The Wedding Gift

Túrin, Faramir's son, surgeon in the Houses of Healing

My sister is to be married at midsummer, and everyone in the City says it is a great match for her and there is much chatter and rejoicing, especially among the women, though in Ithilien I am told they take no great joy in it since it means Fíriel leaving them, and Fíriel is not greatly anxious to leave them either.

I think I shall be sorry to see her go. She never cared  much for me, but she is my sister and very beautiful to look upon and things will seem strange without her. And so as soon as I heard she was to be married I determined to give her a wedding gift that would be very splendid, better than anyone else’s, good enough for a queen.

I thought long about this and made my plans in secret. Normally I won’t take payment for my work. The King and Father see to it that I am provided with everything I need for my work, and outside my work there’s nothing worth the having.  I don’t even need  to be thanked. I do my work because it pleases me. But once I had made my plans, I took all the payment that was offered, and it was strange to see how pleased that made people. I suppose Father’s right: being courteous makes people pleased with themselves. 

Before long I had a good sum in gold. Then I sent word to Gimli at Aglarond and two days later, a Dwarf came to me who said he was called Haur and had the skills I needed. I told him what I wanted and he grunted and named a price that was more than I could pay. We argued for a while and neither of us would budge and his voice grew harsh as rock. Then I had an idea and told him it was for Lady Fíriel and he grunted again, and then made a sort of face that might have passed for a smile, and accepted the price I offered. There’s a kind of magic about Fíriel that works on everybody, except me perhaps. Or perhaps on me as well, or why was I taking all this trouble?

Haur went away and sent no word for so long that I grew impatient, and was about to complain to Gimli when Haur returned, late one night and unannounced, and with him another Dwarf who seemed younger (that is, his beard was shorter and he stooped a little less), and the second Dwarf was carrying a casket and opened it at Haur’s word and there it was, a very fair thing but not quite as I had wanted. So I told them exactly what was wrong and they both scowled, but I said not a penny would they have until the thing was exactly to my liking, and Haur grunted in his usual way and said in that case I should not have it at all, and the young Dwarf took up the casket again and they turned to go.

Then I noticed that the young Dwarf was dragging one foot.

‘I see your servant goes lame,’ I said to Haur.

He scowled. ‘This is my apprentice and my only son,’ he answered, ‘and he goes lame because of an accident in our mines. What of it?’

‘Can your son bear pain?’ I asked. Then the young dwarf spoke for the first time and said, ‘As well as any Man, and better.’

‘Do you wish to be healed of your lameness?’ I asked.

‘If it could be done, but it cannot,’ he answered.

‘I can do it,’ I said. ‘Come back tomorrow morning.’

So I made my preparations and summoned my assistants, and at dawn the younger Dwarf came alone and made good his boast, for all the time I was working on him he made no sound and scarcely flinched. And the morning after that, when Haur demanded that his son, whom he named Fal, return with him, I refused and said he must remain twenty days, which would give Haur ample time to perfect the work I had commanded of him. So Haur went away and Far remained, and after twenty days he was walking as straight as any dwarf could, though I would not permit him to walk far. On the twenty-first day Haur returned with the work and this time it was perfect, and I said, ‘One work of yours you have amended, and see! Another work of yours I have amended, and there need be no more talk of price.’ And I called and Fal came in, walking straight, and his father beheld him and made strange sounds which I think were a Dwarf’s way of weeping, and then he turned to me and bowed.

‘You are a man of stone, but the stone is good,’ he said. ‘For what you have done I thank you.’

‘Give me no thanks, but count yourself well paid,’ I answered.

‘I will do that,’ he said, and both Dwarves bowed to me again and went away.

* * *  

I took the gift to Fíriel in Emyn Arnen three days before she set out for the City to be married. I could have given it to her when she arrived, but I knew many other people would be waiting with gifts and although mine would be the best, I hate to be one of a crowd. So I went to Emyn Arnen in the evening and as usual they all pretended to be glad to see me, and I found Father and Fíriel sitting in the courtyard watching the sun set over the City, as they always used to do, except that things like that used to make them happy but from their faces now, you’d have thought they were both to be hanged in the morning.

Fíriel greeted me coolly and Father smiled as if he was truly glad to see me – and I think he really was, the only one who ever is – and I brought out the casket straight away and gave it to her. And when she was what was inside it she gasped and went even paler than before, and I could see she was fighting for words, though usually she has too many of them on her tongue, for my liking.

At my command Haur had made a girdle with links wrought in the shape of all the fairest flowers that grow in Ithilien, all different and yet by his art all marching well together, and set with gems to show the proper colours of the flowers, but tiny ones so that the effect was splendid and simple at the same time. And no other craftsman ever made a better work. To say that the skills of today are no match for the skills of the far past is nonsense. I know that in myself, and I could recognise it in Haur.

Fíriel examined the girdle closely and looked at me rather as Fal had looked at me when he found he could walk straight, except that Fíriel looked far more beautiful. Then still without a word she passed the girdle to Father, and he too examined it very closely, and then he looked up at me and said very quietly, ‘Turin, what is this beautiful thing made of?’

It was the one question I had feared but not expected. I had thought to keep the secret all to myself and laugh at the noisy admiration of the ignorant. But Father had a nose for truth and there was no gainsaying him, though I tried.

‘Why, just what it appears,’ I said, which was not exactly a lie, but not exactly true either,  because the girdle shone like the purest silver in the rays of the moon which was rising as the sun finally set behind the Mountains.

‘I am not talking of appearances,’ said Father, still very quietly. ‘What metal is this?’

For a long minute we looked at each other, but I could never endure Father’s glance when he meant to have the truth, and so I said, ‘You know. It is mithril.’

Fíriel gasped, and Father frowned. ‘Do you know what this thing is worth?’

I frowned back. ‘I paid for it. I paid a fair price. The maker was content with the price I paid.’

Father held my eyes again for a time, but he must have seen the truth in them because he relaxed and smiled, and said, ‘That is well. Take it, daughter; it is a noble gift.’

Fíriel looked at me and tried to smile. ‘It is a noble gift indeed. Túrin, I can only thank you and say that I shall always treasure it, though I am half afraid to own anything so splendid.’ And she smiled and made a small move toward me, and I knew that if I had been Father or Elboron or I suppose Eldarion, she would have kissed me, but at the last moment she drew back, and though I had never cared for her kisses or anyone else’s, there was a pain somewhere inside of me.

Then I bowed to her and to Father and went away. Father bade me stay for supper but I wasn’t hungry.

* * *  

Fíriel wore the girdle at her wedding and everyone marvelled at it, but nobody else guessed the secret and I knew that neither Father nor Fíriel nor Haur nor Fal would ever tell. And nobody else’s gift was half so fine, but after all that didn’t make me feel happy. I just felt very sorry that Fíriel was going away, so sorry that I could have cried if I had known how – even though Fíriel had never cared for me.