Сильмариллион
Of the Ruin of Doriath
’Notso,’saidThorondor.’IftheEaglesofManwewerewonttoerrthus,thenlongago,lord,yourhidingwouldhavebeeninvain.’
’Thenyourwordsbodeill,’saidTurgon;’fortheycanbearbutonemeaning.EvenHurinThalionhassurrenderedtothewillofMorgoth.Myheartisshut.’
ButwhenThorondorwasgone,Turgonsatlonginthought,andhewastroubled,rememberingthedeedsofHurinofDor-lomin;andheopenedhisheart,andsenttotheeaglestoseekforHurin,andtobringhimiftheymighttoGondolin.Butitwastoolate,andtheyneversawhimagaininlightorinshadow.
ForHurinstoodindespairbeforethesilentcliffsoftheEchoriath,andthewesteringsun,piercingtheclouds,stainedhiswhitehairwithred.Thenhecriedaloudinthewilderness,heedlessofanyears,andhecursedthepitilessland;andstandingatlastuponahighrockhelookedtowardsGondolinandcalledinagreatvoice:’Turgon,Turgon,remembertheFenofSerech!OTurgon,willyounothearinyourhiddenhalls?’Buttherewasnosoundsavethewindinthedrygrasses.’EvensotheyhissedinSerechatthesunset,’hesaid;andashespokethesunwentbehindtheMountainsofShadow,andadarknessfellabouthim,andthewindceased,andtherewassilenceinthewaste.
