One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
Thingol, disapproving of Beren even speaking to his daughter, let alone proposing marriage, set a bride-price meant to be impossibly high – a simaril. All three were controlled by the Dark Lord Morgoth, but Beren and Lúthien set about retrieving one for Thingol, so that they might earn his approval and be married.