Holidays Gone By by StraightOuttaHimring

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Gildor - Begetting Day

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Gildor strode through the grand halls of Nargothrond, head held high and eyes forward. His thick curls were woven with golden chains dripping in emeralds, denoting him as a prince of Finrod's household. His robes, too, were of the ornate, constricting style he hated but were so popular amongst the nobility of the Golden City.  

 

Had his father been alive, today would have been a day of feasting and merriment. The city would have shut down in favor of celebrating the royal family and perhaps drinking a few too many barrels of wine.  But his father was not alive, and if Gildor was being honest, he had never been a part of the royal family; he was simply the boy that Finrod had picked up on some adventure somewhere. 

 

For so long, many had questioned Finrod's decision to adopt the small child with tawny-brown skin and unruly curls closer in color dark amber than burnished gold. When they looked at him, they did not see a prince of the House of Finarfin. Caring for him was not their lord's duty, after all, and he no doubt had a great many other, more important tasks to see to.

 

What they failed to realize was that there was no other for either of them, so fast had their hearts latched to one another's. Gildor could hardly recall his parents' faces, but he could trace Finrod's influence in his life -- be it in his manner of dress, how he carried himself, or his love for adventure -- easier than he could trace a path on a map. Most only saw their golden-haired prince. He was allowed a glimpse of the wandering philosopher who in equal parts was capable of carving kingdoms from cliffsides and conversing with gods or simply teaching his small son how to navigate over mountain ranges or weave the most complex braids in style that season.

 

If only that man never showed up at their door, if only those Feanorians had been sent off to their own kin sooner, if only, if only. But fate had taken a different path, and so here they were; Finrod was dead, Gildor had lost his family once more, and he could almost convince himself he was looking forward to spending his begetting day alone in his chambers.

 

Gildor opened the door, face carefully blank, and walked into the blackness of his personal quarters. Except he didn't. He walked into blackness sure enough, but after fighting the strange thing enveloping him, he concluded that what he had walked into was actually a thick black curtain. After ripping the offending fabric out of his, he was shocked to see that his room was not dark, nor was it empty.

 

"Surprise!" yelled Finduilas, Orodreth, and Celebrimbor in unison.

 

And what do you know, Gildor was surprised.

 

"You're in my room…" he accused dumbly.

 

"Well yes, it is a surprise party," tutted Finduilas dancing over to throw her arms around him. "What did you think of the curtain? That was my idea."

 

"Well, I thought for a moment I might have been dying, but it certainly achieved the desired effect. I am surprised," he chuckled, eyes drifting to Orodreth and then to Celebrimbor.

 

Brim gave him a small smile before averting his eyes guiltily when Gildor refused to return the gesture. It had been over a month since word of Finrod's death reached their home and the conniving Feanorians had finally been turned out into the wild, and during all that time hardly a dozen words had passed between the two. Celebrimbor had certainly tried at first, but he quickly accepted the cool silence of the new status quo.

 

"What do you think?" asked Orodreth in his steady, hesitant way. "I was worried such a small party might not be to your liking, but somehow it felt right to just have the family together this year."

 

Gildor grinned, setting his cousin's fears at ease. He had been assured on many occasions that he had a particularly sunny smile, and it must be true for it soothed even Orodreth's anxieties. "It is perfect, Oro," he assured, throwing his arms around the quiet elf. "Truly perfect, thank you."

 

Orodreth briefly returned the embrace before stepping back, but his smile lingered. "You haven't seen the best of it," he exclaimed. "You wait here, we are going to go get the food and drink."

 

Orodreth and Findulias disappeared into one of the back room, but to his annoyance Celebrimbor rose but did not follow them.

 

"I made you something for your begetting day."

 

Gildor studied his emerald-lacquered nails carefully. "You shouldn't have," he said to his impeccable cuticles.

 

Celebrimbor sighed, but for some reason continued to unwrap the gift, no doubt of impeccable craftmanship--that bastard. Gildor watched from the corner of his eye as Celebrimbor laid out an ornate hair clip on the small coffee table between them. Intricate whorls of flowers and vines crafted out of gold wire and adorned with emerald and golden beryl climbed upward from the clip that would sit on the side of his head. Chains of gold cascaded gracefully from each stem, upon which little gold bells dangled. Damn, it was beautiful.

 

Celebrimbor arranged the strands of bells perfectly upon the cloth, as though he were some simple craftsman preparing his work for a potential customer and not the greatest smith of the age presenting a gift to his cousin. Each bauble jingled merrily as he moved it.

 

Finally his work must have been done, for Celebrimbor stepped back and smiled at him. "Because your laughter is light and joyful as bells," he said, with a sad shrug.

 

Gildor raised a hand to his mouth, eyes sparkling dangerously. "Why did you make this for me?"

 

Celebrimbor shrugged again. "You, Oro, and Finduilas are my only family left. Who else would I make beautiful things for?"

 

I can't wear it," argued Gildor, "My hair isn't up."

 

"Here, let me," said Celebrimbor, stepping forward gathering up his hair before Gildor could stop him and say that it had been Finrod who had always coaxed his unruly hair into the its' elaborate coils and knots.

 

"I miss him," he admitted, finally allowing his old friend near again.

 

"I know," whispered Celebrimbor, voice thick. "I miss him too."

 

Gildor leaned into Celebrimbor's chest between his outstretched arms. It made it somewhat difficult for the other elf to secure his hair up, but he was a genius so Gildor had no doubt he would find some way to manage.

 

Orodreth and Finduilas returned a moment later, laden down with food.

 

"You're back! That took you long enough," exclaimed Gildor, whirling to face them with only a lingering wetness in his eyes.

 

Orodreth raised an eyebrow in that annoyingly serene manner of his. "Oh, you put bells on him. Like a cat. Good, now we will know where he is at all times."

 

"Dear Eru, Oro, is that a whole barrel of wine? There are four of us. Did you bring a whole barrel of wine for just the four of us?" Gildor plowed on, undeterred.

 

"Well, I started with a few bottles, but then I figured it better to be safe than sorry," said Orodreth defensively.

 

"You know once we open it, we have to drink all of it."

 

Orodreth sighed tiredly. "We don't have to drink all of it."

 

"We absolutely have to drink all of it. Finduilas, are you in?"

 

Finduilas laughed, pulling her golden hair up into a high tail. "I can drink all three of you under the table and we all know it."

 

"Very true," agreed Gildor, loosing no steam, "Celebrimbor? And let me remind you: I am the Prince of Nargothrond and you took an oath of fealty to this realm."

 

"You do not have to listen to him," said Orodreth, that kill-joy.

 

"It is also my begetting day," countered Gildor.

 

Celebrimbor looked between him and Orodreth, then gestured at Gildor and shrugged helplessly. "Fealty… begetting day… really no choice, sorry Oro," he said weakly.

 

With the heavy sigh of a defeated man, Orodreth uncorked the barrel of wine and proceeded to fill four large goblets to the brim.

 

"Happy begetting day, Gildor," he said, handing him the overflowing glass.

 

"Thank you Oro. Now, which one of you is going to get drunk enough to kiss me tonight?"

 

"Gildor!" Orodreth snapped, "We are all related--each and every one of us."

 

"That's not a deal breaker for some cousins," countered Gildor with a salacious wink.

 

Finduilas laughed so hard wine threatened to spill from her nose. Orodreth and Celebrimbor meanwhile were  desperately looking at any insentient object in the room in lieu of actual eye contact. Gildor laughed at the odd group his little family made, bells chiming happily as he did so, and drank deeply from his glass. There was a whole barrel to get through, after all.