Silmarillion - Chapter 21 - Of Túrin Turambar

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

So many places where Túrin could have turned away and made the curse more problematic for Morgoth, and yet he played right into Morgoth's hands. That, to me, is the real tragedy of the story.

Isn't that sort of how tragedies normally work in literature, though? Although the "fatal flaw" way of describing Hamlet or Macbeth is too much of an oversimplification, nonetheless it is clearly their own actions that lead up to their fall, a fall that was not unavoidable. Rather, it is a clear series of choices that lead to the tragedy. To take Macbeth as an example (if only because it is fresher in my mind), the witches certainly manipulate him, but he chooses to kill Duncan, chooses to kill Banquo, and chooses to kill Macduff's family. He is led to each of these conclusions only in part by the words of the witches--the interpretation all comes from him.

In like manner, Túrin chooses each of the actions that makes the curse more operative, rather than less, and the tragedy of the Narn is precisely that Morgoth's curse worked hand-in-hand with Túrin's own actions.

Like Galadriel55, this does not make me lose all sympathy for Túrin--if anything, I sympathize with him more because of it, because his repeated failures are what bring him down to a sympathetic level. Túrin without his drastic miscalculations would leave us with Boromir as he seemed at the Council of Elrond: brash, over-confident, full of himself--but even more so. Túrin is dislikable because of his successes: he is the greatest warrior, a convincing leader, a charismatic figure about to make whole nations change their polices. If Túrin were successful in these endeavours, he would be insufferable; the fact that his choices are so wrong (despite what we know are fairly noble, if over-proud, intentions) is what makes him a tragic figure.

Mind you, although I find him sympathetic, I would not go so far as to say that I "like" the guy.

[Pitchwife]

Originally Posted by G55

But I think the biggest "if" of all is, "if Turin could understand his own heart and the hearts of others..."

This! (I wish I could rep you for your first two posts on this thread - that's a lot of great insights there, but this is the best.)

Originally Posted by G55

He said himself that he casts a shadow wherever he goes, but, sadly, his solution is not to distance himself from others to avoid helping Morgoth, but rather to assume a fake identity.

I'm actually not sure distancing himself from others would have been a solution - I rather think he distanced himself from others too much for his own good (not spatially but emotionally). I've always found that verse in the Lay of the Children of Húrin that speaks of "the sundering sorrow that seared his youth" very touching, and in a way it sums up his whole character for me.

We see in the Narn that as a child he was capable of caring for others (as in his relationship with Sador), and of course he loved his family, especially his sister Lalaith. But then he lost first her, then his father, and finally his mother when she sent him to Doriath, and it seems to me that he never recovered from this series of traumatic losses - like he was hurt so much that he never let anybody get as close to him again for fear of losing them too and being hurt again. He didn't even remember Nellas when Beleg mentioned her to him a few years later (a remarkable case of amnesia that has been discussed in its own thread). He was friends with Beleg and later Gwindor, and he seems to have loved Finduilas in a way, but his adult relationships with others never went so far that he would have let them question him or tried to look at himself through their eyes. His family (or rather his idealized memories of them) always mattered more to him than anybody else, and it may not be that much of an exaggeration to say they were the only people who really mattered to him - as seen in his decision to go searching for Morwen and Nienor instead of trying to save Finduilas, as Gwindor had bidden him.

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Pitchwife

He was friends with Beleg and later Gwindor, and he seems to have loved Finduilas in a way, but his adult relationships with others never went so far that he would have let them question him or tried to look at himself through their eyes.

Maybe he loved Findilas - and not any other woman - because she reminded him of his family. They have this conversation in the Narn:

"I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she wold now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair."

"But you are kingly," said she, "even as the lords of the peopls of Fingolfin; I would I had a brother so valiant."

Turin's love for Finduilas can almost be described as nostalgic.

And the only other woman that ot his attention in adulthood was his own sister. Though neither knew that. But it is mentioned a number of times that something was special about the two of them (like, only Nienor could pursuade Turin to stay at home and not fight, and she felt glad only in his company).

I'm actually not sure distancing himself from others would have been a solution - I rather think he distanced himself from others too much for his own good (not spatially but emotionally).

Good point.

His family (or rather his idealized memories of them) always mattered more to him than anybody else, and it may not be that much of an exaggeration to say they were the only people who really mattered to him - as seen in his decision to go searching for Morwen and Nienor instead of trying to save Finduilas, as Gwindor had bidden him.

Well, that was part dragon work, but if he loved Finduilas more than his family, I think he would still save her. So his family comes first.

Also (I think there was a thread about it, but I can't remember), Beleg says that Turin "lived always with [his] heart and half [his] mind far away". That could very well mean that Turin lived in a world of his idealised family and a childhood that he never had.

Edit: xed with Zil and Squatter

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

The story of Túrin is one of the key legends around which the Silmarillion is constructed, so I can't hope to do justice to it in the time I have at my disposal. Fortunately rather a lot of what I have to say is redundant, since Tom Shippey has already dealt with it in The Road to Middle Earth. I don't see any reason to argue with his main argument that Túrin's story is one of tension between the meanings of 'doom' as judgement and as ill fate. In the story of the Children of Húrin more than anywhere else in the matter of Middle Earth, Tolkien is exploring the balance between fate and free will as they were addressed in the early and high middle ages. Beowulf tells Unferth:

Wyrd oft nereð
unfægne eorl, þonne his ellen deah.

Fate often spares
an undoomed lord, when his courage avails

Gisli's Saga sums up its protagonist by extolling his virtues and wryly cursing his luck.

Lýkur þar nú ævi Gísla og er það alsagt að hann hefur hinn mesti hreystimaður verið þó að hann væri eigi í öllum hlutum gæfumaður.

There now ends Gisli's life, and it has always been said he was the greatest champion - though he was not lucky in all things.

Leaving aside the heroic, Boethius addresses the relationship between divine foreknowledge and predestination, and Alfred the Great expands on the idea in his translation of De Consolatione Philosophiae by adding his own metaphor of a wagon wheel.

These are only three rather obvious examples. Old English and Old Norse writings are full of references to fate, luck and doom; just as Christian works often address the apparent contradiction that God can know what will happen despite each person's freedom to choose any path. When Tolkien approached the same issue it gave rise to his starkest and most brutal story, and the closest of any of his legends to the pagan North.

Much of what Túrin suffers is his own fault. His own pride, inherited from the equally pig-headed Morwen leads him repeatedly to choose the worst course of action in the face of good advice, and the chief points at which he does this have been pointed out. In constant tension with this theme, however, there is a persistent bad luck that causes every stroke he makes to turn awry. What causes Saeros to taunt Túrin with exactly the image most likely to enrage him? Why does Saeros fall into a chasm instead of escaping or tripping over? Why does one of Túrin's men decide to shoot at Mîm's sons? What causes Beleg's knife to slip? Why is it that Túrin meets with Níenor of all places at Haudh-en-Elleth? At times, the litany of evil coincidence comes very close to malign fate, just as Gisli's ill luck dooms him in spite of his accomplishments. To his great credit, Tolkien never gives us a straight answer to the central question: does Morgoth's curse destroy Húrin's family or do they destroy themselves? Typically the closest he comes to a conclusion on the subject is in Gwindor's comment on the nature of names: "The doom lies in yourself, not in your name". However, it is worth noting that whenever his opponents play into Morgoth's hands it is when their behaviour is most like his own.

Another interesting point is that despite his many failures, Túrin remains a hero. At several stages in the development of this story Tolkien foresaw a revenge for him at the last battle, and he is still one of "the mighty Elf-friends of old" to Elrond in LR. Although by far the darkest of Tolkien's heroes, he never becomes as corrupt as does Fëanor; and ultimately he succeeds in his mother's ambition for him: he is never a slave.

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by The Squatter of Amon Rûdh

...pig-headed Morwen...

I hope you meant big-headed Morwen...

Another interesting point is that despite his many failures, Túrin remains a hero.

Heroes aren't necessarily successful. But they still may be heroes.

And that reminds me. At one point, I believe when Turin was ruling at Amon Rudh, Morgoth was afraid that he will overpower the curse. This might have been the most successful time in his life.

But it brings up a question: did Morgoth have faith in his own curses?

Although by far the darkest of Tolkien's heroes, he never becomes as corrupt as does Fëanor; and ultimately he succeeds in his mother's ambition for him: he is never a slave.

He "fares free". Now that you mention that, I think that there is a deeper meaning behind those words.

I think we can equal Turin and Feanor in this sense: they are both, in a way, legendary. And I think that Feanor is more fey than corrupt - as is Turin.


I sometimes wonder why Turin calls himself Turambar in Brethil. Does he wish to defy his fate? Does he think that he rose above it? I used to think that this particular name choice was made on purpose by Tolkien to create the irony of "Master of Doom, by Doom mastered".

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

I hope you meant big-headed Morwen...

Well, I hardly feel qualified to speak on the masterful Squatter's behalf, but my own bias leads me to conclude that he could only have possibly meant "pig-headed" (as in "stubborn, pig-headed, Morwen")--although "big-headed" isn't implausible, I suppose.

Actually, it's funny... I think I feel about Morwen the way Inzil feels about Túrin--and the reason it's funny is because Tolkien is essentially doing the same thing with both characters: both are over-proud, both are stubborn to the point of refusing advice the reader KNOWS they ought to take, and both are ultimately sympathetic characters in their tragedy.

But for whatever reason, Morwen bothers me more than Túrin--maybe it's because Túrin is a child when this ill-fortune starts, whereas Morwen was a grown woman--though that might not be fair of me. After all, Morwen had to flee HER homeland as a child, when the Bragollach drove the refugees of the House of Bëor into Dor-Lómin, and she also lost her father in the war to Morgoth, one of the band of Barahir.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Surely by now everyone knows that I preview my posts several times before posting them.

Originally Posted by reference.com

pig·head·ed   [pig-hed-id]
adjective
stupidly obstinate; stubborn: pigheaded resistance.

Although the most complete version of this story is the Narn I Hîn Húrin, and obviously these days we have CoH, my favourite versions are still those in HME 3.

O! Morwen my mother, why makest me go?
The hills are hateful, where hope is lost;
O! Morwen my mother, I am meshed in tears
for grim are the hills and my home is gone.'
And there came his cries, calling faintly
down the dark alleys of the dreary trees,
that one there weeping weary on the threshold
heard how the hills said 'my home is gone.'

Tolkien's vision of Morwen and Túrin at their parting in Hithlum remained consistent. In the Narn, she grips the door-post until her fingers bleed (a scene very reminiscent of the family sagas), yet throughout the revisions her pride prevents her from accepting Thingol's offer of refuge. In the alliterative Lay, she cannot face being "the alms-guest of others" and would rather suffer the indignities of occupation, and separation from Túrin. The suffering she inflicts, not least on herself, is unnecessary. It should also be remembered that pride - her chief motivation in this - is an attribute of the devil. As Tolkien was doubtless aware, one of the descriptions of Satan in the Old English Genesis is se engel ofermodes ('the angel of pride'). He and the Anglo-Saxon poet were co-religionists, and would probably have agreed that no good can come of following Satan's example.

However, Morwen remains a sympathetic and tragic character. At least one reason for her remaining in Hithlum for so long is that she hopes against reason that Húrin will return, and her later headlong flight from Doriath in search of Túrin is motivated by love and concern for him. Her meeting with Húrin in the next chapter is one of the best things Tolkien ever wrote. Nonetheless, the refusal to take advice, the insistence on following one's own immediate will without thought, these are a source of tragedy time and again in the Silmarillion. When we consider the tragedy of Húrin's family alongside the story of Tuor this theme becomes even clearer. Tolkien consistently militates against willful pride, against action without counsel, against unilateral decisions. There are obvious religious reasons for this, but I'm given to wonder if there may not be something deeper that motivates this strand of the legendarium.

[Galadriel55]

I get what you're saying with Morwen being overstubborn (though this does not ruin her high position in my "opinion ranks"! ). And then, you could say that Nienor is partially responsible for her and Turin's suicidal end, because she was stubborn enough not to go back to Doriath.


A thought invaded to my mind a short while ago. It is quite ironical (yes, more of that) that Hurin's kin do almost as much, if not as much, damage in a lifetime than the Doom of the Noldor in a couple hundred years. Nargothrond fell when all of them (except for Lalaith, of course) were still alive. And shortly after their end - Doriath, followed by Gondolin. All of these losses were caused directly in Nargothrond's case and indirectly for the other two by the Curse, or by the actions of the family (if you prefer it that way).


But the good thing about it is that Morgoth's Curse, like all his other deeds, ultimately turned against him. If it wasn't for the sac of Doriath and Gondolin, Earendil and Elwing would never have met! And then Earendil would never have gotten the Silmaril that helped him get to Aman. So Morgoth created the perfect circumstances for his own destruction.


ETA: I forgot to say this. "Fixed idea" - I think tht this could be said about many characters from the Narn. And it does relate to stubborness. But sometimes you can't tell one from the other. For example, when Morwen against all councel leaves Doriath to look for Turin, I think it's more of a fixed idea than simply "pig-headed-ness".

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

But the good thing about it is that Morgoth's Curse, like all his other deeds, ultimately turned against him. If it wasn't for the sac of Doriath and Gondolin, Earendil and Elwing would never have met! And then Earendil would never have gotten the Silmaril that helped him get to Aman. So Morgoth created the perfect circumstances for his own destruction.

Which goes back to Eru's admonition to Melkor early on, that all he did ultimately was in accord with the design of the One. But that's another thread.

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

ETA: I forgot to say this. "Fixed idea" - I think tht this could be said about many characters from the Narn. And it does relate to stubborness. But sometimes you can't tell one from the other. For example, when Morwen against all councel leaves Doriath to look for Turin, I think it's more of a fixed idea than simply "pig-headed-ness".

Well, since the definition of stubborn is "fixed or set in purpose or opinion; resolute", and pig-headed is defined as "stupidly obstinate; stubborn", Morwen was "pig-headed" anyway.

[Bêthberry]

Originally Posted by The Squatter of Amon Rûdh

Tolkien consistently militates against willful pride, against action without counsel, against unilateral decisions. There are obvious religious reasons for this, but I'm given to wonder if there may not be something deeper that motivates this strand of the legendarium.

Would you care to elaborate? Do you mean there is something in the depiction of Morwen that involves his own personal relationship with his mother? Or do you mean something more general about his ideas concerning pride?

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Formendacil

In like manner, Túrin chooses each of the actions that makes the curse more operative, rather than less, and the tragedy of the Narn is precisely that Morgoth's curse worked hand-in-hand with Túrin's own actions.

Indeed. Yet, my point is that it needn't have been so.

Anyone can make mistakes, of course, in Tolkien's Arda as well as this world.
Túrin's problem, though, is that he continually makes the same sort of mistakes time and time again. It is that which makes me so unsympathetic toward him.

Also, one can point to his personality as an impediment (as I already did), and make the case that his lot was harder because of that. I take it as a basic tenant, however, that Eru Ilúvatar would not have allowed his Children to have been oppressed by Morgoth beyond their ability to endure. Túrin had the capability to overcome both the curse, and the demons within himself, he just doesn't seem willing to try.

Originally Posted by Formendacil

Like Galadriel55, this does not make me lose all sympathy for Túrin--if anything, I sympathize with him more because of it, because his repeated failures are what bring him down to a sympathetic level. Túrin without his drastic miscalculations would leave us with Boromir as he seemed at the Council of Elrond: brash, over-confident, full of himself--but even more so. Túrin is dislikable because of his successes: he is the greatest warrior, a convincing leader, a charismatic figure about to make whole nations change their polices. If Túrin were successful in these endeavours, he would be insufferable; the fact that his choices are so wrong (despite what we know are fairly noble, if over-proud, intentions) is what makes him a tragic figure.

Like I said, it would be another matter if Túrin had kept on failing for different reasons, and things which were outside his control. I just don't see that as being the case though.

x/d with Squatter