Вышла она в 2018. Последняя версия Падения - это та, что была опубликована в Неоконченных Сказаниях, поэтому если они у тебя есть, у тебя есть и она. А встреча была такой. Для понимания ситуации, Туор уже встретил Воронве, и они медленно идут в Гондолин (если у тебя есть эта версия в оригинале, читай, систер, это поэзия). Сцена начинается с Туора и Воронве. Even as he spoke thus, they heard a cry in the woods, and they stood still as grey stones, listening. But the voice was a fair voice, though filled with grief, and it seemed that it called ever upon a name, as one that searches for another who is lost. And as they waited one came through the trees, and they saw that he was a tall Man, armed, clad in black, with a long sword drawn; and they wondered, for the blade of the sword also was black, but the edges shone bright and cold. Woe was graven in his face, and when he beheld the ruin of Ivrin (священное древнее озеро, убиенное Врагом) he cried aloud in grief, saying: "Ivrin, Faelivrin! Gwindor and Beleg! Here once I was healed. But now never shall I drink the draught of peace again". Then he went swiftly away towards the North, as one in pursuit, or on an errand of great haste, and they heard him cry "Faelivrin, Finduilas!" until his voice died away in the woods. But they knew not that Nargothrond had fallen, and this was Túrin son of Húrin, the Blacksword. Thus only for a moment, and never again, did the paths of those kinsmen, Túrin and Tuor, draw together. Перепечатано мною с телефона)))
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-07-10 07:12 pm (UTC)Even as he spoke thus, they heard a cry in the woods, and they stood still as grey stones, listening. But the voice was a fair voice, though filled with grief, and it seemed that it called ever upon a name, as one that searches for another who is lost. And as they waited one came through the trees, and they saw that he was a tall Man, armed, clad in black, with a long sword drawn; and they wondered, for the blade of the sword also was black, but the edges shone bright and cold. Woe was graven in his face, and when he beheld the ruin of Ivrin (священное древнее озеро, убиенное Врагом) he cried aloud in grief, saying: "Ivrin, Faelivrin! Gwindor and Beleg! Here once I was healed. But now never shall I drink the draught of peace again".
Then he went swiftly away towards the North, as one in pursuit, or on an errand of great haste, and they heard him cry "Faelivrin, Finduilas!" until his voice died away in the woods. But they knew not that Nargothrond had fallen, and this was Túrin son of Húrin, the Blacksword. Thus only for a moment, and never again, did the paths of those kinsmen, Túrin and Tuor, draw together.
Перепечатано мною с телефона)))