So came it that those three set forward once again together, and came at last back to the woodlands that Tinъviel knew and loved nigh to the dwellings of her folk and to the deep halls of her home. Yet even as they approach they find fear and tumult among that people such as had not been for a long age, and asking some that wept before their doors they learned that ever since the day of Tinъviel’s secret flight ill-fortune had befallen them. Lo, the king had been distraught with grief and had relaxed his ancient wariness and cunning; indeed his warriors had been sent hither and thither deep into the unwholesome woods searching for that maiden, and many had been slain or lost for ever, and war there was with Melko’s servants about all their northern and eastern borders, so that the folk feared mightily lest that Ainu upraise his strength and come utterly to crush them and Gwendeling’s magic have not the strength to withhold the numbers of the Orcs. “Behold,” said they, “now is the worst of all befallen, for long has Queen Gwendeling sat aloof and smiled not nor spoken, looking as it were to a great distance with haggard eyes, and the web of her magic has blown thin about the woods, and the woods are dreary, for Dairon comes not back, neither is his music heard ever in the glades. Behold now the crown of all our evil tidings, for know that there has broken upon us raging from the halls of Evil a great grey wolf filled with an evil spirit, and he fares as though lashed by some hidden madness, and none are safe. Already has he slain many as he runs wildly snapping and yelling through the woods, so that the very banks of the stream that flows before the king’s halls has become a lurking-place of danger. There comes the awful wolf oftentimes to drink, looking as the evil Prince himself with bloodshot eyes and tongue lolling out, and never can he slake his desire for water as though some inward fire devours him.”
Then was Tinъviel sad at the thought of the unhappiness that had come upon her folk, and most of all was her heart bitter at the story of Dairon, for of this she had not heard any murmur before. Yet could she not wish Beren had come never to the lands of Artanor, and together they made haste to Tinwelint; and already to the Elves of the wood it seemed that the evil was at an end now that Tinъviel was come back among them unharmed. Indeed they scarce had hoped for that.
In great gloom do they find King Tinwelint, yet suddenly is his sorrow melted to tears of gladness, and Gwendeling sings again for joy when Tinъviel enters there and casting away her raiment of dark mist she stands before them in her pearly radiance of old. For a while all is mirth and wonder in that hall, and yet at length the king turns his eyes to Beren and says: “So thou hast returned too—bringing a Silmaril, beyond doubt, in recompense for all the ill thou hast wrought my land; or an thou hast not, I know not wherefore thou art here.”
Then Tinъviel stamped her foot and cried so that the king and all about him wondered at her new and fearless mood: “For shame, my father—behold, here is Beren the brave whom thy jesting drove into dark places and foul captivity and the Valar alone saved from a bitter death. Methinks ’twould rather befit a king of the Eldar to reward him than revile him.”
“Nay,” said Beren, “the king thy father hath the right. Lord,” said he, “I have a Silmaril in my hand even now.”
“Show me then,” said the king in amaze.
“That I cannot,” said Beren, “for my hand is not here” and he held forth his maimed arm.
Then was the king’s heart turned to him by reason of his stout and courteous demeanour, and he bade Beren and Tinъviel relate to him all that had befallen either of them, and he was eager to hearken, for he did not fully comprehend the meaning of Beren’s words. When however he had heard all yet more was his heart turned to Beren, and he marvelled at the love that had awakened in the heart of Tinъviel so that she had done greater deeds and more daring than any of the warriors of his folk.
“Never again,” said he, “O Beren I beg of thee, leave this court nor the side of Tinъviel, for thou art a great Elf and thy name will ever be great among the kindreds.” Yet Beren answered him proudly, and said: “Nay, O King, I hold to my word and thine, and I will get thee that Silmaril or ever I dwell in peace in thy halls.” And the king entreated him to journey no more into the dark and unknown realms, but Beren said: “No need is there thereof, for behold that jewel is even now nigh to thy caverns,” and he made clear to Tinwelint that that beast that ravaged his land was none other than Karkaras, the wolfward of Melko’s gates—and this was not known to all, but Beren knew it taught by Huan, whose cunning in the reading of track and slot was greatest among all the hounds, and therein are none of them unskilled. Huan indeed was with Beren now in the halls, and when those twain spoke of a chase and a great hunt he begged to be in that deed; and it was granted gladly. Now do those three prepare themselves to harry that beast, that all the folk be rid of the terror of the wolf, and Beren kept his word, bringing a Silmaril to shine once more in Elfinesse. King Tinwelint himself led that chase, and Beren was beside him, and Mablung the heavy-handed, chief of the king’s thanes, leaped up and grasped a spear12—a mighty weapon captured in battle with the distant Orcs—and with those three stalked Huan mightiest of dogs, but others they would not take according to the desire of the king, who said: “Four is enough for the slaying even of the Hell-wolf”—but only those who had seen knew how fearsome was that beast, nigh as large as a horse among Men, and so great was the ardour of his breath that it scorched whatsoever it touched. About the hour of sunrise they set forth, and soon after Huan espied a new slot beside the stream, not far from the king’s doors, “and,” quoth he, “this is the print of Karkaras.” Thereafter they followed that stream all day, and at many places its banks were new-trampled and torn and the water of the pools that lay about it was fouled as though some beasts possessed of madness had rolled and fought there not long before.
Now sinks the sun and fades beyond the western trees and darkness is creeping down from Hisilуmл so that the light of the forest dies. Even so come they to a place where the spoor swerves from the stream or perchance is lost in its waters and Huan may no longer follow it; and here therefore they encamp, sleeping in turns beside the stream, and the early night wears away.
Suddenly in Beren’s watch a sound of great terror leaped up from far away—a howling as of seventy maddened wolves—then lo! the brushwood cracks and saplings snap as the terror draweth near, and Beren knows that Karkaras is upon them. Scarce had he time to rouse the others, and they were but just sprung up and half-awake, when a great form loomed in the wavering moonlight filtering there, and it was fleeing like one mad, and its course was bent towards the water. Thereat Huan gave tongue, and straightway the beast swerved aside towards them, and foam was dripping from his jaws and a red light shining from his eyes, and his face was marred with mingled terror and with wrath. No sooner did he leave the trees than Huan rushed upon him fearless of heart, but he with a mighty leap sprang right over that great dog, for all his fury was kindled suddenly against Beren whom he recognized as he stood behind, and to his dark mind it seemed that there was the cause of all his agony. Then Beren thrust swiftly upward with a spear into his throat, and Huan leapt again and had him by a hind leg, and Karkaras fell as a stone, for at that same moment the king’s spear found his heart, and his evil spirit gushed forth and sped howling faintly as it fared over the dark hills to Mandos; but Beren lay under him crushed beneath his weight. Now they roll back that carcase and fall to cutting it open, but Huan licks Beren’s face whence blood is flowing. Soon is the truth of Beren’s words made clear, for the vitals of the wolf are half-consumed as though an inner fire had long been smouldering there, and suddenly the night is filled with a wondrous lustre, shot with pale and secret colours, as Mablung13 draws forth the Silmaril. Then holding it out he said: “Behold O King,”14 but Tinwelint said: “Nay, never will I handle it save only if Beren give it to me.” But Huan said: “And that seems like never to be, unless ye tend him swiftly, for methinks he is hurt sorely” and Mablung and the king were ashamed.