A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
Any active boy is quite liable to give his elders grey hairs (in the case of Elves, metaphorical only).
Fingon the Valiant more so than most.
Written for Oshun's Snowflake Challenge 2015 request for Day 2 (revised version)
They were taking turns balancing on the railing, Findekano and Artaresto. Findekano wasn't entirely certain which of the two had first suggested it, afterwards, but thought it might have been himself.
Artaresto's sense of balance was definitely better.
'It's the Teleri blood,' he said, shrugging to avoid seeming like a show-off. 'My cousins in Alqualonde are always balancing on gunwales and ropes and things.'
But, with just a bit of practice, Findekano was beginning to be not too bad at it either and he felt quite proud of his achievement.
Suddenly, there came a shout and the sound of running footsteps from up ahead, where the back door from the Children's Wing opened out onto the terrace. Oh, dear, they had been spotted! There was going to be a serious amount of fuss now.
Findekano, whose turn it was on the railing, at once had a clear vision of his mother's face before his eyes--pale, distressed but severely self-controlled. Anaire could be expected to say: 'I am very disappointed in you, Findekano! Not only did you take a foolish risk, but you led your young cousin into danger as well!' ...and a son of Auntie Earwen, too, to make things worse, although that particular angle was not going to be mentioned, because Mother always took care to be impartial.
All of a sudden, Findekano felt very wobbly up there on the railing. What a long drop it was all the way down to the rose beds on the other side! It hadn't seemed nearly so bad before, had it? And the polished marble hadn't seemed so...slippery.
'Findekano! Watch out!' cried Artaresto, sounding really frightened, but Findekano couldn't seem to regain his footing. The railing jerked away from him and there was a rather sickening rush of air past his face.
'I had no idea you were there,' he said to Maitimo, astonished, when he found his tall cousin had grabbed him just in time and lowered him safely to the ground.
Artaresto beside them was gabbling with relief, but the words failed to register with him.
'I hadn't been there for very long. I was trying not to break your concentration,' said Maitimo. His voice was quite level, but for a moment he went on gripping Findekano's arms painfully hard. Briefly, he hugged Findekano against his chest. Then he gently turned him round to face the oncoming charge of flustered palace servants and alarmed relatives and released him.
I wavered a lot about which son of Finarfin this was who was with Fingon, but in the end I settled on Orodreth, the mountain-lover with a head for heights, although their relative ages should really be farther apart, I guess.
The title alludes to a passage in my story "Dwarvish Thinking":
In days of yore—when I lived under the roof of Feanaro, that is—this expression on Russandol’s face used to translate as: "You’ve scared the living daylights out of me again, but I’ll forgive you one more time, because you managed not to kill yourself. I’m not even yelling at you, because I know you’re already feeling rotten anyway." I wasn’t on the receiving end of that expression quite as often as Tyelkormo, but it is still familiar enough.
(The wording of the summary here is obviously not meant to imply that Aredhel, being a girl, did not give her parents plenty of reasons for metaphorical grey hair as well!)