Fëanor was with his brothers, trying to give them moral support as Anairë and Eärwen were both in labor. He had brought a bottle of wine, and Fingolfin and Finarfin were both pretty well into their cups. Fëanor, of course, had no filter even when sober, but the alcohol was getting to him and giving him unprecedented boldness.
"It's no wonder our esteemed father has so many issues," Fëanor mused aloud, voice dripping with sarcasm at the word "esteemed". "His name literally means The Guy With The Hair. A name like that guarantees he'd be full of himself."
Fingolfin snorted. Then he said, "In fairness, we all have nice hair."
"Oh yes." Fëanor twined a strand of Finarfin's hair around his fingers, admiring the way it shifted silver and gold as it caught the light. Someday that glorious hair is going to inspire my greatest work. He didn't know quite what, but he needed a fitting tribute to his magnificent obsession. In the meantime...
"You're not necessarily guaranteeing your sons won't have the same problem, you know." Finarfin raised an eyebrow. "Third Hair? Really."
Fëanor shrugged. Then he looked each of his brothers in the eye, challenging them. "Can you do better?"
Fingolfin put out his cup. "Hit me."
Fëanor punched Fingolfin's arm. Fingolfin gave him an obscene hand gesture, and Fëanor chuckled and poured Fingolfin more wine. Finarfin held out his cup and Fëanor poured more for him too. Fëanor thought they'd already had more than enough, but then, he remembered the way he'd panicked when Nerdanel went into labor - worried she would die the way his mother had - so he couldn't blame them for getting like this during this trying time.
"Whatever you decide on, has to stick," Fëanor warned them. "No takebacks."
Fingolfin nodded. He nursed his wine, looking thoughtful, and at last he said, "My son will be... Hair Commander."
Fëanor almost spat his own wine. He doubled over, tears in his eyes. "That's... that's a name."
Fingolfin looked smug as he downed the rest of his cup.
Finarfin just sipped his wine - Fëanor recognized that look; Finarfin was up to something - and at last Finarfin said, "I can do one better."
"No you can't," Fingolfin said.
Finarfin nodded. "Hair Champion."
_
After learning that Findekáno translates as "Hair Commander" and Findaráto translates as "Hair Champion", I wondered how high Fingolfin and Finarfin had to be to name their sons that and decided the answer was "too damn". The seed of this story was thus planted in my brain, but it took me years to get around to it.
(And yes, I realize there's an argument to be made that Finwë and his sons could have gotten the name from finca "clever" but I prefer the hair version better. :P)
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