20: Warrior Braids

I learned quickly not to speak over much about my life in Beleriand or about the differences in the way things were done in Nargothrond compared to how they were done in Tirion. Most did not want to hear my tales. Amillë, I think, listened to them out of motherly concern, but only Atar was truly interested; Amarië could not be bothered. Even those who fought in the War of Wrath wished only to put such memories aside. I found myself feeling more and more alone, mourning for the life that had been mine, one that had had meaning and a purpose. I was no longer truly Noldo, but Exilic, and I began to appreciate just how much of the sensibilities and worldview of the Sindar I had absorbed into my own philosophies. When I came to this realization, I decided I would begin acting accordingly. The people of Tirion thought to have their lost prince back, but what they were expecting and what they got were not necessarily the same thing....

****

During the ride back to the city after they had examined the granaries and had visited farms belonging to some of the nobles who had accompanied them on their inspection tour, Finrod thought long and hard about certain things concerning himself and his past life and came to certain decisions. He was not sure if anyone would approve of what he was planning to do, and he did not wish to be a disappointment to his parents, but he knew he needed to show everyone who he was now, not who everyone remembered from before. Unfortunately, as he had no idea how to go about obtaining what he needed in order to carry out his plans he had to go to his atar for help.

“Why do you need these?” Arafinwë naturally asked when Finrod told him what he was looking for.

“I just do, Atto,” he said quietly, hoping that he would not be denied so small a request. He had been very careful not to ask for very much since returning home. Every morning he had hoped to see porridge being served at breakfast and had had to hide his disappointment when he saw that it was not. He had come to the conclusion that porridge was not allowed on the Noldóran’s table for some reason and felt too insecure and unsure of his own position to ask for it, fearing ridicule, especially from Amarië.

Arafinwë gave him a considering look, then nodded. “I will take you to one of the jewelers in the city with whom I am acquainted. Írissë will be able to help you find what you need.”

“Thank you,” Finrod said with some relief.

“We’ll leave after I finish with court this morning,” Arafinwë said. “Perhaps you would care to join me.”

Finrod nodded his acceptance of his atar’s suggestion. “I would like that, thank you.”

****

Court proved both interesting and boring for Finrod. It was interesting simply to see his atar acting as Noldóran and comparing what he saw with what he remembered, both of his own court in Nargothrond and his anatar’s court when Finwë ruled in Tirion. It was also boring, for he simply sat there beside his atar silently watching the proceedings. All the while he tried to ignore the stares from those who were in attendance, especially from the citizens who had come to plead their cases before their king. Had his atar asked him for his opinion on occasion, it might have been more bearable, but he did not and Finrod had to stop himself from speaking up when he thought that a ruling was not as he would have rendered it in his own realm. He had to constantly remind himself that he was no longer a king, only the haryon of the Noldóran.

Finally, though, court ended and after changing into less formal garb and fortifying himself with a light midmorning snack, he joined his atar and the four guards that propriety and good sense required accompany them, setting out to visit the jewel-smith. They crossed the main avenue that fronted the palace, heading north along a narrower street, passing through two squares before coming to the shop belonging to the jeweler. The guards had effectively prevented anyone they encountered along the way from importuning them, so their path was unimpeded.

“Here it is,” Arafinwë said, pointing to the shop. “Írissë is one of the best jewel-smiths in the city.”

“Do you use her services exclusively or do you patronize the other jewel-smiths as well?” Finrod asked.

“Actually, I go through the guild, requesting that whoever is available be sent to me,” Arafinwë answered. “That way I cannot be accused of favoritism. It is the same with all the other guilds. I never approved of my atar choosing one artisan over all others and using their services exclusively. When I became Noldóran I made a point of asking the guildmasters to select whichever artisan was available. In truth, though, there were so few artisans left in the city that I felt it only fair to utilize them all whenever possible.”

Finrod nodded in approval as the two entered the shop, leaving the guards to wait outside. A bell rang when the door opened. Finrod stopped just inside the entrance to look around. The shop was not overly large and he suspected that the jewel-smith did most of her work in a back room. There were three display cases showing off the elleth’s work as well as a counter with comfortable chairs in front of it for customers to take their ease. A door behind the counter was partly open and from the back room they heard someone call out, “I’ll be right there.”

“Take your time, Írissë,” Arafinwë said, giving Finrod a smile and a wink. “We’re in no hurry.” Finrod grinned back.

There was a flurry of motion and the door swung open and an elleth stood there looking a bit flustered. “Aranya!” she exclaimed, giving them a hasty curtsey. “Forgive me. I did not realize....”

“Nothing to forgive, Írissë,” Arafinwë said with a laugh. “If anything, it is I who should apologize for not sending you fair warning of my coming.”

“And how may I be of service to you today, aranya?” she asked, casting a curious look Finrod’s way.

Arafinwë gestured towards his son. “This is my son, Findaráto, newly released from Mandos,” he said by way of introduction and Finrod saw the elleth’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, of course,” she said, giving him another curtsey. “I should have realized. Glad I am that you have returned to us, Highness.”

“Thank you,” Finrod said shyly.

“Findaráto is in need of your services,” Arafinwë continued.

“Oh?” Írissë said. “Are you looking for something in particular, Highness, perhaps something for Lady Amarië or your Amillë?”

Finrod blinked a couple of times, looking a bit bemused by the question. “Ah... actually, I’m in need of some small diamonds and emeralds as well as silver and dark blue beads. They should be pierced so one can twine them in a braid.”

Írissë gave him a surprised look, though she recovered quickly enough. “Hmmm.... an interesting request,” she said, her eyes narrowing in thought. “How many of each would you need and what are their dimensions?”

Finrod told her and she nodded. “Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable, lords, while I gather what stock I have to show you.”

She excused herself while the two took seats before the counter and in a moment she was back with several cases which she placed on the counter, opening them one at a time. “Here are some samples of the gemstones you are looking for,” she told them, “and here are silver beads and in this case beads in various shades of blue. Is there one that matches what you have in mind?”

Finrod carefully examined the gemstones and beads. “This is the size of the diamonds and emeralds that I need,” he said, pointing to a couple of the smaller gems. “This silver bead will do, but none of these blue beads, though, are the right shade. It needs to be darker than this,” he pointed to one of the beads, “but with a hint of green to it.”

“Hmm.... let me bring out another case,” the jeweler said and went back to the workshop, returning and presenting them with a case of beads that were more green than blue.

Finrod looked them over and then pointed to one in particular. “That one is closer to what I need,” he said.

She picked it up to hold in the light streaming through the windows. Finrod then picked up the blue bead he had been examining earlier and compared the two. “Somewhere between these two shades is what I’m looking for,” he said.

Írissë nodded. “I think I can manage that,” she said, “though it will take me a few days to do so.”

“That’s fine,” Finrod said. “I did not expect to find what I needed immediately.”

“If I may ask, just how will these be twined in a braid?” the jeweler enquired. “And why would you want to?”

Finrod explained how the gems and beads would be inserted into a braid. Írissë nodded in understanding, stating that she would see that all was properly prepared. In answer to her other question, however, Finrod was somewhat reticent. “It’s something from before,” he said softly and neither she nor Arafinwë wisely pressed for additional details.

Írissë removed the diamond, emerald and silver bead that Finrod had indicated from their cases and put them aside along with the blue and green beads. “It will take me some time to have all ready for you, Highness. I hope this is not something you need immediately.”

“No,” Finrod said with a shake of his head. “Whenever you have the time....”

“For the royal family, I always have time,” the jeweler said with a smile. “Now, as for payment....”

Finrod blinked and looked at his atar in dismay. “I... I don’t have any....”

Arafinwë put an arm around his son’s shoulders. “Not to worry, yonya. The money will come out of the treasury. I don’t think such a paltry amount of gems and beads as you are asking for will see us destitute.” He grinned and winked at Írissë who laughed.

“Indeed not!” she said. “As for payment, I’ll accept nothing less than two bottles of your latest vintage of Tirion white, aranya.”

“Two bottles!” Arafinwë exclaimed in mock horror. “Why, that’s pure robbery. You’ll accept four bottles from me and no arguments.”

Finrod gave his atar a wry look. “A rather odd way of bargaining, I must say.”

Both Arafinwë and Írissë laughed. “In that case, aranya,” she said, “for that amount, perhaps his Highness would like to choose something for the queen and Lady Amarië. Has there been a decision on the betrothal yet?”

Finrod grimaced. “I barely know her,” he muttered.

Írissë gave him a surprised look. Arafinwë explained. “Findaráto’s memories of his previous life are not all present. He did not even remember Amarië much less their being betrothed. We’ve decided to give him time to become reacquainted with us before making any such announcement.”

“Yes, of course,” Írissë said, coloring slightly in embarrassment. “I should have realized. I recall my cousin’s daughter was the same way when she first returned to us from Mandos. Poor dear was always apologizing for not remembering this person or that.”

“So it is with my son,” Arafinwë said with an understanding nod.

“Perhaps I should pick out something for Ammë,” Finrod suggested hesitantly, “and for Amarië, but I don’t know what.”

“As to that,” Írissë said, “I know the queen is rather fond of pearls and I have a lovely pearl pendant that I think she would like. As for Lady Amarië, perhaps a cloak pin would be suitable. Is not her begetting day coming up?” She turned to Arafinwë who nodded. “Then that would be a safe gift for you to give her, I deem.”

“Why don’t you show us what you have,” Arafinwë said and a little while later they left the shop with Finrod carrying two small packages neatly wrapped in paper tied with ribbons.

****

It took nearly two weeks for Írissë to provide Finrod with the gems and beads that he needed but the wait was worth it, as far as he was concerned, for it coincided with Amarië’s begetting day and he decided that would be a good time to show off his new look. A small party was planned for the elleth where those who were close to the royal family would gather and give her their gifts. Shortly before the gathering, Finrod presented his ammë with the pearl pendant he had bought for her, explaining that he had waited until then to give it to her so Amarië would not think he was slighting her.

Eärwen gave him a motherly hug and kiss, thanking him for his thoughtfulness. “I shall wear it tonight at the party,” she told him and then he left to get ready himself.

He spent a long time with the braids, carefully inserting the gemstones and beads in the proper order. He was grateful that that particular memory had come readily enough for he wanted everything to be perfect. He eyed the braids critically once he was done and satisfied, he picked up the small gift for Amarië and made his way to the dining room where the party would be held.

As soon as he entered, all eyes turned to him and many of the people there registered surprise and even shock at the sight of him. He stood there feeling nervous and self-conscious but it was too late to retreat. Instead, he made his way to where Amarië was standing by his parents and gave her an awkward kiss on her cheek, then handed her his gift. “Happy begetting day, Amarië,” he said shyly. “I... I hope you like my gift.”

Amarië just stared at him for a long moment, completely ignoring the gift which he held out to her. “What are those?” she finally asked, pointing to his braids.

“Warrior braids,” Finrod answered. “It... it was a custom in Beleriand and....”

“But this isn’t Beleriand,” Amarië pointed out.

“Now dear,” Eärwen said gently, “that is neither here nor there. Will you not take Findaráto’s gift? I understand he chose it personally just for you.”

Amarië glanced at the queen and then back at Finrod before nodding, taking the gift from his hand. “Thank you,” she said stiffly, placing it on the table beside her where all the other gifts were.

Finrod noticed with inner dismay that his was the smallest gift there and feared that it would either be scorned or, worse, overlooked by the elleth now greeting another guest. He caught Arafinwë’s gaze and when his atar gestured for him to approach he went to him and Arafinwë led him into a corner away from the others.

“Warrior braids?” Arafinwë asked in a whisper. “I haven’t seen their like since the war.”

“I’ve decided that I’m as much Finrod as I am Findaráto,” he replied in his own whisper, “and these braids are a part of who I am.”

Arafinwë gave him a piercing look. “Many will neither understand nor approve.”

“Including you?” Finrod asked.

“Actually, I do understand, though I don’t entirely approve,” Arafinwë answered truthfully, “but neither will I forbid it. Wear them if you must, yonya, but I think it a mistake.”

“Why?” he asked, feeling confused and disappointed.

“Because you already have an uphill battle before you, gaining acceptance from others. Remember, you are a curiosity to most, being a Reborn. You are already an outsider in that respect. Do you truly wish to be seen as even more alien than you are?”

Finrod sighed and shook his head. “But I can’t be what everyone wants me to be, either,” he said. “I thought wearing these braids would show everyone that I’m not the Findaráto they remember from before. Too much has happened to me since, including the fact that I died.”

“I know, yonya, and I sympathize, I truly do,” Arafinwë said, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Yet, there are other ways of showing people who you are that are, let us say, less confrontational.” He lifted one of the braids and then let it fall. “The decision is yours. I will not gainsay you, but I do ask that you think through the ramifications of wearing them.”

“I’m sorry, Atto,” Finrod said, casting his gaze at his feet, suddenly feeling like an elfling who had done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just....”

Arafinwë hugged him, patting him on the back. “It’s all right, child,” he said. “I’m not blaming you. Now, why don’t we forget about it for the moment. This is Amarië’s day, not yours.”

“I’ll go and undo the braids,” Finrod said in a dejected tone, then, without waiting for his atar to respond, he quietly made his way from the room, returning fifteen minutes later with his hair undone. No one seemed to have noticed that he had even been gone. He spent the rest of the time sitting quietly with a goblet of wine in his hand, ignored by Amarië and the other guests, though both his parents tried to include him in the conversation with little success. When it came time for Amarië to open her gifts, before the feasting would begin, his was the last to be opened. She thanked him somewhat stiffly for the cloak pin, a brooch in the shape of a rose made of garnet and gold, without any of the warmth or enthusiasm she had displayed for the gifts of others, putting it aside almost immediately, barely giving it a glance. Both Arafinwë and Eärwen frowned at her and the queen made a point of praising Finrod for his selection.

“It’s a lovely piece, dear,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “You always had good taste in jewelry as I recall.”

Finrod muttered a shy thank you. Then the feast was about to begin and when Finrod went to take his seat, he overheard one elleth speaking to another as they took their own seats at one of the tables below the high table.

“They’re supposed to be betrothed,” the elleth said to her companion with a disdainful sniff, “yet he gives her such a gift as a cloak pin. How pitiful.” The other elleth tittered in her hands and the two exchanged knowing smirks.

Finrod felt sick and quietly excused himself, ostensibly to use the privy, but in fact, he retired to his own rooms, sitting in the dark with a single candle lit, holding the gemstones and beads of his warrior braids in his hands, silently weeping. Sometime later, when his atar came in search of him and found him thus, Arafinwë took him into his embrace and held him through his tears. When his atar asked him why he had left the feast, he told him what he had overheard. Arafinwë sighed.

“I’m sorry, yonya,” he said, rubbing Finrod’s back to comfort him. “They were being rude and thoughtless, as was Amarië. Your gift was both beautiful and appropriate. Now, dry these tears and come back to the feast. Let us show the others that whatever else you may be, you are still a prince of Eldamar.”

“I’m not hungry,” Finrod said.

“I know,” Arafinwë replied sympathetically, “but don’t let Amarië or the others win.”

Finrod gave his atar a considering look and finally nodded, putting the gemstones and beads he still had clutched in his hands in a small casket on his dressing table and followed Arafinwë out. Eärwen gave him a motherly smile when they entered the dining room and patted the empty chair beside her. Amarië was seated on the other side of Arafinwë and so he was saved from having to make any conversation with her. He ate very little and ignored everyone but his ammë and when the feasting was over and the dancing and singing began he asked to be excused, pleading weariness that in truth was unfeigned. His parents gave their reluctant consent and it was with relief that he finally retired. If anyone else noticed his absence, they gave no sign.

****

All words are Quenya. 

Anatar: Grandfather.

Haryon: Throne-heir of a king.

Aranya: My king.