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In that battle [Sarn Athrad] the Green Elves took the Dwarves at unawares as they were in the
midst of their passage, laden with their plunder; and the Dwarvish chiefs were slain, and well nigh all
their host. But Beren took the Nauglamír, the Necklace of the Dwarves, whereon was hung the
Silmaril . . .
This illustrates my observation on p. 231, that my father ‘was drawing down into a brief
compendious history what he could also see in a far more detailed, immediate, and dramatic
form.’
I will conclude this short excursion into the Lost Tale of the Necklace of the Dwarves
with a further quotation, origin of the story as told in the Quenta (pp. 236–7) of the deaths of
Beren and Lúthien, and the slaying of Dior, their son. I take up this extract with words
between Beren and Gwendelin (Melian) when Lúthien first wore the Nauglafring. Beren
declared that never had she appeared so beautiful; but Gwendelin said: ‘Yet the Silmaril
abode in the Crown of Melko, and that is the work of baleful smiths indeed.’
Then said Tinúviel that she desired not things of worth or precious stones, but the elven gladness of
the forest, and to pleasure Gwendelin she cast it from her neck; but Beren was little pleased and he
would not suffer it to be flung away, but warded it in his [? treasury].
Thereafter did Gwendelin abide a while in the woods among them and was healed [of her
overwhelming grief for Tinwelint]; and in the end she fared wistfully back to the land of Lórien and
came never again into the tales of the dwellers of Earth; but upon Beren and Lúthien fell swiftly that
doom of mortality that Mandos had spoken when he sped them from his halls—and in this perhaps did
the curse of Mîm have [? potency] in that it came more soon upon them; nor this time did those twain
fare the road together, but when yet was their child, Dior the Fair, a little one, did Tinúviel slowly
fade, even as the Elves of later days have done throughout the world, and she vanished in the woods,
and none have seen her dancing ever there again. But Beren searched all the lands of Hithlum and of
Artanor ranging after her; and never has any of the Elves had more loneliness than his, or ever he too
faded from life, and Dior his son was left ruler of the brown Elves and the green, and Lord of the
Nauglafring.
Mayhap what all Elves say is true, that those twain hunt now in the forest of Oromë in Valinor, and
Tinúviel dances on the green swards of Nessa and Vána daughters of the Gods for ever more; yet
great was the grief of the Elves when the Guilwarthon went from among them, and being leaderless
and lessened of magic their numbers minished; and many fared away to Gondolin, the rumour of
whose growing power and glory ran in secret whispers among all the Elves.
Still did Dior when come to manhood rule a numerous folk, and he loved the woods even as Beren
had done; and songs name him mostly Ausir the Wealthy for his possession of that wondrous gem set
in the Necklace of the Dwarves. Now the tales of Beren and Tinúviel grew dim in his heart, and he
took to wearing it about his neck and to love its loveliness most dearly; and the fame of that jewel
spread like fire through all the regions of the North, and the Elves said one to another: ‘A Silmaril
burns in the woods of Hisilómë.’
The Tale of the Nauglafring told in greater detail of the assault on Dior and his death at
the hands of the sons of Fëanor, and this last of the Lost Tales to receive consecutive form
ends with the escape of Elwing: