Silk Road by Artano  

Silk Road

Finrod walked down the corridor, fingering the raw silk rope looped in his hand. The feel of the soft fibers rubbing against his fingers calmed him with their familiar texture. He had done this dozens of times before, he reminded himself. He had tied this rope around pillows, rocks, columns, almost anything in his quarters that was available. He had practiced until looping and knotting were almost second nature. Nothing had gone wrong in weeks. This would be no different. Except Edrahil would be watching, and he would be tying it on himself for the first time. Edrahil would laugh at him and call him overly cautious for wanting him present just in case something went wrong. If he wasn't too shocked to answer.

The door to Edrahil's quarters looms before him, and Finrod considered one last time if he actually wanted to do this. It was not too late to head back to his room and pretend this had never happened. His thumb brushed over the soft rope in his hand. But he did want to try. And Edrahil was one of his closest friends as well as the captain of his guard. They had known each other for centuries, and Finrod had asked stranger things of him. With that thought, Finrod knocked on the carved wooden door.

He heard the familiar tread inside and a moment later, the door opened. Edrahil took in the rope in his hand and raised an eyebrow. But he merely opened the door wider and said, "Come in, Finrod."

Finrod stepped by him, the last of his nerves easing as he entered the familiar space. Everything here spoke of Edrahil, from the warm greens and golds of the cushions gathered on the couch to the vivid forest landscape painted on an entire wall of the room.

Edrahil closed the door behind Finrod and followed him into the room. His head tilted towards Finrod's hand. "What's the rope for?" he asked, curiosity edging his voice.

"It's a craft I learned about recently," Finrod replied, watching Edrahil's reaction. "I picked it up from the Falathrim on my last visit to Círdan." His lips quirked into a smile. "It seems their fascination with knots and rope extends beyond sailing. They have developed an art of tying decorative patterns around objects." Finrod pulled a stone from his pocket and held it out, displaying a smooth gray rock wrapped in an intricate pattern of delicate rope, with knots spiraling out from the center and holding the cords of the pattern together.

Edrahil examined it, then glanced up at Finrod. "It seems an interesting craft, but you have yet to tell me how this explains why you are here. Do you wish to teach it to me?"

Finrod blinked in surprise. "No, not unless you wanted to learn. I'm here because some Falathrim use the ropes to make designs on people." He pulled out a pair of shears and laid them on a low table. "And it's more dangerous to do it alone in case something goes wrong."

Edrahil raised an eyebrow. "So you want me to make sure things go smoothly while you tie yourself into a work of art?" Humor quirked his lips into a crooked smile. "And here I thought your designs to turn yourself into a walking piece of art had reached their height with the Nauglamír."

Finrod rolls his eyes. "You know that is not my intent; I treasure any gift offered in friendship, all the more if my friends created it themselves. And you say that as if you had not yourself declared it a breath-taking work of art well-suited to your king."

Edrahil smiled at his point. "Be that as it may, if this craft requires the presence of another, is it dangerous?"

"It can be," Finrod replied. "There are some risks to it, but they can be mitigated. Some Falathrim tie ropes to themselves without others present, but I prefer the extra precaution. I have no desire to go out of my way to invite danger."

Edrahil considered him carefully. "Have you been practicing this on more than just that rock? Are you certain you can do this safely, Finrod?"

Finrod nodded. "Yes, I've practiced." He gestures at the shears." And these are for any emergencies. We shouldn't even need them for what I have planned, but the extra safeguard can't hurt."

Finrod could see Edrahil weighing the risks in his mind. He had always been adept at that; it was one of the skills that allowed him to become the captain of his guard. Finally, Edrahil nodded. "Very well. I will trust that you know what you are doing. What is my role in this?"

"I'm planning on making a simple hip wrap," Finrod explained. "My hands will be free the entire time, so I can grab the shears if I need to. But if something seems wrong, check in with me and make sure I'm doing okay."

Edrahil nodded. "Understood."

Finrod turned his attention to the rope and begins folding it in half to create a loop. He focused on straightening it and removing any twists, but he can feel Edrahil watching him. It was distracting; he had not counted on that. He evened the ends out, then looked up at Edrahil. "I can't concentrate as well when you're just standing there. Is there anything you could do, so it doesn't feel like you're watching me the entire time? Something that wouldn't be a distraction to keeping an eye on things?"

Edrahil glanced around the room, assessing his options. Reviewing forms would divide his attention too much. As would painting. Even mixing paints would take his eyes away from his friend more often than he would like. "Most things I could do would require me to watch them instead of you."

"Hmm." Finrod glanced at the rope in his hands, then back at Edrahil. "What if you help me with this? It would give you something to do, but something that would help you make sure everything is going well."

Edrahil raised an eyebrow. "I haven't practiced this skill like you have, Finrod."

"You would mostly be holding the rope in place while I do the wrapping and tying. I could do this alone, but there are some places where two sets of hands might be helpful."

Edrahil hesitated, then walked towards him. "Are you sure this is safe?"

Finrod nodded. "Yes. I'll control all the tension and knotting; you won't need to worry about that. And you'll be able to keep a closer eye on me."

"Very well. What do you want me to do first?"

Finrod gestured beside him as he finished doubling the rope. "Stand beside me." Then he passed the loop at the end of the rope to Edrahil. "Now just hold it here, at my hip."

Finrod felt Edrahil's hand settle in place, and he grabbed the rest of the rope, wrapping it around his leg. He smoothed the fabric of his pants, making sure it wasn't bunched under the rope, then brought the rope to the front again. "Now I'm going to add the tension to help it stay in place; just keep holding the loop where it is at."

Finrod gradually pulled the rope tighter until gentle pressure spread across his leg where the rope sat. "This is about how much pressure I'm going to add," he explained. "See how it is enough to hold the rope in place but not enough to cut off blood flow?"

Edrahil nodded, and Finrod let the rope go slack. He then gestured near his other hip. "Pull the loop over here; this is where it will anchor the wrap."

The rope slid smoothly over his leg as Edrahil pulled it into position, and Finrod passed the rope he held under the other before wrapping it around his body to meet Edrahil at the back. "Pass the rope I'm holding through the loop, then hand it back to me," he instructed. Edrahil did so, and Finrod began adding the tension again. He ran the rope back the way it had come, holding the tension in it as he began weaving the design. Finrod fell into a rhythm of wrap, pass to Edrahil to weave, and wrap again, his voice softly directing the flow of the rope through his and Edrahil's hands. His friend's presence and sure touch as he followed Finrod's directions steadied him, and Finrod relaxed into the flow of the wrapping and weaving at the surety of the safety he provided.

The rope pressed against Finrod, allowing him to move but maintaining its firm hug around his leg and hips, the embrace increasing as he and Edrahil added layers to the wrap. The rope danced back and forth between their hands, weaving in a simple yet elegant pattern around Finrod. He relaxed into its hold, watching the design unfold. When it was finished, Edrahil tied the tail of the rope off at his back.

Finrod stared down at the graceful weave at his hip, the pale silk rope gleaming against deep blue fabric like a path of pearls winding away over dark seas. He smiled. With Edrahil's help, it had turned out even better than he had imagined.