Useless Lessons by Cirdan

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Useless Lessons

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            “Earendil, pay attention,” Hendor chided gently.

            But Earendil was no Elven child.  “No,” Earendil said simply, and this was the first time that he had openly rebelled.  His tutor was utterly shocked.

            “Did I hear you right?” he asked.  Earendil nodded.  Hendor shook his head and sighed heavily.  “Ai, young Master, whatever will we do with you?”

            “I just don’t see why I have to learn the geography of Valinor or memorize the city layout of Tirion,” Earendil said as he firmly refused to look down at the maps and books.

            “What do you mean why?” Hendor said.  “Aman is our home.  Of course you should learn of it.”

            “Gondolin is my home, and I already have to memorize its layout,” Earendil said stubbornly.  “Besides, these maps are of Tirion of old.  It’s probably changed a lot since then.”

            “Changed or not, one should learn one’s own history.”  Earendil snorted.  “Or, if nothing else, it will help to improve your memorization abilities,” Hendor said gently.  “You know that your memory is not as keen as that of your peers.”

            Earendil folded his arms over his chest and pouted grandly.  He didn’t have the authority to excuse his tutor, but after several moments, Hendor decided not to argue with the little princeling and excused himself.  Earendil sighed over his ill-won victory and turned to reading about the making of the Fountain of the King in Gondolin.  At least that way, when either Tuor or Idril came to scold him, he’d be doing something studious.

            As he’d expected, Tuor came to him soon after.  Earendil looked up from his book and nodded.  “Father,” Earendil greeted Tuor.

            The studious thing didn’t work.  Tuor glanced at the book briefly then knelt down and turned Earendil’s chair so that they were face-to-face.  “I hear you have been most difficult of late, and today I hear you openly refused to do your appointed studies.”

            Earendil pouted.  “What’s the point anyway?  Why do I need to learn about Valinor?  Why should I care where Taniquetil is?”

            “It is the curriculum set forth by the King,” Tuor said flatly.  “There is no why.  We do as our King commands.”

            “But it’s not as if I’m ever going to go there,” Earendil argued.

            “Neither will I.  You, at least, are half Elven.  I am wholly of Mortal Man and will never set foot on the blessed lands of Valinor.”  He held up a finger when he saw that Earendil was about to speak.  “But even I learned these things when I first came to fair Gondolin.”

            “It’s just a waste of time,” Earendil complained.  “As Hendor says, my memory isn’t as good as other children my age.  Shouldn’t I spend that small memory on learning other, more important things?”

            “This is very important to Turgon.”  Tuor’s eyes, blue and bright, were firm and unwavering.

            Earendil made a face and lowered his gaze, staring instead at the green jewel about his father’s neck.  “Why can’t I learn something I want to learn instead of have to learn?” he muttered.

            “What is it that you wish to learn that you cannot?” Tuor asked.  “The educational curriculum is very extensive, and I’m surprised that there is anything that would be lacking in your lessons.  Indeed, I thought you found your lessons too much to handle as they are now.”

            “I want to learn the Mannish tongue, the speech of the people of Hador.”

            Tuor studied Earendil for several moments and then said, “Do you make such an impossible demand to purposefully flaunt the uselessness of your studies?  Or do you truly have an interest?”

            “Why can’t I learn the speech of Hador’s folk?” Earendil said.  “I am the heir of King Turgon, descendant of Finwe and now High King of all the Noldor.”

            Tuor frowned, and Earendil suddenly became afraid, for there was something grim and dark about Tuor’s manner, but it was too late for Earendil to take back his words.  Tuor stayed silent and brooding, and Earendil thought he would wet his pants (a very grave embarrassment and one that was most unelvish!).

            “What bearing does any of that have on your learning of the Hadorian language?  For have you not just declared yourself before me to be the heir of King Finwe?” Tuor said.

            The dread became stronger, and Earendil realized his mistake in naming his great heritage.  He burst into tears now and said through sobs, “But am I not also heir to the greatest of the Three Houses of the Edain, that of Hador Goldenhead, who was himself held as peer of Elven-lords?  Heir to the lordship of Dor-Lomin that my forefather King Fingolfin himself gave to Hador Lorindol?  I am no Elf child but a Half-elven, and the blood of both Elves and Men run in me.  Should I learn only the ways of Elves and forget that of Men?  It is said that Dior the Beautiful learned the tongues of both Elves and Men, saying: ‘I am the first of the Peredhil Half-elven; but I am also the heir of King Elwe, the Eluchil.’ (1)  Well, I’m a Peredhel too!”

            Tuor was silent, as he ever was, and gave much thought to the matter before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was sorrowful and wistful.  “I’m sorry, Earendil Ardamire.  It cannot be easy for you.  I cannot teach you what you wish to learn.  I myself do not know the tongue of the people of Hador, for I was raised by the Grey Elves of Mithrim.”

            “So I must instead memorize the city of Tirion and the mountains and rivers of Valinor,” Earendil said bitterly.

            Tuor at last brought his child to him and held him (awkwardly) in his arms.  Earendil wept into his father’s shirt and clung to him, the only other Mortal Man in Gondolin, built in the image of Tirion.  Tuor kissed him atop his soft curls of golden hair and then embraced him again.  When his tears finally subsided, Tuor brought him to a water basin and washed his face clean.  He set Earendil on the counter then so that they might speak eye-to-eye.

            “There are some in Gondolin who may know a little of the Mannish tongues,” Tuor said.  “I will seek them out so that they may teach us what little they know.  Even if we learn only a handful of words, I think it will be good for us.”

            Earendil noted the ‘we’ and asked, “You’ll learn with me?”

            Tuor nodded and smiled one of his rare smiles.  “I am also of the House of Hador.  Shall we make a bargain then?  You will learn all that is asked of you if I can also find tutors to teach us the Hadorian speech.”

            Earendil agreed and hugged his father about the neck.  “It is enough if I can learn both.”

            “Good.  Hendor will be pleased.”  Tuor took Earendil into his arms and carried him as they went in search of his tutor.  Almost as an afterthought (because witty remarks didn’t exactly come naturally or quickly to him), Tuor jested, “Besides, who knows when, one day, the geography of Valinor might prove useful.”

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            It is said that, before Manwe, Earendil spoke the errand of Elves and Men first in Sindarin, since that might represent all those of the suppliants who had survived the war with Morgoth; but he repeated it in Quenya, since that was the language of the Noldor, who alone were under the ban of the Valar; and he added a prayer in the Mannish tongues of Hador and Beor, pleading that they were not under the ban, and had aided the Eldar only in their war against  Morgoth, the enemy of the Valar. (2)

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Chapter End Notes

(1) HoME XII, p. 369.

(2) HoME XII, p. 370.