Duath a Lach|
Tagline: "He was taken by both shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth... for we went needlessly into the net of Moria." -Legolas
Summary: While the Fellowship rests in Lorien, Legolas finds himself unable to properly express his grief over the death of Gandalf. When he realizes that Gimli grieves for a loss even worse than his own, the Elf and Dwarf find a friendship buried under the shroud of sadness that they both feel.
Note: Anything in italics comes from the film or the book. The rest is by me.
“He was taken by both shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth... for we went needlessly into the net of Moria.”
-Caun Legolas Thranduilion
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dúath a Lach
Egúr a Enîr toll Gwend
Shadow and Flame:
From out of Death and Grief came Friendship
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
'Alas!' said Aragorn. 'Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained in Moria and did not escape.'
At these words all the Elves in the hall cried aloud in grief and amazement. 'These are evil tidings,' said Celeborn, 'the most evil that have been spoken here in long years full of grievous deeds.' He turned to Haldir. 'Why has nothing of this been told to me before?' he asked in the Elven-tongue.
'We have not spoken to Haldir of our deeds or our purpose,' said Legolas. 'At first we were weary and danger was too close behind; and afterwards we almost forgot our grief for a time, as we walked in gladness on the fair paths of Lórien.'
'Yet our grief is great and our loss cannot be mended,' said Frodo. 'Gandalf was our guide, and he led us through Moria; and when our escape seemed beyond hope he saved us, and he fell.'
'Tell us now the full tale!' said Celeborn.
Then Aragorn recounted all that had happened upon the pass of Caradhras, and in the days that followed; and he spoke of Balin and his book, and the fight in the Chamber of Mazarbul, and the fire, and the narrow bridge, and the coming of the Terror. 'An evil of the Ancient World it seemed, such as I have never seen before,' said Aragorn. 'It was both a shadow and a flame, strong and terrible.'
'It was a Balrog of Morgoth,' said Legolas; 'of all elf-banes the most deadly, save the One who sits in the Dark Tower.
'Indeed I saw upon the bridge that which haunts our darkest dreams, I saw Durin's Bane,' said Gimli in a low voice, and dread was in his eyes.
'Alas!' said Celeborn. 'We long have feared that under Caradhras a terror slept. But had I know that the Dwarves had stirred up this evil in Moria again, I would have forbidden you to pass the northern borders, you and all that went with you. And if it were possible, one would say that at the last Gandalf fell from wisdom into folly, going needlessly into the net of Moria.'
“I did not know...”
Legolas smiled slightly, the Elf shrugging his shoulders as if to say that it was hardly the Marchwarden's fault. “I did not wish to dwell on it, Haldir. I came on this journey knowing that death waited in the shadows... but I did not expect it to find one so...”
When words failed the prince, Legolas sat down, looking at the small, and now quite empty, silver goblet in his hands.
Haldir sighed, his own gaze drawn toward the lights above the flet where, somehow, the Sindar Elf had found himself. On the morrow, the Marchwarden would return to his post... but for now, he felt compelled to try and ease the sorrow of his woodland kin. So they spoke and shared a cup or two of wine, for the archer had confided in him that he did not think any of the Fellowship could understand the sorrow in his heart. Elves, Legolas had said, were not like the Hobbits or the Dwarves or the race of Men. If anyone could have understood... it would have been Gandalf... but now...
“There was nothing you could have done, Legolas.” Haldir spoke, daring not to look upon the grief stricken Elf at his side. “Mithrandir made his choice. The Dwarves made their choice when unearthing such foul devilry...”
The sigh that returned however was not what Haldir had expected. In truth the Lórien Elf thought that the prince would share in his disgust of the small bearded beings. Dwarves had ever been trouble for the Sindar since days of old, even more trouble still for the Elvenking from whom the archer at his side was sired. There was no love lost between the Eldar and the Naugrim.
“How could they have known what they would awake in the darkness of Khazad-dûm?” Legolas whispered softly, his blue gaze lifting and turning to that of the Marchwarden. “Dwarves have always delved deeper and deeper... they are possessed of a greed I think... but perhaps it is not always a need for gems and jewels and the beautiful things within the rock. You did not see the depths of Moria, Haldir... you have not seen the beauty of Erebor either. While I can not understand the creations of Aulë... While I fear they delve simply to behold the beauty of the stone themselves and in that I do share their love of rock... I find that this journey has taught me to at least respect them.”
The Elf of Lórien shook his head slightly. “I have not seen the lands of the Naugrim, nor have I ever had desire to look upon them. Still...” his blue gaze flickered to catch Legolas in their stare. “You grieve for Mithrandir's fall... and yet you speak of the Naugrim as if you are saddened by their fate as well. You who should know better the trouble that the stunted people bring in their wake. You, who saw with your own eyes the terrible calamity brought forth from the north in their greed.”
“Perhaps I feel they did not deserve such a terrible fate. You can not understand... an entire mountain... littered with the skeletons and corpses of Dwarves and Orcs and Goblins... nothing living... nothing breathing... and the stones, they spoke not... lamented not... there was only silence and death and the stale air of the depths of the world... You have not had to drag away a companion from the ruin and the tomb of his kin in order to flee the swords and arrows of an enemy stronger than yourself.” Legolas replied, tears in his eyes. He sighed, one lithe hand reaching up to wipe them away. “I would not wish such a fate as I saw those days upon the Naugrim... even if they were my enemies.”
Haldir took the cup from the prince's hands, moving from his seat to refill both of them. “It was a battle you could not hope to win, Legolas. My people have heard of the Fall of Gondolin from those who were there. We of the wood know not of the Balrogs of old save for what has been spoken in tales and stories long ago. You can not possibly think that to flee was the wrong course.”
Blue eyes closed, and for a moment, the archer could feel the fear in his heart once more... he could almost hear the pounding of his own heart as words of terror had fallen from his lips...
Legolas turned and set an arrow to the string, though it was a long shot for his small bow. He drew, but his hand fell, and the arrow slipped to the ground. He gave a cry of dismay and fear. Two great trolls appeared; they bore great slabs of stone, and flung them down to serve as gangways over the fire. But it was not the trolls that had filled the Elf with terror. The ranks of the orcs had opened, and they crowded away, as if they themselves were afraid. Something was coming up behind them. What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it.
It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs.
'Ai! ai!' wailed Legolas. 'A Balrog! A Balrog is come!'
Gimli stared with wide eyes. 'Durin's Bane!' he cried, and letting his axe fall he covered his face.
'A Balrog,' muttered Gandalf. 'Now I understand.' He faltered and leaned heavily on his staff. 'What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.'
Shame... deep in his own heart, Legolas felt true shame. He had dropped his arrow... had stood there transfixed in absolute horror at the monster that came from the shadows. If this was to be how he reacted to a servant of Morgoth... what then if they came before the Dark Lord who called Melkor master? Would the prince fall in fear? Would he find himself cowering at the feet of evil?
A hand on the Elf's shoulder drew his mind, for a time, from the darkness he felt within his very being. Blue eyes found those of the Marchwarden, and Legolas almost automatically reached out his hand to take the offered goblet of wine.
“Forgive me, Haldir.” the archer whispered, closing his eyes for but a brief moment. “I fear that I now know why my father fears to look upon the south. He saw evil, true evil, upon the plains of Dagorlad. So too have I looked upon that which will forever haunt my own steps should my gaze turn to Moria. A Balrog is not so easily forgotten... and we were right to run. There was no shame in that.” Legolas replied, thinking that no... the shame had been in his hesitation and fear... in his very bones. “I did not try to save him...”
At this whispered admission, Haldir put a hand on the prince's shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done. Did he not bid you flee, Legolas? To fly swiftly across the bridge and continue onward?”
The archer laughed softly, but it was a hollow and pained sound, full of self loathing and disappointment. “Aragorn and Boromir ran to his aid... but I felt helpless... I fled. Yes he told us to but that changes nothing!” Legolas bent his head, lithe fingers running through blond hair. “I should have turned back... I should have been by his side, Haldir. Perhaps... if there had been someone there... he would not have fallen and...” the prince closed his eyes, the wave of emotions running deeply through his heart. “And he is gone and we are alive... one so much more important than I... one so much older and wiser and stronger than I... And all we could do, all I could do... was weep...”
They looked back. Dark yawned the archway of the Gates under the mountain-shadow. Faint and far beneath the earth rolled the slow drum-beats: doom. A thin black smoke trailed out. Nothing else was to be seen; the dale all around was empty. Doom. Grief at last wholly overcame them, and they wept long: some standing and silent, some cast upon the ground. Doom, doom. The drum-beats faded.
Wandering silently the paths of Lóthlorien, Legolas still could find no peace. His heart lay in turmoil, the anguish evident in blue eyes that looked at nothing and yet remained steadfast, unblinking. The light booted step of the Elf seemed heavier now, and while he could find some semblance of rest in this haven of the First Born... the memories and the pain were still caught up in emotions that did not know how best to be expressed.
Haldir had not understood, though he had met the Grey Istar in times long past when he would visit the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim.
As the prince passed by the quietly chatting Hobbits and the men who seemed as downhearted as he himself, the notion that there was not a Dwarf amongst them caught Legolas by surprise. Gimli should not have wandered off... especially in a land less than friendly to those of the line of Durin.
Silently, Legolas spied about the ground, looking for a sign. This garnered him a strange look from Aragorn, who seemed about to ask what he was doing... until the Elf simply turned and wandered away and past a tree, vanishing into the twilight like a specter. If the human had not seen his friend do that on more than one occasion... he might have thought his eyes played some sort of trick. Yet Aragorn did not stand nor move to seek out the prince. Elves grieved in their own ways... and of any Elf he had ever met, Legolas was far more private about such matters than most. Then again, Aragorn surmised, that was probably more of a family trait, given the nature of the prince's father, than one of Elven kind.
And so Legolas wandered the paths bathed in twilight, white lights giving clarity to the paths that wound round the trees and over soft grass. He was following a trail, one not made by Elves or Men or Hobbits but by the hard deep boot prints of a Dwarf. Coming around a copse of closely knit trees, the prince finally found his stout companion. Gimli was sitting on a bench... or perhaps it had once been a log but now had been shaped and fashioned to reveal the beauty of the wood and, of course, to make it a much more practical place to rest. The Dwarf smoked his pipe, silent and in thought, the wisps and the smell unmistakable to an Elf who had been privy to the act on more occasions than most Eldar could count.
“Why do you linger here?” Legolas asked, having come to stand beside the smaller being. When the Dwarf had not noticed his presence, the prince had been forced to speak first.
Gimli looked up, “And why would you seek me?” he countered with a question of his own.
The Elf's eyebrows rose, “Come now, I asked first, Master Dwarf. You are in strange lands for your kind, here by the grace of the Lord and Lady, and you should not have wandered off without...”
“Bah!” Gimli waved a hand at the archer in annoyance. “I can go where I please when I please an' you know it, Elf. I'm not fer needin' a pointy-ear to follow me around like I'm some lost pup.” he replied, scowling at the notion.
The Dwarf was rather surprised however, when the fair immortal being smiled... a smile tinged with sadness that he had not seen before.
“You are right, of course. You are free in these woods... we all are. I merely...” Legolas sighed before looking down. “I merely worried. You were not among the others and I thought...”
“Neither were you.” Gimli replied quickly, taking a long pull on his pipe for a few moments, letting his words sink in before blowing a smoke ring into the air.
Silence stretched long between the two, and as Gimli watched the smoke, he felt, more than heard, the Elf sit down on the grass beside the log bench.
“I spoke with Haldir. He wanted to thank me for speaking up when Lord Celeborn thought him at fault. The fault was our own of course.” Legolas' words were soft. He sat there, one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. His arms were around that knee, head tilted up to look into the canopy far far above their heads.
While the prince was lost in his own thoughts... the Dwarf at his side was mired in ones he had yet to express to any.
Recalling what his kin had won... and what they had so horribly lost...
'It looks like a tomb,' muttered Frodo, and bent forwards with a curious sense of foreboding, to look more closely at it. Gandalf came quickly to his side.
'These are Daeron's Runes, such as were used of old in Moria,' said Gandalf. 'Here it is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves: BALIN SON OF FUNDIN LORD OF MORIA.'
'He is dead then' said Frodo. 'I feared it was so.' Gimli cast his hood over his face.
The Company of the Ring stood silent beside the tomb of Balin. Frodo thought of Bilbo and his long ago friendship with the dwarf, and of Balin's visit to the Shire long ago. In that dusty chamber in the mountains it seemed a thousand years ago and on the other side of te world.
At length they stirred and looked up, and began to search for anything that would give them tidings of Balin's fate, or show what had become of his folk. There was another smaller door on the other side of the chamber, under the shaft. By both the doors they could now see that many bones were lying, and among them were broken swords and axe-heads, and cloven shields and helms. Some of the swords were crooked: orc-scimitars with blackened blades.
There were many recesses cut in the rock of the walls, and in them was large iron-bound chests of wood. All had been broken and plundered; but beside the shattered lid of one there lay the remains of a book. It had been slashed and stabbed and partly burned, and it was so stained with black and other dark marks like old blood that little of it could be read. Gandalf lifted it carefully, but the leaves crackled and broke as he laid it on the slab. He pored over it for some time without speaking. Frodo and Gimli standing at his side could see, as he gingerly turned the leaves, that they were written by many different hands, in runes, both of Moria and of Dale, and here and there in Elvish script.
At last Gandalf looked up. 'It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk,' he said. 'I guess that it began with their coming to Dimrill Dale nigh on thirty years ago: the pages seem to have numbers referring to the years after their arrival. The top page is marked one – three, so at least two are missing from the beginning. Listen to this!
'We drove out orcs from the great gate and guard – I think; the next word is blurred and burned: probably room – we slew many in the bright – I think – sun in the dale. Flói was killed by an arrow. He slew the great. Then there is a blur followed by Flói under grass near Mirror mere. The next line of two I cannot read. Then comes We have taken the twentyfirst hall of North end to dwell in. There is I cannot read what. A shaft is mentioned. Then Balin has set up his seat in the Chamber of Mazarbul.'
'The Chamber of Records,' said Gimli. 'I guess that is where we now stand.'
'Well, I can read no more for a long way,' said Gandalf, 'except the word gold, and Durin's Axe and something helm. Then Balin is now lord of Moria. That seems to end a chapter. After some stars another hand begins, and I can see we found truesilver, and later the world wellforged, and then something, I have it! mithril; and the last two lines Óin to seek for the upper armouries of Third Deep, something go westwards, a blur, to Hollin gate.'
Gandalf paused and set a few leaves aside. 'There are several pages of the same sort, rather hastily written and much damaged,' he said; 'but I can make little of them in this light. Now there must be a number of leaves missing, because they begin to be numbered five, the fifth year of the colony, I suppose. Let me see! No, they are too cut and stained; I cannot read them. We might do better in the sunlight. Wait! Here is something: a large bold hand using an Elvish script.'
'That would be Ori's hand,' said Gimli, looking over the wizard's arm. 'He could write well and speedily, and often used the Elvish characters.'
'I fear he had ill tidings to record in a fair hand,' said Gandalf. 'The first clear word is sorrow, but the rest of the line is lost, unless it ends in estre. Yes, it must be yestre followed by day being the tenth of novembre Balin lord of Moria fell in Dimrill Dale. He went alone to look in Mirror mere. an orc shot him from behind a stone. we slew the orc, but many more... up from east up the Silverlode. The remainder of the page is so blurred that I can hardly make anything out, but I think I can read we have barred the gates, and then can hold them long if, and then perhaps horrible and suffer. Poor Balin! He seems to have kept the title that he took for less than five years. I wonder what happened afterwards; but there is no time to puzzle out the last few pages. Here is the last page of all.' He paused and sighed.
'It is grim reading,' he said. 'I fear their end was cruel. Listen! We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge and second hall. Frár and Lóni and Náli fell there. Then there are four lines smeared so that I can only read went 5 days ago. The last lines run the pool is up to the wall at Westgate. The Watcher in the Water took Óin. We cannot get out. The end comes, and then drums, drums in the deep. I wonder what that means. The last thing written is in a trailing scrawl of elf-letters: they are coming. There is nothing more.' Gandalf paused and stood in silent thought.
A sudden dread and a horror of the chamber fell on the Company. 'We cannot get out,' muttered Gimli. 'It was well for us that the pool had sunk a little, and that the Watcher was sleeping down at the southern end.'
Gandalf raised his head and looked round. 'They seem to have made a last stand by both doors,' he said; 'but there was not many left by that time. So ended the attempt to retake Moria! It was valiant but foolish. The time is not come yet. Now, I fear, we must say farewell to Balin son of Fundin. Here he must lie in the halls of his fathers. We will take this book, the Book of Mazarbul, and look at it closely later. You had better keep it, Gimli, and take it back to Dáin, if you get a chance. It will interest him, though it will grieve him deeply. Come, let us go! The morning is passing.'
Legolas was startled when a slight shifting of the Dwarf, something more than him merely smoking his long stemmed pipe, drew his attention out of darker thoughts and to the being at his side. Blue eyes fell on the beaten and battered Book of Mazarbul which now lay on the Dwarf's knees... and a sadness wholly different than that which the prince felt about Gandalf's death, came into his gaze.
“They did not die in vain.” Legolas spoke, his words soft.
When a glare from Gimli was cast his way, the archer raised one hand to indicate that he had not finished his thought.
“They did not die in vain for they took back what was theirs... if only for a time. They pushed aside the shadow for the good of their people.” the prince continued, turning his gaze back to the tree canopy overhead. “My grandfather, Oropher, perished in the Last Alliance. Did you know that, Master Dwarf?”
Gimli said nothing for a time, then shook his head. “I didn't, no.”
“It is true... many died.” the Elf continued quietly. “My father lived and he told me, after much prodding on my part, what happened that day long long ago. He knew grief I could not imagine, though now I feel a part of it as well in what happened in Moria... but that grief, that loss, came for a greater good.” blue eyes turned to Gimli and Legolas could not help but smile softly. “They took back this world, for a time. Just like Balin son of Fundin reclaimed Moria for your people, Gimli... so too did the Free Peoples of Middle-earth take back their lands from Sauron's dark touch.”
The Dwarf nodded, “And yet here we are, the lot of us, headin' to tha heart of Mordor ta be rid of him fer good.” Gimli glanced to the Elf at his side, “Smart words... fer an Elvish princeling.”
One eyebrow rose, though more out of amusement than anything else, as Legolas stared at the Dwarf. “I... am sorry about your people. I knew Balin. I had met him long ago. Óin and Ori as well. Though, you certainly know that.” the prince sighed, shaking his head. “What I am trying to say, Gimli is...”
“Aye laddie. I know. And you've my thanks fer tryin' ta say it.” the Dwarf replied with a smile of his own.
Silence stretched once more between the two companions. Gimli found himself thinking that perhaps the Elf understood him more than the others could. After all, Legolas and Gandalf had been the only two aside from himself to know of Durin's Bane... to know the terror and the horror it commanded. The Elf himself had been just as frightened as Gimli had been. On the other hand, Legolas could not help but wonder why he had felt compelled to offer kind words to one of the Naugrim. He pondered that perhaps the sadness at seeing a people massacred had brought about the change in his heart. Elves did not like Dwarves... Sindar Elves especially... and yet for the first time, Legolas found himself looking upon the stout being as just that... a being... A creation of Eru with a heart and a soul and feelings, albeit expressed differently, just like he himself. Were they really so different? Gimli grieved for the dead just as Legolas did... just as Aragorn and Boromir and the Hobbits all did.
An overwhelming need to lighten the somber and depressing mood overcame Legolas and the prince smirked. “I met you too, Gimli, though you do not even know it, long before Elrond's council. It was the same time that I met Balin and the rest of Thorin Oakenshield's company.”
This seemed to garner a surprised look from the Dwarf, who stared at him skeptically. “I wasn't on that journey and you know it.”
“True... true...” Legolas nodded, a smile on his lips. “But your father was. I chanced upon seeing your portrait.”
One bushy eyebrow rose as Gimli waited for what he was sure would be some sort of insult.
“I must confess that I had never seen a Dwarf child before, nor a Dwarven maid... I thought your mother was your father's brother... and you some strange form of Goblin.” the Elf finished, blue eyes hinting at the mischief and amusement in his words.
Gimli had a blank look on his face that remained there for several seconds. But then, the Dwarf started to laugh. That laughter made Legolas' smile brighten and seem, for the first time, not quite so sad.
“No doubt I'd be thinkin' the same if the rolls reversed.” Gimli was saying with an amused smile of his own. “I remember hearin' stories and tales of what happened during that particular journey. Some of it bad, mind you, and some of it lookin' rather ill of yer father. I can't be holdin' it against you, laddie. Yer not King Thranduil and I'm not Glóin. I think sometimes, we forget that we're not our fathers.”
Legolas said nothing, a bit astonished at this revelation coming from the Dwarf at his side.
“However...” Gimli tossed the Elf a mischievous grin. “I recall a tale from that time told to me by Dwalin himself of how in Rivendell, my cousin Kili mistook an Elven male... for a maiden.”
At this the prince blinked, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. “How is that even possible?”
“How could you think me a Goblin?”
Silence reigned as both Elf and Dwarf stared at one another. And then... they laughed. It was not laughter at the other or even at the situations spoke of... but laughter at the similarities shared between a people that seemed so very different.
Time passed, and though both Legolas and Gimli still felt the keen bite of grief and loss, for Moria had taken much from their worlds... both beings found something in common.
“Would that Gandalf were here.” the prince spoke with a fond smile. “He would be truly amazed.”
“At what?” Gimli asked, lighting his pipe once more and puffing away for a few seconds.
Legolas's blue gaze focused back on the Dwarf beside him. “That I think, at least for a small part, I understand you better now. That I think I could call you friend.”
Gimli smiled, “To think... a Dwarf and an Elf... friends... Yer father won't be disowning you for it, will he?”
“Let us hope not, dear Gimli.” the archer replied with a laugh.
They had not seen the Lord and Lady again, and they had little speech with the Elven-folk; for few of these knew or would use the Westron tongue. Haldir had bidden them farewell and gone back again to the fences of the North, where great watched was now kept since the tiding of Moria that the Company had brought. Legolas was away much among the Galadhrim, and after the first night he did not sleep with the other companions, though he returned to eat and talk with them. Often he took Gimli with him when he went abroad in the land, and the others wondered at the change.
And the others truly had wondered at the change... for so began the sprouting of a most unusual friendship... one born from the seed of grief and sadness, watered and fed by a shadow and a flame too great and terrible to forget, it's roots running deep from a shared loss and a mutual understanding.
It was a friendship the likes of which had not been seen in Middle-earth for an age or more.
An Elf and a Dwarf, traveling the roads of the world, their paths intertwined for good or for ill, through luck or misfortune or perhaps even both.
A most remarkable friendship that lasted beyond the ending of the Fellowship, beyond the reign of Elessar, and even beyond that to the very shores of Valinor.
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Elvish Words To Know:
caun = prince
-ion = son of
dúath = shadow
a = and
lach = flame
e = from out of
gúr = death
nîr = grief [shed tears / weep]
toll = came
gwend = friendship / bond
Naugrim = Dwarves [as a people]
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- Anything I use for Elvish comes directly from “The Lord of the Rings” by J.R.R. Tolkien or from one of the following sources; David Salo's book “A Gateway to Sindarin” (ISBN #0874808006), the online dictionary “Parf Edhellen”, the downloaded dictionary “Dragonflame”, Ruth S. Noel's book “The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth” (ISBN #0395291305), the extended edition trilogy movie dialogues cataloged online by “The Elvish Linguistic Fellowship”, and the LOTR complete recordings lyrics cataloged online by “A Magpie's Nest”.
- According to Salo (page 142) when you want to use “from, out from, out of” you use “ed” or “e”. It is important to note that “ed” appears as “e” before most consonants except in the case of “s-, f-, th-” where it appears as “es, ef, eth”. Since neither “gúr” nor “nîr” begin with a vowel or any of the exceptions, “e” is used and thus you get “egúr (ed + gúr)” and “enîr (ed + nîr)”. Technically the title would be read something like “Out of death and out of weeping” but that's repetitive so I shortened the English reading (which happens a lot in LOTR dialogue subtitles).
- For the verb “tol (to come)” I am using the past third singular of “he/she/it hurled”, in this case “it came” and the “it” is both “gúr” and “nîr” so “tol” ends up being conjugated as “toll”.
- “Naugrim” is plural for “naug” and thus speaks not of a “Dwarf” (singular) but of “Dwarves” (plural). I simply like the way if flows better as opposed to “nogoth” and “nogothrim” (which mean the same).
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- Anything in italics comes from either “The Lord of the Rings” extended edition dvd movie trilogy or from “The Lord of the Rings” novel trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien.
- The copy of “The Lord of the Rings” that I use (and thus that the page numbers coincide on) is ISBN #0618260242 and is all three novels in one 2003 movie-tie-in-edition book.
- First italicized portion spoken by Legolas was from the extended edition DVD of the film“The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”.
- Second italicized portion with Celeborn was from the book “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”, pages 346-347.
- Legolas' comments about 'lamenting rocks' has to do with something he said on page 276 in the chapter “The Ring Goes South” of “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”.
- Legolas' comment about having to 'drag away a companion' comes from his actions on page 317 in the chapter “The Bridge of Khazad-dûm” of “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”.
- When Haldir says “we of the wood” he is not meaning those of Lórien but meaning Silvan Elves, who would most likely not have been in Gondolin.
- Third italicized portion with the Balrog's appearance was from the book “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”, page 321.
- Fourth italicized portion with the weeping outside Moria was from the book “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”, page 323.
- Fifth italicized portion with the Book of Mazarbul was from the book “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”, pages 311-315.
- Information regarding Thranduil and Oropher at the Last Alliance came from the book “Unfinished Tales”, pages 270-272 (ISBN #0345357116).
- Legolas' admission to Gimli that he knew Balin, Óin, and Ori is a direct reference to both films “The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug” and “The Hobbit: There And Back Again”.
- Legolas' reference about seeing Gimli's portrait is in reference to the film “The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug”.
- Gimli's reference about Kili and the Elf gender mix-up is in reference to the extended edition of the film “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey”.
- Sixth and final italicized portion about Legolas taking Gimli with him was from the book “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”, pages 349-350.