Chapter 34: Fashion
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"Glorfindel... Explain to me why half the elves I've passed in the last week are dressed in some sort of eye-popping reddish-brown?"
"They call it the colour 'flea' majesty. They say it's the latest fashion in Barad-Eithel, ever since Prince Fingon wore an outfit of that colour in a party."
"Why does my brother always have to be connected in some way to every negative event in my life?"
"It's probably coincidence, my king," Penlodh opined reasonably.
"Quickly, soldiers!" Turgon said, imitating Fingon's voice. "Let's go rescue Maedhros who's being demolished by an oar against a white duck prow! Quickly, Father! Let's cross the desert of ice and beat the hell out of the infernal Maedhros who betrayed us! Hurry, Father! Let's buy Turgon a pony so he can ride with me!"
"I think your majesty needs a cup of tea."
Three months later, it was periwinkle blue that was a hit, and hairstyles took a different turn. People now liked to wear their hair loose and straight in the back, with only a thin braid in front of the ear, at the temple.
"Another new fashion..." said Turgon.
"That's right," confirmed Penlodh, who himself wore these braids. "My sister Nieninquë insisted on doing them this morning. And she confided to me that she had heard from her hairdresser that this new way came from the capital, where your brother Fingon, at a banquet, wore these two braids in the front instead of his usual wide braids."
Hildor crossed the courtyard, dressed in periwinkle blue, with two braids in front of his ears.
"It's crazy..." began Turgon. "All it takes is for one prominent person to do something, even something stupid, for all of Beleriand to follow?"
"In the realm of trends, it would seem so."
"And if my brother starts dressing like a Naugrim or shaving his head, will everyone else follow?"
"Possibly so, my king. Remember in Valinor, he was the one who started the fashion for ribbons in the hair."
"What? I thought it had always existed..."
"No, no. It was your brother, Your Majesty."
The following season, Turgon found himself, at the Round Table, suddenly surrounded by noble knights with all their hair pulled back and tied in a tight bun at the top of their necks, sometimes with a pearl brooch attached to the back of their heads, under the bun. Only Glorfindel and Ecthelion had not succumbed to the phenomenon. Ecthelion wore his long hair straight and unbound, with a simple parting to the side (for the simple reason that he did not have a valet to do his hair). Glorfindel always kept his hair loose, proud of its shine and blondness.
"Since when is the all-hair bun a man's hairstyle?" whispered Turgon in Penlodh's now cleared ear.
"It is said to emphasize the beauty and strength of male necks, Majesty... The gold or pearl barrette is supposed to enhance this effect, contrasting with the darker shade of hair. At least that is what Hildor, your minstrel, explained to me."
"Very well. Say no more. It's my brother's idea again, isn't it?"
The steward nodded.
Turgon reached out to flick his hand at his right lock of hair. But his fingers closed on empty space. He realized with terror that his own hair was tied up in a bun.
"What?!"
So, on the eve of the first great winter feast, the sovereign looked in the mirror of his royal dressing table and decided to conduct an experiment, for he was one of those daring Noldors who would stop at nothing. He tried different types of braids, but it all seemed like déjà vu. It was only when he undid the two large, tight braids he had made in front of his ears that he had an epiphany.
When he appeared at the feast, everyone was astonished at the sight of the two large ringlets he wore on his forehead.
"Father, I'm not sure that..." Idril whispered, holding him by the arm.
"Leave it, daughter. I have a right to wear my hair any way I want."
"Um... I think the King had a curling iron incident," Glorfindel remarked to Ecthelion.
"I don't know, I never use them," replied the other.
"Neither do I," said the Lord of the Golden Flower. "But if he had used a curling iron and left it on his locks too long, that's what it might have looked like. That can happen with curl papers too."
Ecthelion glanced suspiciously at the constable's cascade of blond curls.
"What do you think of my hair, Penlodh?" asked the King when he had joined his minister.
"Well... It's um, original," replied the half-Vanya.
He had said the words as one would say condolences.
"Don't tell anyone," murmured the King, "but I'm doing a sort of sociological experiment."
"Ah?" said Penlodh with interest.
"I want to see if I can start a new trend."
A week later, no one was wearing twisted fringes on their foreheads. Nor did they for the next month.
It was time to put an end to the experiment.
"Penlodh, I think we can conclude from this sociological experiment that I am not a trendsetter," King Turgon said.
"I think so too, Your Majesty."
"In reality, it is much more difficult than I had originally assumed."
"Your brother Prince Fingon has always possessed an innate sense of the shifting aesthetics of beings. You are more of an artist of stone and metal."
"Yeah... It's not just that. He's also the crown prince and I've always heard, ever since I was a child, that he was as handsome as my father... that he was perfect in every way. People want to look like the perfect thing."
There was a silence. Penlodh turned slightly towards Turgon and saw that he looked pensive on his throne. He coughed.
"If I may, Majesty..." he then said. "If beauty is judged by criteria of symmetry and straightness of facial features, as well as height... your majesty would certainly prevail over his Excellency Prince Fingon."
"Do you really mean what you say?" gasped Turgon.
"I do. In fact, his Majesty reminds me in many ways of the late King Finwë, when he ruled over our late Tirion."
Turgon turned to him with eyes moist with gratitude.
Penlodh smiled.