Act 1, Scene 7
Scene VII
Carcharoth enters, looking back towards where Beren exited.
Carchar:
There he goes! To think how entirely my future enjoyment is wrapped up in that little morsel! Really, it hardly seems worthwhile! Oh, delectation! —
Sauron and Maglor enter separately, glaring at each other.
Carchar:
Now then, what is it? Can't you see I'm soliloquizing? You have interrupted an apostrophe, sir!
Maglor:
I am the bearer of a letter from his Majesty the Elf Ruler.
He hands it over and retreats to convenient eavesdropping distance.
Carchar:
(taking it from him nervously) A letter from the Elf Ruler! What in the world can he have to say to me? (Reads letter.) Ah, here it is at last! I thought it would come sooner or later! The Elf Ruler is struck by the fact that no devourings have taken place in Middle Earth for a year, and declares that if it remains this quiet, he will advance his rangers within one month, and the girdle of Melian will enshroud my very lair!
Sauron:
But that will involve us all in irretrievable ruin!
Carchar:
Yes. There is no help for it, I shall have to bite the head off somebody at once. The only question is, who shall it be?
Sauron:
Well, it seems unkind to say so, but as he as already lost all respect for your menace, everything seems to point to you.
Carchar:
To me? What are you talking about? I can't bite my own head off.
Sauron:
Why not?
Carchar:
Why not? Because, in the first place, self-decapitation is an extremely difficult, not to say dangerous, thing to attempt; and, in the second, it's an attack on Morgoth’s Hound – which will bring his wrath.
Sauron:
That is so, no doubt.
Maglor: (aside)
We might reserve that point.
Sauron:
True, it could be argued six months hence, before the Great Lord.
Carchar:
Besides, I don't see how a wolf can bite off his own head.
Sauron:
A wolf might try.
Maglor: (encouragingly, from his side of the stage)
Even if you only succeeded in cutting it half off, that would be something.
Sauron:
It would be taken as an earnest of your devouring skill.
Carchar:
No. Pardon me, but there I am adamant. As official Devourer, my reputation is at stake, and I can't consent to embark on a professional operation unless I see my way to a successful result.
Sauron:
This professional conscientiousness is highly creditable to you, but it places us in a very awkward position.
Carchar:
My good sir, the awkwardness of your position is grace itself compared with that of a beast engaged in the act of biting off his own head.
Maglor:
I am afraid that, unless you can obtain a substitute —
He jabs his thumb at Sauron.
Carchar:
A substitute? Oh, certainly — nothing easier. (To Sauron.) Sauron, I appoint you Lord High Substitute.
Sauron:
I should be delighted. Such an appointment would realize my fondest dreams. But no, at any sacrifice, I must set bounds to my insatiable ambition!
Sauron:
I am so proud,
If I allowed
My Maia pride
To be my guide,
I'd face the wrath
Of Doriath
Instead of you
In a minute or two,
But Maia pride
Must be denied,
And set aside,
And mortified,
And mortified.
Carchar:
My mighty jaws
Enforce the laws
From Morgoth’s hand
In all Angband
In all Angband
But if I died,
What I provide
In might and fear
Would disappear!
Now every thrall,
Both great and small,
Should give his all
At Morgoth’s call.
Maglor:
I heard one day
From Lord Orome
That animals who
Are bit in two
In strong jaws’ press
Lose consciousness,
And so are slain –
Are slain without much pain.
If this is true,
It's jolly for you;
Your courage screw
To bid us adieu.
As the song ends, Sauron and Maglor exit separately.
Carcharoth enters, looking back towards where Beren exited.
Carchar:
There he goes! To think how entirely my future enjoyment is wrapped up in that little morsel! Really, it hardly seems worthwhile! Oh, delectation! —
Sauron and Maglor enter separately, glaring at each other.
Carchar:
Now then, what is it? Can't you see I'm soliloquizing? You have interrupted an apostrophe, sir!
Maglor:
I am the bearer of a letter from his Majesty the Elf Ruler.
He hands it over and retreats to convenient eavesdropping distance.
Carchar:
(taking it from him nervously) A letter from the Elf Ruler! What in the world can he have to say to me? (Reads letter.) Ah, here it is at last! I thought it would come sooner or later! The Elf Ruler is struck by the fact that no devourings have taken place in Middle Earth for a year, and declares that if it remains this quiet, he will advance his rangers within one month, and the girdle of Melian will enshroud my very lair!
Sauron:
But that will involve us all in irretrievable ruin!
Carchar:
Yes. There is no help for it, I shall have to bite the head off somebody at once. The only question is, who shall it be?
Sauron:
Well, it seems unkind to say so, but as he as already lost all respect for your menace, everything seems to point to you.
Carchar:
To me? What are you talking about? I can't bite my own head off.
Sauron:
Why not?
Carchar:
Why not? Because, in the first place, self-decapitation is an extremely difficult, not to say dangerous, thing to attempt; and, in the second, it's an attack on Morgoth’s Hound – which will bring his wrath.
Sauron:
That is so, no doubt.
Maglor: (aside)
We might reserve that point.
Sauron:
True, it could be argued six months hence, before the Great Lord.
Carchar:
Besides, I don't see how a wolf can bite off his own head.
Sauron:
A wolf might try.
Maglor: (encouragingly, from his side of the stage)
Even if you only succeeded in cutting it half off, that would be something.
Sauron:
It would be taken as an earnest of your devouring skill.
Carchar:
No. Pardon me, but there I am adamant. As official Devourer, my reputation is at stake, and I can't consent to embark on a professional operation unless I see my way to a successful result.
Sauron:
This professional conscientiousness is highly creditable to you, but it places us in a very awkward position.
Carchar:
My good sir, the awkwardness of your position is grace itself compared with that of a beast engaged in the act of biting off his own head.
Maglor:
I am afraid that, unless you can obtain a substitute —
He jabs his thumb at Sauron.
Carchar:
A substitute? Oh, certainly — nothing easier. (To Sauron.) Sauron, I appoint you Lord High Substitute.
Sauron:
I should be delighted. Such an appointment would realize my fondest dreams. But no, at any sacrifice, I must set bounds to my insatiable ambition!
Sauron:
I am so proud,
If I allowed
My Maia pride
To be my guide,
I'd face the wrath
Of Doriath
Instead of you
In a minute or two,
But Maia pride
Must be denied,
And set aside,
And mortified,
And mortified.
Carchar:
My mighty jaws
Enforce the laws
From Morgoth’s hand
In all Angband
In all Angband
But if I died,
What I provide
In might and fear
Would disappear!
Now every thrall,
Both great and small,
Should give his all
At Morgoth’s call.
Maglor:
I heard one day
From Lord Orome
That animals who
Are bit in two
In strong jaws’ press
Lose consciousness,
And so are slain –
Are slain without much pain.
If this is true,
It's jolly for you;
Your courage screw
To bid us adieu.
As the song ends, Sauron and Maglor exit separately.
Subtitles