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b2memB2MeM Challenge: N-31 – Art Supplies – Beads, Fëanantics – Fëanor Hugged His Kids
Format: Short Story
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Fëanáro, Finwë, All Seven Sons, Telperinquar and OFC
Pairings: None
Word Count: 3856
Summary: Helyanwë has an idea for a project of love while the family is exiled in Formenos. Can it come to fruition? It will require each member of the family to participate.
Helyanwë wasn't exactly sure when the idea came to her, but once it had perched in her brain, it just wouldn't let her go. It might have been while she was grinding some glass to enamel a dagger hilt for her Uncle Carnistir, or perhaps it was while she was working at the glass furnace drawing out some glass beads for a commissioned gift that would be given to one of the servant girls on her Begetting Day, but no matter when the inspiration came, she was anxious to begin work on it. At dinner that night her fingers kept tapping on the table and her mind was leagues away from the conversation.
Her Grandfather finally rapped the table in front of her. “Little Bird, go. Go to your workbench and begin working on whatever is holding your thoughts away from us. Do NOT forget to sleep and eat sometime, please.”
Admitting defeat but happy at being released from the dinner table, she went to her 'Tata', kissed his cheek, said her farewells to the rest of her relatives, and left for the forge to begin the process of seeing her idea become reality. Once there, she walked through the massive doors heading towards the back, passing through the smaller doorway into her own world – her glass studio, a gift from her Tata Fëanáro when they moved to Formenos.
The project would be tricky. The assembly would be easy although she would have to fabricate a few delicate parts, but she had to determine how to convince each of her relatives to do their part. For her to be able to construct the final piece, each member of the family would have to contribute. She would have to cajole, coerce and maybe even bribe them into wanting to make the beads that she would need. Once she had received them, then she could get to work.
The first task would be to approach each elf, asking him to make eleven beads. Some would agree readily – she did not expect to encounter difficulties with her Uncle Maitimo, or her father Curufinwë and brother, Telperinquar. The twins might be reluctant to craft anything, but she thought she could convince them. Carnistir and Tyelkormo might grumble, but she had a trade for them and a gift that she thought they might embrace as a bribe. That left Uncle Macalaurë, Tata Fëanáro, and Great-grandfather Finwë. Those three would take careful planning and timing. If she approached them at a bad time her request would be brushed off like a flea from the haunch of Huan.
She decided to make a special container for each person to act as a bribe and for them to collect their beads in. Taking up her slate and placing her inks and vellum pages to the side for the final drawings, she began designing.
The first box would be for her Uncle Maitimo. She was close to her uncle; he had been one of her caretakers when she was young. She knew that he would indulge her and make what she asked just from love, but she wanted to give him incentive. He loved symmetry and geometry, so she laid out a box featuring intricate cutwork with a shell inlay. The finished box would gleam in contrasting black wood and white shell.
For her Uncles Carnistir and Tyelkormo she designed something practical that they could use for their hunting; leather pouches to keep their extra bowstrings dry and their fishhooks and tackle in. She also put straps on the back that a small skinning knife could be attached to. She tooled designs onto the pouches – the head of Huan on one and a maple leaf cluster on the other.
Continuing, she knew that the Twins shared Neradnel’s love of stone. She knew there was some picture jasper in their supplies, so she designed a bisected lidded container that would a top of picture jasper with etched accent highlighting the stone’s features.
She decided to make a similar container for her Great-grandfather Finwë but the King’s container would feature deep blue Lapis for the top with inset pavé gemstones in an oval pattern on the lid.
That left her Tata Fëanáro, her father Curufinwë, her brother Telperinquar and her Uncle Macalaurë.
Putting the latest piece of vellum aside, she took her slate in hand again. She decided to work in metal and glass for her father and brother, designing small plique-a-jour boxes that could separate top from bottom and act as candleholders. Each piece featured one of the Two Trees.
Her Tata would also receive a metal box, but she would sweat solder a second piece of cut-out metal onto the lid and then melt gemstones into the recesses. The design that she had drawn would be abstract flames that were actually an anagram of his name and she would use rare orange garnets and yellow citrines for the colors. She transferred the final designs from the slate to vellum and rested her head on her hand.
Uncle Macalaurë...what to do for him? He was a musician, not one who worked in the forge, and he would be more than reluctant to turn his hand towards fabrication, no matter how basic. For more than a candlemark she drew and erased and drew and erased until, finally, she decided on a harp-shaped box of molded leather that could hold his tuning wrench and a few extra strings. She would emboss a harp on the lid and embellish it with silver and gold accents.
Having a set of drawings in front of her (and having wiped her slate clean) she finally realized how exhausted she was. It was very late and everyone except the guards had been sleeping for several marks. She moved underneath her bench to the bed that Fëanáro had ordered made for her, pulled out her blanket and pillow, and was asleep almost immediately.
Rising a few short hours later, she splashed water on her face and pulled a comb through her hair. After returning the blanket and pillow to storage under her bed, she began working on the various containers. She was a flurry of activity in the forge for several days while working with the metals, and her frenetic activity continued in her studio with fitting the leather and melting the gemstones and the glass. But eight days later she had ten containers sitting on her workbench ready to be distributed.
Putting all of them aside except for Maitimo’s, she left her studio heading for the library to talk with him. She had loved the library from the first time she had entered the large room. It had the thick-walled design of the entire fortress, complete with long and narrow windows in the exterior wall. Every time she saw the mullioned windows she started dreaming about making a picture of colored glass for the space. She forced herself to look around and locate her uncle.
Maitimo was seated at a table near one of the windows, although he also had two Fëanorian lamps lit, one at each end of the platform. The tabletop was strewn with books, scrolls and documents. Her uncle, his red hair pulled roughly back and secured with a golden clasp that had belonged to their cousin Findekáno at one time. He was clicking counting beads with one hand while writing sums onto the page in front of him with a quill held in his other hand. She hoped that he wouldn't mind being interrupted.
“Uncle Maitimo?”
“Huh? Oh, Helyanwë,” he put the quill down and settled back in his chair, marking his place with a convenient marking stone. “What can I do for my favorite niece on this fine day?”
“Silly! I'm your only niece.”
“Indeed you are, and thus, you are my favorite niece.”
She laughed and walked towards him. “I have a project that needs your help, Uncle.” He looked at her quizzically and she continued. “I have a box that I have made for you. It was designed to hold your quills and ink. But, you don’t get to keep it yet. I have a proposition for you.”
“Make me eleven beads of your own design and return them to me in this box within a twelve-day. I will return the box to you a second time and you will then be able to keep the box and whatever you find inside it. Would you be willing to do this for me?”
“This is the project that has been keeping you secluded in your studio for the past days?” She nodded. “Very well, do you wish the beads to be metal, or clay, or …?”
“The beads are of your construct and therefore of your choice. I only ask that they be of your making alone and that there be eleven of them.”
She could see that he was intrigued in spite of himself because a small smile appeared in the corner of his mouth, something that only appeared when he was enjoying solving a problem.
“You will not forget, will you?”
“I shall put the making of eleven beads into my schedule. See here,” and he moved papers to show a schedule of days, took up his quill, and marked on a square for two days hence, 'beads for Helyanwë'.
“Thank you, Uncle,” and she went to him and hugged him. Giving his cheek a quick kiss, she left the library and returned to her workshop.
She returned to her studio and contemplated the rest of the boxes. Deciding that her next trip would be to the stable area, she took the leather pouches for Carnistir and Tyelkormo. At the last minute she grabbed the harp box for Macalaurë and slipped it into her pocket. She might get fortunate and find the harpist between practice sessions.
She found her uncles Carnistir and Tyelkormo in one of the back stalls, grooming Huan after his bath. “We are not craftspeople, Helyanwë, although Father has trained all of us on basic metalworking skills” Carnistir said, while brushing Huan from head to tail. Huan looked blissfully up at her, drooling into the packed sand.
“What kind of beads did you have in mind?” Tyelkormo asked.
“I thought that since you are hunters, not craftspeople, and would rather spend your time in the forest, that you might find some natural materials for your beads. Perhaps seeds, stones, dead wood that could be shaped, or maybe deer bone or antler. I only ask that each of you design and make your own beads and that they be made from different materials.”
The two looked at each other over Huan's drowsy and grinning head, and nodded. “All right, we'll do it,” Carnistir said.
“And, since you will be giving these bags back to us, we promise not to mess them up too badly until after you have returned them to us a second time,” added Tyelkormo.
She laughed and thanked them. Then, because a happy dog was an impossible lure, she knelt in the dirt and scratched Huan’s belly. After thanking the two hunters again and leaving a happy dog behind her, she left to try and find her Uncle Macalaurë.
The musician was known to practice in the Solarium in the mornings until early afternoon. The staff had become adept at listening carefully before walking into the room. Not a few of them had been at the other end of his tongue-lashing if they interrupted him while he was composing. She listened carefully at the door, and determining that it was safe, entered.
She loved this room, it was one of the few in Formenos that held growing plants and the joyful feelings of life filled the air. “Uncle Macalaurë?” she said brightly. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Helyanwë, how can I help you?” he responded happily while standing his harp upright. She took the harp box from her pocket and showed it to him. “I made this for your tuning wrench, Uncle. But I am only loaning you the box right now. I hope I might impose on you,” and she explained her idea as she had to his brothers earlier. Macalaurë’s eyebrows were high, expressing interest, but he commented, “I am a musician, not a craftsman; my skill is with sound, not materials.”
“Uncle, I seem to remember that one of your ivory flutes was shattered in the move. Maybe the pieces of that instrument might be repurposed and become beads that have been blessed by your music. I beg you, please try. My project is doomed to failure unless everyone does their part.”
“Very well my dear. I will look through my things and see if I can locate the pieces of that flute. You have remembered correctly, it was shattered when a piece of statuary fell on its box during the move from Tirion. I will make eleven beads for you, returning them to you in this box.” Interpreting the look she was casting his way, he added, “I promise you I won’t forget. I’ll begin later this very afternoon.” She nodded, and left to deliver the rest of the boxes.
The Twins were easy to locate. They were doing their favorite task, working with the horses in the back upper pasture. They looked at each other, talking without words as they often did, then looked back at her and both nodded at the same time. Thanking her for their box, they returned to the horses. She wasn’t worried. She knew they would fulfill their promise and that she would get eleven beads from each of them within a few days.
She found her remaining four relatives just outside of the forge sitting around one of the trestle tables. Taking their boxes into her hands, she approached them as they were cutting up cheese and bread and passing out apples. Fëanáro was goblets of watered wine for each of them. As she joined them, she placed the appropriate box in front of each person, and then waited to see who would comment first.
Fëanáro spoke. “Little Bird, this is lovely. Why have you made this box for me? Why did you make boxes for each of us?”
“I have a project that I am working on and I need the help of each of you,” she responded. “I need each of you to construct eleven beads for me. They should be of your own design and be distinct from those made by the others at this table. Place them inside your box and return them to me within two six-days. I will give you the box a final time and what is inside of it will be yours forever, as well as the box itself.”
Finwë spoke first. “Only eleven beads for this beautiful box? It seems a small price to pay. I accept your challenge, great-granddaughter.” Curufinwë and Telperinquar also followed suit, promising their own beads within a few days. That left Fëanáro as the only one who had not committed.
“You will not tell me how they should be made?”
“No, Tata. The design is your own.”
“And you will not dictate their size or composition?”
“No. All I ask is that you return eleven beads to me within twelve days in your box. I promise you that when I return your box to you, it will contain something unique and precious. Please, Grandfather?” she pleaded.
“I can deny you nothing, Little Bird. I concede defeat at your hands, delicate and talented as they may be.” He walked over to her, took her hands in his and raised them to his lips. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek soundly. “Thank you, Tata,” she whispered.
She then went around the table, hugging and kissing each of the others, except Telperinquar who was never comfortable with his sister’s caresses.
Returning to her workroom, she breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone had agreed. Now she had to get to work.
The following days found her very busy. She designed and enameled eleven beads of her own using half silver and half gold in honor of the Trees with abstract enameled circles in a variety of colors on each bead. She drew multi-stranded flexible stringing wire for one entire day making an extremely thin but strong wire that she could string the beads on.
Another full day was spent making clasps and small metal finishing beads. She fired up the glass furnace to blow smaller glass beads for spacers, choosing a bright and happy topaz color for the glass. She visited the weavers and talked them into sewing eleven small drawstring bags of embroidered silk, and she designed her own box, a small jewelry box of gold and enamel with eleven different gemstones on the top.
One by one the filled boxes were returned to her. Finwë’s box contained eleven beads that had been heavily textured with a leaf design and silvered bumps like the rays from the Trees. Fëanáro’s beads had inset gemstones in them, a different color of stones for each of the eleven beads. Curufinwë’s beads were bi-metal; a silvered underside with cut out pieces of gold soldered on top the silver surface. Telperinquar’s beads were made in a filigree fashion. He had made and pulled fine wire from a gold alloy and formed and soldered the wire into a lacy but firm structure. They were delicate and ethereal in appearance, but very strong.
The Twins gave her their box after seven days, late one night. Amrod had made finely polished beads of solid black stone that held a deeply hidden sparkle in the centre of the beads. Amras had made stone beads from a leaf-green colored stone that had yellow veins running through the stone. Both sets of beads were stunning and Helyanwë was thrilled.
Carnistir and Tyelkormo returned with their beads in their leather pouches. Carnistir had taken deer antler, shaped it into eleven oblong beads, drilled decorative holes into them and dyed them a warm ivory color in strong tea. Finally he had polished them to a high polish. Tyelkormo had taken a piece of old oak and carved it into eleven embellished beads. He had sanded them velvety smooth, then he had tumbled them with colored oils allowing the oils to soak into the grain of the wood. Finally he had dried then and polished them once more.
Macalaurë had enlisted the aid of his brother, Maitimo. He had taken the shattered ivory flute and, after shaping the shards against the fine grinding wheel, had drilled a center hole and then several decorative holes through each piece. Finally he gave them and his box to Maitimo, trusting his brother to do any additional work needed, and happily returned to his music. Maitimo made corrugated beads shaped out of copper beads, painted a patina into the creases, and then polished the outside. He finally returned both his own and Macalaurë’s boxes to Helyanwë after breakfast on day eight. She placed the last two boxes on her workbench and looked, happily, at her semi-circle of eleven filled boxes waiting for the next step.
The next day, Helyanwë awoke early and returned to her workbench. Placing each box on the table, she opened it and removed the beads. Moving from box to box in sequence, she distributed them so that soon each box had eleven different beads in it. Then, taking her clasps, wire and fastening beads, she began to arrange and assemble them into bracelets. She added spacer beads made from metal and glass when extra length was needed, and carefully attached clasps and fastening rings to each. The design, size and the gemstone color of Fëanáro’s bead was different for each bracelet, so each one was alike, and yet distinct. As she finished one, she placed it into its embroidered pouch put the pouch into the box. Finally she closed the lid of the last box. She was now ready to return them to each person.
She put everything into a crate covering them with a cloth, and she took it with her to dinner that night. After dinner she stood and tapped her goblet requesting attention.
“A short while ago I asked each of you to help me by making eleven beads. You thought you were making some beads, but you were doing much more than that. Each bead was conceived by and made by you alone, and each one holds something of you within it now, forever more.”
She moved to the crate and began passing out the boxes to each person. “Please don’t open them until everyone has received their own box back.”
“Stand up here at the head of the table, Helyanwë,” Fëanáro said, and he moved to her chair a bit down one of the sides.
She nodded and moved to her new place. Looking at Fëanáro, she said, “Tata, we all moved up here with you, without hesitation because we love you and would follow you anywhere. Such is the power of love. Yet, although we have this marvelous time to spend with each other, a time which I look upon as a gift not a punishment, in more normal times we are usually scattered and we are rarely able to gather as we do daily here in Formenos.”
“Open your boxes.” As the elves opened their boxes, she opened hers as well, undoing the brocade pouch and spilling the beaded bracelet across her hand. “What each of you now has in your hands is a piece of your family. When you wear or handle this bracelet, it is a visible and tactile reminder of the love that we hold for each other. No matter what may come in our future, no matter what has happened in our past, we love each other and that gives us strength.”
The others were examining their bracelets carefully. She went on to describe who had made each bead and finally clasped her bracelet around her wrist. “I am surrounded by each of you whenever I wear this bracelet. That was what I wanted so I thank you for helping make my dream become reality.”
The rest of the table burst out in applause and Fëanáro came up to her, pulled her into his arms and, while swinging her around in a joyful circle, said into her ear, “Good job, Little Bird, very well done.” He then went around the table and hugged each of his sons, his grandson and his father. He talked to each person, telling them how much he loved them, and also how humbled he was that they would share his exile with him. The brothers also moved among themselves, clasping each other’s arms and pounding each other’s backs while hugging. It was a veritable love fest and Helyanwë couldn’t stop smiling while watching it unfold in front of her.
Late that night, as she lay in her bed, her hand traced each bead as she fell asleep with a smile on her face. She had a visible reminder of her family’s love to wear and nothing could be better.
Format: Short Story
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Fëanáro, Finwë, All Seven Sons, Telperinquar and OFC
Pairings: None
Word Count: 3856
Summary: Helyanwë has an idea for a project of love while the family is exiled in Formenos. Can it come to fruition? It will require each member of the family to participate.
Helyanwë wasn't exactly sure when the idea came to her, but once it had perched in her brain, it just wouldn't let her go. It might have been while she was grinding some glass to enamel a dagger hilt for her Uncle Carnistir, or perhaps it was while she was working at the glass furnace drawing out some glass beads for a commissioned gift that would be given to one of the servant girls on her Begetting Day, but no matter when the inspiration came, she was anxious to begin work on it. At dinner that night her fingers kept tapping on the table and her mind was leagues away from the conversation.
Her Grandfather finally rapped the table in front of her. “Little Bird, go. Go to your workbench and begin working on whatever is holding your thoughts away from us. Do NOT forget to sleep and eat sometime, please.”
Admitting defeat but happy at being released from the dinner table, she went to her 'Tata', kissed his cheek, said her farewells to the rest of her relatives, and left for the forge to begin the process of seeing her idea become reality. Once there, she walked through the massive doors heading towards the back, passing through the smaller doorway into her own world – her glass studio, a gift from her Tata Fëanáro when they moved to Formenos.
The project would be tricky. The assembly would be easy although she would have to fabricate a few delicate parts, but she had to determine how to convince each of her relatives to do their part. For her to be able to construct the final piece, each member of the family would have to contribute. She would have to cajole, coerce and maybe even bribe them into wanting to make the beads that she would need. Once she had received them, then she could get to work.
The first task would be to approach each elf, asking him to make eleven beads. Some would agree readily – she did not expect to encounter difficulties with her Uncle Maitimo, or her father Curufinwë and brother, Telperinquar. The twins might be reluctant to craft anything, but she thought she could convince them. Carnistir and Tyelkormo might grumble, but she had a trade for them and a gift that she thought they might embrace as a bribe. That left Uncle Macalaurë, Tata Fëanáro, and Great-grandfather Finwë. Those three would take careful planning and timing. If she approached them at a bad time her request would be brushed off like a flea from the haunch of Huan.
She decided to make a special container for each person to act as a bribe and for them to collect their beads in. Taking up her slate and placing her inks and vellum pages to the side for the final drawings, she began designing.
The first box would be for her Uncle Maitimo. She was close to her uncle; he had been one of her caretakers when she was young. She knew that he would indulge her and make what she asked just from love, but she wanted to give him incentive. He loved symmetry and geometry, so she laid out a box featuring intricate cutwork with a shell inlay. The finished box would gleam in contrasting black wood and white shell.
For her Uncles Carnistir and Tyelkormo she designed something practical that they could use for their hunting; leather pouches to keep their extra bowstrings dry and their fishhooks and tackle in. She also put straps on the back that a small skinning knife could be attached to. She tooled designs onto the pouches – the head of Huan on one and a maple leaf cluster on the other.
Continuing, she knew that the Twins shared Neradnel’s love of stone. She knew there was some picture jasper in their supplies, so she designed a bisected lidded container that would a top of picture jasper with etched accent highlighting the stone’s features.
She decided to make a similar container for her Great-grandfather Finwë but the King’s container would feature deep blue Lapis for the top with inset pavé gemstones in an oval pattern on the lid.
That left her Tata Fëanáro, her father Curufinwë, her brother Telperinquar and her Uncle Macalaurë.
Putting the latest piece of vellum aside, she took her slate in hand again. She decided to work in metal and glass for her father and brother, designing small plique-a-jour boxes that could separate top from bottom and act as candleholders. Each piece featured one of the Two Trees.
Her Tata would also receive a metal box, but she would sweat solder a second piece of cut-out metal onto the lid and then melt gemstones into the recesses. The design that she had drawn would be abstract flames that were actually an anagram of his name and she would use rare orange garnets and yellow citrines for the colors. She transferred the final designs from the slate to vellum and rested her head on her hand.
Uncle Macalaurë...what to do for him? He was a musician, not one who worked in the forge, and he would be more than reluctant to turn his hand towards fabrication, no matter how basic. For more than a candlemark she drew and erased and drew and erased until, finally, she decided on a harp-shaped box of molded leather that could hold his tuning wrench and a few extra strings. She would emboss a harp on the lid and embellish it with silver and gold accents.
Having a set of drawings in front of her (and having wiped her slate clean) she finally realized how exhausted she was. It was very late and everyone except the guards had been sleeping for several marks. She moved underneath her bench to the bed that Fëanáro had ordered made for her, pulled out her blanket and pillow, and was asleep almost immediately.
Rising a few short hours later, she splashed water on her face and pulled a comb through her hair. After returning the blanket and pillow to storage under her bed, she began working on the various containers. She was a flurry of activity in the forge for several days while working with the metals, and her frenetic activity continued in her studio with fitting the leather and melting the gemstones and the glass. But eight days later she had ten containers sitting on her workbench ready to be distributed.
Putting all of them aside except for Maitimo’s, she left her studio heading for the library to talk with him. She had loved the library from the first time she had entered the large room. It had the thick-walled design of the entire fortress, complete with long and narrow windows in the exterior wall. Every time she saw the mullioned windows she started dreaming about making a picture of colored glass for the space. She forced herself to look around and locate her uncle.
Maitimo was seated at a table near one of the windows, although he also had two Fëanorian lamps lit, one at each end of the platform. The tabletop was strewn with books, scrolls and documents. Her uncle, his red hair pulled roughly back and secured with a golden clasp that had belonged to their cousin Findekáno at one time. He was clicking counting beads with one hand while writing sums onto the page in front of him with a quill held in his other hand. She hoped that he wouldn't mind being interrupted.
“Uncle Maitimo?”
“Huh? Oh, Helyanwë,” he put the quill down and settled back in his chair, marking his place with a convenient marking stone. “What can I do for my favorite niece on this fine day?”
“Silly! I'm your only niece.”
“Indeed you are, and thus, you are my favorite niece.”
She laughed and walked towards him. “I have a project that needs your help, Uncle.” He looked at her quizzically and she continued. “I have a box that I have made for you. It was designed to hold your quills and ink. But, you don’t get to keep it yet. I have a proposition for you.”
“Make me eleven beads of your own design and return them to me in this box within a twelve-day. I will return the box to you a second time and you will then be able to keep the box and whatever you find inside it. Would you be willing to do this for me?”
“This is the project that has been keeping you secluded in your studio for the past days?” She nodded. “Very well, do you wish the beads to be metal, or clay, or …?”
“The beads are of your construct and therefore of your choice. I only ask that they be of your making alone and that there be eleven of them.”
She could see that he was intrigued in spite of himself because a small smile appeared in the corner of his mouth, something that only appeared when he was enjoying solving a problem.
“You will not forget, will you?”
“I shall put the making of eleven beads into my schedule. See here,” and he moved papers to show a schedule of days, took up his quill, and marked on a square for two days hence, 'beads for Helyanwë'.
“Thank you, Uncle,” and she went to him and hugged him. Giving his cheek a quick kiss, she left the library and returned to her workshop.
She returned to her studio and contemplated the rest of the boxes. Deciding that her next trip would be to the stable area, she took the leather pouches for Carnistir and Tyelkormo. At the last minute she grabbed the harp box for Macalaurë and slipped it into her pocket. She might get fortunate and find the harpist between practice sessions.
She found her uncles Carnistir and Tyelkormo in one of the back stalls, grooming Huan after his bath. “We are not craftspeople, Helyanwë, although Father has trained all of us on basic metalworking skills” Carnistir said, while brushing Huan from head to tail. Huan looked blissfully up at her, drooling into the packed sand.
“What kind of beads did you have in mind?” Tyelkormo asked.
“I thought that since you are hunters, not craftspeople, and would rather spend your time in the forest, that you might find some natural materials for your beads. Perhaps seeds, stones, dead wood that could be shaped, or maybe deer bone or antler. I only ask that each of you design and make your own beads and that they be made from different materials.”
The two looked at each other over Huan's drowsy and grinning head, and nodded. “All right, we'll do it,” Carnistir said.
“And, since you will be giving these bags back to us, we promise not to mess them up too badly until after you have returned them to us a second time,” added Tyelkormo.
She laughed and thanked them. Then, because a happy dog was an impossible lure, she knelt in the dirt and scratched Huan’s belly. After thanking the two hunters again and leaving a happy dog behind her, she left to try and find her Uncle Macalaurë.
The musician was known to practice in the Solarium in the mornings until early afternoon. The staff had become adept at listening carefully before walking into the room. Not a few of them had been at the other end of his tongue-lashing if they interrupted him while he was composing. She listened carefully at the door, and determining that it was safe, entered.
She loved this room, it was one of the few in Formenos that held growing plants and the joyful feelings of life filled the air. “Uncle Macalaurë?” she said brightly. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Helyanwë, how can I help you?” he responded happily while standing his harp upright. She took the harp box from her pocket and showed it to him. “I made this for your tuning wrench, Uncle. But I am only loaning you the box right now. I hope I might impose on you,” and she explained her idea as she had to his brothers earlier. Macalaurë’s eyebrows were high, expressing interest, but he commented, “I am a musician, not a craftsman; my skill is with sound, not materials.”
“Uncle, I seem to remember that one of your ivory flutes was shattered in the move. Maybe the pieces of that instrument might be repurposed and become beads that have been blessed by your music. I beg you, please try. My project is doomed to failure unless everyone does their part.”
“Very well my dear. I will look through my things and see if I can locate the pieces of that flute. You have remembered correctly, it was shattered when a piece of statuary fell on its box during the move from Tirion. I will make eleven beads for you, returning them to you in this box.” Interpreting the look she was casting his way, he added, “I promise you I won’t forget. I’ll begin later this very afternoon.” She nodded, and left to deliver the rest of the boxes.
The Twins were easy to locate. They were doing their favorite task, working with the horses in the back upper pasture. They looked at each other, talking without words as they often did, then looked back at her and both nodded at the same time. Thanking her for their box, they returned to the horses. She wasn’t worried. She knew they would fulfill their promise and that she would get eleven beads from each of them within a few days.
She found her remaining four relatives just outside of the forge sitting around one of the trestle tables. Taking their boxes into her hands, she approached them as they were cutting up cheese and bread and passing out apples. Fëanáro was goblets of watered wine for each of them. As she joined them, she placed the appropriate box in front of each person, and then waited to see who would comment first.
Fëanáro spoke. “Little Bird, this is lovely. Why have you made this box for me? Why did you make boxes for each of us?”
“I have a project that I am working on and I need the help of each of you,” she responded. “I need each of you to construct eleven beads for me. They should be of your own design and be distinct from those made by the others at this table. Place them inside your box and return them to me within two six-days. I will give you the box a final time and what is inside of it will be yours forever, as well as the box itself.”
Finwë spoke first. “Only eleven beads for this beautiful box? It seems a small price to pay. I accept your challenge, great-granddaughter.” Curufinwë and Telperinquar also followed suit, promising their own beads within a few days. That left Fëanáro as the only one who had not committed.
“You will not tell me how they should be made?”
“No, Tata. The design is your own.”
“And you will not dictate their size or composition?”
“No. All I ask is that you return eleven beads to me within twelve days in your box. I promise you that when I return your box to you, it will contain something unique and precious. Please, Grandfather?” she pleaded.
“I can deny you nothing, Little Bird. I concede defeat at your hands, delicate and talented as they may be.” He walked over to her, took her hands in his and raised them to his lips. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek soundly. “Thank you, Tata,” she whispered.
She then went around the table, hugging and kissing each of the others, except Telperinquar who was never comfortable with his sister’s caresses.
Returning to her workroom, she breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone had agreed. Now she had to get to work.
The following days found her very busy. She designed and enameled eleven beads of her own using half silver and half gold in honor of the Trees with abstract enameled circles in a variety of colors on each bead. She drew multi-stranded flexible stringing wire for one entire day making an extremely thin but strong wire that she could string the beads on.
Another full day was spent making clasps and small metal finishing beads. She fired up the glass furnace to blow smaller glass beads for spacers, choosing a bright and happy topaz color for the glass. She visited the weavers and talked them into sewing eleven small drawstring bags of embroidered silk, and she designed her own box, a small jewelry box of gold and enamel with eleven different gemstones on the top.
One by one the filled boxes were returned to her. Finwë’s box contained eleven beads that had been heavily textured with a leaf design and silvered bumps like the rays from the Trees. Fëanáro’s beads had inset gemstones in them, a different color of stones for each of the eleven beads. Curufinwë’s beads were bi-metal; a silvered underside with cut out pieces of gold soldered on top the silver surface. Telperinquar’s beads were made in a filigree fashion. He had made and pulled fine wire from a gold alloy and formed and soldered the wire into a lacy but firm structure. They were delicate and ethereal in appearance, but very strong.
The Twins gave her their box after seven days, late one night. Amrod had made finely polished beads of solid black stone that held a deeply hidden sparkle in the centre of the beads. Amras had made stone beads from a leaf-green colored stone that had yellow veins running through the stone. Both sets of beads were stunning and Helyanwë was thrilled.
Carnistir and Tyelkormo returned with their beads in their leather pouches. Carnistir had taken deer antler, shaped it into eleven oblong beads, drilled decorative holes into them and dyed them a warm ivory color in strong tea. Finally he had polished them to a high polish. Tyelkormo had taken a piece of old oak and carved it into eleven embellished beads. He had sanded them velvety smooth, then he had tumbled them with colored oils allowing the oils to soak into the grain of the wood. Finally he had dried then and polished them once more.
Macalaurë had enlisted the aid of his brother, Maitimo. He had taken the shattered ivory flute and, after shaping the shards against the fine grinding wheel, had drilled a center hole and then several decorative holes through each piece. Finally he gave them and his box to Maitimo, trusting his brother to do any additional work needed, and happily returned to his music. Maitimo made corrugated beads shaped out of copper beads, painted a patina into the creases, and then polished the outside. He finally returned both his own and Macalaurë’s boxes to Helyanwë after breakfast on day eight. She placed the last two boxes on her workbench and looked, happily, at her semi-circle of eleven filled boxes waiting for the next step.
The next day, Helyanwë awoke early and returned to her workbench. Placing each box on the table, she opened it and removed the beads. Moving from box to box in sequence, she distributed them so that soon each box had eleven different beads in it. Then, taking her clasps, wire and fastening beads, she began to arrange and assemble them into bracelets. She added spacer beads made from metal and glass when extra length was needed, and carefully attached clasps and fastening rings to each. The design, size and the gemstone color of Fëanáro’s bead was different for each bracelet, so each one was alike, and yet distinct. As she finished one, she placed it into its embroidered pouch put the pouch into the box. Finally she closed the lid of the last box. She was now ready to return them to each person.
She put everything into a crate covering them with a cloth, and she took it with her to dinner that night. After dinner she stood and tapped her goblet requesting attention.
“A short while ago I asked each of you to help me by making eleven beads. You thought you were making some beads, but you were doing much more than that. Each bead was conceived by and made by you alone, and each one holds something of you within it now, forever more.”
She moved to the crate and began passing out the boxes to each person. “Please don’t open them until everyone has received their own box back.”
“Stand up here at the head of the table, Helyanwë,” Fëanáro said, and he moved to her chair a bit down one of the sides.
She nodded and moved to her new place. Looking at Fëanáro, she said, “Tata, we all moved up here with you, without hesitation because we love you and would follow you anywhere. Such is the power of love. Yet, although we have this marvelous time to spend with each other, a time which I look upon as a gift not a punishment, in more normal times we are usually scattered and we are rarely able to gather as we do daily here in Formenos.”
“Open your boxes.” As the elves opened their boxes, she opened hers as well, undoing the brocade pouch and spilling the beaded bracelet across her hand. “What each of you now has in your hands is a piece of your family. When you wear or handle this bracelet, it is a visible and tactile reminder of the love that we hold for each other. No matter what may come in our future, no matter what has happened in our past, we love each other and that gives us strength.”
The others were examining their bracelets carefully. She went on to describe who had made each bead and finally clasped her bracelet around her wrist. “I am surrounded by each of you whenever I wear this bracelet. That was what I wanted so I thank you for helping make my dream become reality.”
The rest of the table burst out in applause and Fëanáro came up to her, pulled her into his arms and, while swinging her around in a joyful circle, said into her ear, “Good job, Little Bird, very well done.” He then went around the table and hugged each of his sons, his grandson and his father. He talked to each person, telling them how much he loved them, and also how humbled he was that they would share his exile with him. The brothers also moved among themselves, clasping each other’s arms and pounding each other’s backs while hugging. It was a veritable love fest and Helyanwë couldn’t stop smiling while watching it unfold in front of her.
Late that night, as she lay in her bed, her hand traced each bead as she fell asleep with a smile on her face. She had a visible reminder of her family’s love to wear and nothing could be better.
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