Beyond Canon
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“There are a number of cultural differences here. The men cover their heads when they are out of doors,” explained Elodien, fanning her camel. “If you don’t want to wear a hood or some other head covering, that is alright with them as you are outsiders, but they do think it strange. Women are much admired for their hair, and they leave it long and unbraided, to attract a mate or to show what care it is given.”

“I’ve never seen any of them do anything with it but the young ones,” spoke Erestor. “When we were at the falls with our mounts, many of the maidens brushed each others’ hair while the married women were washing clothes.”

Elodien nodded. “To attract the attention of the young men as they pass by. To show that they are social and would be good to the mother or sisters of the prospective husband, and to show their kindness to others. When a girl marries, it is her husband’s duty to brush her hair and keep it looking nice so that when she goes to do wash or to the market she is as beautiful as the maidens are. Rarely will you see any female with her hair covered.”

“What of the young woman we saw by the water who sat alone?” asked Glorfindel. “She was not married, for she was not washing as the others and I thought I saw her mother in among the women.”

“That is Onaria,” Elodien said sadly. “Her tale is a sad one. She took ill as a child and does not have the beautiful locks of her peers or even her younger sisters. Stringy brown patches were all that would grow, and she finally took to veiling herself. Her father has taken her to other tribes, but there are none who know of a cure for it. For some time she had a wig of horsehair, but it was coarse and she soon returned to wearing the veil.”

“The solution is simple,” shrugged Glorfindel. “There are wigs in Rohan that one could buy.”

“The solution is not that simple,” replied Elodien, “for the journey there is long, and the cost more than even the entire tribe might have as a whole. They are simple folk, and they have been hurting especially after the Great War of the Ring.” Standing, she tapped her camel on the back and he began to rise. “I fear to tell you that her tale does not end there,” she added, seeing the sadness in the eyes of both elves. “There is a man who has fallen in love with her, but his father forbids him to marry her, for though betrothal gifts are sometimes given by the parents of the bride in the form of a dowry, it is the parents of the groom who give the parents of the bride a gift. The family is poor, and has three sons- it’s all very complex, but suffice to say, there is yet no wedding date and no betrothal.”

“I can only imagine from the tone of your voice that there is yet something worse,” prodded Glorfindel.

Elodien sighed. “Marriage of daughters happens successively. Until she has married, her sisters may not.” She smiled wryly. “I apologize, I did mean for my visit to be more pleasant than that, but I have an appointment with a shepherd who is to tell me the history of the bank tribes from the south river, and I do not wish to be late.”

“Of course not,” said Erestor, and he was silent then as the flap of the tent fell down again, leaving the two elves, their camels, and the goat they had with them alone for the time.

“I wonder if I could help somehow. Damn, I wish my hair were longer,” Glorfindel cursed, but then he gave a sigh. “I suppose it would be much too out of place. Everyone here is darker, and I’ve yet to see a single fair-haired Southron. No need to make her any more different than she is,” finished Glorfindel. He glanced at Erestor, who had a distant look upon his face. “Erestor?”

Without shifting his look from the door of the tent, Erestor asked, “Do you think they might have someone who actually knew how to make a wig, a good one that would last a long time?” Lifting up the ends of his sable hair, he muttered, “The ends look bad, though, they’ve not seen a decent trim in a while.”

“You? Cut your hair?” Glorfindel couldn’t help but laugh at the prospect when he realized was Erestor was talking about. “Somehow, I doubt that will happen.”

Nervously, Erestor twirled the strands between his fingers. “It still grows back, right?”

Moving so that he was beside his companion, Glorfindel lifted his hand up and drew his fingers through the soft ebony tresses. “I am sure that your generosity would be appreciated, but do not do this in haste. The last time you cut your hair, you bemoaned your decision long afterwards.”

Erestor smirked. “I’ve been so vain about it, though truly it was mine to be vain about. But it tears at my heart to know that one so young, whose life will be so short, does not have the chance the others do for lack of something I could so easily and painlessly give her. Besides, it will grow back.”

Glorfindel’s opposite hand stroked Erestor’s cheek and turned his head to face him. “You darling thing, you make it so simple.”

“Actually, I’m having second and third thoughts, and if you really wanted to I’d let you talk me out of it,” admitted Erestor. “I’m actually quite nauseous now, thinking of it.”

“Do you want me to talk you into this or out of this?” whispered Glorfindel.

Erestor rubbed his jaw. “Just to satisfy my curiosity, would you find out if there is anyone to do it?” Standing silently, Glorfindel left the tent. It was nearly an hour before he returned – more than enough time for Erestor to talk himself out of and into his idea multiple times. “Nobody, right?”

“Actually, there appear to be two people who would be qualified to, and after giving them a hypothetical situation, well... they’re fairly excited about the prospect to say the least,” Glorfindel said apologetically. “Sorry.” Sitting down beside Erestor and looking longingly at the glossy mane that trailed across the throws on the ground, he asked, “Which way did you make up your mind?”

“I don’t know. That is, I can’t remember which way I was leaning. I began to assume it was a moot point when you didn’t return right away,” he said. He bit his lip and looked at Glorfindel. “I think I’d talked myself out of it, but now-“

The flap of the tent rose up and Elodien stuck her head in. She was a little out of breath and had a guilty look on her face. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” she began, but Erestor smiled and shook his head.

“No. You haven’t caused any trouble, if anything, you’ve done a part in helping to unite a pair of lovers who deserve at least a chance to be together,” reasoned Erestor. “There is no need for an apology.”

Elodien tilted her head back and forth, contemplating this. “Well, it’s really, really good of you to do this, then. I was just speaking with Sconha, he told me of your intentions. He and Lanoi plan to start tonight and work on it together to have it done in time for her birthday next week. Well, I have to get back to the camels,” she said, but she stepped forward and kissed Erestor’s cheek. “Glorfindel’s right; you are a very special sort of elf,” she said as she left the tent.
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