The ending of the tale deserves to be quoted in full:There was a boy with a deformed head who could not find a wife because of his ugly appearance. One day he visited a lake and saw a drake descending to surface upon its waters. After the apparition repeated itself the following days, the boy decided to catch the drake, who revealed himself as the King of Fairies and asked the boy to set him free, a favor that he would greatly repay. The boy refused the offer of riches beyond compare and stated that all he wanted was a good wife, being told by the drake that he could offer him any of his three daughters. The boy chose the middle one, since he did not want an old wife nor a wife too young. The drake agreed upon one condition: their marriage would only last nine years. The boy agreed, freed the drake, and the next day got his fairy wife and a magical palace to live in, with all the goods and servants they needed. They were happy for nine years and she learned to love him despite his appearance, while he was enormously fond of his beautiful wife. Then the nine years passed and one morning the boy woke up on the grass, since both his palace and his wife were gone. The boy was desperate and traveled through the lands in search of her, until he came to the nest of two little gryphons who were threatened by a dragon. In a moment of compassion for the two little gryphons, the boy thought the dragon and killed him, being asked by the father gryphon whatever he wished for. He told the gryphon his story and how he longed to be reunited with his fairy wife, and the gryphon said that they would fly him to the abode of the gods, where he could plead for his wife. The gryphon carried the boy into the heavens until they reached the abode of the gods, where they were asked how dared a mortal come there. After explaining their motivations and how the boy had saved the gryphon’s younglings from a fierce dragon, they were admitted before the gods, where the boy explained his case and pleaded for his wife’s return. Upon hearing his words, his wife came out from her hiding place and ran to him, confessing that she loved him too. The gods agreed that she could return to him, provided that she renounced her fairy nature to become a mortal. She agreed to do so and they lived together on earth, happily ever after.
Compare this with the ending of the chapter “Of Beren and Lúthien” in The Silmarillion:When her father heard this he did not know how to act, but it was decided that a conclave should be held, and the matter debated at length. So the celestial powers met together in a great council, and, having discussed the matter in all its bearings, they decided that, as the Fairy Princess desired to return to earth of her own free will, they would not stand in her way; but that if she did so, she must take the consequence of her own action, and that as the result of mating with an unclean creature like a human being she must herself become mortal and lose her Fairy nature. On hearing this decision the girl joyfully agreed. So she and her husband mounted together upon the broad back of the Gryphon, and the great beast, spreading his wings, sailed through the golden gates of the palace and swept downwards through the blue heavens to the earth below. He soon deposited the youth and his wife on the ground near their old home, where he bade them farewell and returned to his own nest. And henceforward, although the Fairy had lost her magic powers, the two lived happily together, and grew to a good old age in prosperous and comfortable circumstances. (O’Connor 1907: 101-102)
In both cases it is the gods who rule the case allowing the fairy to renounce her immortality and fairy nature to be with her earthly lover. In both cases she agrees without doubts to said renunciation and enjoys her mortal life with her lover, although the explicit textual stress on their happiness is much stronger in the Tibetan tale.These were the choices that he [Mandos] gave to Lúthien. Because of her labours and her sorrow, she should be released from Mandos, and go to Valimar, there to dwell until the world's end among the Valar, forgetting all griefs that her life had known. Thither Beren could not come. For it was not permitted to the Valar to withhold Death from him, which is the gift of Ilúvatar to Men. But the other choice was this: that she might return to Middle-earth, and take with her Beren, there to dwell again, but without certitude of life or joy. Then she would become mortal, and subject to a second death, even as he; and ere long she would leave the world for ever, and her beauty become only a memory in song. This doom she chose, forsaking the Blessed Realm, and putting aside all claim to kinship with those that dwell there; that thus whatever grief might lie in wait, the fates of Beren and Lúthien might be joined, and their paths lead together beyond the confines of the world. So it was that alone of the Eldalië she has died indeed, and left the world long ago. Yet in her choice the Two Kindreds have been joined; and she is the forerunner of many in whom the Eldar see yet, thought all the world is changed, the likeness of Lúthien the beloved, whom they have lost. (The Silmarillion xix)
Of course, the Elf-Man liaison is not the original form of the story of Beren and Lúthien: in the early “Tale of Tinúviel”, Beren was a Noldorin Elf. However, the idea of their union defiling the special Elven prerogative of Tinúviel has always been there, though implicit, as Tinwelint, the early version of Thingol, asks his daughter upon meeting Beren: “Put away thy light words, my child, and say has this wild Elf of the shadows sought to do thee any harm?” (BoLT2: 13). In The Silmarillion, the stress is even stronger, as Thingol asks his daughter: “Unhappy Men, children of little lords and brief kings, shall such as these lay hands on you, and yet live?” (The Silmarillion xix).
In the Tibetan tale of “The Boy with the Deformed Head,” the fairy must accept mortality “as the result of mating with an unclean creature like a human” (O’Connor 1907: 102). The gods asked the gryphon upon his coming to heaven with the boy: “How is it (…) that you have dared, unordered, to bring into our presence an inhabitant of the human world? Do you not know that human beings are of a coarser essence than ourselves and are repugnant and abhorrent to us? How dare you so defile the sacred country of the gods?” (O’Connor 1907: 100-101).
Accordingly, Tinwelint in “The Tale of Tinúviel” asks Beren: “Who art thou that stumbleth into my halls unbidden?” (BoLT2: 12), and, after he leaves, comments with his daughter: “It is well for him that he lies not bound here in grievous spells for his trespass in my halls and for his insolent speech” (BoLT2: 14). The scene is made even more striking by Beren’s characterization as human in The Silmarillion, as Thingol instead asks: “'Who are you (…) that come hither as a thief, and unbidden dare to approach my throne?” (The Silmarillion xix). Notice the retaining of the key word “unbidden,” and compare it to “unordered” in O’Connor 1907: 100. Thingol reiterates: “What would you here, unhappy mortal, and for what cause have you left your own land to enter this, which is forbidden to such as you? Can you show reason why my power should not be laid on you in heavy punishment for you insolence and folly?” After Beren asks for Lúthien’s hand, Thingol retorts, lamenting his promise to his daughter not to harm him nor imprison him: “Death you have earned with these words; and death you should find suddenly, had I not sworn an oath in haste; of which I repent, baseborn mortal, who in the realm of Morgoth has learnt to creep in secret as his spies and thralls”.
These are clearly instances of Thompson motif C93. Tabu: trespassing sacred precinct, and especially F361.4. Fairies take revenge on trespassers on ground they claim as theirs. They are both Celtic motifs featuring in Cross’s index. But what is special here is the connotation of the motif as tied to human uncleanliness. While in the Tibetan tale such uncleanliness is textually thematized and connected with the defiling of fairy nature, in The Silmarillion it comes forward in Beren’s definition as “baseborn mortal”, as well as in his comparison to “spies and thralls” of Morgoth, whom the Dark Lord defiled. In “The Tale of Tinúviel” Beren’s comparison to a thief also implies defilement of Tinwelint’s daughter, although in that case it is due to the shadowy nature of the Noldor instead of human nature. In both “The Tale of Tinúviel” and The Silmarillion it is the unauthorized trespass in the land of Doriath (or Arthanor) that connects the defilement of the land with the defilement of the maiden. It is a connection that is also underlined by the notion of “the Girdle of Melian,” the magical protection guarding the borders of Doriath, the violation of which carries the connotations of a sexual crime. The peculiar concept of the uncleanliness of the human kind that is implied in the notion of the defilement of fairy maidens by mortals can be thus construed as another Oriental motif that Tolkien may have adopted from the Tibetan “Story of the Boy with the Deformed Head”. Its inclusion in “The Tale of Tinúviel” may have been implicit, or he might have developed this trait subsequently, but it certainly underlies Thingol’s appointment of an impossible suitor’s task for Beren.
It must also be stressed how such notions as the uncleanliness of humans in the context of Elf-Man relationships distinguish Tolkien from Celtic and Middle English traditions on fairies, as neither in Culhwch and Olwen nor in Sir Orfeo is anything similar found. Furthermore, the same notions constitute an even stronger reason to exclude that Tolkien may have been inspired by Anglo-Saxon elves in his devising his Middle-earth Elves, since in Old English elves are the offspring of Cain (Beowulf 112). In Letter 236, Tolkien commented that “in all Old English poetry ‘elves’ (ylfe) occurs once only, in Beowulf, associated with trolls, giants, and the Undead, as the accursed offspring of Cain” (Letters, no. 236). Tolkien did not agree with such a negative association, as he makes clear in his prose translation of Beowulf 112: “ogres, goblins, and haunting shapes of hell” (Tolkien 2014: 21). In Tolkien’s Middle-earth, the perspective is “Elf-centred”, not anthropocentric (Letters, no. 212), and it is rather the human who is conceived as a monster, as in Thingol’s words comparing Beren to Morgoth’s thralls. However, one should note that Old English tradition as exemplified by Beowulf stands on the opposite side of Tolkien, whereas Celtic and Middle English are obvious inspirations in many respects, that are not denied by claiming an Oriental inspiration for a few motifs and combinations of motifs.
In my opinion this should better substantiate one of the reasons why Tolkien could never have been inspired by Anglosaxon and Gothic sources in his Elf-Human liaisons: the monster in these affairs is the human, not the Elf. I claim especially a far Eastern inspiration for this motif, but even without it and assuming that Tolkien independently conceived it, it stands as a clear distinction from Anglosaxon and Gothic lore, and closer to Middle English.
