The Election Farce of Nargothrond: Of Dumbness, Treachery, and Brotherly Love by Dawn Felagund

Chapter 5: Finrod Meets with Orodreth

Chapter 5: Finrod Meets with Orodreth

The next day threatened interminability for Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond. After awakening on his kitchen floor with a stiff neck and bruise on his shoulder--and no memory of how he got there--Finrod remembered that it was the fifth day of the month, the day he was scheduled to hold counsel with his brother Orodreth, the Lord of Carpets, regarding the state of the carpets in the vast realm of Nargothrond.

Against all hope and indications otherwise, Finrod had always held high expectations for his brother. In Valinor, he had made it his personal quest to lower the turnover rate of Orodreth’s tutors, which was no small task, considering that his brother spent forty years thinking that clauses made good back scratchers and another fifty years convinced that chemical bonding involved the speaking of the Name by a male and a female element. During craft lessons, Orodreth once disappeared for three weeks, attempting to impress Finrod by searching for the missing wax from the lesson in the lost wax bronze casting procedure--and subsequently becoming lost himself. During music lessons, he disturbed all of the other students with his snickers every time the instructor said “ritardando.” (The latter also resulted in Finrod becoming involved in a spate of fights to quiet the jokes being made by some of their classmates about the uncanny resemblance between the musical term and his brother’s intelligence.)

When Finrod’s uncles decided to tromp over to Middle-earth, taking most of the Noldor with them, Finrod found himself guiltily hoping that Orodreth would fall prone to his typical idiocy and perhaps lose the road on his way back from the bathroom, thus being forced to remain in Valinor with their father. But Orodreth followed diligently on the march north and even survived the crossing of the Helcaraxë when Elves much wiser perished. And after each of their battles with Orcs in Beleriand, Orodreth was the first to greet Finrod upon his return home, and Finrod began to hope that removal from a life of luxury and ease had inspired his brother to abandon his imbecility and at last assert virtues more suited to one who was a rightful prince of all three races of the Eldar.

Upon arriving in Middle-earth, Finrod constructed the tower of Minas Tirith upon the fair isle Tol Sirion, and when inspiration came upon him to move his kingdom to Nargothrond, he was forced to either appoint a warden or abandon his many centuries of labor to the erosion of the elements. Many lords rode forth--lords who had loyally served his grandfather for centuries and had compassionately guided great numbers of people--to pledge their fealty in the defense of Tol Sirion. When the last--Finrod thought--had departed, leaving the weight of a difficult choice his mind, the door to his chambers opened, and Orodreth entered.

“I feel I have been misunderestimated,” Orodreth said. “Am I not also a son of Finarfin? Perhaps, were you to offer me a second chance, you would find that the priorness of my dumbnicity was only a result of lazitude, nothing more.”

“And why should I believe that such--” Finrod had to bite his tongue to keep from saying lazitude--“laziness shall not strike you again?”

“I have extended great effortness to overwhelm it,” Orodreth said. “This, you can trust.”

Trust he did, but only a few years passed before Orodreth and the sorry remnants of his guard at Tol Sirion arrived at the gates of Nargothrond amid much clamor, nearly drawing Morgoth’s attention to the secret kingdom. Wearing the most hideous party robes Finrod had ever seen and reeking of wine too cheap to please even an Orc, Orodreth sat in Finrod’s office and wept, claiming that he’d been overcome by the black sorcery of Sauron, and begged for a second chance.

Orodreth’s lordships henceforth skipped around with the same random hilarity as the eyes of a child high on cotton candy at a three-ring circus. He began as the Lord of Vineyards, but after he accidentally replanted half of the crop with poisonous berries--resulting in a most dismaying five-year shortage of wine and several instances of projectile vomiting that were most unpleasant to recollect--Finrod was forced to revoke the appointment or face the wrath of his soldiers, who’d had nothing to do for the last three centuries but drink wine and play cards in the barracks and were not happy at their unexpected return to sobriety.

Next came the Lordship of Fountains, for Finrod figured that having Orodreth out of sight amid the sewers and the plumbing might be safer, given his brother’s sudden unpopularity among men who regularly wielded weapons of war. However, he should have known--he realized in retrospect--that sewage was no less dangerous for his brother, and the only thing worse than spending five years in complete sobriety was spending five years in complete sobriety while inundated with the constant reek of stopped-up toilets. His brother’s taste in practical jokes also worsened significantly during these years, and once, while in the throws of a blazing temper the likes of which Finrod had never known, with his pants around his ankles after having his toilet paper stolen by his brother for the third time in a week, Finrod finally revoked this appointment too.

Henceforth followed appointments as the Lord of Calendars, the Lord of Cutlery, and the Lord of Parchment-not-yet-written-upon, leading to his current appointment (after dismally failing at each of the former in ways more profound than Finrod would have thought possible, given their mundanity) as the Lord of Carpets. There were not many carpets in Nargothrond, and their upkeep was a matter of simple cleaning and removal of snags that might trip and possibly injure a citizen, but Finrod had made more inquiries in the last months to a citizen, regarding a bandaged wrist or ankle, and heard answered, “I tripped, my Lord, upon a loose string on a carpet.”

Orodreth was late to the meeting, but this was not atypical, and Finrod used the opportunity to grab a quick nap in his desk chair. The kitchen floor had not been kind to his bones last night.

Orodreth arrived a half-hour later, sat in the chair in front of Finrod’s desk, and assumed his usual sprawl. Finrod asked rote questions and received answers more full of syllables than meaning, coming to the conclusion after only a few minutes of conversation that his brother had not looked at a single carpet in the last month, even to glance down and see what was beneath his feet.

Finrod sighed. “That is all then, Orodreth,” he said.

“Very well, brother.” Orodreth stood. “Also, please accept my apologiances for being late. I ensure you that I had good reason.”

“Oh?” Finrod was tired but compelled to ask, imagining his brother’s revelries being explained in a string of complicated and mostly made-up words. “What was that?”

"I tripped, brother. Upon a loose string on a carpet.”