29: Presentation of the Heir

Life in the palace continued as it had before. I attended Court with my atar and went hawking with Herendil, now joined by Rúmilion and his cousins. The four of us became quite close. There was little in the way of ceremony in my life, for which I was grateful. Ceremony does have its place in our lives, but it should not dictate them. Sometimes I could excuse myself from a function by pleading fatigue or uneasiness around crowds — not strictly true but neither were these excuses strictly false and I made a point not to overdo it — but some ceremonies I could not get out of, however much I would have liked to....

****

“So who will you be escorting to the New Year Ball?” Rúmilion asked Finrod one evening in early Súlimë. The snows of winter had passed to be replaced by rain. The two were sitting comfortably in Finrod’s sitting room beside the fire sipping on wine. They had been spending the time discussing law with Finrod quizzing his friend, for Rúmilion would soon be sitting for the examination that, if he passed, would permit him to act as an advocate. It was the first step towards his ultimate goal of someday sitting on the high bench.

Now, though, they were taking their ease and Rúmilion’s question came unexpectedly.

“I don’t think I’ll be permitted to escort anyone,” Finrod said with a quirk of his lips. “That would cause a lot of political trouble if I choose one noble’s daughter over another.”

Rúmilion nodded. “I suppose,” he said with a shrug.

“Who are you escorting?” Finrod asked in curiosity. In truth, he hadn’t thought about the upcoming ball that much. Most of the ellith of the court seemed to be all in a twitter, but he suspected that was normal for ellith when faced with the ultimate question, the answer to which apparently would spell either doom or glory for the rest of Arda: Which gown to wear? His ammë, however, did not appear to be one of them, for which he was grateful.

Rúmilion smiled. “My cousins, of course,” he said. “If I were to escort anyone else my life wouldn’t be worth living.”

Finrod chuckled. The cousins were very devoted to one another, but the sisters were rather proprietary where Rúmilion was concerned. “Someday though you’ll be escorting your betrothed to such affairs and then what?”

“Assuming I am ever betrothed,” Rúmilion said with a shake of his head. “And speaking of betrotheds, what of Lady Amarië? Will she be returning in time for the ball?”

“I hope not,” Finrod said fervently without thinking and then blushed when he saw Rúmilion raise an eyebrow. “She’s not really my betrothed anymore,” he tried to explain. “Or rather, she continues to believe we are betrothed, but I....” He gave him a helpless shrug.

“Do you love her?” the other ellon asked quietly.

“No,” Finrod said baldly. “I have no real memory of her or us before I left. I only know what I’ve been told. I cannot believe she waited all these yéni for me. For all intents and purposes, I was never coming back. Pure foolishness.”

“Or desperation,” Rúmilion suggested. “Perhaps clinging to the belief that one day you would return to her was what kept her sane during those dark times. I was born long afterwards but I have heard my parents speak of those times and the grief that they experienced. My atar’s two brothers joined in the exodus. They’ve never returned.”

“I’m sorry,” Finrod said sincerely. “I know it was difficult for us all, but much of those times are lost to me. I have no actual memory of them save what I’ve been told. And what little I do remember, well, there is no emotional connection to those memories. It’s as if I am looking at someone else’s life, not my own.”

“I cannot imagine what that must be like,” Rúmilion said with a sigh. He took another sip of his wine and the conversation lagged between them. Then Rúmilion gave Finrod a questioning look. “So, if you could choose, who would you like to escort to the ball?”

“Other than my ammë?” Finrod replied with a laugh and Rúmilion joined him. “Well, the truth of the matter is that I don’t really know any of the ellith of the court all that well, other than your cousins. I am more tempted to go out onto the streets of Tirion and choose some young elleth and escort her to the ball just to see how the rest of the court would react.”

“But that would be so unfair to the poor elleth, who won’t know how to act among all the nobles,” Rúmilion pointed out.

“Oh, I know,” Finrod said. “Frankly, I’d like to skip the whole thing altogether and go out into the city and mingle with the people and celebrate with them. I’m sure they will have far more fun than I will.”

“Perhaps,” Rúmilion said with a smile. “We could sneak away....”

Now Finrod laughed. “Are you insane? I know for a fact that my atar has assigned not just one but four guards for me. He’s taking no chances. I will not be allowed to be alone for a single minute.”

“You don’t seem too upset about it,” Rúmilion stated.

Finrod gave him a shrug. “Of course I’m upset, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Atar is concerned that I might bolt or cause trouble in some way. The guards are there as much to protect me from others as to protect others from me.”

“Oh well, it was just an idea....”

“And a very good one at that,” Finrod said with a smile, “but very impractical and it most likely wouldn’t work anyway.”

“Well, maybe next year it will be different for you,” Rúmilion said.

“One can only hope,” Finrod replied with a sigh.

****

The weeks leading up to the New Year Ball were frenetic and Finrod did his best to keep out of everyone’s way. He spent much of the time in the library reading. His atar had mentioned the fact that he had been studying crystallography and mineralogy before the Darkening and he decided he would take up these subjects again. As he pursued his studies he discovered that his knowledge of the subjects was nearly intact. There was very little for him to recall, for it was all there. He came to the conclusion that it was personal experiences, those that informed his sense of self, that had been suppressed during his time in Mandos, while knowledge which had been taught to him as an elfling — such as how to read or do sums — or that he had gained through his own studies as a loremaster was not. It explained why from the very beginning of his re-embodiment he had had no trouble understanding speech or recognizing the objects that comprised his environment. Nothing actually had to be taught him as if he were indeed a newborn, though of some things he had to be reminded as he readapted himself to the physical world once again.

The only thing that he was required to do with respect to the upcoming ball was to be fitted for a new outfit. This time, he did not balk at the idea, but instead, asked if he could choose the fabric and style for himself. His ammë was surprised at the request, but acquiesced at once, pleased that her son was ‘growing up’. Thus, he spent some of the time looking over the stock of cloth and making his choices, explaining to the seamstress in charge of creating his garb just how he wanted it to look. In this, he seemed more like the king that he once was rather than the elfling everyone thought him to be.

He refused to let his parents see the garb while it was being made and swore the seamstresses to secrecy. They were happy enough to oblige, for it was not that unusual a request. Thus, it was only on the night of the ball itself that Arafinwë and Eärwen got their first look at their son’s New Year garb. Both of them had wondered what it would look like.

“If it’s a fancier version of the tunic he wore to the wedding,” Arafinwë said to Eärwen as they waited in their sitting room for the ‘unveiling’, as Eärwen had put it, “I’ll make him attend the ball naked.”

Eärwen laughed at that, knowing full well her husband was only joking. Then the door opened and both of them fell silent, staring at their son standing in the doorway, trying not to look nervous and only half succeeding. He was attired all in white and icy blue. The garb was actually modeled on one he had worn in Nargothrond. Over a blue figured silk shirt with full sleeves, he wore a knee length surcoat of heavy brocaded white silk in a diaper pattern consisting of stars and clamshells. The hem and neck were banded in white velvet on which was embroidered green ivy leaves intertwined with niphredil. In the center of each flower was sewn a pearl. Over this he wore a robe of white velvet open from the throat to the mid-calf hem and lined in the same blue figured silk as the shirt. The hem, front and neck were trimmed with ermine. The sleeves were slit from wrist to shoulder and there were pearl buttons at the wrist, mid-forearm, elbow, and mid-upper arm. Only the mid-upper arm button was closed, leaving the rest of the sleeve hanging, showing off the shirt underneath. The sleeves were lined with the brocade. His breeches were of fine wool dyed a dark blue and he wore white suede leather ankle boots trimmed at the top with ermine. His belt was also leather dyed blue with a mithril buckle in the shape of a harp. Upon his head he wore a circlet of mithril with a single blue sapphire. His only piece of jewelry was a silver linked pendant shaped like an eight-pointed star in which a sapphire was set in the center of the rays.

“Well?” he asked, looking concerned. “What do you think?”

Arafinwë raised an eyebrow. “All right. Who are you and what have you done with our son?”

“Atto!” Finrod exclaimed in exasperation and Arafinwë laughed and stepped forward to give him a hug.

“You look splendid, yonya,” he said. “You’ll be the envy of all the young ellyn.”

“Yes, you will,” Eärwen echoed with a smile as she gave her son a motherly kiss.

“Shall we go?” Arafinwë asked, holding out his arm to his wife, who took it.

Finrod stepped away from the doorway to allow them passage and then he joined them on Eärwen’s other side while the ubiquitous guards followed. They made their way towards the ballroom which was on the same level as the royal apartments but in another wing of the palace. There, Arafinwë would hold Last and First Court before the ball officially began.

During Last Court any old business from the past year would be addressed, then there would be a short recess followed by the First Court of the New Year where new business would be presented to their Majesties. In practice, the two courts were very short and essentially symbolic. Lord Anaxtur, the Master of Ceremonies, would choose one or two matters to be brought to the attention of their Majesties for each Court. There might be someone deserving of recognition by the Crown for services rendered during the past year, or there might be a Presentation of an Heir for the First Court of the New Year. The entire affair would last less than an hour and then the festivities would begin.

The royal family reached the ballroom and Anaxtur announced their arrival. They made their way down the aisle created by the people attending the ball who gave them their obeisance as they passed. Before them was a two-step dais on which stood two thrones under canopies. An ornately carved chair was placed below the dais to the right of the Noldóran’s throne where Finrod as Haryon would sit.

When they reached the dais, they stopped and Finrod kissed his ammë’s hand in homage and then gave his atar a respectful bow before his parents stepped up to their thrones while he moved to his own chair. He was feeling somewhat nervous tonight, though he made an effort not to show it. It had been decided that the only ‘new’ business of the First Court would be the Noldóran formally welcoming Finrod back to Eldamar and recognizing him as his heir. Lord Axantur had spent some time rehearsing Finrod and Arafinwë in what they would do and say.

“We do not wish for any... er... upsets, your Highness,” the Master of Ceremonies had said when Finrod had started to complain after rehearsing his lines for the twelfth time. “I want this to become ingrained in your memory so everything will run smoothly.”

“Axantur,” Finrod had said with a sardonic smile, “I used to do this sort of thing for a living, except I would have had Atto’s role.”

Arafinwë had chuckled at that and declared that both he and his son were sufficiently rehearsed and sent Finrod off ‘to play’, as he put it laughingly. Finrod had not been amused by the reference but gave no arguments, since he truly did wish to go and play... his harp.

And now they were there in the ballroom. Axantur stood at the foot of the dais. “Hear ye. The Last Court of their Majesties, Arafinwë Noldóran and Eärwen Noldotári, commences. Let all attend with reverence.” He paused for a few seconds before continuing. “Will Lord Herendil come before the thrones?”

There was a slight stir among the courtiers as Herendil stepped forward, giving Arafinwë and Eärwen his obeisance. He had a puzzled look on his face and when he happened to glance at Finrod, the ellon gave him a slight shrug, for he had no idea why his friend had been called.

Then Arafinwë spoke. “Lord Herendil, We have watched thee this past year as thou didst interact with Our son, Findaráto, welcoming him as a friend when he hath most need of one and We are pleased with thee on his account. Therefore, We wish to formally thank thee and reward thee for the kindness that thou hast shown to Findaráto since his return to Us.”

Both Finrod and Herendil looked startled and Finrod glanced at his atar in confusion, but Herendil spoke before he could say anything himself. “Truly, your Majesty, I need no reward for doing my duty to thee and thy family, though I thank thee. Prince Findaráto’s friendship is reward enough and I am honored that he hath given it to me.”

“It is I who am honored, Lord Herendil,” Finrod said. “Thy friendship I will always treasure.”

“Indeed,” Arafinwë said. “However, We still wish to reward thee for this and other services rendered to the Crown. However, We must beg thine indulgence for a little while before we do so, as other business must be attended to first.”

“I am your Majesties’ to command in all things,” Herendil said with a deep reverence.

Arafinwë smiled and then turned to Axantur with a nod. The Master of Ceremonies then announced, “The Last Court of their Majesties is concluded. The First Court will commence in fifteen minutes.”

Then Arafinwë and Eärwen stepped down from their thrones. “Please come with us, Herendil,” the king said softly to the lord and Herendil followed alongside Finrod who gave him a smile as the four made their way to a side door where they found themselves in a small antechamber. Servants were bustling about a table where wine and fruit punches sat in cut-crystal bowls. They bowed to them and Arafinwë asked for some wine for them all, then dismissed the servants with his thanks before turning to a bemused Herendil and an equally bemused Finrod.

“My lord, if I may speak?” Herendil asked after the last servant had closed the door behind her. Arafinwë nodded. “Truly,” the ellon said, “no reward is necessary for my friendship with his Highness. It is my honor as a member of thy court....”

“Herendil,” Arafinwë interjected. “Your friendship with our son is only a part of it, though it is a large part. We wish to honor you and others in a special way. I promise, all will be made clear soon. In the meantime, I would ask a favor of you.”

“It is thine, my lord,” Herendil said swiftly. “Thou hast no need to ask.”

“Yet, I do,” Arafinwë answered, “and thus, I am giving you the right to refuse.”

“What favor wouldst thou ask of me, then, my lord?” Herendil replied with a bow.

“Only this. At the First Court, there will be a Presentation of the Heir. My lady wife and I would ask you to present the heir to us.”

Herendil looked confused, as well he might. “Should not the parents of the child do this, lord?”

Both Arafinwë and Eärwen smiled and Finrod giggled. “Normally, that would be the case, but as we are the parents in question, it is hardly possible for us to present our heir to ourselves, is it?” Arafinwë explained.

Now Herendil understood and gave Finrod an appraising look, to which Finrod responded with a nod. “I would like you to be the one to do so,” he said, “for you were my first friend in Tirion and you and your lady wife have ever treated me as if I were a son of the family.”

“I would be honored to sponsor thee, Highness,” Herendil said. Then he turned to Arafinwë. “It is the custom that both parents....”

“We are aware of this, and would ask your wife to join you in the presentation,” Arafinwë said and then he called for one of the guards standing at the door to bring Lady Vandacalimë to them. In a matter of minutes the lady came and was apprised of what was desired of her and she readily agreed. Then it was time to return to the Court.

When all were settled in their places (Herendil and Vandacalimë stood to the right of Finrod’s chair), Axantur called for all to attend upon the First Court of their Majesties. Then, Arafinwë spoke.

“It is Our understanding that there is an heir who is to be presented to us,” he declared and then he gave Herendil and Vandacalimë a nod.

They stepped forward and bowed to Finrod who then stood and allowed them to take his arms and lead him before the thrones where they all gave the king and queen their obeisance.

“Your Majesties,” Herendil said in a loud voice, “allow us to present Prince Findaráto, your firstborn son and heir, both of your hröar and your fëar.”

“He is your hearts’ desire and your joy,” Vandacalimë said, giving Finrod a motherly kiss on his brow, which caused him to blush.

Except for the change in pronoun, the words spoken were those traditionally used in the ceremony of presentation. They had been spoken to Lord Manwë by Finrod’s own parents when he had been presented to the Valar as their heir.

“We thank ye, Lord Herendil and Lady Vandacalimë, for presenting Us Our son,” Arafinwë replied and the two bowed and stepped back, their part in the ceremony finished. Arafinwë and Eärwen then stood and his atar opened his arms. Finrod climbed the steps and Arafinwë embraced him and gave him a kiss. “May Eru bless thee, my child, and mayest thou be a joy and delight to thy parents.”

Then it was Eärwen’s turn to hug him and give him a kiss. “Be welcome, my child, to thy family, and to the community in which thou hast been born.”

Again, they were the traditional words used whenever an heir was presented. Then Finrod stepped back and took a deep breath, knowing that this next part would be different. Arafinwë gave him an encouraging smile before addressing the Court.

“Here is Our most beloved son, Findaráto, who hath returned to Us. Let all know that We acknowledge him as Haryon Noldórano. My son, wouldst thou give Us thy fealty?”

“I would,” Finrod said and knelt before his atar, holding his clasped hands before him which Arafinwë covered with his own. “Here do I swear fealty and service to the realm of the Noldor and to thee, my king, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or Arda end. So say I, Findaráto Arafinwion, Prince of the Noldor. Valar valuvar.”

It was not strictly the traditional words, at least not those used in Aman. No one would ever think to speak of war or dying here, though reference to the end of Arda was usually a part of such oaths. He could see Axantur standing on the side, frowning at him, for he had made the change in the wording without consulting anyone, not even his atar, who looked down at him with an unreadable expression.

“And this do I hear, Arafinwë Finwion, Noldóran, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valor with honor, oathbreaking with vengeance. Á vala Manwë.”

Then he lifted Finrod up and kissed him on either cheek before releasing him to his ammë who smiled gently at him and gave him her own kisses. Then, Arafinwë turned him around to face the court. “Here is Our beloved son and heir, Findaráto Arafinwion, returned to Us this day in peace. Let it be known to all that We welcome him back to Tirion and Eldamar.”

Then Herendil shouted, “Valar nar laitainë!” and the acclamation was taken up by others in the court. Finrod stood there with his parents and gave his atar a relieved smile as the acclamations continued. Now all he had to do was to survive the New Year Ball, hopefully without mishap.

****

Súlimë: March/April.

Haryon Noldórano: Throne-heir to the Noldóran.

Valar nar laitainë!: ‘The Valar be praised!’