Categories > Books > Silmarillion > All Things Old and New
Chapter 5
0 ReviewsElerrÃna tries to build Morillindë's confidence; Annatar gives a gift worthy of a lover.
“I always wear brown, Elerrína. What color should I wear for a festival?” Morillindë searched through all her clothing. It seemed that for all the work she put into making fine clothing for others, she never had anything outstanding for herself. Actually, she had not put any thought into dressing nice for a festival, because she never did, but Elerrína insisted.
Elerrína searched through her own wardrobe and found something she thought very suitable. “Here, try this one. I think it would look stunning on you.” It was a bright green dress, light, simple, and flowing. A sweeping neckline would frame Morillindë’s face well. Oh, and that green! Her tawny hair really dazzled against that color and no longer looked dull and brassy, but radiant and shining like polished copper. Morillindë shied away from the bright color, but tried the dress anyway.
Spinning around a time or two, delighting in the flow of the fabric, Morillindë laughed a pure, joyful laugh. “I feel so beautiful! This must be how you feel every day.”
“Do not be jealous of me,” Elerrína warned. She began pulling at her friend’s tawny locks, first this way and then that, deciding how Morillindë’s hair should be styled. “I think,” Elerrína began, as she pulled green ribbons out of a small box, “that you should not plait your hair, but only tie it up just so.” She demonstrated the hairstyle on her own hair briefly, and then set herself to work on her friend’s hair.
Elerrína was self-assured, confident, beautiful, smart, and talented – none of which described Morillindë. Of course, anyone who knew Morillindë knew that was not so, for she was, if anything, highly talented in many arts, well learned, and quite beautiful. She even knew these of herself, but she lacked that assertiveness that Elerrína had. Morillindë’s mother taught her to be seen and not heard, that she was less than others were, and that teaching was difficult to overcome. Elerrína made it known that she hated that doctrine, often reminding Morillindë that no Elf was in servitude to another and that it was unnecessary to act so. This made perfect sense to Morillindë, but without that essential confidence, she would always think her worth less than others’ worth.
There were, however, rare moments when she could put herself above that fear and feel that she was equal with those she formerly thought nobler. Her moment with Annatar earlier in the day was a good example of this.
“There, all done.” Elerrína handed the polished silver mirror to Morillindë so she could observe the work done to her hair. Her hand might not be neat in needlework or weaving, but Elerrína certainly was skilled with hair and with a paintbrush. Pleased with her appearance, Morillindë looked to her friend and smiled warmly.
“You will play your harp for us tonight, will you not?” The question startled Morillindë. She had not played her harp in quite a few years. Many years had passed, really, since she had had any real passion for music. Nevertheless, one must do as she has always done, she supposed. If anything, she would play in honor of her lost love. No one, not before or since, had enjoyed her harp music and singing more than he had.
“I suppose I shall,” Morillindë offered lackadaisically, but in her heart, she was ready to give honor and tribute to her lost love, and to honor her dearest friend’s wishes.
In the meantime, Elerrína pulled on a white dress made nearly the same as the green one she lent to Morillindë. Dark blue flowers and vines, which crept up the flowing skirt in places, decorated the bottom hem. Elerrína had drawn the very design, and Morillindë embroidered it into the fabric. Such was how they worked together, enriching the city’s clothing.
“I think, for tonight, I should wear my hair down, even as Lúthien herself. Never was it written that she kept her hair in plaits all the time.” Elerrína was being bold, yet again, and Morillindë admired this. She imagined had there been a law against wearing one’s hair down, Elerrína would go against it, just for spite. Likewise, if the law were against having braids, she doubted it not that her friend would take great pains to plait her hair daily. Such was Elerrína’s nature.
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For all his time in the great city of Ost-in-Edhil, Annatar had never attended any of the festivals. Making merry among the Elves just had not seemed like much fun. Nothing compared to solitude and the echo of his hammer in his smith. Now, he was making this concession for a female, of all things. Though he did not want to admit it to himself, she was melting his steel heart, and though he normally would have hated this, he could not help but feel genuine warmth. He felt a lightheartedness and happiness he had experienced but twice before in his life: the love of a friend, and true forgiveness of the Valar.
Arien was in her final moments in the sky, blazing orange and red behind white clouds. Annatar’s thoughts faded into nothingness as he watched Arien’s descent. He rose from his chair as he heard Elerrína’s footsteps approaching. The time had come to give her the gift over which he had labored so long. He hoped only that she would understand that she must give in return, but what if she did not? Well, then, all she had done to change him would be undone. The thought frightened Annatar, but he could not decide what part of that condition frightened him the most.
Elerrína walked into the shop unannounced, as she knew she was expected. Her eyes fell first to Annatar, tall and lean, dressed in navy and black. He preferred the darker colors, and they suited him well. He had the darkness of the Noldor in him, and was not unlike her twin, with black hair and grey eyes. Then Elerrína’s eyes traveled to a box on the worktable, only about the size of a large book. Her eyes quickly darted back to Annatar.
“Yes, Elerrína, that is your gift.” Retrieving the box from the table, Annatar purposefully carried it to its recipient. Elerrína reached out to remove the lid from the box, but Annatar pulled it away. “First, Elerrína, you must give me something in return.”
Confused, Elerrína’s eyebrows knitted in concern. She searched Annatar’s eyes and saw neither greed nor malice there. What sort of manipulation was this? “What, Annatar? Anything you ask of me, it is yours.”
Annatar smiled softly. He realized that his words might have seemed harsh, demanding, and needy. “I ask only that you give me your unquestionable faith and devotion.”
Elerrína frowned slightly. His request fell flat of her hopes, but it was no less than what she had expected. “Both are yours, Annatar. I’ve given you them long ago; you had but to reach out and accept them, along with everything else I offer.”
Never had it come to his mind that she might love him, nor had he thought himself capable of returning any love, not since the old days when he shared the tight bonds of brotherly love with his closest companion. It occurred to him that she may not even realize what she was saying, what she was offering. If she loved him, she had not yet realized it herself. This was something better discussed later. Taking his eyes from her, he removed the lid of the box himself.
Elerrína’s hands fell to the petit, elegant diadem that sat comfortably inside the box. Carefully lifting it from the box, she held it up in the failing daylight to examine it better. Never had she beheld such beautiful and rare gems, or even Mithril. This was Mithril! The worth of this diadem must well exceed the value of an entire village! It was an elegantly crafted thing, thin wires of Mithril forming tendrils of vines, leaves, and flowers, and the leaves and flowers were set with sky blue and lavender gems, and diamonds. Those were indeed diamonds! She suddenly felt herself unworthy of such a gift.
“Annatar… I cannot accept this. I am not worthy of such a gift.” Elerrína moved to place the diadem back in its box, but Annatar stopped her hands. He took the diadem from her and set the box aside.
“No, indeed, it is I who am not worthy. You would give me your whole heart, a gift I am most certainly not worthy to receive. Now I feel my gift inferior to yours.” He lovingly placed the diadem upon her brow as he spoke. While this had not gone in any way he had anticipated, he found the outcome agreeable. He had her trust, now he just had to take care not to violate it. That indeed might be the challenge.
Elerrína searched through her own wardrobe and found something she thought very suitable. “Here, try this one. I think it would look stunning on you.” It was a bright green dress, light, simple, and flowing. A sweeping neckline would frame Morillindë’s face well. Oh, and that green! Her tawny hair really dazzled against that color and no longer looked dull and brassy, but radiant and shining like polished copper. Morillindë shied away from the bright color, but tried the dress anyway.
Spinning around a time or two, delighting in the flow of the fabric, Morillindë laughed a pure, joyful laugh. “I feel so beautiful! This must be how you feel every day.”
“Do not be jealous of me,” Elerrína warned. She began pulling at her friend’s tawny locks, first this way and then that, deciding how Morillindë’s hair should be styled. “I think,” Elerrína began, as she pulled green ribbons out of a small box, “that you should not plait your hair, but only tie it up just so.” She demonstrated the hairstyle on her own hair briefly, and then set herself to work on her friend’s hair.
Elerrína was self-assured, confident, beautiful, smart, and talented – none of which described Morillindë. Of course, anyone who knew Morillindë knew that was not so, for she was, if anything, highly talented in many arts, well learned, and quite beautiful. She even knew these of herself, but she lacked that assertiveness that Elerrína had. Morillindë’s mother taught her to be seen and not heard, that she was less than others were, and that teaching was difficult to overcome. Elerrína made it known that she hated that doctrine, often reminding Morillindë that no Elf was in servitude to another and that it was unnecessary to act so. This made perfect sense to Morillindë, but without that essential confidence, she would always think her worth less than others’ worth.
There were, however, rare moments when she could put herself above that fear and feel that she was equal with those she formerly thought nobler. Her moment with Annatar earlier in the day was a good example of this.
“There, all done.” Elerrína handed the polished silver mirror to Morillindë so she could observe the work done to her hair. Her hand might not be neat in needlework or weaving, but Elerrína certainly was skilled with hair and with a paintbrush. Pleased with her appearance, Morillindë looked to her friend and smiled warmly.
“You will play your harp for us tonight, will you not?” The question startled Morillindë. She had not played her harp in quite a few years. Many years had passed, really, since she had had any real passion for music. Nevertheless, one must do as she has always done, she supposed. If anything, she would play in honor of her lost love. No one, not before or since, had enjoyed her harp music and singing more than he had.
“I suppose I shall,” Morillindë offered lackadaisically, but in her heart, she was ready to give honor and tribute to her lost love, and to honor her dearest friend’s wishes.
In the meantime, Elerrína pulled on a white dress made nearly the same as the green one she lent to Morillindë. Dark blue flowers and vines, which crept up the flowing skirt in places, decorated the bottom hem. Elerrína had drawn the very design, and Morillindë embroidered it into the fabric. Such was how they worked together, enriching the city’s clothing.
“I think, for tonight, I should wear my hair down, even as Lúthien herself. Never was it written that she kept her hair in plaits all the time.” Elerrína was being bold, yet again, and Morillindë admired this. She imagined had there been a law against wearing one’s hair down, Elerrína would go against it, just for spite. Likewise, if the law were against having braids, she doubted it not that her friend would take great pains to plait her hair daily. Such was Elerrína’s nature.
-----------------------------------------
For all his time in the great city of Ost-in-Edhil, Annatar had never attended any of the festivals. Making merry among the Elves just had not seemed like much fun. Nothing compared to solitude and the echo of his hammer in his smith. Now, he was making this concession for a female, of all things. Though he did not want to admit it to himself, she was melting his steel heart, and though he normally would have hated this, he could not help but feel genuine warmth. He felt a lightheartedness and happiness he had experienced but twice before in his life: the love of a friend, and true forgiveness of the Valar.
Arien was in her final moments in the sky, blazing orange and red behind white clouds. Annatar’s thoughts faded into nothingness as he watched Arien’s descent. He rose from his chair as he heard Elerrína’s footsteps approaching. The time had come to give her the gift over which he had labored so long. He hoped only that she would understand that she must give in return, but what if she did not? Well, then, all she had done to change him would be undone. The thought frightened Annatar, but he could not decide what part of that condition frightened him the most.
Elerrína walked into the shop unannounced, as she knew she was expected. Her eyes fell first to Annatar, tall and lean, dressed in navy and black. He preferred the darker colors, and they suited him well. He had the darkness of the Noldor in him, and was not unlike her twin, with black hair and grey eyes. Then Elerrína’s eyes traveled to a box on the worktable, only about the size of a large book. Her eyes quickly darted back to Annatar.
“Yes, Elerrína, that is your gift.” Retrieving the box from the table, Annatar purposefully carried it to its recipient. Elerrína reached out to remove the lid from the box, but Annatar pulled it away. “First, Elerrína, you must give me something in return.”
Confused, Elerrína’s eyebrows knitted in concern. She searched Annatar’s eyes and saw neither greed nor malice there. What sort of manipulation was this? “What, Annatar? Anything you ask of me, it is yours.”
Annatar smiled softly. He realized that his words might have seemed harsh, demanding, and needy. “I ask only that you give me your unquestionable faith and devotion.”
Elerrína frowned slightly. His request fell flat of her hopes, but it was no less than what she had expected. “Both are yours, Annatar. I’ve given you them long ago; you had but to reach out and accept them, along with everything else I offer.”
Never had it come to his mind that she might love him, nor had he thought himself capable of returning any love, not since the old days when he shared the tight bonds of brotherly love with his closest companion. It occurred to him that she may not even realize what she was saying, what she was offering. If she loved him, she had not yet realized it herself. This was something better discussed later. Taking his eyes from her, he removed the lid of the box himself.
Elerrína’s hands fell to the petit, elegant diadem that sat comfortably inside the box. Carefully lifting it from the box, she held it up in the failing daylight to examine it better. Never had she beheld such beautiful and rare gems, or even Mithril. This was Mithril! The worth of this diadem must well exceed the value of an entire village! It was an elegantly crafted thing, thin wires of Mithril forming tendrils of vines, leaves, and flowers, and the leaves and flowers were set with sky blue and lavender gems, and diamonds. Those were indeed diamonds! She suddenly felt herself unworthy of such a gift.
“Annatar… I cannot accept this. I am not worthy of such a gift.” Elerrína moved to place the diadem back in its box, but Annatar stopped her hands. He took the diadem from her and set the box aside.
“No, indeed, it is I who am not worthy. You would give me your whole heart, a gift I am most certainly not worthy to receive. Now I feel my gift inferior to yours.” He lovingly placed the diadem upon her brow as he spoke. While this had not gone in any way he had anticipated, he found the outcome agreeable. He had her trust, now he just had to take care not to violate it. That indeed might be the challenge.
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