By J. R. R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien
The 3rd quantity that includes the early myths and legends which ended in the writing of Tolkien's epic story of battle, The Silmarillion. This, the 3rd quantity of The heritage of Middle-earth, provides us a priviledged perception into the production of the mythology of Middle-earth, throughout the alliterative verse stories of 2 of the main an important tales in Tolkien's international -- these of Turien and Luthien. the 1st of the poems is the unpublished Lay of the youngsters of Hurin, narrating on a grand scale the tragedy of Turin Turambar. the second one is the relocating Lay of Leithian, the manager resource of the story of Beren and Luthien within the Silmarillion, telling of the hunt of the Silmaril and the stumble upon with Morgoth in his subterranean fort. Accompanying the poems are commentaries at the evolution of the heritage of the Elder Days. additionally integrated is the outstanding feedback of The Lay of The Leithian by way of CS Lewis, who learn the poem in 1929.
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Additional info for Lays of Beleriand (The History of Middle-Earth, Book 3)
Dot moved ahead of me down to the bottom, where she stopped. When I got there I saw why. The stairs let out into a large, dark room. The ﬂoor ended halfway across it, and beyond that, at either side, to the left and right, under the arching roof, were open tunnels. From one tunnel opening to the other ran a pair of gleaming rails. We were standing on a subway platform. Dot walked to the end of the platform and shined the ﬂashlight up the tunnel. The rails gleamed away into the distance. “This doesn’t look like the safe,” I said.
50 s John Kessel That’s the story of my life: me trying to save the rest of you—and the rest of you ignoring me. On the other side of Almond it was all mountains. The road twisted and turned, the headlights ﬂashing against the tops of trees on the downhill side and the cut earth on the uphill. I kept shifting and drifting over the double yellow line as we came in and out of turns, but the road was deserted. Occasionally we’d pass some broken-down house with a battered pickup in the dirt driveway and a rust-spotted propane tank outside in the yard.
They would break every bone inside his bruised body if this continued. Barrow saw his doom and still could not make his body rise off the dusty earth. How had he come to this awful place? He couldn’t remember. He sat upright, waiting for the next misery to ﬁnd him . . but a new voice was shouting, followed by the odd, high-pitched report of a very different gun. The dirt before him rose up in a fountain and drifted away, and left lying between his legs was a single purple Claw of God. Damn, somebody had a dragon-buster gun.