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Fiondil's Tapestry  by Fiondil

COURAGE: Impressions

SUMMARY: They had nothing in common, except for one thing: they both loved her.

****

Finrod looked up from the documents he was perusing to stare at his seneschal in surprise. "Alone? He came alone?"

Guilin nodded, his expression carefully neutral so that not even Finrod, who knew the ellon better than most, could tell what his thoughts were. "He specifically asked that you not greet him formally before your throne... at least not yet."

The King of Nargothrond sighed, staring ruefully at the pile of papers he had hoped to get through that day and nodded. He looked back up at Guilin. "See that he has everything he needs for his refreshment and tell him I will see him in an hour’s time. You may bring him to the library."

The seneschal bowed and exited Finrod’s study. The son of Arafinwë stared at his desk where the documents stared back at him with cool accusation and shook his head. "Celeborn," he said out loud as he rose from his chair, "this had better be good."

****

Celeborn paced nervously before the fireplace, ignoring the finely crafted woodwork and stonework of the library with its many shelves of books and scrolls, its richly woven rugs and crystal chandeliers. It was the envy of all the Elven realms, but the Prince of Doriath saw none of it. Galadriel and Melian had both suggested, with varying degrees of subtlety, that he bring his very best court garb to this meeting. Lúthien, on the other hand, had not been subtle at all:

"If you intend to impress Cousin Finrod with your sartorial splendour, you’ll need to dress like one of the Golodh," she told him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Galadriel had glowered and Melian had rolled her eyes at her daughter’s lack of tact but in the end he decided his second-best court garb would do. Now that he was here, though, he wondered if he had made a mistake as he nervously fingered his tunic. He sighed and ran a mental inventory of his appearance.

His shirt was of fine white lawn with white-on-white embroidery at the cuffs, placket and hem which was visible just below his knee-length purple-grey slubbed wool tunic. It had full sleeves with the cuffs trimmed in grey squirrel fur. The rounded neck and the hem were trimmed with a band of dark purple silk embroidered with an intricate silver-thread knotwork design interspersed with river pearls and amethysts. A finely tooled black leather belt cinched his waist. It had two silver clasps in the shape of niphredil, the emblem of Elu Thingol’s house. Underneath the tunic he wore finely woven wool breeches dyed grey and tucked into black leather mid-calf house boots. Over this ensemble he wore an unlined sleeveless open robe of white lamb’s wool, its bottom hem brushing the tops of his boots. A simple thin circlet of gold, a symbol of his princely rank, graced his silver hair and the silver beads, black opals, river pearls and moonstones that were entwined in his warrior braids sparkled in the light of the crystal chandeliers that lit the library.

He sighed again, but really, why should he have worn his very best tunic, which was stiff with embroidery and somewhat uncomfortable to wear anyway? It wasn’t as if this meeting were between a sovereign lord of one kingdom and the ambassador of another, which was why he had requested that Finrod not greet him formally before his throne. This was a family matter, not something for public consumption... or at least not yet.

The sound of a door opening made him look up from his ruminations and he saw Finrod enter and despaired — he had indeed made an error in judgment in the selection of his garb. The King of Nargothrond was — resplendent was the only word that came to mind.

Finrod wore an ankle-length blue-green tunic of heavy brocaded silk with a scalloped diaper pattern. His emblem of harp and torch was intricately embroidered on the chest. The tunic was slit along the sides to the hips showing the lining of dark blue samite shot with gold and silver thread underneath. The sleeves were long and slit from wrist to shoulder and also lined with the dark blue samite. Beryl-inset mithril buttons closed the sleeves at the elbows, allowing the sleeves of the asphodel-yellow figured silk shirt that he wore underneath to show. The shirt was gathered at the wrists and collar with dark teal green ribbons and when Finrod moved, Celeborn could see through the side slits where the hem of the shirt was embroidered with green ivy leaves. An ankle-length sleeveless open robe of the same dark blue samite completed the ensemble. It was lined with a very pale ivory-yellow figured silk. Where the two fabrics met there was a line of embroidered green ivy leaves. Its collar was wide and trimmed with mink. His waist was cinched with a belt of flower-shaped mithril links, the center of each flower inset with either beryl, ruby or sapphire. It was simply buckled with a gold-washed mithril clasp on which was etched his emblem of harp and torch. Breeches of finely woven linen dyed dark blue were tucked into ankle-high house boots made from the same brocaded material as the tunic.

His golden head was graced with an intricately wrought silver crown and his own warrior braids were entwined with gold beads, beryls, diamonds and carnelians. He wore the Nauglamir around his neck and a ring shaped like twin serpents whose eyes were emeralds. Their heads met beneath a crown of golden flowers that the one upheld and the other devoured. Celeborn knew that the ring came originally from Valinor, as had the gems encrusted upon the gold carcanet of the Nauglamir, but such knowledge did not impress him now.

All that impressed him now was the fact that even if he had brought his most elaborate court garb it would still have paled against the splendour of the Golodh’s attire. He had a feeling that Finrod would not be impressed by him at all.

****

Finrod saw Celeborn straighten as he entered the library and noticed, but could not interpret, the flicker of despair that flashed through the Sinda’s eyes before he assumed a more neutral expression. He recognized the prince’s garb as being his second best and sighed inwardly with relief. He had had a virtual battle of wills with his own valet who kept insisting the king wear his very best court garb.

"After all, my lord," Belamdir had stated with a decided sniff, "it is important to show these Sindar their place. Prince of Doriath he may be, but Lord Celeborn is still Moriquendo."

Finrod had kept his expression mild, but his tone was silk over steel. "Prince of Doriath he is indeed, but more importantly, he is my kinsman through my beloved amillë. I do not need to impress Celeborn or anyone else for that matter." Finrod had sighed then, ruefully admitting to himself that Belamdir’s attitude was probably closer to the mark of how Finrod sometimes felt about Celeborn than he knew, for the king often found his distant cousin a mystery. The Sindarin prince was so unassuming and diffident that Finrod sometimes made the same mistake his Fëanorëan cousins did in dismissing him out of hand. Yet, Thingol used him as his ambassador to the other Elven realms and Finrod respected Thingol too much to ignore the implications of his choice.

"My second-best court garb will do just fine," he had said to his valet after a moment’s pause.

Belamdir had had the grace to blush at Finrod’s reprimand and, after giving his liege a bow, he had gone to find the preferred garb. In the end though, Finrod thought with wry humor as he made his way across the room to greet his guest, he had had to settle for wearing his third-best court garb as the second-best was still with the laundresses being cleaned.

"Greetings, Cousin," Finrod said with a smile as he held out his right hand to grasp Celeborn with a warrior’s clasp before bestowing a kinsman’s kiss on his brow. "What dost thou here? I was surprised to learn that thou camest alone. Is there aught amiss in mine Uncle’s fair realm?"

Celeborn returned Finrod’s greeting with his own kiss and shook his head. "Nay, all is well," he replied, then hesitated, finding himself unable to meet Finrod’s curious gaze and cursing himself for his nervousness. He was older than Finrod for the love of the Belain! Yet, here he was practically stammering before his cousin as if he were an elfling of thirty.

Finrod took his hand and gave him an encouraging smile. "Come, let us sit and be comfortable." He motioned to the two chairs before the fireplace and Celeborn sank gratefully into one while Finrod went to a sideboard and poured them both some wine into crystal goblets, handing one to Celeborn before sitting.

"Now, tell me how fares mine Uncle and my kin," the King of Nargothrond said once he was settled. "How fares my dear sister?" He took a sip of wine, surreptitiously watching Celeborn over the rim of his goblet. The Prince of Doriath seemed unusually nervous and his pale features were even more so. Finrod wanted very much to shake the Sinda and demand he speak immediately, but decided to let Celeborn take what time he needed. He had obviously come for a purpose, though it appeared not to be a dire one, for which Finrod was grateful.

"Elu Thingol does well and the realm flourishes," Celeborn answered readily enough, glad to be given a reprieve before broaching the purpose of his visit. "Galadriel is..."

"Who?" Finrod interrupted with a frown. He was sure he had never met any elleth in Thingol and Melian’s court by that name.

Celeborn grimaced slightly and silently castigated himself for not being more careful with his words. "I meant, Artanis," he said apologetically, giving Finrod a shy look. "‘Galadriel’ is what I call her."

Finrod raised an amused eyebrow. "Indeed. And doth my sister approve?"

Now Celeborn smiled more openly, his eyes brightening with mirth. "She slapped me the first time I called her that."

Now Finrod laughed. "I can just imagine," he exclaimed, "and so naturally, she decided to adopt the name for herself, didn’t she?"

Celeborn was unsuccessful in hiding his surprise at his kinsman’s astute observation. "Thou knowest thy sister well, Cousin."

Finrod nodded. "As well as any, and better than most, I think. She often defieth description and conventions. I know she was somewhat a trial to our parents." He smiled ruefully and Celeborn nodded, forbearing to speak further, not wishing to cause additional sorrow to Finrod. He had noticed that even Galadriel’s demeanor darkened whenever she mentioned either of her parents and knew that, at least for these two children of Arafinwë and Eärwen, their separation had been fraught with pain and guilt. "And I suspect that it is my sister that bringest thee to Nargothrond," Finrod added shrewdly before taking another sip of wine.

Celeborn did not respond immediately, trying to keep his emotions under control. He was not sure how Finrod would react to his request but realized that he could not back out now. He would not disappoint Galadriel — or himself — by taking a coward’s way out and hedging. He took a deep breath, placed his goblet on the table that lay between them, then went down to one knee before the surprised King of Nargothrond. In careful Quenya, the Prince of Doriath spoke his request:

"Lenémë metelyaldo merinyë verya nésalyanna," he said all in one breath, staring at Finrod’s embroidered tunic as he spoke, not daring to see the look of dismay or disapproval on his cousin’s face.

Finrod wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the fact that Celeborn had gone to his knees like a common supplicant before his king or the fact that he spoke in Quenya, a language forbidden to be spoken inside Melian’s Girdle. He could only imagine that Artanis had secretly taught him these words. Did they think he would be more impressed by that then if Celeborn had simply asked for her hand speaking Sindarin? But none of that mattered to him. Instead he was more impressed by Celeborn’s courage and courtesy in coming to him in the first place, for well he knew the customs of the Sindar. Celeborn and Artanis... er... no... Galadriel would have been within their rights to merely consummate their love for one another and then tell the family after the fact. He suspected that both his sister and Melian had convinced Celeborn that following Noldorin custom in this case would be best and perhaps serve a greater purpose.

He reached down and lifted Celeborn to his feet, rising as well. He stared deeply into the Sinda’s eyes and noted with silent approval that Celeborn did not flinch from his gaze, for well he knew that the light of the Trees shining from them was oft times disconcerting to many Sindar. But then, Finrod thought, here is one who has lived under the tutelage of Elu Thingol and his queen, Melian. There was more to this unassuming Sinda than met the eye and Finrod vowed then and there never to take this particular Sinda for granted again.

Celeborn, for his part, remained still, refusing to look away from Finrod’s intense gaze with its eldrich light, however much he wished to do otherwise. He stood there waiting for Finrod to reject his suit. Not that it made much difference under Sindarin law if Finrod approved or disapproved but even Celeborn was aware how far the acceptance of his union with the sister of one of the Noldorin kings would go if Finrod welcomed the union.

The King of Nargothrond suddenly leaned over and gave him a kiss, not on the brow as was customary among distant kin, but on the lips, as between brothers. Celeborn’s surprise must have shown, for the king smiled. "Didst thou really think I would be so foolish as to deny my sister anything, muindor nîn? Welcome to the family."

Celeborn felt his knees go weak and then he straightened and smiled, returning Finrod’s kiss with one of his own. Finrod smiled and stepped back. "I ordered a welcoming feast for thee and I think it would be appropriate to make the announcement then. When do ye plan to wed?"

"Galadriel and Melian say no earlier than the Avorn Anor e-Laer," Celeborn replied, "for they have much to do, or so they said." He gave Finrod a shrug and wry glance.

Finrod nodded. "That is only four months away. Truly, it is barely enough time." He laughed lightly at Celeborn’s look of disbelief. "Well, we should go, but there is one thing more that we must do ere we depart for the feast."

Celeborn frowned slightly, wondering what else needed doing, even as Finrod grinned at him with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

****

Celeborn stood beside Finrod at the foot of the dais where was the High Table, fingering with wonder the dark blue robe that now graced his body. Never had he worn anything so beautiful, the texture so fine and smooth and delightful to the touch. He had blinked in surprise when Finrod had doffed the robe, insisting that he put it on.

"It is a custom among the Noldor to bestow gifts of clothing upon a guest if the host wishes all to understand that the guest stands high in the host’s esteem, and any insult to the guest is an insult to the host, even when the guest-host relationship no longer exists. That I gift you with a robe from my own wardrobe will speak volumes to the Noldor amongst my people, though I doubt the Sindar will understand or, if they do, they will not be too impressed." This last had been said with a wry grin and Celeborn had found himself laughing even as he allowed Finrod to help him into the robe.

Now they both stood before the assembled lords and ladies of Nargothrond and it did not escape Celeborn’s notice that not a few eyebrows were raised among Finrod’s Noldorin subjects. The Sindar amongst them merely looked upon the Sindarin Prince of Doriath with respectful curiosity and approval. Finrod gave him a sideways glance and then addressed his court.

"It gives me great pleasure to announce unto ye this night that his Highness, Celeborn, Prince of Doriath, hath come to Nargothrond to ask of me the hand of my beloved sister, Artanis, who hath, so I have learned, adopted the name ‘Galadriel’...." He paused to allow the murmur of surprise that rippled across the great hall to die down, "and I have given them my blessing. The wedding shall be held at the Avorn Anor e-Laer." He then took Celeborn’s hand in his and led him to the High Table, seating him on his left. This surprised even Celeborn, never mind the rest of the populace, for by so doing, Finrod was subtly (or not so subtly) informing his people that Celeborn of Doriath was now family and was to be treated as such by all.

"But Unca’ Finda, I always sit there!"

Celeborn looked around to find a rather put out elleth not much older than twenty-five standing next to him pouting. She had the typically dark brown hair of the Noldor, though there were golden highlights that harkened to her Vanyarin heritage. She wore a lovely frock of dark blue and a crown of early irises in her hair. Her features bore a close enough resemblance to Finrod that Celeborn suspected he was gazing upon one of the king’s kin, perhaps a niece.

Finrod smiled down at the elfling. "Not tonight, Finduilas. Tonight thou mayest sup with thine adar and naneth."

"But I am thy chatelaine, Unca’ Finda," she protested, unconsciously twisting one of her braids. "Thou didst say so. I should sit next to thee." Tears of childish frustration welled in her eyes.

Celeborn saw Finrod frown and rather than be the cause of a family scene, the Prince of Doriath rose gracefully from his chair to face the elleth, who stepped back in some consternation. Celeborn gave the elleth a proper bow, then knelt before her, eliciting an ‘O’ of surprise from the child. He reached out and gently took one of her hands, aware that the eyes of all in the hall were upon him.

"It would do me great honor if thou wouldst share my trencher, my lady, for art thou and I not family?" He reached over and pulled her head down so that he might kiss her gently on the lips, then he rose and led her to the chair next to his. "Sit thee here, my lady, and perhaps thou and I can exchange tales about thine uncle." He smiled at Finrod and gave him a wink. "I am sure thou hast many amusing tales to tell on him."

Finduilas giggled and her eyes brightened with childish glee at the thought that this rather forbidding looking Sinda would want to listen to her tell stories on her Unca’ Finda. In her glee she did not notice the amused and indulgent looks the two ellyn shared.

"Like I said," Finrod whispered to Celeborn as they took their own seats, "welcome to the family."

Celeborn merely laughed, then turned to Finduilas and listened with grave attention as the child began telling him her first tale.

****

Golodh: (Sindarin) Noldo.

Moriquendo: (Quenya) (Male) Dark Elf, the name the Noldor gave to the elves of Beleriand to stress that these elves had not lived in the Light of the Two Trees. While technically true, it was seen as an insult by the Beleriandic elves, implying that they were in league with Morgoth.

Amillë: (Quenya) Mother.

Belain: (Sindarin) Plural of Balan: Vala.

Lenémë meleltyaldo merinyë verya nésalyanna: (Quenya) ‘With leave of thy majesty I wish to marry thy sister’; verya- (intransitive) ‘to be joined to’, thus the spouse-to-be is mentioned in the allative.

Muindor nîn: (Sindarin) My brother.

Avorn Anor e-Laer: (Sindarin) Summer Solstice, literally, ‘The Staying of the Sun of Summer’. The word ‘solstice’ literally means ‘sun-standing’ for it appears as if the sun’s apparent movement northward stops at that point before it begins its southern journey towards the winter solstice.

Adar: (Sindarin): Father.

Naneth: (Sindarin) Mother.

Note: The description of Finrod’s ring is taken directly from the Silmarillion as is the description of the Nauglamir and the fact that his crown is silver.





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