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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

107: Dyed-in-the-Wool

Glorfindel returned to the city the next morning after breakfast with Vorondil in tow. When they arrived at Martandur’s workshop he introduced the ellon to his master.

"Prince Findaráto has given me leave to decide on Vorondil’s punishment for attacking Lord Lassezel," he said. He then went on to explain what had occurred the day before.

Martandur raised an amused eyebrow when Vorondil blushed as Glorfindel described the ellon coming to Findaráto’s defense. "Well, if anyone deserves being attacked by an elfling, it’s certainly Lord Lassezel," the jewel-smith said with a laugh. "He is more arrogant than most."

"So I noticed," Glorfindel acknowledged with a grin, "though that nowise excuses Vorondil’s actions, does it?"

"No, it doesn’t," Martandur said, shaking his head. "So, what punishment do you have in mind?" he asked curiously.

"Isn’t this the day the Mistress is dyeing the wool?" Glorfindel asked with an innocent air.

Martandur actually winced. "Punishment indeed." He gave a sympathetic smile at Vorondil’s confused expression. "Don’t worry, lad. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Well, run along, then. Míriel has already started. When you’ve gotten Vorondil situated, Glorfindel, I need you to deliver a few packages."

"Yes, Master," Glorfindel said with a bow and motioned for Vorondil to follow him out of the workshop. The ellyn walked towards a small square, crossing it to another street. Halfway along that street they came to a low warehouse-like structure with wide windows. As they approached, Vorondil wrinkled his nose and gave Glorfindel an enquiring look.

"You’ll find out soon enough, child," Glorfindel said, not unkindly. They entered the building to find themselves in a long narrow room with several large copper kettles hanging from iron hooks suspended from iron frames embedded into the stone floor. Underneath the vats were firepits, most of which were lit. The ceiling was high and a louver graced the center, admitting air and light, but allowing the smoke of the fires and the pungent smells of wet wool and something else that Vorondil could not identify to escape. There were several ellith tending the fires and checking the vats. Glorfindel led Vorondil towards one elleth and gave her a bow.

"Mistress, this is Vorondil," Glorfindel introduced the ellon and went on to explain what had been decided. For a long moment after Glorfindel stopped speaking there was silence as Míriel gave Vorondil an appraising look, then sighed, turning to Glorfindel.

"And Prince Findaráto approves?" she enquired.

"Yes, Mistress," Glorfindel answered. "We discussed it at length last night. In fact," here he gave her a cheeky grin and winked at Vorondil, "my brother said he couldn’t think of a worse punishment."

"Hmph," Míriel grunted, casting them both an amused look. "And, of course, the fact that you might therefore avoid having to help me never occurred to you, did it, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel laughed. "Furthest thing from my mind, Mistress, but Master did say he had some deliveries for me to make."

Míriel nodded. "Then you had best be on your way. Vorondil will be fine with me. Come along, child. I’ll show you what to do."

Glorfindel gave Vorondil a brief hug. "Mind Mistress Míriel, youngling. I’ll see you later." He gave Míriel a cheery wave and left.

Míriel smiled kindly at Vorondil. "Have you ever dyed wool before, child?"

Vorondil shook his head. "No, Mistress," he said, looking a bit lost.

"Well, you’re about to learn," Míriel said briskly. "Come along, then."

She led him towards one of the kettles in which some kind of plant was boiling. A sharp, stinging smell came from it and Vorondil had to hold his hand before his nose. "Don’t breathe in the fumes," Míriel warned.

"What is that smell, Mistress?" Vorondil asked, trying not to gag.

"Súlë tarcarassëo," she answered. "Normally, to extract the dye from a plant we merely boil it in water, but the anarossë plant requires that it be boiled in spirit of hartshorn instead. This batch has been boiling for some time now but we need to keep the fire going a bit more, then we will extract the plant material and add more water before we start dyeing the wool. Now you make sure the fire continues to remain hot enough to keep the solution boiling. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mistress," Vorondil said confidently, trying not to cough. The fumes were enough to make his eyes water. Míriel smiled knowingly and fished out a square of cloth from her apron pocket.

"Here, tie this around your nose and mouth. Breathe through your mouth and step away from the fire every few minutes and go breathe fresh air. This is the worst of the job, though handling wet wool isn’t pleasant either. I’ll check on you from time to time. We have another hour’s worth of boiling to do before we can go on to the next step."

Vorondil nodded, grateful for the scarf. He knelt to check the fire, grabbing some tongs and adjusting the logs somewhat to create a better burn. Míriel watched him for a moment or two until she was satisfied the elfling knew what he was doing before going off to check on one of the other kettles.

****

Glorfindel entered the jewel-smith’s workshop and stopped cold, then started slowly backing away, his expression one of deep shock.

"No, Glorfindel, come here."

Glorfindel swallowed and shook his head, now unable to move either forward or back. Arafinwë sighed and went to the ellon, gently drawing him back inside and making him sit on a nearby bench. Martandur went to a small cupboard and took out a decanter and a wooden cup, pouring some wine into it before handing it to Arafinwë who made Glorfindel drink. The heady wine seemed to bring the ellon out of his shock and he blinked up at Arafinwë as if seeing him for the first time.

"Feeling better, child?" the Noldóran asked softly. Glorfindel nodded, though it was somewhat hesitant and unsure. Arafinwë sat down and rubbed the ellon’s back. Glorfindel gave him a pained look.

"Wh-why are you here, Atar?" he whispered.

Arafinwë smiled gently, running a hand through Glorfindel’s unbraided hair. "I wanted to see where one of my children has been spending his days these last three months." There was no condemnation or even pity in the king’s voice, but something there shattered Glorfindel’s resolve and he broke down, weeping in shame. Arafinwë gathered him into his arms and rocked him gently.

"Hush now, child," he crooned. "There’s no need for tears. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve already scolded Ingwë for treating you so badly and I understand your Mistress gave him a piece of her mind as well."

That last was said with a wry tone and Glorfindel couldn’t help snickering, though through his tears it sounded more like a hiccup. Arafinwë held him closer. "I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer this, hinya," he continued. "I wish there had been another way. Findaráto warned us you might do something... precipitous and suggested that when you did Ingwë should take advantage of it." He sighed as he continued rubbing Glorfindel’s back. By now the ellon’s tears had abated and he simply sat there allowing Arafinwë to comfort him. "I just didn’t think Ingwë was capable of coming up with such a unique solution. I’m afraid I’ve never given my uncle enough credit for deviousness. I won’t make that mistake again."

Something in Arafinwë’s voice sent shivers through Glorfindel’s hröa. Arafinwë seemed to collect himself and gave Glorfindel another hug and an encouraging smile. "And you, my silly, impetuous, impossible elfling, you’ve been very brave through all this and I’m very proud of you."

He stood up and gave Glorfindel a hand up as well. "Now, Martandur has been telling me that he has been teaching you somewhat of the jeweler’s craft." Glorfindel nodded. "Well, why don’t you show me what you’ve learned."

Glorfindel glanced at Martandur then turned back to Arafinwë. "I... I’m supposed to be making deliveries," he said uncertainly.

Martandur waved his hand in dismissal. "The deliveries can wait. Now why don’t you show your... er... atar what you’ve been working on."

Glorfindel nodded as he went over to the worktable and pulled out a tray, giving Arafinwë a shy look. He lifted a piece that he’d been working on for the last month. The Noldóran saw a mithril cloak pin shaped like an owl in flight. It was set with small flakes of fire opals and moonstones. Between the owl’s claws was a heart-shaped setting, empty of any gemstone.

"It’s all finished except to add the final jewel," Glorfindel explained.

"Did you design this yourself?" Arafinwë asked, as Glorfindel handed him the pin for a closer look.

Glorfindel nodded. "Master only told me what materials to use and that it should be a cloak pin such as a highborn ellon would wear, otherwise, the design was up to me, as is choosing the gemstone that will go into the setting."

"Why an owl?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "I don’t know. It just sort of came to me."

"My cousin, Sorondilmë, would say that the metal spoke to you," Martandur said then with a smile, "telling you what it wished to be."

"This is quite good," Arafinwë said as he handed the pin back to Glorfindel. "I would not expect this level of artistry from someone with little knowledge of the craft."

"Lord Aule’s people taught him the basics," Martandur said. "All I’ve done is refine his talent."

"So what will you do with this when you finish?" the Noldóran asked. "Will you wear it or give it away as a gift?"

"Actually, it’s a commissioned piece," Martandur answered for Glorfindel. "The person who ordered it did so with the stipulation that Glorfindel work on it."

Glorfindel gasped and gave the jewel-smith a look of surprised shock. "Me? But why..."

"I don’t know, child," Martandur said with a shake of his head. "I only know that that was what was agreed upon. Naturally, you will be given half the sale price as is only appropriate since you designed and made it."

"But that only applies to chartered apprentices, and I’m not really an apprentice, Master, whatever you or Ingwë say," Glorfindel protested, feeling a bit nonplused at his master’s revelation.

Martandur shrugged. "Regardless, that is what I have decided."

"What jewel do you plan to put here?" Arafinwë asked, pointing to the empty setting in an attempt to change the subject.

"I... I haven’t decided yet," Glorfindel admitted reluctantly. "I’ve tried different gems, but nothing seems right."

"What gems?"

"Beryl, sapphire, amethyst, even ruby," Glorfindel said.

Arafinwë looked at the setting, judging its size and shape and frowned. "A heart-shaped setting, rather than a round one. Not commonly seen in jewelry given to ellyn." He paused and a crease furrowed his brow as he thought. Glorfindel and Martandur remained silent, watching. Then, Arafinwë was fumbling for a pouch on his belt, fishing for something. With a smile he brought forth a small gemstone. Glorfindel and Martandur both leaned over for a closer look.

Glorfindel gasped. Martandur raised an eyebrow. In Arafinwë’s hand was a heart-shaped laurelaiquamírë. Arafinwë gave Glorfindel an appraising look. "Ingwë told me about your meeting with Eönwë."

"Where did you...." Glorfindel began to ask.

"This was given to me many yéni ago. I will not tell you the circumstances. I will only say that I was told to keep it on my person at all times and to give it to the one I felt was most worthy of it." He held the gem towards Glorfindel. "I deem that time is now."

"But..."

Arafinwë shook his head. "No, child. This stone is yours."

Glorfindel reluctantly took the stone. Martandur nodded. "Why don’t you see if it fits the setting?"

Glorfindel sat down at the worktable, picked up some delicate looking tools and with quiet competence placed the stone into the setting. It fitted perfectly and with deft movements, Glorfindel secured the stone. Then, he sat back and looked up at Arafinwë and Martandur with a smile.

"It’s perfect," he exclaimed with satisfied delight.

"Indeed it is, child. I am well pleased."

Glorfindel stumbled to his feet in shock to see Lady Vairë standing there. All three ellyn gave her their obeisance. Vairë gave them an amused smile and turned to Arafinwë.

"I’m glad to see you followed my instructions faithfully, Pityahuan."

"It... it was your stone?" Glorfindel asked in surprise.

Vairë smiled at him. "Yes, child, it was, and now it is mine again, though another will wear it." She reached into a pouch and extracted some silver coins, handing them to Martandur. "As agreed, Master Martandur. Now, Glorfindel, why don’t you polish the piece and I’ll be on my way."

Martandur gave Glorfindel a nod and the ellon proceeded to do the final polishing of the pin until the metal and the jewels gracing it shone. Meanwhile, Vairë produced a small velvet bag in which to carry it. Arafinwë merely looked on with a knowing smile. He had a suspicion for whom the pin had been made and found it quite amusing. Vairë apparently divined his thoughts and gave him a wink. Arafinwë was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. At last Glorfindel finished his task and shyly handed the pin to the Valië who in turn gave him a warm smile and a gentle kiss on the brow.

"You are ever and foremost a warrior, Glorfindel," she said as she dropped the pin into the velvet bag, "but never forget that you are also a creator of beauty. Do not think your time as Martandur’s thrall was meant only as a punishment. It was also meant to teach you that you were made for more than destruction. Remember that, child." She smiled again and then simply wasn’t there.

The three elves stood in silence for a moment still feeling the effects of Lady Vairë’s presence. Then Martandur started counting out the coins that were in his hands, placing half of them in front of Glorfindel. "Now just think of all the sticky buns you can buy with these," the jewel-smith said with a sly grin.

Glorfindel stared at the coins for a moment then threw back his head and laughed. Arafinwë and Martandur joined him. They were still laughing when the door of the workshop opened and they turned to see a dripping and weeping Vorondil and an exasperated Míriel.

"What happened?" Glorfindel exclaimed, going to the distraught elfling. The ellon stank of súlë tarcarassëo and Glorfindel wrinkled his nose at the smell.

Míriel sighed as she ushered the ellon in. "He somehow managed to tip one of the kettles over trying to remove the plant material," she explained. "Luckily, the water had cooled enough to be hot without being scalding. As it is, he’s going to be an interesting shade of yellow for a while."

"Just look at me!" the ellon wailed, standing there looking half-drowned, his dark locks appearing somewhat bleached, the skin on his face and hands blotched with patches of bright yellow. "Master’s going to kill me!"

"If he doesn’t die laughing first," Glorfindel countered with a chuckle. Arafinwë snorted and had to turn away, not wanting to laugh in Vorondil’s face. Martandur merely grinned, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek. "Come on, youngling," Glorfindel gestured to Vorondil. "Let’s see if we can’t get that dye out."

"Use the cream in the pink bottle," Míriel said. "It won’t remove the dye entirely but it will fade it. Only time will do the rest."

"Maybe we should just cut off all your hair and start over again," Glorfindel said as he carefully steered the elfling towards the bathing room.

"Nooo!" Vorondil wailed, wrapping his arms around his head and turning to run back outside. Glorfindel grabbed him by the arm.

"Hush, child," he admonished him. "I’m only joking. Come along now. The sooner we wash the dye out the better." He pulled the still weeping ellon along while the older elves exchanged amused smiles.

****

Anarossë: Sundew (Drosera rotundifolia), an insectivorous perennial plant found in wet and moist places. Medicinally, it is an effective remedy for respiratory ailments and chest problems. It can also be taken to counteract nausea and upset stomach. In making a dye from it, the entire plant is used. The Sindarin form of the name is mîdhanor.

Súlë tarcarassëo: Spirit of hartshorn, another (and older) name for ammonia, which was derived from the antler of a hart, the male red deer (Cervus elephus). [súlë "spirit (impersonal), breath", tarca "horn (of an animal) + arassë (deer; cf. Sindarin aras) + -o "genitive singular suffix"].

Laurelaiquamírë: Chrysoprase, an apple-green form of chalcedony. It helps to make conscious what was unconscious. It encourages hope and joy and helps clarify problems. It is also used as a shield or protector against negative energy and has more power when carved in the shape of a heart. It promotes love and truth [Chrysoprase, from chryso "gold" + prase "leek"; laurë "gold" + laiqua "green" + mírë "jewel"].





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