Chapter 29: Cosmetology
This chapter brings together various drabbles that I couldn't fit elsewhere.
Aesthetics (1)
Every morning, in the light of his small terrace, Ecthelion of the Fountain did his squire's hair in the elven way, before they left for the barracks.
"You have beautiful hair," he said one day, as he braided it. "It's not golden yellow like Glorfindel's, but there's dark gold underneath and cooler strands on top. Also, they make waves when you don't brush them."
"Yet I finds straigth hair more beaut'ful, Milord."
"There is a proverb saying that one often loves one's opposite," Ecthelion said doctorally. "That must also apply to hair."
Salgant
"Milord..." asked Belin. "This elf, why is he not like the others?"
He pointed to Salgant, the Lord of the House of the Harp, a heavy, squat elf with a bilious complexion.
"Oh, he has some kind of disease," Ecthelion replied.
"It is a disease to be ugly, my lord?" inquired Belin.
"If you're an elf, yes."
Cosmetology
"I have something for you," Ecthelion had said a few months earlier.
He handed his squire a brand new toothbrush, carved from acacia wood.
"Thank you, my lord."
The miller's son took the toothbrush, looking quizzical, then looked at the elf lord, searching his face for some indication of the instrument's use.
As a result, he began to brush his eyebrows.
"By Eru! It's not for eyebrows," exclaimed Ecthelion, looking quite serious. "No, for eyebrows, there's the eyebrow comb, the notched scissors, the tweezers with wide or thin tips, and the eyebrow razor."
Belin looked at him incredulously.
"But you don't have to use them. Glorfindel always has his eyebrows perfect, but I hardly ever do mine."
o
Belin soon began to walk with books on his head under the control of Ecthelion, and he became accustomed to going to the baths with his lord.
"An elf should always have clean, well-groomed nails when not in battle," Ecthelion declared solemnly as they enjoyed the hot baths.
Belin looked down at his broad-fingered hands, their flat blackened nails.
"What do I has to do, my lord?"
"You have to brush them with a nail brush, and soap."
"Another brush?"
"Yes, like this. Then you have to file your nails and massage them with oil. You can have it done here at the spa. There are people who specialise in that."
"It's very complicated, sir. Can't I just cut them with scissors?"
"No, they'll have sharp edges. And then you'll cut them too short or not long enough. I will show you how it's done."
o
"Ah..." sighed the king, who had slumped into a small whirlpool bath, which he shared that day with his great constable.
"There's Ecthelion in the big bath, with his squire," Glorfindel remarked.
"Really?"
Turgon stretched his head. The sulphur bath was slightly higher than the main pool, and from where he stood he could see Belin from behind, and Ecthelion in front of him, moving his arms.
"What are they doing?" asked the king.
"I think he's massaging his cuticles," said Glorfindel.
"His WHAT?"
"His cuticles. The little skins on his fingers."
"Phew! I was scared."
"What did you think?"
"Nothing," replied the king. "What did you think I thought?"
"Nothing," replied Glorfindel.
Beauty
"How come your skin is like this, Milord? It is so smooth, like ivory…"
"I don't know. I was born this way," Ecthelion grumbled.
"And your eyes, they look like gems..."
"For heaven'sake, will you never stop? Do you think I did it on purpose, to be the way I am? I just had bad luck, that's all."
"I would like to be like you. At least, the elf-women would like to take me as a husband."
"But you look fine, once you've been washed and combed. You have an inferiority complex, that's all..."
"A what, sir?"
"An inferiority complex. It's when you think you're less than what you really are."
"But even taking what I really am, I'm still inferior, Milord."
"Beauty is subjective."
"What d'you mean?"
"Subjective, that means it depends on the point of view."
Belin scratched his forehead.
"Depending on the person, the criteria for beauty change."
"Criteria?"
"Rules, tastes... People don't have the same tastes."
"Yet everyone thinks you or Princess Idril are the most beaut'ful!"
"That's because their tastes are clichés. They think people should look like goldsmithery. That's typical of the Noldor. The Sindar are not like that."
"But Sindar women think I'm ugly too, sir."
"Most women are idiots."
Aesthetics (2)
The elf and the human raised their forearms and placed them side by side, to compare them. Ecthelion's was white, with fine, sparse black hair. His squire's forearm was more pink and dark, and covered with thick blond hair.
"Mine is thicker and more num'rous," said the human.
"Yes, but that's not bad," said the elf. "Besides, it shines in the sun."