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Post by Maeglin on Mar 10, 2005 11:06:13 GMT -5
SCENE 37
(Tragic strains of music play. Luthien is still in the glade of Brethil. She has dismounted, and is cradling the unconscious Beren, Curufin's arrow still sticking out of his chest.)
LUTHIEN: O Beren...such cruelty, to leave me now...why, how...you should have let me take the arrow...you rash fool...radiant star of my life...died out...
(There is a whimper. Huan emerges from a thicket, a plant in his mouth.)
LUTHIEN: (petulantly) What is it you have there, hound? It won't help. He's gone. Slain. No light lingers in his eyes...his pulse weakens...
(Huan comes closer, opens his mouth, and puts the plant on Luthien's lap.)
LUTHIEN: Athelas...
(Huan wags his tail. Luthien takes up Angrist, and slices the arrow out of Beren. As the blood flows, she shreds the herb and sprinkles it on the wound in a poultice.)
LUTHIEN: Let Elbereth foresee my labour, Huan...and perhaps Beren may yet be delivered...
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Post by Huinesoron on Mar 10, 2005 12:44:12 GMT -5
A quick note: If you show any more of Luthien's healing, she has to sing. That's pretty much the source of her power, and in this case, I'm thinking she'll need a lot.
But you know what you're doing, I'm sure.
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Post by Maeglin on Mar 10, 2005 14:06:43 GMT -5
I know...but I know no Elvish, and am not a poet of sufficient skill to get anywhere near Luthien's standards. Also, I'm no musician. And there are so many of these dratted songs! It's almost getting to an [Insert Every-Purpose Elvish Wondersong Here] level. So in this case I thought I'd skip the singing. The Silmarillion says "by her arts and her love". The next scene will be white, I think, followed by things coalescing as Beren wakes up to pretty music, Frodo-style, and then business as usual...
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Post by Maeglin on Mar 16, 2005 14:29:54 GMT -5
SCENE 38
(The screen is radiant white. Slowly shapes seem to form through the light; those of Huan and Luthien-we are from Beren's POV, apparently. Elven healing music plays throughout. Eventually we flash to a general view of the scene again. It is evening. Beren has half-risen, bare-chested. Huan barks, overjoyed, and licks his face. I'm not a dog person, but you've got to love wolfhounds.)
LUTHIEN: (tired, but serenely happy) Another day, love. Another hope. The wound is healed.
(She holds up the bloodied arrow, and gestures to a long scar on Beren's chest.)
LUTHIEN: I cut the arrow from your brave flesh with the knife of the archer himself-Curufin's hunting blade, that he was so proud of. (She shows Beren the knife. We have a close-up look at it.)
BEREN: (tracing runes on the hilt) Angrist, it is called. It has a clean, honest feel as I grip it. It is easy to tell it was crafted by the Dwarves.
LUTHIEN: Give no more heed to it, Beren. You must rest, and I will sleep beside you. Huan will guard us, and in the morning, we will set off again...
BEREN: Luthien...
LUTHIEN: (firmly) Together.
BEREN: (sighing) As you will.
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Post by Maeglin on Mar 17, 2005 13:37:10 GMT -5
SCENE 39
(It is night, though the stars are out. Beren lies beside Luthien. Luthien's eyes are open, but she sleeps indeed, in waking dreams. Her cloak is folded up beside her. Beren opens his eyes one by one.)
BEREN: (whispering) Such wonder in those eyes, such fairness...I must save it from the taint of Morgoth. I will go alone. I have to.
(Noiselessly, he gets to his feet, his eyes on Luthien, and edges towards her cloak. He holds it at arm's length, suppressing a yawn. Then he moves towards the figure of Huan, standing watch; rubbing his back before easing the cloak over him. The hound snores gently. Finally, Beren picks up Angrist, and sticks it in his belt. He mounts the black horse, and walks slowly away.)
(Flash to Beren galloping up the river Sirion, in mountainous terrain. He pauses; trees are seen in the distance.)
BEREN: Dorthonion lies beyond those trees. My past is there, the domain of my forefathers.
(He looks in another direction. Marshland can be seen-the Fen of Serech. Beyond it lies a featureless desert of blackened, cracked ground. Just visible on the horizon are the dread peaks of Thangorodrim.)
BEREN: But my future is there, in the desolation of the Dark Lord, Morgoth. (He dismounts.) You have carried me faithfully, horse. Leave now dread and servitude in the green lands of Sirion; I go on to Angband alone.
(The horse-unsaddled in the elf-fashion, of course-trots off. Beren watches it until it is utterly gone. Then he starts to sing; his voice trembles at first, but gains confidence.)
BEREN: Though all to ruin fell the earth And were dissolved and backward hurled Unmade into the deep abyss, Yet was its making good, for this, The dusk, the dawn, the shore, the sea That Luthien for a time should be.
VOICE OF THURINGWETHIL: (mocking) That Luthien for a time should be!
(Beren draws Angrist-but apparently too late. Thuringwethil, the old hag with bat wings, and Draugluin, the wolf Huan apparently killed earlier, have emerged from the trees of Dorthonion.)
BEREN: Workers of phantom and foulness, you will not take me alive.
(The sun is starting to rise.)
THURINGWETHIL: (with voice of Luthien): Sauron and his folk are not the only devisers of illusion. The sun is rising. Do you see us anew?
(By the early morning light, Luthien and Huan's true forms are partly revealed, where the sun falls on them. As it rises fully, they stand as themselves.)
BEREN: Thrice now I curse my oath to Thingol. Would that he had slain me, rather than that I should bring you under Morgoth's shadow!
HUAN: From the shadow of death you can no longer save Luthien, for by her love she is now subject to it. You can turn from your fate and lead her into exile, seeking peace in vain while your life lasts. But if you will not deny your doom, than either Luthien, being forsaken, must die alone, or you must together challenge Morgoth. Further counsel I cannot give, nor may I go further on your road; and yet my bane is at the Dark Lord's gate. Yet it may be that our three paths shall meet again before the end.
BEREN: (exasperated) A Hound that can speak three times in its life only is all very well; but what is the sense in always talking in riddles?
(Huan does not answer. He turns, slowly, and runs back, leaving Beren and Luthien alone.)
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Post by Huinesoron on Mar 18, 2005 12:29:57 GMT -5
BEREN: (exasperated) A Hound that can speak three times in its life only is all very well; but what is the sense in always talking in riddles?
I love it! [Grins]
-- oh, and not to hijack your thread, Maeglin, but do you think the Orome and Aule helmet background scenelet in FotN would work better silent? As in, be less distracting?
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Post by Maeglin on Mar 18, 2005 13:47:48 GMT -5
Yes, absolutely. They can be engaging in a bull-fight if you want, but whatever thay do really is better off wordless, I think...
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Post by Maeglin on Mar 19, 2005 14:17:23 GMT -5
SCENE 40
(Beren and Luthien hold hands, staring into the barren wastes of Anfauglith. Black clouds are gathering.)
BEREN: You have beaten me, Luthien Tinuviel. We shall never be parted again.
LUTHIEN: Until we die.
BEREN: (fighting tears) Until we die. I shall go beyond the circles the world...
LUTHIEN: And I must stay on Arda, and weep, in emptiness? Would Manwe have it so?
BEREN: Is it Manwe's world we dwell in now, or Morgoth's?
LUTHIEN: That is why we must succeed. Your vow must be fulfilled, whatever lies in our way.
BEREN: To prove that virtue, that valour, that truth and love can win one small battle in the midst of the gathering storm.
(Lightning cracks.)
LUTHIEN: But how? It is the Dark Lord we face now, Beren. Sauron was his mere slave. Morgoth is something else...
(Flash to a gleaming red flame atop a dark mountain...moving...)
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: Created mightiest in the mind of Eru...
(Flash to legions of Orcs and Balrogs.)
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: Served by countless minions, merciless and intent only on bringing ruin...
(Flash to Melkor in white)
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: Master of cunning...
(Flash to Maedhros shackled on Thangorodrim)
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: Master of treachery...
VOICE OF BEREN: Never bested in battle...
(We see a plain which is the same one Beren and Luthien are in...but it possesses vestiges of the beauty of Ard-galen still, tufts of greenery, elegant elven ruins. Fingolfin is riding across it alone on a massive black horse. He is bareheaded. Flash to him arriving at the very gates of Angband, unhindered, and dismounting. He takes a horn and blows it, before hanging it on his belt again. He draws Ringil and smashes its flat against the gates.)
VOICE OF BEREN: Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, challenged Morgoth to single combat. And Morgoth came.
(The gates slowly heave open inwards. A figure twenty feet high, encased in black armour, wearing the Iron Crown, with a vast hammer, Grond, and shield in two hands, materialises.)
VOICE OF BEREN: Alone among the Valar Morgoth knows fear; and he did not come gladly. He stood like a monumental tower; and yet Fingolfin did not quail.
(Fingolfin dances around his foe, so vast as to be scarcely visible in a whirl of steel. Grond slams into the ground again and again, leaving fiery chasms which Fingolfin dances over. Morgoth groans when Ringil pierces him. He is wounded seven times before Fingolfin hesitates a moment too long. The shield crushes him down. He gets up three times, and each time is forced back down. At last he is trapped, surrounded by Grond-scars. Morgoth places his foot on his neck.)
FINGOLFIN: For Finwe my father, whom you slew when he was unarmed! (He smites Morgoth's foot, which partly shatters, the stump smoking, black blood filling the chasms.)
VOICE OF BEREN: Thus died Fingolfin, the proud and valiant. (We return to Beren and Luthien.)
BEREN: This task is beyond us.
LUTHIEN: But we shall do it nonetheless.
(She becomes Thuringwethil again.)
BEREN: Am I to be a werewolf?
THURINGWETHIL: (with Luthien's voice) Why not?
(She drapes a wizened hand over him and he takes the form of Draugluin. Then they run on together.)
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Post by Maeglin on Apr 24, 2005 4:05:17 GMT -5
SCENE 41
(We see the towering evil of Angband again. We close up, and enter through the gates. Flash to a massive, dark hall. The only light is the flames emanating from Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, as he strides across it.)
VOICE OF MORGOTH: Gothmog. Tell me what you know.
(As Gothmog reaches the end of the hall, it is suddenly illuminated in piercing white light from the Silmarilli. We see Morgoth upon his throne, wearing the Iron Crown. Gothmog reels back-then kneels.)
GOTHMOG: Sauron has fled in vampire's form from the Isle of Werewolves. The passage of the river Sirion is lost to us.
MORGOTH: That, minion, I knew. What of the Elven Princes and their plots? What of the baying I hear every night?
GOTHMOG: Celegorm and Curufin are abroad, master, making for the fortress of Himring. The baying belongs to Celegorm's greatest hound.
MORGOTH: Yes, yes. Huan, the Hound of Valinor...the beast that helped Thingol's daughter conquer Sauron.
GOTHMOG: The very same, master.
MORGOTH: Huan shall taste death very soon. The greatest wolf in Middle-earth is to execute the hound, no?
GOTHMOG: Aye, master.
MORGOTH: What think you of this beauty?
(Ten Orcs enter bearing an iron cage. Trapped in it is a wolf that makes Wolf-Sauron look positively domesticated.)
GOTHMOG: It is admirable...
MORGOTH: Yet incomplete. I have a final touch to add. You there, scum! (He indicates another Orc.) Give me the fangs of Ungoliant's spawn.
(The Orc hands over two long, curved fangs, dripping with viscous venom. Morgoth takes them in a gauntlet, and rises from his throne. Nonchalantly, he drives their roots deep into the gums of the wolf. It howls in madness and pain, thrashes, growls, and snarls.)
MORGOTH: Positively endearing. I think I will call him Carcharoth...and he will be set to guard my threshold.
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Post by Maeglin on Apr 24, 2005 8:59:31 GMT -5
SCENE 42
(Menegroth. Thingol has a letter in his hands; Melian stands beside him. They are alone.)
THINGOL: I was right to distrust Feanor's brood the moment they touched on Beleriand's shores!
MELIAN: Without them, Morgoth's forces would have destroyed us.
THINGOL: What does that signify now? Celegorm holds Luthien captive and plans to wed her by force. He has also seized the throne of Galadriel's brother. I must gather my heralds. Nargothrond will feel the strength and anger of the Sindar!
MELIAN: Be not so hasty, my lord. This letter was written in overconfidence, I deem. I have fresher news.
THINGOL: What?
MELIAN: Celegorm and Curufin were no more successful in holding Luthien than we were. She escaped them, and shortly afterwards the brothers were driven from Nargothrond in disgrace. They ride for Himring now, where Maedhros and Maglor, the eldest sons of Feanor, dwell.
THINGOL: Confound the Noldorin traitors! I have not the power to attack a fortress even Morgoth cannot take.
MELIAN: You must send messengers to Maedhros. He is a noble and reasonable prince. Ask him for help in finding Luthien, to make up for the outrages perpetrated by his younger brothers.
THINGOL: You speak well, love, as ever. I will send for Mablung and a party of swift riders.
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Post by Huinesoron on Apr 24, 2005 15:14:04 GMT -5
Wow, Melkor's really fallen... of course, he didn't have far to go to begin with.
It's a pity... Melkor was quite an interesting character, but Morgoth is, and always will be, /must/ be, an almost one-dimensional villain. Kinda like Elphaba... but I'm digressing.
Why did I comment? Not a clue.
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Post by Maeglin on Apr 25, 2005 8:31:54 GMT -5
SCENE 43
(Before the Gates of Angband, which looks as it did after the duel between Morgoth and Fingolfin. The ground is a net of deep precipices and chasms from the blows of Grond. Beren-Draugluin pads between them, with Luthien-Thuringwethil flying above him.)
(Close up on the gates. Carcharoth sits to one side, starting to growl quietly. We return to Beren and Luthien. Beren reaches the Gates, sees Carcharoth just in time, and stops, his hackles rising.)
CARCHAROTH: (puzzled) Draugluin? Are you not my father?
BEREN: I am, whelp. Step aside.
CARCHAROTH: Our master told me that the Elf-woman's dog had slain you.
BEREN: Our master is the Lord of Lies. I lived. Let me pass.
CARCHAROTH: Nay, father. I shall not do that...you see...I am hungry...and you are older, smaller and weaker than I...
(He springs forward, snarling. Suddenly, "Thuringwethil" swoops down between them, and Luthien casts off her disguise, raising her hand.)
LUTHIEN: O woe-begotten spirit, conceived in malice and wrought in agony, fall now into dark oblivion and forget for a while thy dreadful doom of life!
(Carcharoth slumps immediately to the ground.)
LUTHIEN: (resuming Thuringwethil's guise, and beckoning to Beren) Come on. We must hurry. Time is scarce...
(They run through the Gates together.)
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Post by Maeglin on Apr 26, 2005 9:35:28 GMT -5
SCENE 44
(An antechamber in Angband. Several armoured Orc sentries are milling about. Thuringwethil enters, Draugluin at her feet. Of course, they are only Thur and Draug as far as artists and actors are concerned.)
THURINGWETHIL: I bear a message from Sauron, thou boneheads. Let me through.
ORC SENTRY: Garn. Old Sauron isn't in favour with Him what sits of the Throne any more, drab.
ORC SENTRY 2: Flap back to the old man and tell him he ain't wanted, miserable jade.
(Thuringwethil reaches out with a clawed hand and moves it across the Orc's face. Note that we do not see her touch him at all.)
ORC SENTRY 2: Argh! My face! The hag has shredded my face...
(He staggers back. The other Orcs also seem to see wounds we do not; they scatter. Thuringwethil and Draugluin proceed into Morgoth's nethermost hall. We flash to Morgoth's Throne. Morgoth sits; Gothmog and two other large Balrogs kneel before him.)
MORGOTH: My spies among the Easterlings of Maedhros' army bring me nothing of use; while the Sons of Feanor, it seems, strengthen their castle every day that passes. They may have the power even to attempt an assault...
(Thuringwethil and Draugluin venture into the red light of the Balrogs and the white light of the Silmarils.)
THURINGWETHIL: I have a message from Sauron, Your Majesty...
MORGOTH: That insect has nothing to offer me now. Gothmog, take this creature and the wolf and feed them to Carcharoth.
GOTHMOG: Aye, master...
THURINGWETHIL: Wait! (Short pause.) Sauron...Sauron has found a way to capture Himring.
GOTHMOG: What?
MORGOTH: Most amusing. I shall at least be entertained by this, I am sure. Gothmog, leave us, if you will.
GOTHMOG: As you command. (The Balrogs leave through a side entrance. Morgoth waits a few moments before speaking.)
MORGOTH: Now, pray tell me of your plans...Luthien, daughter of Thingol.
(A howling wind sears through the air for a moment. Luthien is stripped of her disguise. Beren dives under the throne, unnoticed by Morgoth.)
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Post by Maeglin on Apr 29, 2005 12:41:41 GMT -5
SCENE 45
(Flash to Gothmog and his attendant Balrogs, striding through a dark passage.)
VOICE OF MORGOTH: (echoing) ...of your plans...plans...Luthien...ien...daughter of Thingol...Thingol...
GOTHMOG: Luthien! She who took Tol-in-Gaurhoth! She must be before His Majesty...
GLORFINDEL'S BALROG: That is impossible...
GANDALF'S BALROG: Far from it. She must have taken Thuringwethil's form.
GOTHMOG: Little fool!...well, back to the throneroom...
(They reverse and start rushing towards it. We flash to Orcs, arming themselves and running through corridors...and to the gates, with Carcharoth stirring.)
CARCHAROTH: Hunger...such hunger... (He salivates.)
(We cut to the throneroom again. Luthien is pale, put unbowed before Morgoth.)
LUTHIEN: You name me but half truly, lord. I am Luthien Tinuviel.
MORGOTH: (sneering) Nightingale? And have you come to sing for me?
(Short pause.)
LUTHIEN: Aye, lord. I have. I thought it must have been a long time ere you heard a minstrel's voice.
MORGOTH: It is some time, girl. For the last song I heard was the song of Ea...and I myself was the mightiest minstrel in all that assembly.
(Flash back to the Ainulindale. Morgoth's voice is heard over it.)
VO OF MORGOTH: You think me evil, girl? Mad? I am only an artist who strove to break away from the fold, the score set by Illuvatar, Eru, the One...your father and mine, the tyrant of creation.
(The Music of the Ainur plays.)
VO OF MORGOTH: Eru's slaves sang of seas...I sung of drowning. They sang of mountains, I sung of fortress walls. They sang of forests, and I of flames that leave no mercy in their majesty. And see-I am the victor. Arda is my own kingdom; and I name it unto myself.
(Cut back to the throneroom. Morgoth smiles.)
MORGOTH: But for all that, I would hear your song, Luthien Tinuviel.
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Post by Maeglin on Apr 30, 2005 8:52:28 GMT -5
SCENE 46
(We cut to Gothmog and the Balrogs entering the throneroom, at the opposite end from Morgoth.)
LUTHIEN: As you command...my lord...
(Morgoth chuckles, leering unpleasantly. We see Beren-Draugluin growling beneath the throne, forgotten.)
GOTHMOG: Master...what are you doing?
MORGOTH: Merely pleasuring my eyes and ears, which have long thirsted in vain. But you, dolt, know nothing of pleasure...
(Luthien vanishes.)
MORGOTH: I cannot see you, Tinuviel! Wait...how dare you...
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: I came here for love's sake...
MORGOTH: (enthralled) It pierces me...truly...where is she? I cannot see her! I cannot see anything...find her, you dotards...hearing is not enough without sight...without...
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: ...that I might press my true love's hand...
MORGOTH: (bellowing) Without touch! (He rises.) Come here...you cannot slip from the presence of Melkor, King of Arda...
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: That we might sleep entwined, at peace, as 'twas in former days...
(The cloak of Luthien's hair flashes before the three Balrogs. They slump to the ground.)
MORGOTH: (quieter) You wanted to be alone? Well...that is settled...now, what were you saying about sleeping entwined...
(The light from the Silmarils becomes intense, blinding. Pale fire seems to erupt from the crown.)
MORGOTH: A curse on the hallows of Varda on these jewels...my head, the pain...will you not soothe it, Luthien? (Drowsily) A hill...a dark mountainside...is before my eyes...
VOICE OF LUTHIEN: As once you walked in the lonely Void, so shall you walk again...
(Luthien materialises before Morgoth, and swings the cloak across his face. He totters and collapses forward. The Iron Crown falls from his head, which is bald, and rolls towards Beren. Beren sheds the form of Draugluin, stepping into the light.)
BEREN: I have no sword. I have come before the Dark Lord of Angband without a sword.
LUTHIEN: Use the Dwarven knife!
BEREN: You mean Angrist? The blade of that traitor Curufin? Well, there is a certain justice to it. What did he say? "It will cleave iron as though it were green wood..."
(Beren takes Angrist from his belt and hacks away the claws holding one Silmaril in place.)
BEREN: Ah...
(His right hand is translucent. A halo glows around him.)
LUTHIEN: It does not burn you?
BEREN: Only what is unclean within me. Nay...it has exalted me. And I hear its companions calling...
(Close up on the Iron Crown, and the two remaining Silmarils. Beren, with Angrist in his left hand, sets it upon the Iron Crown's claws again. The knife snaps.)
BEREN: Curufin's boast was a lie.
LUTHIEN: No...fate will only let you take one Silmaril, whatever weapon you wield...
(A groan interrupts them. Morgoth has been struck on the cheek by a shard; it is bleeding, and he stirs.)
BEREN: Quick! I saw the Balrogs leave that way...
(They run to the side entrance and into the passageway.)
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