him to his knees. Therefore he entered again the dark and empty hall for shelter, and he sat nightlong in the stone seat of Turgon. The very pillars trembled for the violence of the storm, and it seemed to Tuor that the wind was full of wailing and wild cries. Yet being weary he slept at times, and his sleep was troubled with many dreams, of which naught remained in waking memory save one: a vision of an isle, and in the midst of it was a steep mountain, and behind it the sun went down, and shadows sprang into the sky; but above it there shone a single dazzling star.
After this dream Tuor fell into a deep sleep, for before the night was over the tempest passed, driving the black clouds into the East of the world. He awoke at length in the grey light, and arose, and left the high seat, and as he went down the dim hall he saw that it was filled with sea-birds driven in by the storm; and he went out as the last stars were fading in the West before the coming day. Then he saw that the great waves in the night had ridden high upon the land, and had cast their crests above the cliff-tops, and weed and shingle-drift were flung even upon the terraces before the doors. And Tuor looked down from the lowest terrace and saw, leaning against its wall among the stones and the seawrack, an Elf, clad in a grey cloak sodden with the sea. Silent he sat, gazing beyond the ruin of the beaches out over the long ridges of the waves. All was still, and there was no sound save the roaring of the surf below.
As Tuor stood and looked at the silent grey figure he remembered the words of Ulmo, and a name untaught came to his lips, and he called aloud: ‘Welcome, Voronwë! I await you.’ 10
Then the Elf turned and looked up, and Tuor met the piercing glance of his sea-grey eyes, and knew that he was of the high folk of the Noldor. But fear and wonder grew in his gaze as he saw Tuor standing high upon the wall above him, clad in his great cloak like a shadow out of which the elven-mail gleamed upon his breast.
A moment thus they stayed, each searching the face of the other, and then the Elf stood up and bowed low before Tuor’s feet. ‘Who are you, lord?’ he said. ‘Long have I laboured in the unrelenting sea. Tell me: have great tidings befallen since I walked the land? Is the Shadow overthrown? Have the Hidden People come forth?’
‘Nay,’ Tuor answered. ‘The Shadow lengthens, and the Hidden remain hid.’
Then Voronwë looked at him long in silence. ‘But who are you?’ he asked again. ‘For many years ago my people left this land, and none have dwelt here since. And now I perceive that despite your raiment you are not of them, as I thought, but are of the kindred of Men.’
‘I am,’ said Tuor. ‘And are you not the last mariner of the last ship that sought the West from the Havens of Círdan?’
‘I am,’ said the Elf. ‘Voronwë son of Aranwë am I. But how you know my name and fate I understand not.’
‘I know, for the Lord of Waters spoke to me yestereve,’ answered Tuor, ‘and he said that he would save you from the wrath of Ossë, and send you hither to be my guide.’
Then in fear and wonder Voronwë cried: ‘You have spoken with Ulmo the Mighty? Then great indeed must be your worth and doom! But whither should I guide you, lord? For surely a king of Men you must be, and many must wait upon your word.’
‘Nay, I am an escaped thrall,’ said Tuor, ‘and I am an outlaw alone in an empty land. But I have an errand to Turgon the Hidden King. Know you by what road I may find him?’
‘Many are outlaw and thrall in these evil days who were not born so,’ answered Voronwë. ‘A lord of Men by right you are, I deem. But were you the highest of all your folk, no right would you have to seek Turgon, and vain would be your quest. For even were I to lead you to his gates, you could not enter in.’
‘I do not bid you to lead me further than the gate,’ said Tuor. ‘There Doom shall strive with the Counsel of Ulmo. And if Turgon will not receive me, then my errand will be ended, and Doom shall prevail. But as for my right to seek Turgon: I am Tuor son of Huor and kin to Húrin, whose names Turgon will not forget. And I seek also by the command of Ulmo. Will Turgon forget that which he spoke to him of old: Remember that the last hope of the Noldor cometh from the Sea? Or again: When peril is nigh one shall come from Nevrast to warn thee? 11 I am he that should come, and I am arrayed thus in the gear that was prepared for me.’
Tuor marvelled to hear himself speak so, for the words of Ulmo to Turgon at his going from Nevrast were not known to him before, nor to any save the Hidden People. Therefore the more amazed was Voronwë; but he turned away, and looked toward the Sea, and he sighed.
‘Alas!’ he said. ‘I wish never again to return. And often have I vowed in the deeps of the sea that, if ever I set foot on land again, I would dwell at rest far from the Shadow in the North, or by the Havens of Círdan, or maybe in the fair fields of Nan-tathren, where the spring is sweeter than heart’s desire. But if evil has grown while I have wandered, and the last peril approaches them, then I must go to my people.’ He turned back to Tuor. ‘I will lead you to the hidden gates,’ he said; ‘for the wise will not gainsay the counsels of Ulmo.’
‘Then we will go together, as we are counselled,’ said Tuor. ‘But mourn not, Voronwë! For my heart says to you that far from the Shadow your long road shall lead you, and your hope shall return to the Sea.’ 12
‘And yours also,’ said Voronwë. ‘But now we must leave it, and go in haste.’
‘Yea,’ said Tuor. ‘But whither will you lead me, and how far? Shall we not first take thought how we may fare in the wild, or if the way be long, how pass the harbourless winter?’
But Voronwë would answer nothing clearly concerning the road. ‘You know the strength of Men,’ he said. ‘As for me, I am of the Noldor, and long must be the hunger and cold the winter that shall slay the kin of those who passed the Grinding Ice. Yet how think you that we could labour countless days in the salt wastes of the sea? Or have you not heard of the waybread of the Elves? And I keep still that which all mariners hold until the last.’ Then he showed beneath his cloak a sealed wallet clasped upon his belt. ‘No water nor weather will harm it while it is sealed. But we must husband it until great need; and doubtless an outlaw and hunter may find other food ere the year worsens.’
‘Maybe,’ said Tuor. ‘But not in all lands is it safe to hunt, be the game never so plentiful. And hunters tarry on the road.’
Now Tuor and Voronwë made ready to depart. Tuor took with him the small bow and arrows that he had brought, beside the gear that he had taken from the hall; but his spear, upon which his name was written in the eleven-runes of the North, he set upon the wall in token that he had passed. No arms had Voronwë save a short sword only.
Before the day was broad they left the ancient dwelling of Turgon, and Voronwë led Tuor about, westward of the steep slopes of Taras, and across the great cape. There once the road from Nevrast to Brithombar had passed, that now was but a green track between old turf-clad dikes. So they came into Beleriand, and the north region of the Falas; and turning eastward they sought the dark eaves of Ered Wethrin, and there they lay hid and rested until day had waned to dusk. For though the ancient dwellings of the Falathrim, Brithombar and Eglarest, were still far distant, Orcs now dwelt there and all the land was infested by the spies of Morgoth: he feared the ships of Círdan that would come at times raiding to the shores, and join with the forays sent forth from Nargothrond.
Now as they sat shrouded in their cloaks as shadows under the hills, Tuor and Voronwë spoke much together. And Tuor
