanted gloom
let now your unfetter'd fancy roam
to where the silver waters merge
of Sirion, and the marshy verge
of Twilight, and beyond
across the rugged rainswept hills
to Narog, and to Nargothrond:
Hither wary Beren draws,
with blood-won token ever shown
to the sight, as yet unseen,
of those who guard, in green
of forest from enemy -- alone
he comes into their hands; yet finds
a gentler grasp and more courteous minds
than welcomed him in Thingol's halls. . .
[Outside the Gates of Nargothrond. Enter Beren, escorted by the Rangers, but unbound.]
- Forgive me, sir, but you must leave your weapons with us.
It isn't permitted to go armed into the presence of the King.
- Of course. Hold on a minute --
[He hands over his bow, quiver, longsword, shortsword and dagger]
- Captain: [relieved]
- Thank you for being so understanding about this. Now if you'll
just come this way --
- Not done yet.
[taking assorted dirks from vambraces, leggings, belts and backpack.]
- Captain: [staring at the mounting pile]
- Oh...Is there more?
- Beren: [working poniards out of cloak hem and hand-guards]
- Is -- is that everything?
- Beren: [muffled, struggling out of his armor]
- No, there are still the backups, but you'll have to wait a bit.
[takes another several pounds of metal from undertunic, sleeves, waistband]
That should do it.
- Your trustfulness -- astonishes one.
- Beren: [shrugs]
- I'm here to ask for help. Weapons not going to be very useful for getting
that, right? And I seriously doubt there are going to be any Orcs around
here to worry about.
- Captain: [affronted]
- Certainly not!
- Exactly. But I have to say I'm a bit surprised at your trust, myself.
- ? . . . ?
- Well, you don't know that I am who I say that I am. I could be a minion
of Morgoth waving Barahir's ring about and claiming to be his heir.
It -- is not -- an impossible scenario.
- Ah. Well. I do suppose it's -- remotely possible, but --
[He is saved from the increasing awkwardness by the entrance of the Steward.]
- I'm sorry, but the King is still tied up in meetings and he left strict
orders not to be disturbed. If you wouldn't mind waiting until he's
free, you can make yourself comfortable in the antechambers, and someone
will fetch you when the council's over.
- Beren: [overcome]
- Is there a problem, milord?
- Beren: [hoarsely]
- --No. Not a problem. I . . . I wasn't expecting such a civil reception.
- We may be at war, but that is scarcely an excuse for neglecting basic
- Captain: [drily]
- --Especially when it's been going on for almost half-a-millenium now.
It's not as if anything's changed lately.
- Believe me, I'm not complaining, sirs.
- Then, milord, if you'll be so good as to follow us?
[aside, to the Captain of the Border Patrol]
--Are you sure?
- Captain: [shrugging]
- So he says.
- I know. --I know. But mortals don't come back, or so he says -- and
he should know.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.