Reader deep thought: If Túrin’s story was epic in its melodrama and bitterness, a thousand thousandfold that must be Húrin’s lot, for not only was he the horrified, helpless spectator of the entire script Morgoth orchestrated, his part was not ended when his children died. Perhaps the only strand of comfort was his reunion with Morwen before the end. Still, again, Thingol figured greatly; his kingdom brought down utterly, thanks in part to his demise and Melian’s departure. Jewel fixation is a dangerous addiction.
Reader deep thought: No wonder this chapter trumped the one on Beren and Lúthien; the Lay of Leithian was also the shorter compared to the Narn i Hîn Húrin. After reading this chapter, it’s beginning to feel like proper measures and superb fortifications against depression are needed to attempt the actual book. Unsurprisingly, the Silmarils again asserted their glittering allure. Still, buried under all the melodrama must be the great wonder of Thingol’s about-face on a core tenant of his belief system.
Reader deep thought: With the year it happened was everafter called “Year of Lamentation”, that surely was a mark of the abject horror among wars the Nirnaeth Arnoediad was. Unless one sat it out *cough*Doriath*cough*, everyone who signed up seemed to have died or suffered terrible fates in its aftermath. Even those who betrayed the allies were rewarded with just desserts, served cold and ironically bitter by the deceitful Morgoth. But truly, surviving Nirnaeth Arnoediad was really the raw deal to end all bad deals when you were Húrin.
Reader deep thought: What an eventful time! The Noldor sure started their careers as Exiles with a bang, or three. And the Sun and the Moon sprung up in time to bear witness to the stuff of legends. Gothmog debuted, Fëanor passed, the Noldor-lords reunited willy-nilly, Noldor meets Sindar, and Thingol unhappy. But still, the Noldor prospered and there was diaspora, much thanks in part to Maedhros’ mellowing out, Finrod’s loyalty to their friendship, and the even-tempered EQ of Fingolfin. Everything happened. Even LOVE, blooming in Galadriel and Celeborn’s companionship in Menegroth (interestingly, both were Thingol’s kin). And yet, already two Wars of Beleriand before the end of the chapter, in the brief span of time right before the Sun first rose to her 60th anniversary, and the Silmarils were still in Morgoth’s ever scheming hands. Bummer. And what did the Noldor do? Siege Angband of course! Four hundred fifty years. Longevity hath its privileges.