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Chapter Text

'It's true we don't see many mother-names. In fact, they are so little used in the later ages that their existence has almost become a legend.'

'Legend, you say?'

The dwarf turned around, looking up from a scroll of scribbled-up scripts, an empty mug of beer in hand, 'There are surely many interesting names in legend. See here on the account of Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears: Many songs are yet sung and many tales are yet told by the Elves of this battle, in which Fingon fell and the flower of the Eldar withered.'

'What of it? King Fingon is the eldest of King Fingolfin, one of the leaders of the exiled Noldor. Some mortal man named Dírhavel wrote down this tale, if I remember correctly.'

'Then there must be something weird about his word choice. I wonder if edhellos, 'flower of the Eldar', is another name of the High King? It is nowhere else mentioned.'

'Well,' the elf sighed. A full glass of wine was placed once again on the table. 'Elven names are given after many traditions. As far as I know, there appears to be someone with the equivalent Quenya name Eldalótë recorded in the genealogies, but as the spouse of Lord Angrod. And Angrod is a Prince of Dorthonion, son of...'

'I know who Angrod is, thanks. Is this genealogy available?'

'I’m afraid not. I'm merely a library assistant. Lord Celebrimbor once asked my mentor to sort out his family records, and that was the only time I saw this name. I do not know personally those lords and ladies from the First Age, because that was before I was born. I was merely looking for mother-names as part of my research.'

'Why mother-names? Are they special?'

'Don't you know that Lord Celebrimbor is a decedent of the great smith Fëanor?'

'Of course I do.'

'Then you must know the seven sons of Fëanor.'

'Sure as steel. Our ancestors had great friendship with Lord Curufin, his most beloved son, so have I heard.'

'It is said that the seven sons, just like their father, were known for their mother-names. I wonder if this tradition was kept when our lord earned his fame.'

The dwarf dropped the scroll onto table, voice raised. 'You speak the untrue. Lord Curufin was proud to take his father's name, the name that was given to his father by his grandfather.'

'All right, that was quite an exception in their house, but not in other royal houses.'

'So, they certainly had mother-names, if your lore about the Noldor is true.'

'They are as true as your lore of stone and metal. Names are so important to the Noldor that they even invented a naming session. It was known by many, so have I read.'

'Presumably,' the dwarf proposed, 'the mortal man who wrote this legend knew much about kings and lords and elvish traditions, then how could he have confused the King of Noldor with the spouse of another lord? Do your people use gender specific names?'

'Only in recent times, I suppose.' the elf was silent with thought for a long moment, then continued, 'I read in old records that our ancestors use -wë for male names and -iel for female names, although I found Elenwë to be a lady and Ingwiel a lord.'

'Perhaps at that time it was not differentiated at all. I mean, look at our people,' the dwarf laughed, 'Can you tell if I am a male or a female?'

'I would rather talk about various names, thank you.'

'But if your King Fingon were a lady, all the mystery here would be solved!'

The elf was so shocked to say anything until the dwarf finished another mug of beer. 'Weird is the thought of a dwarf! How can a king be a lady?'

'Well, nobody said the ruler must be male. I read somewhere that the elder leader should get the title, so it's entirely reasonable. Our ancestors hailed Durin a King because he woke up first, perhaps the same thing happened in your history? And a female leader was announced in Númenor a couple of years ago. I mean, in real and in fashion.'

'You are correct that the eldest were revered as leader. But for the Númenóreans, they called her a Ruling Queen.' The elf was indignant, 'Queen and King are paired rulers, similar to Lady and Lord. The philological....'

'Fine, fine. I was joking.' The dwarf again laughed, 'I am thinking about mother-names, as you previously suggested.'

'And what is your thought?' After a long while, the elf couldn't help but ask.

'My thought? Eldalótë must be the High King's mother-name!'

'You cannot convince me of that.' The elf sat in a chair, frustrated, 'Many records of the First Age are in contradiction with each other, but none suggested our High King had used another name, let alone shared the name with another elf.'

'You know,' The dwarf stepped up and handed a mug of beer to the elf, who eventually accepted the offer, 'I was not familiar with ancient traditions of your people about names and words; but from my perspective, a name can be used and reused, a king can be reborn into another, and male and female can have similar appearances. To be honest, elves do look the same without the beard.'

'Identical names are always avoided in close families. I know a few exceptions, but this is not one of them.'

The dwarf smothered a laugh, 'Then are you suggesting they are actually the same person?'

'Absolutely not....'

The voice of the elf trailed off.

'Did you remember anything that supports my theory?'

'Nay. Rather that I recalled a peculiar thing in the records I once helped collect. Tell me,' the elf paused until the dwarf put down yet another mug, 'what do you know about the hair colour of High King Gil-galad? What is the colour of his hair in your account?'

'Silver as moon shining on steel, of course!'

'See,' the elf sighed, 'The genealogies placed him under High King Fingon, who was renowned for his beautiful dark hair, as well as his brother and sister. In consequence, our High King should have similar hair colour.'

'Tales and legends may be a mountain away from the truth.'

'Exactly. But in fact this is even more complicated, because I actually met the High King when we were asked to escort a large number of scrolls from Lindon to Eregion. Apparently, he is blond, at least dark blond.'

'So you mean....' this time the voice of the dwarf trailed off.

'I hate to admit,' the elf sighed again, 'but the genealogies may contain obscure parts. Golden hair does occur in another royal bloodline, in the Golden House of Finarfin.'

'Wait,' the eyes of the dwarf widened, 'Could this mean that the High King you met is in fact from the House of Finarfin?'

The elf stared at the dwarf. A bird sang in the distance, and no words were spoken before that melodious song ceased.

'Okay, suppose your theory were plausible.' The elf finally murmured, 'Then whose son is he? Have you considered anything further than that?'

'I have!'

'Speak it!'

'All right. Based on the theory strange to your pointy ears, I warn you!'

The dwarf rumbled something dwarvish, then spoke plainly, 'If my Eldalótë theory were true, she was hailed to be the High King and married Lord Angrod, so their son is the son of Fingon and from the House of Finarfin at the same time! Is there any record on the name of King Fingon's spouse?'

'....None.'

'You see, it is entirely plausible.'

'I see. You are completely drunk.'