1 –Rhyme of the Finwion
Thingol muddles the Noldor lords' disturbingly similar names. Diplomatic ruin? Not with Círdan to the rescue!
"I did it again. It is nauseating." Thingol rubbed his brow. "I sent my good wishes to Fingon on the birth of his son."
"Quite gracious of you!" said Círdan. "But does politeness always cause you nausea?"
"No. It is because in the message I named Fingon Finrod."
"That is not the worst. Fingolfin, Finarfin. Which is husband to Eärwen my niece?"
"The latter, I believe."
Thingol waved his hand. "And once I summoned Aegnor and Angrod and named them Amras and Amrod."
"It's their names. So many and so alike! It gives me a headache."
"If you'd only get out more often… but I know you won't… Actually, I have an idea."
Círdan left him.
And three hours later he returned, his silver hair frizzled and his fingers stained black.
"Rhymes fasten to the mind, yes? Well then, here's the solution to your problem." Círdan pulled out a slip of paper, cleared his throat and began.
These are the sons of Finwë:
Who was a great king-y
(To rhyme with Finwë)
Fëanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin
(The Ar that married Eärwen).
Fëanor's sons are seven:
A bothersome brethren
Two are the M, three are the C,
And two are the A.
Of the A's (they say)
Fingolfin's sons are two:
Fingon, brash and blue
(Not in skin but in emblem)
Turgon, cloistered and can-do
(There's spatty Aredhel too)
To them, be Gon
Finarfin's sons are four:
Finrod, Orodreth, Angrod, Aegnor,
And Artanis, the daughter
(She listens at the door)
Rods they do not abhor
(Save poor Aegnor).
And that is the house of Finwë
The sons are far too many
So if still you can't recall,
Don't be cross
Círdan looked up.
The king's head rested on his fist.
"That was awful."
"Sorry." Círdan dropped the paper on Thingol's knee and went to lunch.
Thingol waited till the Lord of the Falas had shut the door. He took up the paper and began to study.
These are the sons of Finwë…