Beta reader: Dragonfly the Dauntless
Starlit Hope: Hmm. I'll have to see if there is a way to allow Aragorn to mention it. I can just see Gandalf hissing, "Shut up, Aragorn. Shut up!" And the Hobbits' eyes getting bigger and bigger! Oh, dear, this is going to be irresistible. Yes! Aragorn offering to tell the Hobbits a story to cheer their spirits in Moria!
Silent Banshee: Wait until you see what I am going to do to Gandalf in the third chapter of "The Clearing"!
Karri: True. Edwen Nana is starting to turn into a character in her own right.
Melissa: Yes, poor Aragorn thought he was getting an eyeful, didn't he.
Farflung: Uh oh, you're making odd noises again. I hope I'm not responsible for someday getting you hauled off in a white weskit. Thank you for your comments about Edwen Nana. As I was just saying to Karri, she seems to have developed as a character. Has your daughter's graduation party come off yet, or are you still preparing? My daughter is starting ninth grade in the fall. Suddenly my child's impending adulthood does not seem so far in the future. Sigh. Scurries back to the refuge she has created in Arda.
Dragonfly: I've got to confess that I, too, would go for the scruffy Ranger over the carefully coiffed King. On the other hand, if someone were to so much as disturb a hair of Legolas' head…. Go figure.
Joee: You're right. No one is safe from Edwen Nana. I think I'm going to pour over pictures of Elrond until I find one in which a garment is askew. Then I am going to unleash the nursemaid on him. Can you imagine him desperately scurrying through the gardens of Rivendell, looking for a badger hole to crawl into?
Chapter 3: Clothes Make the Man
Edwen Nana's campaign for cleanliness faced few targets as challenging as Aragorn son of Arathorn. The nursemaid went on high alert the moment she met little Estel, and she did not stand down until years later when he was appropriately garbed and coiffed as Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor. Indeed, even after he assumed the robes of a king, she would still periodically insist on checking his nails and rummaging through his wardrobe. This she did with both the knowledge and connivance of his Queen, Arwen Evenstar, who, although she loved Aragorn enough to forfeit her immortal life, had been heard to exclaim in exasperation that his cheeks could have been used to sand wood. Presumably she was referring to his face.
For obvious reasons, when Aragorn was little, he stood a much better chance of evading Edwen Nana than he did as a King. Young Estel hid under tables, behind tapestries, and inside wardrobes. Sometimes these attempts at avoiding the nursemaid's attentions backfired. On one memorable occasion, Estel became wedged in a tunnel in the dungeon and had to be dug out by Dwarves. On other occasions, though, he was able to postpone for hours—even days—the moment of reckoning. As King, however, he no longer had the option of secreting himself in an odd corner. He had duties that required his attention. Besides, he was too large.
It was thus with a mixture of pleasure and trepidation that Aragorn welcomed Edwen Nana on one of her visits to Minas Tirith. She came in the company of Legolas and Gimli, who were on their way to Ithilien after a brief stay in Mirkwood to reassure Thranduil that his son had indeed come through the War unscathed. Gimli looked very presentable, which meant that Edwen Nana had already gone after him. The Dwarf's nails were clean, his hair smooth, his beard carefully braided. Even his eyebrows had been trimmed! Still, in spite of the effort that must have gone into tidying up Gimli, it was immediately apparent to Aragorn that Edwen Nana had plenty of energy left to expend upon him. She surveyed him up and down and frowned.
"Estel"—to Edwen Nana he would always be 'Estel', just as Legolas was always 'Laiqua'—"Estel, that cuff is rather frayed."
"I was telling him that this morning," said Arwen eagerly, "but he says that the blouse is so comfortable that he cannot bear to part with it."
"Tunic," corrected Aragorn. "It is a tunic."
Edwen Nana and Arwen ignored him. They did not understand why Men objected to describing a Man's upper garment as a 'blouse'. It was a perfectly good word that had been used in that fashion for centuries, and it was only within the last decade or so that Men had begun to object to the word when it was applied to a garment that they might wear. Arwen had also noticed that Aragorn was beginning to get a little 'tetchy' on the subject of his nightdress. "Can't you call it at 'nightshirt'," he would beg, "or at least a 'nightgown'? Anything but a nightdress, please!" The Valar be thanked that Mithrandir seemed to have no such scruples about wearing dresses and gowns, day or night—aye, and calling them that, as well! At least one member of the Fellowship had some sense. For now, though, Edwen Nana concentrated on the matter of the frayed cuff.
"Arwen, my dear, if Estel is so set on continuing to wear that blouse, I shall show you how to make over the cuffs. Why, Laiqua has some blouses that he has been wearing for decades. Nothing is left of the original cuffs or collars, to be sure, but the main body of the garment will remain serviceable much longer than those portions. Of course, Laiqua has never been as hard on his clothes as Estel."
"True," agreed Arwen. "Legolas can slay one hundred Orcs before he need change to fresh garments. With Aragorn, after ten Orcs, his clothes are ruined. I don't think he always remembers to fasten his armor, but he insists that he does."
Edwen Nana shook her head, clucking her tongue.
"Of course," she pointed out, "we must allow that Estel is a little more likely to be in close combat than Laiqua is. Laiqua's preferred weapon is the bow, and that puts some distance between him and the blood and the muck."
"Yes," agreed Arwen, "but even when Aragorn uses his bow, he gets dirtier than Legolas, and when Legolas goes into battle wielding his two blades, he comes out cleaner than any of his companions."
Aragorn was standing by impatiently as the ladies discussed his clothes and appearance.
"Your pardon," he said at last, "but today I had planned to inspect the outlying fortifications. You will excuse me. I needs must change my garments."
If Edwen Nana had been animated before, now she was doubly so.
"Arwen, I should o'erlook his clothes, should I not?"
"Oh, yes," said Arwen enthusiastically. "Please do."
With a great effort, Aragorn kept himself from groaning. At least there was a screen in his chamber, he thought. Maybe he could convince Edwen Nana to stand on the far side of the screen while he dressed. He wasn't too optimistic on that score, however.
To his relief, Edwen Nana did stay on the far side of the screen, but only because she became engrossed in rummaging through his wardrobe.
"Estel, these leggings are out at the seat. Not even the most talented seamstress could make them over."
Aragorn peeked around the corner of the screen.
"But, Nana, I wore those leggings on the Paths of the Dead!"
"And that is where they belong! You should have left them there!"
"I couldn't very well have fought on the Field of Pelennor bare-legged! The Orcs would have died laughing."
"Would have saved you quite a lot of trouble if they had done so. Aye, and 'twould have been a happy end for the Orcs, too!"
"Nana!"
"Why ever are you holding on to this old grey cloak? It is very badly stained."
"Nana, that's my Lórien cloak! Galadriel gave it me! Her maidens wove the cloth with their own hands."
"Well, I didn't expect that they'd use their feet!" the nursemaid replied tartly. "What about this cloak then?"
"I was wearing that when I first met the Ring-bearer. It has sentimental value."
"That's the only value it has!" snorted Edwen Nana. "Ah, now here's something like!"
Smiling with approval, she held up a sleeveless, knee-length surcoat. It was steel gray, with embroidery about the neck placket. "Simple and understated, but elegant for that very reason."
"Yes, I wore that to the Council of Elrond. Didn't impress Boromir, though," Aragorn added thoughtfully. Nothing impressed Boromir. No, not until the end, when it was too late for impressions to mean anything anyway.
Suddenly Aragorn realized that Edwen Nana was holding up Boromir's vambraces, peering at them doubtfully.
"Nana," he cried, leaping from behind the screen—without his leggings, it may be noted—"those are very special to me! Pray leave them be!"
Moved by the intensity in Aragorn's voice, Edwen Nana carefully set them aside.
"I have never seen you wear them," she observed.
"No, not since the battle before the Gates of Mordor. But they are to be preserved as heirlooms. So, too, I have preserved the Orc-rags worn by Samwise and Frodo in that land. Not all clothes are for wearing, Nana. Some are for memory."
"True," said Edwen Nana softly. "I still preserve the tunic Laiqua was wearing the day he was taken from me and carried away to the Great Hall. That brute of a captain had cast it aside upon the trail, and it had been trampled by many riders, but I had followed after and retrieved it. I washed it and mended it and have kept it ever since."
Aragorn smiled gently at her. For all her brusqueness, her heart was filled with nothing but love.
"Does Legolas know this?"
"Oh, no. I am sure he has forgotten all about that tunic."
"No, he has not, Nana. You may be certain of that. One day as we were changing, he looked at the cloth of his tunic and said, 'This is very fine stuff, but it will never be as dear to me as the tunics that my nursemaid sewed for me when I was a little elfling. She used to embroider them with the animals that most delighted me. I remember one in particular, the tunic she embroidered for me to wear to the Great Hall. It was taken away from me, and to me that was a great grief, second only to the loss of Edwen Nana herself'."
Edwen Nana rubbed her eyes, muttering about the dust that accumulated upon the clutter in Aragorn's wardrobe. Then she resumed rummaging about, finding a few oddments that she could discard without any objections from Aragorn. Aragorn, meanwhile, relieved that she had not commented upon his bare legs, slipped back behind the screen and finished dressing. When he came out again, she cast a critical eye upon him.
"Estel, tighten your girdle. 'Tis slipping."
"Um, Edwen Nana, I don't wear a girdle."
"Of course you do! There 'tis around your middle!"
"That's not a girdle; that's a belt."
"Girdle or belt, it needs to be tightened!"
Obediently, Aragorn adjusted his girdle, or what have you. Edwen Nana turned her attention to his legs.
"Estel, straighten your hose. 'Tis crooked."
"I don't wear hose, Edwen Nana."
"Stuff and nonsense! I can see very well that your feet are clad in hose!"
"Not hose," repeated Aragorn stubbornly.
"Stockings, then!"
"Not stockings neither!"
"What then?"
"Um—socks."
"Socks. Socks! SOCKS! What sort of barbarian word is that!?"
"It's a Mannish word, and I am, in fact, a Man, Edwen Nana."
"Yes, and I've never held that against you, Estel, but in the past you have always done your best to overcome that unfortunate circumstance. Now you seem to be embracing that aspect of your background rather than seeking to surmount it."
"Well," said Aragorn defensively, "I did resist the lure of the One Ring."
"And that's another thing, Estel. Just because you were put off by one ring, that doesn't mean all rings are bad. A little bodily adornment would help dress you up quite a bit. Oh, I know that you wear Arwen's pendant, but you needn't confine yourself to that one item of jewelry. Why don't you wear the ring of Barahir more often? That star of Elendil, the Elendilmir I think they call it, is also a very striking ornament. I know that you say that it is for ceremonial occasions, but as you are King, are not all occasions ceremonial to a degree? You have noticed, haven't you, that Laiqua, who is, after all, the Prince of Greenwood and Lord of Ithilien, has taken to wearing several rings. And have you noticed his necklaces? They make him look quite dashing—not that he needed much help in that department, mind you!"
"Chains," said Aragorn desperately. "Not necklaces—chains! Legolas-does-not-wear-necklaces!"
Ignoring him, Edwen Nana rattled on.
"And Mithrandir, who looks so elegant now that he wears that white robe—although I wish he had let me do the embroidery—have you noticed his fetching earring? Pity he won't wear a pair of them, though—he has just the one. In his left ear, was it? Or was it the right? I can't quite remember."
"Left," said Aragorn distractedly, rubbing one foot over the other.
"Estel," chided Edwen Nana, "you will scuff your slippers if you keep that up."
"I don't wear 'slippers'," Nana," Aragorn protested. "At least not outside my bedchamber."
Edwen Nana rolled her eyes.
"Next you'll be saying you don't wear gowns and robes outside your bedchamber, neither."
"I prefer not to," avowed Aragorn. "I know Elrond always looks elegant in his gowns, but mine have never suited me. I don't have the figure for it. And only Mithrandir can pull off wearing his robe as he does."
"Oh, put on your cloak," exclaimed Edwen Nana in exasperation.
"I don't wear a cloak anymore," said Aragorn.
"Your cape, then!"
"Don't wear one of those, neither."
"Then what do you wear to protect yourself from the elements!?"
"A poncho."
"A what?"
"A poncho. They're very manly."
"Manly! Is that all you can think about—being manly?"
"It is necessary. Mithrandir says that I must be a Man's Man!"
"That's an odd turn of phrase. I don't think it would have mattered before if you were a Man's Man, but under the current circumstances, would it not make more sense for you to be a Woman's Man? You are planning to sire an heir, are you not?"
"Oh, yes, of course."
Aragorn felt a little bewildered. Why had Gandalf urged him to be a Man's Man?
"Well," Edwen Nana was saying briskly, "since the subject has come up, let us have a little chat about the eagles and the moths."
"Um, Edwen Nana, Mithrandir and I have already had a little chat about that."
"Mithrandir! Why, that old wizard doesn't know his staff from a hole in—from a hole," Edwen Nana finished lamely.
Aragorn seized the advantage.
"I understand you know all about his staff, Edwen Nana!"
"I do know Mithrandir well," admitted Edwen Nana.
"Very well."
"Fine. I admit it. I know him very well. But of course," she added triumphantly, "that means I am therefore superbly qualified to give you some advice about eagles and moths!"
"Perhaps not," argued Aragorn. "Mithrandir is a wizard; I am a Man. Perchance we are not entirely alike."
"I bathed you when you were a child," Edwen Nana reminded him. "Aye, and I have bathed you more recently"—Aragorn did not like being reminded of that—"Believe me, you and Mithrandir have the same parts. Same shape; roughly the same size."
Aragorn was instantly curious. Roughly the same size? Who had the advantage?
"Um, Edwen Nana," he began cautiously, "as a seamstress, you are forever estimating the size of people in order to fit them."
"Ye-es," answered Edwen Nana, wondering at the sudden change of subject.
"You would not wish to sew a garment that is too small or too large."
"True, I would not. Although, if I do err, better to do so on the side of large rather than small."
"Exactly! When you sew leggings, you must accommodate, um, protuberances that may vary in size from one Man or Elf to the next, taking into account, too, that the protuberance in even one individual is itself liable to vary in size from time to time."
"True." Edwen Nana was smiling now. She thought she knew where these questions tended.
"Of course," she went on "when I am measuring Men or Elves or Dwarves for leggings, I am fitting them for daytime wear, so I am not overmuch concerned with those temporary size fluctuations. Besides, leggings can always be dispensed with if they become uncomfortably tight at a particular moment. In fact," she teased, "if I rightly recall the traditions relating to the subject, that is the recommended procedure when one is faced with such an exigency: 'Untie laces, pull down leggings, and discard. If you are traveling with a maiden, tend to your leggings first, then assist the maiden with her garments. If you are unable to follow these emergency instructions, please inform your captain, who will move you to another horse'. Yes, something along those lines, I believe."
"So," Edwen Nana continued, "when I am measuring someone, I do not usually pay much attention to the protuberance, and it generally stays out of the way during the fitting process. Of course," she ruminated, "Laiqua is so very sensitive on the inside of his thighs, that when I run a string up his leg—"
"That's alright, Nana," Aragorn hastily interrupted. "I don't need to know about that!"
"Oh, but it is funny. Laiqua blushes so when that happens! I do not know how he will ever manage to undress in front of an elleth. Hasn't Celaimîr been trying for centuries to maneuver him into the bush? So far all she has to show for it are some scratches on her arse—and she tells me they are from thorns and not from Laiqua's fingers!"
"Edwen Nana!"
"Well, whatever is the matter!? Mithrandir and Elrond, you should know, hope that you are spending adequate time in the bush with Arwen. Aye, and Celeborn and Galadriel as well. They all of them hope you will use your time better than Laiqua has! And I am sure Arwen would rather be pricked by—"
"NANA!"
"Oh, very well," said Edwen Nana, reluctantly leaving off a subject that she found immensely interesting, not to mention amusing. "What is it you wish to ask me? Come. Enough beating around the bush."
"Nana!"
"My pardon. I meant no pun."
"Well," said Aragorn. "You have measured me for leggings; you have measured Mithrandir for leggings. Have you noticed anything, well, in terms of size? Ah, I was wondering if, um—"
"Oh, you are roughly the same size, if that's what you want to know—at least proportionately, that is."
"Proportionately?"
"You're a little taller and a little heavier, and those differences are reflected in the part that concerns you so. Of course," she mused, "that particular size doesn't matter."
"What!?"
"Oh, as an ordinary, everyday matter, 'tis a pitiful object when it just dangles there. Have you any idea how silly you males look most of the time? That's why clothes were invented, don't you know?"
"Clothes were invented to protect us from the elements," Aragorn declared indignantly.
"Oh, no, that wasn't the reason at all! It was because the females couldn't leave off laughing at the males."
"Oh," said Aragorn, crestfallen in the extreme.
Edwen Nana perceived an opening and went on the attack.
"That is why," she lectured Aragorn, "you must pay careful attention to how you dress. For your apparel is the tool with which you must compensate for your tool, if you catch my meaning."
"Is a large sword of any use?" asked Aragorn hopefully.
"Depends upon how you wield it," Edwen Nana replied. "However, you can't always be waving your sword about, can you? No, in most cases it is clothes that make the Man."
Aragorn grew very thoughtful after this conversation, and it is said that from this time forward the King of Gondor became much more conscious of his appearance, taking pains to wear clothes that were in repair and well-matched. In this, he would, of course, never be the equal of Legolas, for that Elf had been 'born with his hair braided', as the saying goes. Still, Arwen much appreciated the change, and mayhap it was not entirely coincidental that shortly after Edwen Nana's lecture, Arwen found herself to be carrying the future heir to the combined Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor. Yes, indeed, clothes do make the Man—although it is not always necessary to be wearing them!