Erchamion by heget

Erchamion

Read Erchamion

The visitors to Tol Galen, for the most part out of politeness and hero-struck awe, tended not to bring up Beren’s missing hand. The mortal man did not hide the disfigurement or that some motions were adjusted to cope around the lack of his right hand. Most obvious was that he did not wear the vaunted ring on his left hand but on a cord around his neck, as it was too much a hassle to remove otherwise. Other small tells were easy to notice. The story of how he became Erchamion was famous, the songs and stories impossible to escape, and it would have been ridiculous to pretend that he had both hands. Still, most visitors tried to not stare rudely at the stump on the right as Beren gestured broadly while reciting a story about how their young son, Dior, had startled the bats that crowded the island for safety.

One guest, thinking to offer comforting hope, made mention of Maedhros and how he had returned to fighting form, fiercer than before, despite his similar injury.

Lúthien’s grey eyes flashed at the name, but Beren laughed.

“Have I told you about my two best friends, growing up as a boy in Ladros?” the man asked, smile lines and imbedded furrows from pain fighting for dominance on his face, making the mortal man look older than his years. “Urthel and Gorlim. You know their names from the songs, of course. Urthel had a boy that he took in, adopted as son -well, younger brother or well, just as this goodwill gesture at first. The boy’s name was Sícrum; no songs remember him, unfortunately. Urthel’s sister, Eilinel, who married Gorlim, had badly broken her leg and hip in an accident. The leg never healed to the same length, which made walking painful for her. Urthel took in Sícrum out of pity, because Sícrum was born with only one working arm, to help out his sister and because the boy reminded him of her.” Beren raised his right arm ruefully. “It was an act of pity at first, Urthel admitted, but he loved Sícrum as if he was flesh and blood, and so did Eilinel and Gorlim. And Sícrum managed without a second hand his entire life - knew exactly what he could do and what he could not, and how to adjust so that he could do things that others thought he could not. Gorlim and Eilinel loved him like a son; they were the proudest parents you ever met- not because of how well Sícrum coped but because that boy was clever and kind and would have been our most trusted advisor as a man grown.”

Beren sighed and continued. “I asked, when the Valar restored us to our second lives and bodies,” he said, and at this the listener focused intently, for the Dead-that-Lived almost never spoke of this, “And Estë couldn’t restore my hand. If I had been an elf, and gone through the Gardens, she might have - it’s something to do with how one’s self sees and remembers itself. Body and spirit and how the two are tied together and elves and mortals do that differently. She had restored elves with injuries like mine, you know,” Beren explained, “The High King’s own mother- the High King over in Valinor, his mother -and I hadn’t even realized that he had one, but turns out he did, and she had lost use of her arm and some fingers back in Cuiviénen in some animal attack” -his laughter briefly interrupted this- “and Estë healed her, except for some scars, because the lady wanted to keep them. I asked. Not every elf wants to get rid of the scars, or the injuries. And mortals, well, Estë wasn’t sure, but she told me, when I told her about Sícrum and how he wanted one of those fancy dwarf prosthetics to make holding a paper and pen easier but had never lived without that withered arm and missing hand, that I was probably right in that Sícrum wouldn’t want a body with two hands. I miss mine, of course,” said Beren, and continued with a joke, “though I thank Carcharoth for trying to return it to me. But as I can’t have it back, I’ll make do, and if it’s not what I could do before, so be it. It’s a second life, when I didn’t think I’d get the first.” Beren looked lovingly over at his wife. The visitor sat awkwardly, and was thankful when the conversation shifted to Dior and the young boy’s attempt to learn the screeching bat tongue this morning.

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Chapter End Notes

Sícrum is mentioned in "Service to the Dead" and Mahtamë in the various Vanyar-centric stories.

The bats in Tol Galen were part of a deal involving Thuringwethil and needing refuge from Morgoth's backlash.