Silmarillion - Chapter 21 - Of Túrin Turambar

[Estelyn Telcontar]

This long chapter tells the complete story of a character whose tale is both heroic and tragic. Túrin is admired by many readers for his prowess and bravery, yet his fate is often debated - how much of it is due to Morgoth's curse, how much brought upon himself by his own pride and injustice?

A brief summary of the story is hardly possible to write - it's so convoluted and complicated. Therefore I will just bring up several questions that occurred to me while reading the chapter to begin the discussion, assuming that most who post here are familiar with the events.

Does anyone care to make a list of all the names Túrin assumes in the course of his life?!

Tolkien puts words concerning mixed Elven-Human marriage into Gwindor's mouth, stressing how unique such an event is, and that a special purpose is necessary. Do you think Finduilas' love could have influenced Túrin positively, or would a relationship between them not have been allowed to happen under those circumstances?

At which point(s) in the story do you think Túrin's fate could have turned? Could he have escaped the doom that was his fate?


Other sources for this story can be found in The Lays of Beleriand and The Children of Húrin. How do the various accounts differ? What remains the same? Though we are mainly discussing the Silmarillion version, there is certainly room for comparisons.

[Inziladun]

Count me in with the people who don't have a great deal of sympathy for Túrin.

Granted, he was under the curse of a "fallen angel", the most powerful being in Middle-earth, and Morgoth had made it a special project to cause as much ruin to the House of Hador as he could.

Still, Túrin could have at many points turned aside from the path Morgoth had laid in front of him, and at least minimised the effects of the curse.

Where were the turning points, where Túrin's choices made Morgoth's work easy?

1. In Doriath, after the death of Saeros. Pride kept Túrin from returning to Menegroth and submitting to Thingol's judgement. Obviously, had Túrin stayed he would have been pardoned quickly, and Morwen and Nienor would have had no need to later search for him in the wild.

2. When found by Beleg and advised of his pardon by Thingol, Túrin again allowed pride to master him and refused to return.

3. In Nargothrond, if Túrin had kept to the stealthy means of battle favoured by Orodreth, the Eldar there might not have been revealed to Morgoth, or at least they could have endured longer. Even a warning from messengers of Ulmo was not enough to sway him. Had Nargothrond not fallen, Finduilas would not have died. More importantly, Túrin would not have been exposed to the power of Glaurung, which caused him to go to Dor-lómin, leading Morwen and Nienor to leave the safety of Doriath to look for him.

4. Túrin's taking up Gurthang in Brethil instead of generic weaponry that would not draw attention to him was, I think, the reason Glaurung himself decided to go to Brethil. This put him, and Nienor back in Glaurung's path and led to the suicide of both. One might be tempted to say that the death of Nienor was a mercy, if only for her own peace of mind. After it, instead of literally "slaying the messenger" who told him of Nienor's death, Brandir, Túrin possibly could have found it in himself to devote his life to righting wrongs, both those he himself had caused, and those he had no part in. Would that not have been a better penance than simply killing himself and giving Morgoth his full triumph? After all, had Túrin still been alive, would his father have ever seen the need to insult Thingol by giving him the Nauglamír? It was that necklace which brought to Menegroth the Dwarves who ultimately killed Thingol.

So many places where Túrin could have turned away and made the curse more problematic for Morgoth, and yet he played right into Morgoth's hands. That, to me, is the real tragedy of the story.

[Galadriel55]

First of all, this is one of my favourite chapters, though it is quite complicated and messy. When I first read it, I was so sick and tired of all the curses that I did not read COH until about a month later. But later on I came to really like Turin's story. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the mix of irony and tragedy that appeals to me.

Originally Posted by Estelyn Telcontar

Does anyone care to make a list of all the names Túrin assumes in the course of his life?!

Please correct me if I'm wrong. I don't have the books in my hand to check, and there might be some names from COH that don't appear in The Sil...

Turin
Neithan
Gorthol
Agarwaen son of Umarth
Adanedhel (Given by Elves of Nargothrond)
Mormegil (Given by Elves of Nargothrond)
Thurin (Given by Finduilas)
Wildman of the Woods
Turambar
Dagnir Glaurunga (this one was given to him after his death)

Do you think Finduilas' love could have influenced Túrin positively, or would a relationship between them not have been allowed to happen under those circumstances?

I think that before we get to the "woud it have been allowed by fate" question, we should consider if it was actually possible on a more simple level. Turin loved Finduilas in a peculiar way. On one hand, they were lovers. On the other hand, he saw her as a mother and a queen (paraphrasing a quote here). It is a bit of an awkward relationship. I think that sometimes she reminded him of Nellas (though he didn't realise it), bringing nostalgic feelings.

At which point(s) in the story do you think Túrin's fate could have turned? Could he have escaped the doom that was his fate?

I think that he was given many "chances", but for one reason or another he did not take them. Yet, maybe, those chances were also illusions, and the curse would have turned them into yet worse choices.

If Morwen dropped her pride and came to Doriath right away, if Turin stayed there, if he would listen to Beleg, if he didn't give away Nargothrond's secrecy, if he would listen to Cirdan's messengers, if he didn't listen to Glaurung, if he saved Finduilas instead of going home, if he wasn't so aggressive in Brodda's house as to kill his friends and kin, if he went to Doriath right after, if Morwen and Nienor stayed in Doriath, if Nienor didn't come up that hill, if Turin recognised his sister, if he didn't subcontiously take over Brandir's role, if, if, if...

Wow, that is one long sentence. And a long list that is *still* incomplete.

But I think the biggest "if" of all is, "if Turin could understand his own heart and the hearts of others..." Quite a lot of his troubles come because he has no clue what is going on. Like his fight with Saeros and refusal to stay in / go back to Doriath. Like he didn't see how Mim - who was once very fond of him - and Beleg did not go together. Like the love triangle in Nargothrond. Like he brought trouble on his kin in Dor-Lomin. Like the whole thing with Brandir.

As either Gelmir or Arminas said, he takes councel with himself and his sword only. He doesn't listen to advice. He puts faith blindly in his own strength and skills. Sometimes it seems as though he is obsessed with something and purposely ignorant of everything else.

Other sources for this story can be found in The Lays of Beleriand and The Children of Húrin. How do the various accounts differ? What remains the same? Though we are mainly discussing the Silmarillion version, there is certainly room for comparisons.

The difference between The Sil and COH that I always noticed is Mim's betrayal. In The Sil he is captured by orcs who force him to give away the location where Turin is abiding. In COH, Mim leaves Amon Rudh under the pretence of gathering roots but searches for the orcs. I somehow favour the Sil version. Mim is not really evil. He never really wanted to do evil; he wanted revenge.

Mim is a very curious character. He is more than a bit mysterious and unpredictable. Sometimes there are sparks of nobility and pride in him, but at other times he is just a miserable greedy coward, valuing his neck above all others, and giving heed to no virtues. The first time we see this is when he hands over Bar-en-Danwedh over to Turin's men. In this case he is pressured by his own captivity, and Khim's wound, but the idea stays the same. The second time is when he betrays Bar-en-Danwedh to the orcs. And the third - when upon meeting Hurin he begs him to take all the treasures of Nargothrond and save his life.

Taking the first example from above, the fathers that we see - Hurin and Mim - are like each other's antipodes. When they are captured and their families are threatened, Hurin is proud, defiant, and in a way open, even in front of Morgoth. Mim is sneaky, begging, hiding. He was offended when the Outlaws bound him (at least in COH); Hurin wasn't exactly offended, he merely laughed and mocked Morgoth. Which showed more pride? Mim' pride certainly was less high than Hurin's. And it was for lower causes.

I'm not sure what to make of that father-contrast. It just is.

Edit: xed with Zil.

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

Count me in with the people who don't have a great deal of sympathy for Túrin.

Count me out.

He is like a noble version of Gollum. We pity that wretched creature, with Slinker pulling on one side of his mind and Stinker on another. But Turin is, in a way, quite similar. He doesn't wear a loincloth and isn't skin-and-bones and doesn't feed on raw fishes. And he doesn't have the Ring gnawing at him. But he has other things, like the curse. And the greatest similarity is how they both carry guilt in their concience; they remember things that they are trying to forget.

[Edit to clarify: It's easy to judge Gollum by his appearance, and decide on either "wretched" or "disgusting", or both. It is harder to understand, and judge, him by what goes on in his mind. There's a Gollum and a Smeagol playing tug-of-war with his being. In Turin's case, he has so many more factors doing multy-way tug-of-war, which makes it so much more bitter for him to - once again - have chosen the wrong string.]

Túrin possibly could have found it in himself to devote his life to righting wrongs, both those he himself had caused, and those he had no part in. Would that not have been a better penance than simply killing himself and giving Morgoth his full triumph?

Ah, but he tried that, didn't he? He was trying to be as much of a threat to Morgoth as he could, and he tried to "make it right this time". But he always failed, time and again, whether it was by power of the curse or his own actions. I think that when he died, everyone was relieved. He said himself that he casts a shadow wherever he goes, but, sadly, his solution is not to distance himself from others to avoid helping Morgoth, but rather to assume a fake identity.

And that made me think of an interesting thing. In Nargothrond and in Brethil the people knew who he really was, but they kept quiet about it. Was it just because they respected Turin, or maybe were afraid of his anger?

So many places where Túrin could have turned away and made the curse more problematic for Morgoth, and yet he played right into Morgoth's hands. That, to me, is the real tragedy of the story.

Maybe tragedy, but I think irony fits better. The story is full of it. Both dramatic and situational irony.

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

He is like a noble version of Gollum. We pity that wretched creature, with Slinker pulling on one side of his mind and Stinker on another. But Turin is, in a way, quite similar. He doesn't wear a loincloth and isn't skin-and-bones and doesn't feed on raw fishes. And he doesn't have the Ring gnawing at him. But he has other things, like the curse. And the greatest similarity is how they both carry guilt in their concience; they remember things that they are trying to forget.

There is a closer similarity between the two, I think, in that both made the choices they did because of innate characteristics. The Ring called to Gollum so acutely because it recognised in him a kindred spirit. Gollum's basic personality was against him, but that doesn't absolve him of responsibility for his own choices, such as killing Déagol so easily.

Likewise, Túrin being so much like his mother personality-wise probably made things harder for him, but still one would think that with all the advantages he had, such as the fostering in Doriath and having the benefit the wisdom of Thingol and Melian, he could have learned some patience or humility.

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

Ah, but he tried that, didn't he? He was trying to be as much of a threat to Morgoth as he could, and he tried to "make it right this time". But he always failed, time and again, whether it was by power of the curse or his own actions. I think that when he died, everyone was relieved. He said himself that he casts a shadow wherever he goes, but, sadly, his solution is not to distance himself from others to avoid helping Morgoth, but rather to assume a fake identity.

Yet even when he hid the name of Túrin, he clung to Gurthang, the one item which above all others would identify him. Why? Was it an internal rebellion against hiding his true identity? Was he too proud to let go of his past life completely, though he was also too proud to return to Doriath where he could openly be the son of Húrin Thalion?

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

And that made me think of an interesting thing. In Nargothrond and in Brethil the people knew who he really was, but they kept quiet about it. Was it just because they respected Turin, or maybe were afraid of his anger?

Probably both, in Nargothrond. With Brethil, it was likely more of a courtesy.

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

Yet even when he hid the name of Túrin, he clung to Gurthang, the one item which above all others would identify him. Why? Was it an internal rebellion against hiding his true identity? Was he too proud to let go of his past life completely, though he was also too proud to return to Doriath where he could openly be the son of Húrin Thalion?

Well, he could definitely use some humility. But there are other answers as well. Turin - always, and blindly - preffered brute strength to secrecy. Why cast away the strongest weapon he has, in return for being yet another homeless vagabond? It didn't make sense to him. And whenever he tries doing exactly that, he still rises to the top of society - among the Outlaws, in Nargothrond, and at Brethil, he tries to blend in with the crowd, but his pride, ambition, thirst to avenge himself and his family etc (you name it) always brings him to a visible spot.

The funny thing is that as treacherous as that sword is, it proved to be the most "loyal" of Turin's possessions, and the closest one to him. (this was mentioned in this thread, posts #32, #33, and #37). To summarise: they use "thee" and "thou" in their final dialogue. These are familiar pronouns. They underline the deeper connection Turin has with the sword and their brotherhood. They are also connected by their shared death.

The whole issue with pride also brings the question of how Turin felt when he sneaked up to Glaurung to stab him. I can see him saying one thing to himself over and over again: kill Glaurung at any cost! And that cost was pride. He did not come up openly to the dragon and challenge him to a duel. Did he learn that in open combat he has no chance? But that's his honour, his pride! In my opinion, giving up those virtues for the sake of victory was a bigger deal for him than a scorched hand.

How true then are Glaurung's words, then?

"And now thou shalt know him: a stabber in the dark, treacherous to foes, faithless to friends, and a curse unto his kin, Turin son of Hurin!"

Well, of course they are true, but what I mean is how much does Glaurung really slander Turin? All he did is take the consequences without taking all the build-up into account. It's easy to agree with Glaurung, and well, he's right. But he, like always, adds a bit of lie to the truth to serve his purpose. Or, rather, adds a bit of truth to the lie. He only says why Turin was wrong in doing what he did. He does not give the "other options", so to speak.

Also, Glaurung seems to be a physical representation of the Curse. Not only does he choose Hin Hurin out of all the inhabitants of Beleriand to pursue, but also how he twists the truth into half-lies. Morgoth "showed" Hurin a tampered version of what happened to his family. And Glaurung gives "tampered truths"... if that makes ny sense.


I never said that Turin's actions are necessarily right, of the best choices. But I am still sympathetic towards him.


I forgot to put "Wildman of the Woods" in my list of names, I'll edit it in.

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

So many places where Túrin could have turned away and made the curse more problematic for Morgoth, and yet he played right into Morgoth's hands. That, to me, is the real tragedy of the story.

Isn't that sort of how tragedies normally work in literature, though? Although the "fatal flaw" way of describing Hamlet or Macbeth is too much of an oversimplification, nonetheless it is clearly their own actions that lead up to their fall, a fall that was not unavoidable. Rather, it is a clear series of choices that lead to the tragedy. To take Macbeth as an example (if only because it is fresher in my mind), the witches certainly manipulate him, but he chooses to kill Duncan, chooses to kill Banquo, and chooses to kill Macduff's family. He is led to each of these conclusions only in part by the words of the witches--the interpretation all comes from him.

In like manner, Túrin chooses each of the actions that makes the curse more operative, rather than less, and the tragedy of the Narn is precisely that Morgoth's curse worked hand-in-hand with Túrin's own actions.

Like Galadriel55, this does not make me lose all sympathy for Túrin--if anything, I sympathize with him more because of it, because his repeated failures are what bring him down to a sympathetic level. Túrin without his drastic miscalculations would leave us with Boromir as he seemed at the Council of Elrond: brash, over-confident, full of himself--but even more so. Túrin is dislikable because of his successes: he is the greatest warrior, a convincing leader, a charismatic figure about to make whole nations change their polices. If Túrin were successful in these endeavours, he would be insufferable; the fact that his choices are so wrong (despite what we know are fairly noble, if over-proud, intentions) is what makes him a tragic figure.

Mind you, although I find him sympathetic, I would not go so far as to say that I "like" the guy.

[Pitchwife]

Originally Posted by G55

But I think the biggest "if" of all is, "if Turin could understand his own heart and the hearts of others..."

This! (I wish I could rep you for your first two posts on this thread - that's a lot of great insights there, but this is the best.)

Originally Posted by G55

He said himself that he casts a shadow wherever he goes, but, sadly, his solution is not to distance himself from others to avoid helping Morgoth, but rather to assume a fake identity.

I'm actually not sure distancing himself from others would have been a solution - I rather think he distanced himself from others too much for his own good (not spatially but emotionally). I've always found that verse in the Lay of the Children of Húrin that speaks of "the sundering sorrow that seared his youth" very touching, and in a way it sums up his whole character for me.

We see in the Narn that as a child he was capable of caring for others (as in his relationship with Sador), and of course he loved his family, especially his sister Lalaith. But then he lost first her, then his father, and finally his mother when she sent him to Doriath, and it seems to me that he never recovered from this series of traumatic losses - like he was hurt so much that he never let anybody get as close to him again for fear of losing them too and being hurt again. He didn't even remember Nellas when Beleg mentioned her to him a few years later (a remarkable case of amnesia that has been discussed in its own thread). He was friends with Beleg and later Gwindor, and he seems to have loved Finduilas in a way, but his adult relationships with others never went so far that he would have let them question him or tried to look at himself through their eyes. His family (or rather his idealized memories of them) always mattered more to him than anybody else, and it may not be that much of an exaggeration to say they were the only people who really mattered to him - as seen in his decision to go searching for Morwen and Nienor instead of trying to save Finduilas, as Gwindor had bidden him.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

The story of Túrin is one of the key legends around which the Silmarillion is constructed, so I can't hope to do justice to it in the time I have at my disposal. Fortunately rather a lot of what I have to say is redundant, since Tom Shippey has already dealt with it in The Road to Middle Earth. I don't see any reason to argue with his main argument that Túrin's story is one of tension between the meanings of 'doom' as judgement and as ill fate. In the story of the Children of Húrin more than anywhere else in the matter of Middle Earth, Tolkien is exploring the balance between fate and free will as they were addressed in the early and high middle ages. Beowulf tells Unferth:

Wyrd oft nereð
unfægne eorl, þonne his ellen deah.

Fate often spares
an undoomed lord, when his courage avails

Gisli's Saga sums up its protagonist by extolling his virtues and wryly cursing his luck.

Lýkur þar nú ævi Gísla og er það alsagt að hann hefur hinn mesti hreystimaður verið þó að hann væri eigi í öllum hlutum gæfumaður.

There now ends Gisli's life, and it has always been said he was the greatest champion - though he was not lucky in all things.

Leaving aside the heroic, Boethius addresses the relationship between divine foreknowledge and predestination, and Alfred the Great expands on the idea in his translation of De Consolatione Philosophiae by adding his own metaphor of a wagon wheel.

These are only three rather obvious examples. Old English and Old Norse writings are full of references to fate, luck and doom; just as Christian works often address the apparent contradiction that God can know what will happen despite each person's freedom to choose any path. When Tolkien approached the same issue it gave rise to his starkest and most brutal story, and the closest of any of his legends to the pagan North.

Much of what Túrin suffers is his own fault. His own pride, inherited from the equally pig-headed Morwen leads him repeatedly to choose the worst course of action in the face of good advice, and the chief points at which he does this have been pointed out. In constant tension with this theme, however, there is a persistent bad luck that causes every stroke he makes to turn awry. What causes Saeros to taunt Túrin with exactly the image most likely to enrage him? Why does Saeros fall into a chasm instead of escaping or tripping over? Why does one of Túrin's men decide to shoot at Mîm's sons? What causes Beleg's knife to slip? Why is it that Túrin meets with Níenor of all places at Haudh-en-Elleth? At times, the litany of evil coincidence comes very close to malign fate, just as Gisli's ill luck dooms him in spite of his accomplishments. To his great credit, Tolkien never gives us a straight answer to the central question: does Morgoth's curse destroy Húrin's family or do they destroy themselves? Typically the closest he comes to a conclusion on the subject is in Gwindor's comment on the nature of names: "The doom lies in yourself, not in your name". However, it is worth noting that whenever his opponents play into Morgoth's hands it is when their behaviour is most like his own.

Another interesting point is that despite his many failures, Túrin remains a hero. At several stages in the development of this story Tolkien foresaw a revenge for him at the last battle, and he is still one of "the mighty Elf-friends of old" to Elrond in LR. Although by far the darkest of Tolkien's heroes, he never becomes as corrupt as does Fëanor; and ultimately he succeeds in his mother's ambition for him: he is never a slave.

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Formendacil

In like manner, Túrin chooses each of the actions that makes the curse more operative, rather than less, and the tragedy of the Narn is precisely that Morgoth's curse worked hand-in-hand with Túrin's own actions.

Indeed. Yet, my point is that it needn't have been so.

Anyone can make mistakes, of course, in Tolkien's Arda as well as this world.
Túrin's problem, though, is that he continually makes the same sort of mistakes time and time again. It is that which makes me so unsympathetic toward him.

Also, one can point to his personality as an impediment (as I already did), and make the case that his lot was harder because of that. I take it as a basic tenant, however, that Eru Ilúvatar would not have allowed his Children to have been oppressed by Morgoth beyond their ability to endure. Túrin had the capability to overcome both the curse, and the demons within himself, he just doesn't seem willing to try.

Originally Posted by Formendacil

Like Galadriel55, this does not make me lose all sympathy for Túrin--if anything, I sympathize with him more because of it, because his repeated failures are what bring him down to a sympathetic level. Túrin without his drastic miscalculations would leave us with Boromir as he seemed at the Council of Elrond: brash, over-confident, full of himself--but even more so. Túrin is dislikable because of his successes: he is the greatest warrior, a convincing leader, a charismatic figure about to make whole nations change their polices. If Túrin were successful in these endeavours, he would be insufferable; the fact that his choices are so wrong (despite what we know are fairly noble, if over-proud, intentions) is what makes him a tragic figure.

Like I said, it would be another matter if Túrin had kept on failing for different reasons, and things which were outside his control. I just don't see that as being the case though.

x/d with Squatter

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Pitchwife

He was friends with Beleg and later Gwindor, and he seems to have loved Finduilas in a way, but his adult relationships with others never went so far that he would have let them question him or tried to look at himself through their eyes.

Maybe he loved Findilas - and not any other woman - because she reminded him of his family. They have this conversation in the Narn:

"I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she wold now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair."

"But you are kingly," said she, "even as the lords of the peopls of Fingolfin; I would I had a brother so valiant."

Turin's love for Finduilas can almost be described as nostalgic.

And the only other woman that ot his attention in adulthood was his own sister. Though neither knew that. But it is mentioned a number of times that something was special about the two of them (like, only Nienor could pursuade Turin to stay at home and not fight, and she felt glad only in his company).

I'm actually not sure distancing himself from others would have been a solution - I rather think he distanced himself from others too much for his own good (not spatially but emotionally).

Good point.

His family (or rather his idealized memories of them) always mattered more to him than anybody else, and it may not be that much of an exaggeration to say they were the only people who really mattered to him - as seen in his decision to go searching for Morwen and Nienor instead of trying to save Finduilas, as Gwindor had bidden him.

Well, that was part dragon work, but if he loved Finduilas more than his family, I think he would still save her. So his family comes first.

Also (I think there was a thread about it, but I can't remember), Beleg says that Turin "lived always with [his] heart and half [his] mind far away". That could very well mean that Turin lived in a world of his idealised family and a childhood that he never had.

Edit: xed with Zil and Squatter

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by The Squatter of Amon Rûdh

...pig-headed Morwen...

I hope you meant big-headed Morwen...

Another interesting point is that despite his many failures, Túrin remains a hero.

Heroes aren't necessarily successful. But they still may be heroes.

And that reminds me. At one point, I believe when Turin was ruling at Amon Rudh, Morgoth was afraid that he will overpower the curse. This might have been the most successful time in his life.

But it brings up a question: did Morgoth have faith in his own curses?

Although by far the darkest of Tolkien's heroes, he never becomes as corrupt as does Fëanor; and ultimately he succeeds in his mother's ambition for him: he is never a slave.

He "fares free". Now that you mention that, I think that there is a deeper meaning behind those words.

I think we can equal Turin and Feanor in this sense: they are both, in a way, legendary. And I think that Feanor is more fey than corrupt - as is Turin.


I sometimes wonder why Turin calls himself Turambar in Brethil. Does he wish to defy his fate? Does he think that he rose above it? I used to think that this particular name choice was made on purpose by Tolkien to create the irony of "Master of Doom, by Doom mastered".

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

I hope you meant big-headed Morwen...

Well, I hardly feel qualified to speak on the masterful Squatter's behalf, but my own bias leads me to conclude that he could only have possibly meant "pig-headed" (as in "stubborn, pig-headed, Morwen")--although "big-headed" isn't implausible, I suppose.

Actually, it's funny... I think I feel about Morwen the way Inzil feels about Túrin--and the reason it's funny is because Tolkien is essentially doing the same thing with both characters: both are over-proud, both are stubborn to the point of refusing advice the reader KNOWS they ought to take, and both are ultimately sympathetic characters in their tragedy.

But for whatever reason, Morwen bothers me more than Túrin--maybe it's because Túrin is a child when this ill-fortune starts, whereas Morwen was a grown woman--though that might not be fair of me. After all, Morwen had to flee HER homeland as a child, when the Bragollach drove the refugees of the House of Bëor into Dor-Lómin, and she also lost her father in the war to Morgoth, one of the band of Barahir.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Surely by now everyone knows that I preview my posts several times before posting them.

Originally Posted by reference.com

pig·head·ed   [pig-hed-id]
adjective
stupidly obstinate; stubborn: pigheaded resistance.

Although the most complete version of this story is the Narn I Hîn Húrin, and obviously these days we have CoH, my favourite versions are still those in HME 3.

O! Morwen my mother, why makest me go?
The hills are hateful, where hope is lost;
O! Morwen my mother, I am meshed in tears
for grim are the hills and my home is gone.'
And there came his cries, calling faintly
down the dark alleys of the dreary trees,
that one there weeping weary on the threshold
heard how the hills said 'my home is gone.'

Tolkien's vision of Morwen and Túrin at their parting in Hithlum remained consistent. In the Narn, she grips the door-post until her fingers bleed (a scene very reminiscent of the family sagas), yet throughout the revisions her pride prevents her from accepting Thingol's offer of refuge. In the alliterative Lay, she cannot face being "the alms-guest of others" and would rather suffer the indignities of occupation, and separation from Túrin. The suffering she inflicts, not least on herself, is unnecessary. It should also be remembered that pride - her chief motivation in this - is an attribute of the devil. As Tolkien was doubtless aware, one of the descriptions of Satan in the Old English Genesis is se engel ofermodes ('the angel of pride'). He and the Anglo-Saxon poet were co-religionists, and would probably have agreed that no good can come of following Satan's example.

However, Morwen remains a sympathetic and tragic character. At least one reason for her remaining in Hithlum for so long is that she hopes against reason that Húrin will return, and her later headlong flight from Doriath in search of Túrin is motivated by love and concern for him. Her meeting with Húrin in the next chapter is one of the best things Tolkien ever wrote. Nonetheless, the refusal to take advice, the insistence on following one's own immediate will without thought, these are a source of tragedy time and again in the Silmarillion. When we consider the tragedy of Húrin's family alongside the story of Tuor this theme becomes even clearer. Tolkien consistently militates against willful pride, against action without counsel, against unilateral decisions. There are obvious religious reasons for this, but I'm given to wonder if there may not be something deeper that motivates this strand of the legendarium.

[Galadriel55]

I get what you're saying with Morwen being overstubborn (though this does not ruin her high position in my "opinion ranks"! ). And then, you could say that Nienor is partially responsible for her and Turin's suicidal end, because she was stubborn enough not to go back to Doriath.


A thought invaded to my mind a short while ago. It is quite ironical (yes, more of that) that Hurin's kin do almost as much, if not as much, damage in a lifetime than the Doom of the Noldor in a couple hundred years. Nargothrond fell when all of them (except for Lalaith, of course) were still alive. And shortly after their end - Doriath, followed by Gondolin. All of these losses were caused directly in Nargothrond's case and indirectly for the other two by the Curse, or by the actions of the family (if you prefer it that way).


But the good thing about it is that Morgoth's Curse, like all his other deeds, ultimately turned against him. If it wasn't for the sac of Doriath and Gondolin, Earendil and Elwing would never have met! And then Earendil would never have gotten the Silmaril that helped him get to Aman. So Morgoth created the perfect circumstances for his own destruction.


ETA: I forgot to say this. "Fixed idea" - I think tht this could be said about many characters from the Narn. And it does relate to stubborness. But sometimes you can't tell one from the other. For example, when Morwen against all councel leaves Doriath to look for Turin, I think it's more of a fixed idea than simply "pig-headed-ness".

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

But the good thing about it is that Morgoth's Curse, like all his other deeds, ultimately turned against him. If it wasn't for the sac of Doriath and Gondolin, Earendil and Elwing would never have met! And then Earendil would never have gotten the Silmaril that helped him get to Aman. So Morgoth created the perfect circumstances for his own destruction.

Which goes back to Eru's admonition to Melkor early on, that all he did ultimately was in accord with the design of the One. But that's another thread.

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

ETA: I forgot to say this. "Fixed idea" - I think tht this could be said about many characters from the Narn. And it does relate to stubborness. But sometimes you can't tell one from the other. For example, when Morwen against all councel leaves Doriath to look for Turin, I think it's more of a fixed idea than simply "pig-headed-ness".

Well, since the definition of stubborn is "fixed or set in purpose or opinion; resolute", and pig-headed is defined as "stupidly obstinate; stubborn", Morwen was "pig-headed" anyway.

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

Well, since the definition of stubborn is "fixed or set in purpose or opinion; resolute", and pig-headed is defined as "stupidly obstinate; stubborn", Morwen was "pig-headed" anyway.

I was trying to differentiate between the concious kind of stubborn when you know exactly what you're doing, and the, erm, "mental" kind of stubborn, when you see the final destination and disregard all and all that is not in the direct path. It's not even an obsession anymore, it's a mania.

Originally Posted by Dictionary

FIXED IDEA: A frozen thought in the mind functioning as a "truth" that the person will automatically act on without thinking about it.

Originally Posted by Another Dictionary

FIXED IDEA: a persistent or obsessing idea, often delusional, that can, in extreme form, be a symptom of psychosis.

So, in other words, Morwen is going crazy. Gradually. (Well, I wasn't going to say that, and I don't want to say that, but it's the best way I can illustrate it to you.)

She's in her right mind when she sends Turin away but refuses to go herself. She's starting to crack up when she finds out in Doriath that Turin is gone. And it goes downhill from there. By the time she met Hurin, "her eyes were wild now, and full of fear", and all that is left in them is the light that she was known for. The only bit of sanity, perhaps? And all she can talk about it her life-long obsession, or, as I would prefer to call it, "fixed idea" - finding her family.

[Nerwen]

Originally Posted by G55

I was trying to differentiate between the concious kind of stubborn when you know exactly what you're doing, and the, erm, "mental" kind of stubborn, when you see the final destination and disregard all and all that is not in the direct path. It's not even an obsession anymore, it's a mania.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Dictionary
FIXED IDEA: A frozen thought in the mind functioning as a "truth" that the person will automatically act on without thinking about it.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Another Dictionary
FIXED IDEA: a persistent or obsessing idea, often delusional, that can, in extreme form, be a symptom of psychosis.
So, in other words, Morwen is going crazy. Gradually. (Well, I wasn't going to say that, and I don't want to say that, but it's the best way I can illustrate it to you.)

Hmmn. I'm going to repeat here what I've said on another thread about another character entirely: you need to be very careful about "diagnosing" fictional characters. I hope I won't sound too mean if I point out that it often, as in this case, involves a type of logical fallacy.

Yes, there are people in Tolkien's work who are clearly round the bend, and there are others who crack and end up that way. As a rule-of-thumb, though, I think you can generally assume that what a person says and does is simply an expression of his or her personality.

[Bêthberry]

Originally Posted by The Squatter of Amon Rûdh

Tolkien consistently militates against willful pride, against action without counsel, against unilateral decisions. There are obvious religious reasons for this, but I'm given to wonder if there may not be something deeper that motivates this strand of the legendarium.

Would you care to elaborate? Do you mean there is something in the depiction of Morwen that involves his own personal relationship with his mother? Or do you mean something more general about his ideas concerning pride?

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Nerwen

Hmmn. I'm going to repeat here what I've said on another thread about another character entirely: you need to be very careful about "diagnosing" fictional characters. I hope I won't sound too mean if I point out that it often, as in this case, involves a type of logical fallacy.

Yeah, that's true. Which is one of the reasons I said that I don't want to put it that way. And the reason I put "fixed idea" in quotation marks. I still think that Morwen starts acting stubborn because of her "mania" more than logical decisions at some point. (Bck in Dor-lomin, she made a decision to send turin away and remain herself. But going to Nargothrond was half a "mania" that she followed.)

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Originally Posted by Bêthberry

Would you care to elaborate? Do you mean there is something in the depiction of Morwen that involves his own personal relationship with his mother? Or do you mean something more general about his ideas concerning pride?

I hadn't thought very deeply about it. The idea came to me as an afterthought at the end of my post. I think it's more likely that Tolkien identified a certain tendency in that direction in himself, although he was quick to deny it. This would explain his preoccupation with tollkühn, and his use of its anglicised form Rashbold in the Notion Club material at least twice (although it should always be noted that he was forever using translations of or punning references to his name in other languages). Certainly I detect an uncertainty at several points in his literary career over the rightness from a Catholic perspective of his continued sub-creation, which he may have sometimes seen as presumption. Such second-guessing tempts fate to say the least, so I preferred to leave the question open to suggestions. It seems unlikely to me, though, that Morwen embodies Tolkien's opinion of his own mother. If that were the case I would expect far more sympathetic a character, to judge by the references he makes to his parents in his published letters.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

A quick question - there's so much material to discuss in this chapter, plus the further versions of the story - would you all like to continue for the next week? If all's been said, I'll go on to the next chapter as planned tomorrow.

[Bêthberry]

Time now only for an announcement rather than a response to anything, which will come later.

I've just noticed there's an article with an interesting title in the current issue of Mythlore that could touch on discussion here. If anyone subscribes, perhaps said Downer could provide a summary or review?

Article is titled "Turin and Aragorn: Embracing and Evading Fate", by Janet Brennan Croft.

[Aiwendil]

For the sake of completeness, here are the brief notes on the history of the story I had originally put together for these discussions:

The tale of Turin is probably, of all the stories of the Silmarillion, the one that Tolkien spent the most time on, and it exists in myriad forms. It appears first as the tale of 'Turambar and the Foaloke' in the 'Book of Lost Tales'. Then it was the subject of one of the long lays Tolkien worked on during the 1920s - which, though it extends for more than 2,000 lines, goes no further than Turin's living in Nargothrond. Short synopses of the story appear in the 'Sketch of the Mythology' and the 'Quenta Noldorinwa'. Based on these and on the 'Lay', a longer prose version was begun for the 1937 'Quenta Silmarillion', but this version breaks off after the death of Orgof/Saeros.

After the completion of The Lord of the Rings, the story of Turin was one of the first pieces of the Silmarillion that Tolkien returned to, writing a long prose narrative beginning with Turin's arrival in Brethil and continuing to the end of the story. Then the full story was told again, in briefer form, as part of the 'Grey Annals'. Finally, in the later 1950s, Tolkien wrote a long prose form of the earlier parts of the 'Narn', petering out before the battle on Amon Rudh. This, together with the long form of the later ports of the story mentioned above, constitutes the 'Narn i Chin Hurin'.

Additional readings
HoMe II - 'Lost Tales' version
HoMe III - The 'Lay of the Children of Hurin'
HoMe IV - Short versions in 'Sketch of the Mythology' and 'Quenta Noldorinwa'
HoMe V - Unfinished 'Quenta Silmarillion' version
HoMe XI - 'Grey Annals' version and several variant endings
UT - The 'Narn i Chin Hurin' and associated fragments
The Children of Hurin - A polished and prettified presentation of the 'Narn'.

[Galadriel55]

It is interesting how much detail and weight and importance Turin's story has both in the history of Arda and in Tolkien's mind (as evident from Aiwendil's post), even though it is like an aside in the history of the Silmarilli, bing unconnected to them(at least directly). It of course deserves to be such, but it does makes me wonder.

[Inziladun]

Since we're still technically on this chapter, I thought of another reason to feel little pity for Túrin.

The man was warned of Morgoth's special hatred of his family, and the curse thereof.

When Túrin had been healed at Eithel Ivrin after accidentally killing Beleg, Gwindor told him that his father Húrin lived, and that

'.....rumour of him runs through Angband that he still defies Morgoth; and Morgoth has laid a curse upon him and all his kin.'
'That I do believe,' said Túrin.

You'd think being told that an incarnate evil Vala has it in for you might cause one to be especially mindful of one's conduct, and to seek the advice of the wise. Yet Túrin still found it in himself to scorn Gelmir and Arminas in Nargothrond, spurning the counsel of none other than Ulmo.

Nah. Túrin had it rougher than many, but still the road laid out for him by Morgoth had many branches. Túrin had many opportunities to turn aside, and ultimately the blame is his that he did not.

[Galadriel55]

But again, we as readers know that following Ulmo's, Gwindor's, Beleg's, and etc's advice would have done Turin good. But in Turin's place that choice is not as obvious. It is a choice between honourable and fair battle, and hiding like a coward; a choice between taking another step to your goals, and going back on your decisions and giving up everything that you've done to reach your goals.

And yet again, the fall of Nargothrond, Doriath, and Gondolin brought many tears, but they also brought the only hope. If they stood, Earendil wouldn't have met Elwing, who wouldn't have given him the Silmaril.

Moreover, we don't know how the story would have been if Turin took a different course of action. We think that if he fought his pride and stayed in Doriath he would meet Morwen and Ninenor and later Hurin and live "happily ever after". Well, not really, but he would have a happier end. And what if something happened that would cause disastorous events in Doriath? Such as the sac of Doriath being before Elwing got the Silmaril? That would have been a worse end in my opinion. The same goes to other "opportunities".

And finally, from a story point of view, it just wouldn't work. For a tragic story, you need tragic events and a tragic flaw. Logical.

[Aiwendil]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

Moreover, we don't know how the story would have been if Turin took a different course of action. We think that if he fought his pride and stayed in Doriath he would meet Morwen and Ninenor and later Hurin and live "happily ever after".

You know, this is actually a really good point. Although I pretty much fall into the camp that does sympathize with Turin and find him an essentially heroic character, I do tend to assume that the 'right' choices that Turin frequently failed to make would have averted the tragedies that befell him. But we don't know that this is so. Those imaginary universes where Turin remained in Doriath, where he listened to Gelmir and Arminas, or where he saved Finduilas from the Orcs still have plenty of scope in them for tragedy, and one wonders whether by making those decisions Turin would have escaped the curse or merely forced it to take a different route to meet him.

It is interesting how much detail and weight and importance Turin's story has both in the history of Arda and in Tolkien's mind (as evident from Aiwendil's post), even though it is like an aside in the history of the Silmarilli, bing unconnected to them(at least directly). It of course deserves to be such, but it does makes me wonder.

You know, it occurs to me that in the larger context of the history of the First Age, probably the most important event in this story is the fall of Nargothrond. Indeed, if one considers this and the subsequent two chapters, we have a trilogy of stories each of which revolves to some extent around the fall of one of the Elves' hidden kingdoms: here Nargothrond, in the next chapter Doriath, and in the chapter after that Gondolin.

To touch on another point that I don't think has been mentioned in this thread yet, one of the interesting things about the Turin saga (and there are lots of interesting things about it) is that it is a rare case where Tolkien, though somewhat grudgingly and disapprovingly, seems to have endorsed the game of 'source-hunting' - that is, of looking for literary or mythological antecedents to his stories and characters. In his letter to Milton Waldman he even names some sources himself:

Originally Posted by Tolkien

There is the Children of Húrin, the tragic tale of Túrin Turambar and his sister Níniel – of which Túrin is the hero: a figure that might be said (by people who like that sort of thing, though it is not very useful) to be derived from elements in Sigurd the Volsung, Oedipus, and the Finnish Kullervo.

The connections of these three characters with Turin seem pretty obvious once they've been pointed out: like Kullervo, Turin desires vengeance against his family’s enemies; like both Kullervo and Oedipus he is unwittingly involved in incest; like Kullervo he commits suicide after asking his sword if it is willing to kill him; like Sigurd, he kills a dragon by hiding underneath it and striking it from below as it passes.

It seems that the character whose story Tolkien spent the most time working on was also perhaps (in a sense) Tolkien's least original character. And yet, in a different sense, Turin is undeniably an original character, notwithstanding his explicit connection with those three sources. Here we have one of the best examples of Tolkien's ability to take myths and ancient stories and not simply to rework them or reinterpret them, but to use them as building blocks (and very solid building blocks they are) in the creation of something altogether new.

[Bêthberry]

Originally Posted by The Squatter of Amon Rûdh

I hadn't thought very deeply about it. The idea came to me as an afterthought at the end of my post. I think it's more likely that Tolkien identified a certain tendency in that direction in himself, although he was quick to deny it. This would explain his preoccupation with tollkühn, and his use of its anglicised form Rashbold in the Notion Club material at least twice (although it should always be noted that he was forever using translations of or punning references to his name in other languages). Certainly I detect an uncertainty at several points in his literary career over the rightness from a Catholic perspective of his continued sub-creation, which he may have sometimes seen as presumption. Such second-guessing tempts fate to say the least, so I preferred to leave the question open to suggestions. It seems unlikely to me, though, that Morwen embodies Tolkien's opinion of his own mother. If that were the case I would expect far more sympathetic a character, to judge by the references he makes to his parents in his published letters.

I would think that as well, about Morwen, although her pride and stubbornness is probably as strong as her son's and the story of multiple homes or residences and the dependence on others do have some echo in Tolkien's own life. Tolkien's actions "against willful pride, against action without counsel, against unilateral decisions"--as you wrote in the earlier post--strike me as being more significant, as it seems to me that so much of what he saw in his life came up against those very traits, in his personal life, in his professional life, and of course in the terrible historical events which he lived through in his life.

Originally Posted by Aiwnedil

To touch on another point that I don't think has been mentioned in this thread yet, one of the interesting things about the Turin saga (and there are lots of interesting things about it) is that it is a rare case where Tolkien, though somewhat grudgingly and disapprovingly, seems to have endorsed the game of 'source-hunting' - that is, of looking for literary or mythological antecedents to his stories and characters. In his letter to Milton Waldman he even names some sources himself:

It seems that the character whose story Tolkien spent the most time working on was also perhaps (in a sense) Tolkien's least original character. And yet, in a different sense, Turin is undeniably an original character, notwithstanding his explicit connection with those three sources. Here we have one of the best examples of Tolkien's ability to take myths and ancient stories and not simply to rework them or reinterpret them, but to use them as building blocks (and very solid building blocks they are) in the creation of something altogether new.

This passage from Tolkien's letter to Waldman is very interesting, particularly in light of what Tolkien has to say about sources in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
Here's some of his thoughts from the essay on the medieval story:

Originally Posted by Tolkien, "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight"

For it belongs to that literary kind which has deep roots in the past, deeper even than its author was aware. It is made of tales often told before and elsewhere, and of elements that derive from remote times, beyond the vision or awareness of the poet: like Beowulf, or some of Shakespeare's major plays, such as King Lear or Hamlet.

It is an interesting question: what is this flavour, this atmosphere, this virtue that such rooted works have, . . . . I am not concerned at this moment with research into the origins of the tale or its details, or into the question of precisely in what form these reached the author of this poem, before he set to work on it. I wish to speak of his handling of the matter . . . the movement of his mind, as he wrote and . . . rewrote the story, until it had the form that has come down to us. . . . His story is not about those old things, but it receives part of its life, its vividness, its tension from them. That is the way with the greater fairy-stories--of which this is one.

Given how closely some of his lines echo the Kalevala (particularly the lines where Turin addresses his sword), I would think that Tolkien in his letter might be attempting to minimise his debt or dismiss the significance of it. It would be ineresting to compare the dates of composition of the Gawain essay and the letter to Waldman.

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

Moreover, we don't know how the story would have been if Turin took a different course of action. We think that if he fought his pride and stayed in Doriath he would meet Morwen and Ninenor and later Hurin and live "happily ever after". Well, not really, but he would have a happier end. And what if something happened that would cause disastorous events in Doriath? Such as the sac of Doriath being before Elwing got the Silmaril? That would have been a worse end in my opinion. The same goes to other "opportunities".

Originally Posted by Aiwendil

You know, this is actually a really good point. Although I pretty much fall into the camp that does sympathize with Turin and find him an essentially heroic character, I do tend to assume that the 'right' choices that Turin frequently failed to make would have averted the tragedies that befell him. But we don't know that this is so. Those imaginary universes where Turin remained in Doriath, where he listened to Gelmir and Arminas, or where he saved Finduilas from the Orcs still have plenty of scope in them for tragedy, and one wonders whether by making those decisions Turin would have escaped the curse or merely forced it to take a different route to meet him.

I know I've mentioned this somewhere else, but I have a more fundamental reason for believing Túrin was capable of overcoming Morgoth's curse.

I take it as a basic tenant that in Tolkien's Arda, evil was not allowed to oppress the Children of Ilúvatar beyond their capacity to resist. I simply don't believe that Morgoth, Sauron, or any workers of evil had carte blache to act as they would. There were limits, though perhaps they themselves were unaware of them.

Also, if nothing Túrin could have done could have led him to a better fate, why were all the apparent 'good' choices presented to him?
If Túrin had met a bad end in spite of making all the 'right' decisions, I know that I would have more respect and sympathy for him.

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

Also, if nothing Túrin could have done could have led him to a better fate, why were all the apparent 'good' choices presented to him?

I would replace"good" with "better".

Originally Posted by Inzil

If Túrin had met a bad end in spite of making all the 'right' decisions, I know that I would have more respect and sympathy for him.

But that would totally ruin the story.

[Galadriel55]

There's one thing I keep forgetting to mention, even though it's like the most important argument of all. I think that just the fact that Turin makes the wrong decisions (from the readers perspective, as well as what they turn out to be in the future) all the time is enough reason to find pity for him.

Inzil, on the other hand, uses that reason to say the opposite.