Читать книгу The Lays of Beleriand онлайн | страница 30

Then a moon mounted o’er the mists riding,1045and the keen radiance of the cold moonshinethe shadows sharpened in the sheer hollows,and slashed the slopes with slanting blackness;in wreaths uprising the reek of fireswas touched to tremulous trails of silver.1050Then the fires faded, and their foemen slumberedin a sleep of surfeit. No sentinel watched,nor guards them girdled – what good were itto watch wakeful in those withered regionsneath Eiglir Engrin, whence the eyes of Bauglir1055gazed unclosing from the gates of Hell?Did not werewolves’ eyes unwinking gleamin the wan moonlight – the wolves that sleep not,that sit in circles with slavering tonguesround camp or clearing of the cruel Glamhoth?1060Then was Beleg a-shudder, and the unblinking eyesnigh chilled his marrow and chained his fleshin fear unfathomed, as flat to earthby a boulder he lay. Lo! black cloud-driftssurged up like smoke from the sable North,1065and the sheen was shrouded of the shivering moon;the wind came wailing from the woeful mountains,and the heath unhappy hissed and whispered;and the moans came faint of men in tormentin the camp accursed. His quiver rattled1070as he found his feet and felt his bow,hard horn-pointed, by hands of cunningof black yew wrought; with bears’ sinewsit was stoutly strung; strength to bend ithad nor Man nor Elf save the magic helped him1075that Beleg the bowman now bore alone.No arrows of the Orcs so unerring wingédas his shaven shafts that could shoot to a markthat was seen but in glance ere gloom seized it.Then Dailir he drew, his dart beloved;1080howso far fared it, or fell unnoted,unsought he found it with sound feathersand barbs unbroken (till it broke at last);and fleet bade he fly that feather-pinionedsnaketonguéd shaft, as he snicked the string1085in the notch nimbly, and with naked armto his ear drew it. The air whistled,and the tingling string twanged behind it,soundless a sentinel sank before it –there was one of the wolves that awaked no more.1090Now arrows after he aimed swiftlythat missed not their mark and meted silentdeath in the darkness dreadly stinging,till three of the wolves with throats piercéd,and four had fallen with fleet-wingéd1095arrows a-quivering in their quenchéd eyes.Then great was the gap in the guard opened,and Beleg his bow unbent, and said:‘Wilt come to the camp, comrade Flinding,or await me watchful? If woe betide1100thou might win with word through the woods homewardto Thingol the king how throve my quest,how Túrin the tall was trapped by fate,how Beleg the bowman to his bane hasted.’Then Flinding fiercely, though fear shook him:1105‘I have followed thee far, O forest-walker,nor will leave thee now our league denying!’Then both bow and sword Beleg left therewith his belt unbound in the bushes tangledof a dark thicket in a dell nigh them,1110and Flinding there laid his flickering lampand his nailéd shoes, and his knife onlyhe kept, that uncumbered he might creep silent.