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Chapter Text

One:

Feanor had a new baby brother.
He was called Fingolfin. He was pink, squishy and wrinkly.
Feanor was not impressed. He would have much rather had a puppy. Or a kitten.
Now the baby was three weeks old. He did not do much. He cried, and drank milk.
Feanor was sitting on a settee in the parlour. It was cold outside and raining too. Feanor watched the raindrops racing each other down the window. Then he turned his attention towards the fire, burning in the grate. There was a guard in front of it. Feanor didn’t like the fireguard. He didn’t like to see the fire trapped behind it. He had asked his father and Indis if he could move it. But they both said no. They said the guard was there to keep him safe.
The parlour door opened and Finwe and Indis entered. They were laughing and Indis was carrying a wrapped bundle. Feanor knew that baby Fingolfin was inside. He pressed himself against the settee, trying to become invisible.
Alas, it did not work. Finwe and Indis went right over to him. Feanor peeped out from behind a cushion, and they smiled at him.
“There you are Feanor,” Finwe said. “What are you doing, sitting in here all on your own?”
“I’m watching the raindrops,” Feanor replied. “And the fire”.
“Well, as long as you are alright,” Finwe said, ruffling Feanor’s dark hair.
Feanor nodded. His glanced towards the bundle that Indis was holding. He could see the top of Fingolfin’s head poking out. He had a small tuft of dark hair too.
“Would you like to hold him, dear?” Indis asked.
“No,” Feanor said at once. “No, thank you,” he then added, in case he was scolded for being rude.
“That’s quite alright,” Indis said, not sounding upset. “I shall put him in his cradle then”. There was a cradle in the corner of the parlour; carved from light wood and filled with soft blankets. She walked towards it. Feanor watched, wringing his hands with indecision.
“...I’ll hold him if you want me to,” Feanor suddenly called out.
Finwe covered his mouth, as if to hide a smile. Indis chuckled and returned to Feanor. “Put out your arms then,” she said. Feanor did so, and Indis gently placed the bundle on Feanor’s lap.
Feanor looked at baby Fingolfin curiously. He was still squishy, with ears like a kitten and a turned up nose. He smelt of baby powder. Feanor held him carefully, making sure to support his head.
And then, Fingolfin awoke. He blinked sleepily, and stared at Feanor out of bright grey eyes. Then he smiled; his little face lighting up with glee.
“Oh!” Feanor whispered. And he returned the smile, not even minding if his father or Indis were watching.

Two:

It was a quiet, peaceful evening. Feanor was curled up his bed, just drifting off to sleep. Until something interrupted him.
That something was the sound of his door opening. Then the sound of soft feet, padding across the carpet. And then, his bedcovers were pulled back and somebody soft and warm clambered into bed with him.
“Fingolfin, what are you doing?” Feanor glared at the little elfling. “This is my bed”.
Fingolfin stared up at his brother with large eyes. “I had a scary dream”.
“Well go and wake up Father and Aunt Indis then”.
“No,” said Fingolfin, and with that, he cuddled up to Feanor, pushing his head under his chin.
Feanor lay there, shocked at his brother’s boldness and lack of manners. He wasn’t quite sure what to do now. He pulled the covers back up, deciding that they may as well both be warm, while Feanor tried to think how to make Fingolfin leave.
Fingolfin made a little contented noise, no longer bothered by his nightmare. Feanor closed his eyes, deciding to let Fingolfin stay for just five minutes.
Five minutes later, Feanor was asleep; with one arm draped across Fingolfin’s back and his other hand holding Fingolfin’s hand under the covers.

Three:

Now, Feanor and Fingolfin both had a new baby brother. This one was called Finarfin. He had been pink and squidgy when he was born. But now he was five weeks old; he looked a little more interesting.
Finarfin was settled in his cot, in the parlour. The cot was very similar to Fingolfin’s old cot, except the blankets were yellow, instead of blue. Finarfin was singing to himself in baby speak, quite content to watch his bunny mobile above him.
Feanor leaned over the cot, checking to make sure nobody was watching before he smiled at his new brother. Finarfin was somewhat appealing, even if Aunt Indis was his mum. He had a fluff of blond hair and round, blue eyes. He gurgled at Feanor and waved his chubby arms around.
“Well, aren’t you...golden,” Feanor said. Finarfin giggled and blew a bubble at him.
Feanor felt somebody tugging on his sleeve. Looking round, he saw that Fingolfin had wandered into the parlour. “Come and play with me,” he said. “Finarfin’s boring, he can’t play any games yet”.
“He’s just a baby. He’ll be able to play when he’s older,” Feanor said. He followed Fingolfin towards the door. “Don’t you like him?” he asked, a little grin on his face.
“I do like him,” Fingolfin said. “But I like you more!”
Feanor turned pink.
“You’re more fun to play with,” Fingolfin continued. “I want to be just like you, Feanor. And do everything you do!”
Feanor snorted. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You can’t do everything that I do!”
“Oh, but why not?” a dismayed Fingolfin asked.
“Because there are some things that only I can do,” Feanor explained.
“What are those?”
Feanor thought hard. He thought about his best friend; a pretty girl with curly red hair and freckles. He blushed.
“Well, I’m going to marry Nerdanel when I’m old enough”.
“Ow, no!” Fingolfin screwed up his nose. “I don’t want to do that. I’m never going to get married!”
Feanor gazed at Fingolfin. His eyes gleamed.
“You’ll want to when you’re older,” he said.
Fingolfin shook his head. “I will not!”
“Yes, you will!” Feanor insisted, a smirk on his face. “You’ll fall in love with a girl, and want to marry her”.
“No!”
“And give her flowers. And hug her”.
“NO!”
Feanor grinned at his indignant little brother, before going in for the kill. “And you’ll want to kiss her!”
At this, Fingolfin gave a yell of rage and launched himself at Feanor. Feanor roared with laughter, as Fingolfin appeared to be trying to twist his arm behind his back, while wrapping his legs around Feanor’s knees.
“Take that back! Take it back now!” Fingolfin squealed.
Feanor couldn’t reply, as he was laughing too much. Fingolfin tried to get a better grip, but instead, accidentally punched Feanor in the stomach. Feanor grunted and staggered backwards. Fingolfin released him at once, dismayed.
“Oh no, I’m really sorry!” he cried. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”.
“It’s alright,” Feanor said, rubbing his stomach. “You’re not big enough to punch hard”.
“But I was still too rough,” Fingolfin worried. “Should I kiss it better?”
“Very well then,” Feanor replied. He rather liked seeing his little brother so remorseful.
Fingolfin nodded and undid the buttons on Feanor’s shirt. He put his head down and blew a raspberry on Feanor’s stomach. Feanor gave a yell and Fingolfin fled, shrieking with laughter.
“Horrible brother!” Feanor shouted after him. Finarfin cooed happily from his cradle. “Traitor!” Feanor scolded the elfling, before racing out of the room after Fingolfin.

Chapter Text

Four:

Feanor was striding down a country lane; a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. It was a beautiful day; the warm afternoon light painting the trees and hedgerows golden. But Feanor didn’t pay any attention to this. He was much too upset. His face was red from crying and his eyes felt sticky.
It’s alright, Feanor thought to himself. I’ll be there in a minute. Then I’ll see Nerdanel and I’ll feel so much better.
Indeed, Feanor soon arrived at a pleasant cottage with white stone walls and a thatched roof. It had a large, rambling garden, filled with beautiful flowers. There was also a forge, built around the back, where Nerdanel’s father worked as a metalsmith.
Feanor gave a teary smile at the sight of the cottage. It was one of his favourite places. And soon to become his new home.
Feanor opened the gate and strode up the winding garden path. He stopped outside the front door, and took a steadying breath. He rubbed at his face, which was still wet and sticky.
I bet I look ridiculous, Feanor thought. I shouldn’t cry like a baby. What will Nerdanel think?
She would say it’s alright to cry.
Feanor pulled a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and wiped his face as best as he could. Then he knocked at the door and waited for somebody to let him in.
It isn’t fair! Feanor thought to himself. Father was so cruel to me. Fingolfin deserved to be shouted at, he was being annoying. But as usual, Father took his side!
Just thinking about it made the tears well up again. Finwe standing there, all stern. Scolding Feanor in front of Fingolfin and Indis, as if Feanor was a little elfling. And then...Finwe sending Feanor to his room for a couple of hours! Feanor’s cheeks burned with shame.
Well, I’ll show him! Feanor thought, wiping his face again. Just wait until Father sees my note. Then he’ll be sorry he was so unkind to me. But I won’t go home again!
The door opened, and there was Nerdanel. She looked prettier than ever; her frilled blue dress matching her blue eyes. And her kind smile, as she invited Feanor in immediately.
“Feanor! How lovely to see you,” Nerdanel exclaimed. She kissed Feanor on the cheek, making him blush.
“Thank you. And you too,” Feanor said shyly. Nerdanel took his hand and led him down the hallway and into the living room. It was a bright, airy room with comfortable chairs to sit on. There was a large fireplace too, but no fire was lit. The weather was too warm.
“Oh, what ever is wrong?” Nerdanel looked at Feanor’s wet face in concern. “Were you crying?”
“I...well, yes,” Feanor admitted. “But I’m much better now”. He took off his bag and placed it by the tea table. Nerdanel peeped inside curiously. Feanor had brought
some spare clothes, a drawing book and coloured pencils, some polished gems…
“Feanor, what is this? Are you planning to move in?” Nerdanel gently teased.
“Er, if I am allowed,” Feanor said. Now that it had come time for him to ask, he felt rather silly. Feanor waited for Nerdanel to laugh, but she did not. Her eyes lit up. She beamed and clutched her hands together with excitement.
“Oooh, yes! Of course you can,” Nerdanel cried. “That would be lovely!” She grabbed Feanor and hugged him. Feanor, relieved and delighted, returned the hug, thinking how soft and warm Nerdanel was.
“Thank you Nerdanel,” Feanor said, touched by her kindness. “You’re a real friend”.
“That’s quite alright. It will be so much fun, you living here,” Nerdanel said eagerly. “You can have a bed in my room. Or if you want your own room, we can clear out the storeroom”.
Just then, the living room door opened and Ophelia, Nerdanel’s mother entered. She looked very much like a grown up version of Nerdanel, except she didn’t have quite as many freckles. But she also had a kind face and a lovely smile. She was smiling as she went over to greet Feanor.
“Good afternoon, my dear,” Ophelia said. “You are very welcome here, as always”.
“Mum! Feanor has come to live with us,” Nerdanel said, her eyes shining.
“He...has?” Ophelia’s smiled faded a little, replaced by a look of concern. She had noticed the tear marks on Feanor’s cheeks, and his bag stuffed full with belongings.
“May I please?” Feanor asked. “I won’t cause any trouble. And I can earn my keep if Mahtan takes me on as his apprentice”.
Ophelia nodded, tapping her chin. “Well, I’m sure Mahtan would be happy to have you. But Feanor, dear, have you run away from home?”
Nerdanel looked startled. Feanor turned red. But before he could reply, the front door opened, and a familiar child let himself him. His face was flushed, as if he had been running. His jacket was buttoned up wrong, and his dark hair was coming loose from his ribbon.
“Fingolfin!” Feanor exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
Fingolfin stood there tall and proud. “It’s alright Feanor,” he said, in his most grown up and comforting voice. “I’m here now. I’m running away too!”

______________________________________

Five minutes later, Feanor, Nerdanel and Fingolfin were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking milk and eating biscuits. Ophelia was washing up; keeping an eye on them as she discreetly listened to their conversation.
“Fingolfin, how did you know I had run away?” Feanor asked. Fingolfin looked up from his glass of milk; his eyes round and solemn.
“I found your note,” he said. “I felt sad for you, after Father shouted. So I sneaked in to your room, to cheer you up. And then I saw you were gone, and I saw the note on the bedside table”.
“And of course, you had to be nosey and read it,” Feanor grumbled, but he was secretly touched by Fingolfin’s support.
Fingolfin nodded. “I did. Then I felt even more sadder. So I decided to run away too!”
“But how did you know where to find Feanor?” Nerdanel asked.
“It was easy,” Fingolfin put his glass down and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. “I knew my brother would come here because he’s in love with you”.
“Fingolfin!” Feanor yelled, blushing. Nerdanel giggled and covered her mouth.
“You are! You keep telling me you want to marry Nerdanel when you’re older,” Fingolfin said.
“Fingolfin, shush! You’re embarrassing me,” Feanor groaned.
“It’s alright Feanor,” Nerdanel said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “I’d like that very much”.
“You would?” Feanor looked hopeful. Fingolfin, quite unaware of his matchmaking behaviour, finished off his glass of milk and licked his lips.
“Now Fingolfin…” Ophelia bustled over. “Don’t tease your big brother”.
“I’m not,” Fingolfin said innocently. “May I have some more milk please?”
Ophelia nodded and filled Fingolfin’s glass from the jug. Feanor, still a little shy, decided to change the subject.
“I still don’t understand why you ran away too,” he said. “I did shout at you, after all”.
“Yes but I see why,” Fingolfin said. “I knocked your jigsaw on the floor”. He accepted his milk off Ophelia and began drinking again.
“But it was an accident,” Feanor said with a sigh. “I know you didn’t mean to”.
“What happened?” Nerdanel asked. “Were you roughhousing indoors?”
Feanor shook his head. “I was doing a jigsaw, and Fingolfin wanted to help. But it was too hard for him”.
Fingolfin put his glass down and nodded. “It’s got a thousand pieces!”
“Wow, that is a lot!” Nerdanel agreed.
“It is,” said Fingolfin. “And I tried to help, but Feanor hid it with his arms. And then I tried to move him, and the box fell on the floor”.
“With all the pieces in,” Feanor said. He made a face at Fingolfin, but Ophelia calmed him down by putting a biscuit in his hand.
“Oh dear, that does sound a shame,” Ophelia said. “Did you help your brother pick up the pieces, Fingolfin?”
“I was going to,” Fingolfin said. “But Feanor got cross and called me a stupid butterfingers!”
“Tell tale,” Feanor muttered. “But...I shouldn’t have called you names”.
Nerdanel patted Feanor on the shoulder. “What happened then?” she asked.
“Father came in and shouted,” Fingolfin said solemnly. “And grounded Feanor for two hours”.
“Shush Fingolfin,” Feanor said, blushing again. “You really are a tell tale”.
“No, I’m sticking up for you,” Fingolfin explained. “I ran away too, remember”.
“Well, alright then,” Feanor shrugged. “Thank you. You’re...a nice butterfingers”.
Nerdanel laughed. “Maybe next time, Feanor can find you an easier jigsaw to do on your own?” she suggested.
Feanor nodded. “Yes, I have plenty left from when I was younger”.
“Thank you Feanor, I’d like that,” Fingolfin said brightly. He took another biscuit and began eating.
“How many biscuits have you had, sweet?” Ophelia asked. “You want to take care that you don’t ruin your dinner”.
“I won’t. What is for dinner please?” Fingolfin asked, with his mouth full.
“Hmm…” Ophelia chuckled. “I was thinking, perhaps you and Feanor would like to return home? Now that you’ve sorted out your disagreement”.
Just then, there was an excited squeal from the garden. Ophelia started, then went over to the window, to see what was going on. Feanor and Nerdanel scrambled out of their seats and followed her. Fingolfin covered his mouth with his hands.
“Oh my!” Ophelia exclaimed. There, sitting next to a pull cart on the lawn, was Finarfin. His hair gleamed gold and he was giggling in delight as a butterfly flew past him. He reached out with chubby hands, but the butterfly fluttered away.
“That’s my little brother Finarfin!” Feanor said in surprise. “What ever is he doing here?”
Fingolfin stood next to Feanor. He giggled. “I forgot I left him outside. I couldn’t get the cart up the doorstep,” he explained.
“But why did you bring Finarfin with you?” Nerdanel asked.
Fingolfin nodded eagerly. “He’s being supportive. He wanted to run away too!”

Chapter Text

Five:

Finarfin was having one of those days where he was at a loss what to do. He had finished his morning lessons, and had done particularly well on his riding lesson. Finwe had called him A natural in the saddle. Flushed with pleasure, Fingolfin wished to tell his brothers. Alas, Finarfin had gone with Indis, to visit their aunt for the day. And Feanor was working at Mahtan’s forge, having been apprenticed to him for a few years now.
So after five minutes thought, Fingolfin decided to go for a woodland walk. It was a gorgeous day, with the trees all dressed in their finest new spring green. Fingolfin strolled along the dirt track, listening to the birds singing and watching squirrels dancing across the tree branches. It was quite by accident (as in, accidentally on purpose) that he meandered in the direction of Nerdanel’s cottage. He went around the back, where he could hear sounds of somebody hammering in the forge.
Perhaps I’ll be allowed to watch Feanor working, Fingolfin thought, as he let himself in through the back gate. I’m sure Mahtan wouldn’t mind; if I am very quiet and well-behaved.
Fingolfin pressed his face against the window, trying to see if Mahtan looked to be in a good mood. He couldn’t spot Mahtan, but there was Feanor, hammering something over an anvil. Fingolfin wondered what he was making; it was hard to see properly because of the smoke.
Just then, Feanor looked up and noticed his brother at the window. He put his hammer down, and stuck his tongue out at him. Fingolfin returned the gesture! Feanor went over to the window and opened it. A blast of heat rushed out, making Fingolfin gasp.
“Ow, that's hot!” he exclaimed, rubbing his face. “How can you stand that, Feanor?”
“Because I’m strong and nearly full grown; not a little elfling like you,” Feanor teased his brother.
Fingolfin looked at Feanor, while he tried to think up a smart reply. Feanor did look very grown up, wearing his short sleeved shirt and smith’s apron. His hair was fastened back neatly and his face was red and smudged with soot.
“I’m growing too,” Fingolfin finally said. “I’ll be as tall as you soon!”
“No you won’t,” Feanor replied. “I’m the eldest brother, so I’m going to be tallest too”. It was hard to tell if he was blushing or not, because of the heat.
“What are you making Feanor?” Fingolfin asked. “And where’s Mahtan?”
Feanor went round to the door, which he opened and beckoned Fingolfin inside. “Mahtan’s out, making some deliveries,” he said. “He’s left me in change!” There was no mistaking the pride in Feanor’s voice.
“Oooh!” Fingolfin said, suitably impressed. “He must really trust you then, brother”.
“Of course,” said Feanor. “And as for your other question…” He waved his hand towards the anvil, where Fingolfin beheld a long, long chain.
“It’s a chain. But what is it for?” Fingolfin asked.
“It is a mining chain,” Feanor explained. “Such chains are attached to mining cages; used for lowering the workers into the pits”.
“Oh!” said Fingolfin, with a small shudder. He didn’t much like the idea of mining; descending into a dark shaft and spending hours underground sounded horrifying. But Feanor was standing there, arms folded and waiting for Fingolfin to say something nice about his work.
“It looks very strong,” Fingolfin said. “And well made”.
“But of course,” Feanor replied. “Such chains have to be strong; not one single link can afford to be weak, or the whole chain could break!”
“That would be terrible!” Fingolfin cried. He decided to change the subject a little. “What kind of mine is this chain going to be for?”
“I’m not sure yet. Perhaps a gold or silver mine. Or maybe a gem mine!” A dreamy look appeared in Feanor’s eyes. “Just imagine, Fingolfin! Being presented with a gem, found deep underground. And then carefully cleaning it and polishing it up, until its beauty is fully revealed!”
“That does sound nice!” Fingoflin agreed.
“Definitely! I think...when I have finished my apprenticeship, I would like to work with precious metals and gems,” Feanor said. “I want to make beautiful jewellery, such as never been seen before!”
“I believe in you brother!” Fingolfin said eagerly. “I know you will be able to succeed!”
“Why thank you,” Feanor said, flattered. “But…” he glanced over towards a clock on the wall. “...I will never progress if I stand around talking instead of working”.
Fortunately, Feanor did not insist on Fingolfin leaving. He let Fingolfin sit on a chair in a quiet corner, so he could watch Feanor working, but not get underfoot. Fingolfin found it very interesting; even if he felt hot from the fire. He watched as Feanor tested each link; sometimes gently tapping them with his hammer. Fingolfin was quite certain that Feanor’s chain would be perfect.
After about twenty minutes, Feanor hung the chain up out of the way; storing it neatly. Fingolfin was wiping his sticky face on his handkerchief. “May I open the door now, Feanor?” he asked. “It’s so hot in here”.
“It’s supposed to be hot, it is a forge,” Feanor scoffed. “But go ahead brother. I’ve finished with the chain now, I just need to tidy up before dinner”.
“Thank you,” Fingolfin said. He went over to the door and flung it open, revelling in the cool breeze that floated in. He took a deep breath of fresh air. And then he noticed that Nerdanel was approaching the forge, carrying a basket on her arm.
“Nerdanel’s coming here, I think she has brought your dinner,” Fingolfin said.
“Oh!” Feanor exclaimed. “Nerdanel is...well, you’re quite right, Fingolfin. It IS hot. In fact…”
Fingolfin stared at Feanor in utter astonishment, as Feanor then proceeded to take off not only his apron, but also his shirt! He then resumed putting tools away, but keeping an eye on the door. Nerdanel entered the forge, and Feanor tried to greet her casually, but almost fell over the anvil in doing so.
“Nerdanel! I’ve just finished work,” Feanor said, steadying himself on Fingolfin.
“Oh Feanor, you look so hot,” Nerdanel exclaimed. “You must have been working very hard!” Fingolfin noticed that she was blushing. And admiring shirtless Feanor. And Feanor was now striking a pose. Fingolfin stuffed his hand in his mouth, willing himself not to laugh.
“Oh yes! I was forging this chain!” Feanor grabbed the chain, nearly pulling it off the wall hanger. “It’s a mining chain, it’s going to go down the mines and dig up rare jewels. I…”
“Feanor, I’ve brought your dinner,” Nerdanel interrupted. She was the only person allowed to interrupt him. “You need to have something to eat, if you’re performing heavy labour”. Feanor grinned as Nerdanel reached out and touched the top of his arm. While Fingolfin was in the corner, almost crying from laughter!
“Thank you Nerdanel. You’re so...” Feanor paused and glared at his brother. “Fingolfin, I’ll throw the anvil at you, if you don’t behave”.
“Oooh Feanor, can you really lift the anvil?” Fingolfin imitated Nerdanel’s voice. “You’re so strong and…” He did not get any further, because Nerdanel put her basket down and gave Feanor her best I’ll handle this look. She then proceeded to pick Fingolfin up, carried him to the doorway and threw him outside!
“Ouch!” Fingolfin shouted, rolling over in the grass. He was not at all hurt. Feanor stood there, a quarter shocked and three quarters impressed.
“Next time, you’ll go in the water trough,” Nerdanel threatened. “Now, how about we all have some dinner?”

Chapter Text

Six:

It was late at night; the stars shining like colourful gems in a velvet blue sky. Smoke rose from the chimney of a little cottage; nestled in the palace grounds. This was the home of Feanor and Nerdanel, now happily married.
They were relaxing in the living room; sitting on the settee together and drinking tea. The fire was glowing warm red, and was quite free, as there was no guard in front of it. And Nerdanel was dozing off; her head resting on Feanor’s shoulder.
“Should we go to bed now, love?” Feanor asked. There was no reply. Instead, Nerdanel snored gently. Feanor smiled; he thought it was cute. Not that he would ever tell Nerdanel this. She would be likely to empty the teapot over his head!
I won’t wake Nerdanel up. She hasn’t been well lately, Feanor thought.
He glanced over at the window; looking at the palace in the distance. It shone faintly gold in the starlight, and many of the windows were illuminated. Of course, Feanor had a suite for him and Nerdanel there, but he much preferred their cottage. It was more private, and he could set things on fire without getting into too much trouble.
And on that particular day, the palace was especially noisy and lively. There was a grand party being held; Feanor wasn’t sure why, except that Indis had desired a party. He felt that there was probably a more important reason. The party had begun at five in the afternoon and was still going on; Feanor could hear music drifting in through the open window. He wondered if the party would continue right up until the changing of the Trees’ lights, early the next morning.
Feanor and Nerdanel had attended for a couple of hours. As soon as Feanor had finished work in his forge, he had washed and changed, wanting to make an effort for Nerdanel. She had enjoyed the party at first, but by eight o’ clock, she had started to feel sick and light headed. Feanor had taken her back to their cottage, reassuring his family that she would be fine once she had cooled down and had a soothing drink.
Feanor looked at Nerdanel in concern. She had been feeling sick quite often, just lately. Luckily, she hadn’t been sick and Feanor had fussed over her; making her some sweet tea and brushing her hair. Now she was sleeping and looked so peaceful and lovely. Feanor was determined not to wake her, even if he had to sleep on the settee all night.
Suddenly, a knock at the front door split the silence. Nerdanel stirred and Feanor glared in the direction of the hallway. Who was visiting so late, knocking like a hammer and disturbing his poorly wife?
“It’s alright love,” Feanor said, kissing a still sleepy Nerdanel on her cheek. “I’ll go and see who it is”.
“Yes dear. Try not to set them on fire,” Nerdanel murmured, before drifting back into slumber.
Feanor nodded, then strode down the hallway, ready to give the visitor a severe scolding. He flung the door open and was greeted by Fingolfin. A giggling, swaying Fingolfin. A dishevelled Fingolfin, with his hair coming loose from its bow and his shirt half unbuttoned. And Fingolfin was being supported by a pretty girl of his age; who wore a baby blue dress and an apologetic smile.
“Dear brother!” Fingolfin cried, lurching forwards into Feanor’s arms. “How lovely to see you again, after all this time”.
“Fingolfin…” Feanor caught the scent of his breath and raised his eyebrows. The girl sighed and nodded. They spoke the next two words simultaneously.
“He’s drunk!”

____________________________________

“I am so, so sorry about this!”
The young lady, whose name was Anaire, was apologising to Feanor and Nerdanel. Fingolfin was slumped on the settee, face flushed and giggling at nothing in particular. Nerdanel was heating water in the kettle over the fire, while Feanor added herbs into a clean teacup. They were the sort of herbs that could help sober up younger brothers reasonably quickly. They also tasted bitter without honey. Feanor had hidden the honey under his pillow, in case Nerdanel looked for it.
“It’s quite alright,” Nerdanel reassure Anaire. “We’ll soon have Fingolfin sobered up”. She took the kettle off the boil, and poured hot water into the teacup. Fingolfin watched her; eyes bleary and a daft grin on his face.
“Oooh tea,” he said, making grabby hands for the cup. Feanor reached it first, and held it up to Fingolfin’s mouth. Fingolfin took a sip, then shuddered.
“Ugh, ‘at’s horrible!”
“It’ll sober you up. But you’ve got to drink all of it,” Feanor said, with relish.
“Feanor, where’s the honey?” Nerdanel asked.
“It’ll weaken the effects,” Feanor replied.
“Feanor…”
“Under my pillow,” Feanor muttered.
Five minutes later, Fingolfin’s herbal drink was infused with honey and Anaire was enjoying a normal cup of tea. “Thank you, thank you,” Anaire was saying to Feanor and Nerdanel. “I’m afraid Fingolfin drank too much wine at the party”.
“I didn’ have that much!” Fingolfin protested. Anaire gave him a stern glance worthy of Nerdanel. Feanor pushed the cup to his mouth and made him drink more herbal tea.
“I did try to sober him up,” Anaire continued. “I walked him around outside, but it didn’t work. Then he decided he wanted to come here”.
“Here’s safe,” Fingolfin explained. “If Mother an’ Father see me this way, they’d shout!”
“I really wouldn’t blame them,” Nerdanel mildly scolded. “You are in quite a state, Fingolfin”.
“Definitely,” Feanor agreed. He put the cup down and removed Fingolfin’s bow for him. “Exactly how much did you drink, brother? The entire wine cellar?”
“Not funny!” Fingolfin said. He shook out his hair, then rested his head on Feanor’s shoulder.
Nerdanel finished her tea, then gave a firm nod. “Well we can’t let him go back to the palace like this! He had better sleep here tonight”.
“Oooh, sleepover!” Fingolfin chirped, then started laughing. Anaire rolled her eyes at him, but looked amused.
“No, this is not fun,” Feanor scolded. “Once you’ve drunk this, you’re going straight to bed”. He held the cup up for Fingolfin to finish off the last drop of herbal tea.
“I’ll go and check the spare room, to see if the bed is made up ready,” Nerdanel said. “Anaire, would you be a dear please, and go and tell Finwe and Indis that Fingolfin is staying the night?”
“Certainly,” Anaire said. She leaned over Fingolfin and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t tell your parents that you’re drunk”.
“Thank you,” Fingolfin said, managing to give Anaire a slightly less drunk kiss back. The herbal drink was starting to work.
Anaire said good night to Feanor and Nerdanel, then left the cottage. Feanor watched her through the window, walking towards the palace. Many lights were still on; suggesting no lull in the party. Feanor turned to Fingolfin, a grin on his face.
“Darling Fingolfin, hm? And Ananire kissed you! Are you two sweethearts?”
Fingolfin nodded his head. “Yes! Unless you’re goin’ to laugh. Then...not yes”.
“Feanor, don’t tease your brother”. Nerdanel had returned from the spare bedroom. “Fingolfin is quite old enough to have a sweetheart”.
“But not old enough to drink so much,” Feanor laughed. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you to bed”. He helped Fingolfin up off the settee, relieved to find that he was able to stand. With Feanor’s help, Fingolfin was able to walk in a reasonably straight line to the spare room. Feanor sat him down on the bed and helped him to undress.
“Thank you much, Feanor,” Fingolfin said, rubbing at his forehead. “...feel better now...I think”.
“Hold onto that feeling,” Feanor said, as he removed Fingolfin’s shirt. “Because you are going to feel dreadful in the morning”.
Fingolfin just giggled. Feanor snorted and folded up Fingolfin’s shirt nicely. He left him in his socks and underwear, helping him into the bed. Fingolfin sang softly to him, while Feanor pulled the covers up.
“There, now go to sleep,” Feanor said. “And don’t worry brother. I won’t tell Father or Indis about how drunk you were, either”. He paused and smirked. “I may mention your sweetheart though!”
There was no reply. Instead, Fingolfin snored quietly. Unlike Nerdanel, it was not cute. Also unlike Nerdanel, Feanor was wont to mention it when he needed to torment his brother. He patted Fingolfin’s shoulder, then left the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Nerdanel was waiting in the hall, by the living room door. “Is he alright?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s sleeping like a baby,” Feanor said. He went over to Nerdanel and kissed her forehead. Then he sighed.
“I am so sorry about this, love,” Feanor said. “My brother is a great deal of trouble!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nerdanel replied. “He is settled now, and should sleep if off well enough”. She looked serene, and was even smiling a little.
“I didn’t mean that,” Feanor grumbled as he leaned against the door jamb. “You’ve been poorly lately, and now you have had the extra worry of my irresponsible brother!”
“Feanor dear, it is not a problem,” Nerdanel insisted. She placed her hand on Feanor’s arm, still smiling.
“But you’ve been feeling so sick! I was afraid that the party was too much for you and…”
“Feanor…” Nerdanel took hold of his hand. Then she placed it on her stomach.
Feanor, afraid that she was feeling ill again, went to rub her stomach. And then he felt it.
Somebody alive and new. Somebody who he and Nerdanel had created together!
“Oh!” Feanor said softly. “Oh!”
And he smiled, with sheer delight. Nerdanel gazed at Feanor; her eyes were shining and she looked prettier than ever. Feanor wrapped her in his arms, holding her close. And Nerdanel chuckled as she whispered something into his ear.
“Fingolfin’s going to become an uncle!”

Chapter Text

Seven:

Fingolfin did, indeed, become an uncle. His new nephew was named Maedhros. He was red-faced and squishy. Feanor told anybody who stayed still long enough to hear, that Maedhros was the sweetest baby ever.
And one day, when Maedhros was two months old, this particular staying-still person was Fingolfin.
“Look brother!” Feanor’s arm was around Fingolfin’s waist in such a way that Fingolfin could not move away from the cradle without pulling a muscle. “Look at little Maedhros! Behold the greatest elfling ever born!”
Fingolfin, who did not wish to move away (or pull a muscle), smiled There, settled under knitted orange blankets, was the dear baby. He had pink cheeks and a soft fuzz of ginger hair covering his head. He stared up at Fingolfin out of big grey eyes, and gurgled.
“Awwwwwwww!” Fingolfin cooed, clasping his hands together in a very broody manner. “Darling little Maedhros!”
“He truly is!” An exuberant Feanor squeezed all the breath out of Fingolfin. “He is the greatest thing I have ever forged!”
“Ahem!” Nerdanel said, from where she was relaxing on the settee.
“That we have forged, sorry dear,” Feanor corrected himself. “And you did all of the heavy labour, of course”.
Nerdanel looked mollified. Fingolfin chuckled. Maedhros gurgled louder, wanting more attention.
“Oh, poor Maedhros, he is being neglected!” Feanor exclaimed. He reached into the cradle and lifted the little elfling free. Maedhros waved his arms around and squealed.
“Would you like to hold him, Fingolfin?”
“Please!” Fingolfin said eagerly. Feanor handed Maedhros over to his uncle. As soon as Maedhros was settled comfortably in Fingolfin’s arms, he opened his mouth and...
“Waaahhhhhhhhhhhh!” he screamed. Fingolfin’s ears went down. The glass in the windows trembled. Feanor glared at Fingolfin, half cross and half alarmed.
“Brother, you’re frightening him!”
“I’m sure I wasn’t this noisy,” Fingolfin gasped. “What is wrong with him?”
“Your ears are down, he think you’re a threat,” Feanor grumbled. Maedhros continued to howl, while Feanor literally tried to straighten out Fingolfin’s ears. Nerdanel hurried over, holding a bottle of milk.
“Here Fingolfin, see if he is hungry,” she said.
Fingolfin nodded and carefully gave the bottle to Maedhros. Which was easy, as his mouth was wide open. As soon as he started drinking, he quietened down. Fingolfin cautiously lifted his ears. Maedhros stared up at his uncle, perfectly content.
“Oh, now he is sweet again,” Fingolfin beamed.
“He is always sweet. Especially when he is noisy,” Feanor insisted.
“I do rather prefer him quiet,” Nerdanel said. She stroked Maedhros fuzzy head and gave Fingolfin an encouraging smile.
“There now, you’re doing splendid. And it’s good practise for when you and Anaire have your first elfling!”
Fingolfin turned pale. Feanor burst out laughing. And Maedhros, even with the bottle in his mouth, seemed to give his uncle a very smug look.

Eight:

Of course, despite Fingolfin’s pallor and concern, the day arrived when he and Anaire did have their first baby.
He was called Fingon and he was not a screaming baby. He was a quiet and happy baby, who gurgled in delight at anybody who approached his cradle.
Although, there was one splendid moment when Finarfin was holding him and Fingon peed on him. Fingolfin was embarrassed. Feanor promised Finarfin that he would never let him forget that moment.
One evening, after Feanor had finished work, he and Nerdanel went to visit Fingolfin and his family, in their suite. Fingolfin was most excited to see them (even though he saw them practically all the time). He welcomed them in at once; a big grin on his face.
“Do come in, I’ll put the kettle on,” he said. “Anaire isn’t here, she’s visiting her sister. But Fingon is here, he’s asleep in his cradle”.
“Thank you Fingolfin,” Nerdanel said. She and Feanor entered Fingolfin’s living room. It was very fancy, with velvet curtains adorning the floor length windows and sumptuous chairs and settees to sit on. Nerdanel adjusted her grip on a woollen blanket she was carrying. Feanor was holding little Maedhros, who stirred awake at the sound of his uncle’s loud voice.
“Maedhros!” Fingolfin exclaimed, as if he hadn’t seen the elfling in ten years. (He had actually seen him that morning. And he had been just as excited them). Fingolfin began baby talking Maedhros, at least until Maedhros squealed and grabbed his nose. And then Fingolfin squealed.
“Good boy Maedhros! That’s stopped silly Uncle Fingolfin’s chatter, hasn’t it,” Feanor praised. Maedhros giggled, but Nerdanel frowned.
“Feanor, don’t encourage him to misbehave,” she said.
“Yes, I mean no dear,” Feanor said innocently. Fingolfin, now recovered, just smiled.
“Maedhros, would you like to see baby Fingon?” he asked. Maedhros nodded and squealed again. Nerdanel and Feanor sat down on a luxury chaise lounge, while Fingolfin led Maedhros over to the cradle.
Fingon was awake and sitting up. He looked like a tiny baby Fingolfin. Feanor thought he was sweet, but he would never say the comparison out aloud.
“Baby brother!” Maedhros said eagerly. He patted Fingon gently on the cheek. Fingon blew bubbles at him.
“No, no, baby cousin,” Fingolfin corrected gently. Maedhros scrunched up his nose, disappointed.
“Want baby brother!” he insisted.
“Patience, little one,” Nerdanel comforted Maedhros. “You can have a baby brother soon”. Feanor raised his eyebrows. Nerdanel giggled.
“Want Fingon baby brother,” Maedhros insisted. He stayed by the cradle, fussing over his cousin. Fingon blew more bubbles. Fingolfin just laughed.
“Well, I shall go and put the kettle on now,” he said “We can have tea and I’ll bring some milk for the elflings”.
“Thank you Fingolfin,” said Nerdanel. “But first…” She handed him the blanket. “Here is a gift for little Fingon”.
“Oh!” Fingolfin exclaimed in delight. He unrolled the blanket and admired it. It was knitted from the softest wool, blending dark and light blue swirls. The name Fingon was knitted in yellow wool at the top.
“It’s beautiful!” Fingolfin exclaimed. “Thank you so much, Nerdanel!”
“Actually you should be thanking Feanor," Nerdanel said slyly. “He was the one who knitted it!”
Feanor turned as red as Maedhros’s hair. “I was going to forge him a little sword,” he mumbled. “But Nerdanel wouldn’t let me”.
Fingolfin laughed. Then he went over to Feanor and gave him a warm hug. “No brother,” he said softly. “This blanket is just perfect!”

Chapter Text

Nine:

Of course, Maedhros did get his new brother. And Maglor was as noisy as Maedhros, but in a more pleasant way.
He loved to sing. And he had a beautiful singing voice, even as an elfling.
Fingolfin could hear him singing, as he approached Feanor and Nerdanel’s cottage. It was a chill autumn day and all the windows were closed But Maglor’s singing was floating out from underneath the front door and from the top of the chimney too.
Fingolfin reached the front door and realised he had a teeny problem. He was holding Fingon’s hand with his one hand. And his other arm was carrying his and Anaire’s newest elfling, Turgon. He needed to knock on the door, which meant releasing hold of Fingon.
“Now, don’t run off,” Fingolfin said, uncurling his fingers. Fingon gave a shriek and charged towards the nearest pile of leaves. He dived into them, laughing as he threw them everywhere.
“Oh, messy!” Turgon cried, flapping his gloved hands frantically. “Naughty Fingon. Naughty leaves!”
“Shush Turgon, it’s quite alright,” Fingolfin comforted his son. Turgon was extremely tidy; his woollen hat on straight and his face clean from food stains. He had proudly dressed himself, and was wearing a blue hat, a red coat and pink trousers.
“But messy!” Turgon wailed, squirming to go down so he could tidy up leaves. Fingolfin clucked to him, as he knocked at the door. Moments later, Maedhros appeared. His hair was dishevelled, his face covered in jam and he appeared to be wearing one of Feanor’s tunics. He beamed up at Fingolfin and Turgon.
“Uncle Fingolfin!” he shouted, flinging his arms around Fingolfin’s waist. “Did you bring Fingon?”
“Naughty Maedhros,” Turgon scolded, pointing at his cousin’s jammy face.
“Yes, Maedhros, he’s just…” Fingolfin was cut off by Fingon racing over, and now covered in leaves and garden grot. Turgon squealed more, while Maedhros hugged Fingon, lifting his feet right off the floor.
“Fingon!” Maedhros yelled, kissing his cheek. Then he saw Turgon watching, and looking most upset. “Turgon, I’m sorry. I leaved you out!” Maedhros then proceeded to kiss Turgon’s cheek, covering it in jam. Turgon screamed, but Maedhros was already running off, leading Fingon away by the hand.
“Come and play with my toys, Fingon. I have new ones,” he said eagerly.
“Oh dear, what ever is all that noise?” A concerned Nerdanel appeared from the living room. There she saw Turgon howling, and Fingolfin frantically trying to wipe his face clean with a handkerchief.
“Oh Nerdanel! It’s quite alright,” Fingolfin said. “Turgon’s a little jammy...there, he’s clean now”. Fingolfin wiped the last of the jam away and Turgon quietened down.
“Oooh, of course. Maedhros has been eating a jam piece,” Nerdanel explained. She fussed over Turgon, petting his hair. “There, there darling. Would you like some jam too?”
“No! Messy!” Turgon pouted, and Fingolfin had to laugh.
“Anyway, do come in, dears”. Nerdanel led Fingolfin and Turgon into the living room. “I shall assume Fingon has gone upstairs with Maedhros?” This was confirmed by a great deal of squealing and laughing, coming from above. “And here is Maglor, singing so nicely!” Nerdanel waved towards the settee, where Maglor sat, cocooned in a nest of cosy blankets. He was indeed singing, although none of his words were legible. Fingolfin beamed at Maedhros and went over to fuss him, carefully putting Turgon down first.
“Awwww, little sweetheart!” Finarfin cooed, tickling Maglor gently. Maglor giggled and waved his pudgy hands. Turgon was not so happy though. He has just noticed the settee’s cushions were in terrible disarray.
“Oh, messy! I tidy up,” he announced. He then proceeded to plump up each cushion, before placing it neatly. Maglor reached out, grabbing Turgon’s hand and chuckling. Turgon looked bewildered, before Fingolfin placed him to sit next to Maglor.
“Good, they are settled,” Nerdanel smiled. She tucked the blankets around Turgon. “Now where’s Feanor? I thought he would be out to greet you?”
“Is he still working?” Fingolfin asked.
“No, he told me he was going to check on baby Celegorm,” Nerdanel replied. “But that was about ten minutes ago”.
“Maybe he’s fallen asleep,” Fingolfin teased. “Shall I go and find him?”
“Please,” said Nerdanel. Suddenly, there was a loud bump from upstairs. The ceiling lamp shook and Turgon covered his ears.
“It’s alright Mum! We didn’t break anything,” Maedhros yelled from above.
Nerdanel rolled her eyes. Fingolfin laughed and made his way upstairs, in search of Feanor.
Feanor and Nerdanel’s bedroom was a pleasant, airy room, on the east side of the cottage. The door was open and Fingolfin stepped inside. There he could see Feanor and Nerdanel’s newest elfling, Celegorm, settled in his cradle. And Feanor was looking out of the window, his back turned to Fingolfin.
“Feanor?” Fingolfin said lightly. He wasn’t sure why, but he sensed something was wrong.
On hearing his brother’s voice, Feanor started. His hand shot up to rub at his face, then he pulled it down again. “Fingolfin, I’ll be out in a minute,” Feanor muttered. “Go and play with the elflings, or something”. His voice sounded thick, as if his nose was blocked.
Fingolfin was over to the window in two strides. “Feanor, what is wrong?” he asked. Feanor whipped round to face him. His face was red and there were tear marks on his cheeks.
“Go away!” Feanor said sharply. “I wasn’t crying! I’m just…”
Fingolfin did not go away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Feanor and hugged him. Feanor stiffened for a minute, before awkwardly returning the hug.
“Feanor, it’s alright to cry,” Fingolfin said. “But please, what is wrong? Please tell me”.
Feanor snorted and shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong,” he mumbled. “It is that…” He trailed off and squirmed free from his brother’s embrace. Then he pointed towards the cradle.
“Look at Celegorm”.
Fingolfin looked. At five weeks old. Celegorm was both teeny and cute. He had pink cheeks and a soft fluff of silver hair. He was sleeping peacefully, a rare thing for one of Feanor’s children.
“He’s such a little dear,” Fingolfin said, tracing a finger along Celegorm’s cheek.
“He’s got silver hair,” Feanor said, in a low voice.
“Oh!” Fingolfin put a hand up to his mouth. “Like your mother”. Feanor nodded and turned away again.
“…it pleases me greatly,” Feanor said. “I believe it is a gift from her, and…” he made a choking sound, unable to continue.
Fingolfin put his arm around Feanor’s shoulders. “Here,” he said, taking his handkerchief out and handing it to Feanor. “Use this...oh no!”
Feanor raised his eyebrows. The handkerchief was covered in jam.
“Maedhros?” he asked.
“...actually, Turgon,” Fingolfin admitted. “Maedhros kissed him and Turgon started to scream. He can’t stand being messy”.
Feanor chuckled. Then he wiped his eyes with the tiny part of the handkerchief that had no jam on it.
Just then, Nerdanel called up the stairs. “Boys, what are you doing up there? I’ve made cocoa, come and drink it before it gets cold”.
Feanor looked at Fingolfin, and grinned sheepishly. There was still jam on his face, despite his care in wiping. Fingolfin just smiled and patted Feanor on the back.
“Come on brother,” he said. “Let’s go and have some cocoa”.

Chapter Text

Ten:

At last. It had finally happened.
After five boys, (six, if one were counting Finarfin and Earwen’s son, Finrod), a baby girl had been born!
She was Fingolfin and Anaire’s third child. They named her Aredhel. She looked sweet and innocent; with a squishy nose and big blue eyes.
The family were in the courtyard, enjoying a pleasant summer morning with all the children. Aredhel lay in her carry cot; a parasol covering it to shade her from the sun. She kicked her legs and gurgled, grabbing at anything that dared to approach too close.
Anaire sat by the carry cot, fussing over Aredhel. Finwe and Indis were there too. They were delighted with their first granddaughter and were subjecting her lots of cute baby talk. Finwe was wearing a very sparkly crown, but sadly, he was not leaning close enough over Aredhel for her to grab it.
The older children were playing nearby. Maglor was sitting in the shade of an oak tree, writing a poem about kittens. Turgon sat next to him, brushing Maglor’s hair with a silver backed brush. Maedhros and Fingon had climbed the tree, and were pulling off leaves and trying to drop them onto their brothers’ heads.
Feanor stood nearby, holding a sleepy Celegorm in his arms. He kept glancing towards Aredhel, but did not approach.
“Feanor!” Fingolfin went over to his brother, a smile on his face. He was carrying a bottle of milk, which he had just brought from the palace.
“Fingolfin,” Feanor said awkwardly. He looked all around, trying to distract himself was the vast amount of baby talk Indis was doing. “...don’t stand under that tree”.
“This tree?” Fingolfin asked, pointing upwards. A couple of baby acorns hit him on the head, followed by squeals of laughter.
“Yes,” Feanor said with a smirk. “The boys are practising their aims. They are getting good too”.
Maedhros peeped out form the foliage and stuck his tongue out at Fingolfin. Fingolfin returned the gesture, then moved away from the danger zone. “Feanor, your boys are getting wilder by the day,” he pretended to grumble,
“Fingon’s up there too!” Turgon canted. “Naughty Fingon”. Fingon confirmed this by peeping out alongside Maedhros and waving.
“Oh...dear,” Fingolfin said, while Feanor laughed. “Now Turgon…” he addressed his second son. “You mustn’t tell tales of your brother”.
“But he’s naughty,” Turgon pouted. “I’m not naughty. Aredhel is going to be good too”.
“You stopped brushing my hair,” Maglor cried. “I can’t finish my poem unless you brush it”.
“I’m sorry Maglor!” Turgon said. He resumed brushing, a look of moral superiority on his little round face. Maglor settled back down and continued to write.
Fingolfin laughed, then tapped Feanor on the arm. “Come over and see Aredhel,” he said. “I’m going to give her a bottle”.
Feanor’s ears went down, just a little. He could clearly hear Indis, fussing over his niece. “...she’s so pretty, aren’t you, sweetheart! Oh, she’s going to be a proper lady when she’s older!”
Feanor briefly wondered what an improper lady would be like, before Celegorm squealed in his ear. “Want bottle!” he shouted.
“No, no, it’s for baby Aredhel,” said Feanor. But Fingolfin had stood in the wrong place again; this time too close to Celegorm. The little elfling reached out, took the bottle from him and began drinking happily.
“...I think I need to go and make up another bottle,” Fingolfin laughed. “See Feanor? Your boys really are wild”.
“They are just high spirited,” Feanor insisted. But Fingolfin was already strolling back towards the palace. Celegorm stuck the bottle teat in Feanor’s ear, and Maedhros successfully dropped an acorn on his head.

_________________________________

A few minutes later, Fingolfin had returned with a fresh bottle and also Nerdanel. She had finished her latest sculpture, and had come to sit outside with the family. They had managed to persuade Feanor to sit with Finwe, Indis, Anaire and baby Aredhel. He was trying not to draw attention to himself, but it wasn’t working because of Celegorm.
“Bottle, want bottle!” he cried, even as Fingolfin was giving the new bottle to Aredhel.
“No, you’ve already had one,” Feanor reminded him. His gaze flickered towards Finwe and Indis but they looked amused rather than annoyed. Even Anaire was chuckling. Celegorm scowled and blew a raspberry with his tongue.
“Oh, look how nicely Aredhel is drinking!” Indis cooed. “She’s got such lovely manners!”
“Little girls always have beautiful manners,” Finwe gushed. Feanor and Fingolfin exchanged puzzled glances, wondering how their father knew this. After all, it wasn’t as if their family was overflowing with girls. Celegorm shrieked and tried to eat Feanor’s hair bow.
“Perhaps we will have a daughter next,” Nerdanel said, smiling fondly at Feanor.
“Oh yes, I expect so,” Feanor wrestled with Celegorm, while trying to stroke Nerdanel’s cheek. “I have complete faith in you, love”.
“Oh but Feanor dear, it’s the father who is responsible for whether the baby is a boy or a girl,” Indis pointed out.
“Er, is it?” Feanor looked helplessly at Nerdanel, then at Finwe. Celegorm finally wriggled free and landed in the grass with a plop.
“Bottle!” he shouted, running over to where Fingolfin was feeding Aredhel. He tried to grab the bottle, but Fingolfin lifted it out of the way, and out of Aredhel’s mouth by default too.
“Oh no dear, don’t snatch,” Fingolfin said to Celegorm. But Aredhel was not at all happy. Deprived of her milk, she let out an ear-splitting scream!
The palace foundations trembled. The trees dropped some leaves without Maedhros and Fingon’s help. Turgon and Maglor hugged one another. Celegorm raced back to Feanor and Nerdanel in alarm. And Finwe and Indis covered their ears with regal grace.
“Oh, oh no!” Fingolfin gasped, his ears going completely flat. But even so, his daughter’s screams found their way in. Aredhel kicked and flailed, her little face turning red with frustration.
“Oh yes!” Feanor said smugly. Braving the high decibel environment, he took the bottle of Fingolfin and approached Aredhel. “There there, sweetheart,” he fussed. “Is your horrid father neglecting you?”
Aredhel paused from screaming as Feanor lifted her out of her carry cot and settled her on his lap. He placed the bottle in her mouth and she began drinking again. Aredhel looked up at him, placid and content.
The whole family, including the children, gazed at Feanor, stunned. Nerdanel beamed with pride. Fingolfin cautiously raised his ears. Aredhel made cute little noises, while Feanor grinned round at everybody.
“I think I should be able to handle any future daughters just fine,” he said.

Eleven:

Finwe finally had the maximum number of grandchildren. Fifteen, to be exact.
Seven from Feanor, four from Fingolfin and four from Finarfin. (Though the ladies did the hard work, of course).
There were a grand total of thirteen boys and two girls. Finarfin had managed to produce another granddaughter. She was called Galadriel. And she was very golden, just like her siblings and her father.
Feanor and Nerdanel had accepted the fact that they were not going to have a daughter, with grace. (Actually, this was not true. After their final twin boys, Nerdanel had warned Feanor that if he even thought about more babies, she would make him wear a chastity belt. Feanor wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be horrified).
So, instead, they crafted Aredhel a beautiful doll’s house. Aredhel turned it into a castle, complete with dungeons. She also bit the heads off most of the dolls.
Fingolfin drank rather a lot of wine that evening. Then he asked Feanor if he wanted to swap Aredhel for Maglor. Feanor refused.
Some days after this interesting event, Fingolfin was in the garden of Feanor and Nerdanel’s cottage (now with extensions for the children). He was relaxing and drinking lemonade with the other adults.
Anaire sat next to him, holding sleeping baby Argon in her arms. He was their fourth and last child. They had come to a mutual agreement, that four elflings were a perfect number.
Fingolfin sipped his lemonade as he thought about the conversation he had recently had with Anaire. I know that you have always wanted to be just like your brother, Feanor. But we are not having seven children. Dear Turgon could not cope with the mess.
This was a good point. Turgon, now at sixty four years old, was as neat and tidy as ever. He was currently in his bedroom suite, polishing the brass knobs on his chest of drawers. Maglor was keeping him company, playing his lute. Caranthir was there too, listening to Maglor and eating Turgon’s pink wafer biscuits. (Which was an improvement over trying to eat the brass polish).
Fingolfin glanced over to the wooden bench, where Feanor and Nerdanel were sitting. They were holding their latest elflings; twins Amrod and Amras. They both had red hair and freckles, like Nerdanel. And a taste for mischief, like their older brothers, sans Maglor.
Amrod was entertaining himself; braiding ribbons in Feanor’s hair. The ribbon basket was half empty and none of the colours matched. Amrod sang happily to himself as he made his father look lovely.
Amras was in time out, on Nerdanel’s lap. He had snuck into the pantry and helped himself to some blueberry pie. It wasn’t me! he had protested, even though his face and hands resembled a purple explosion. Nerdanel had told him to sit on my lap and think about what you have done. Amras was quite happy to do so, daydreaming about the delicious pie!
“Really, I had no idea he could even let himself into the pantry,” Nerdanel was saying to the others. “I shall have to keep an even closer eye on the twins from now on”.
“Oh, they grow up so fast!” Anaire gave a wistful sigh. “It seems like only yesterday that little Argon was born”. She smiled fondly at the sleeping elfling on her lap. “And now he is starting to eat solid food!”
“Soon, he will learn to walk,” Feanor grinned. “And then you will have no peace at all!”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be a well behaved elfling,” Fingolfin paused in drinking his lemonade. “After all, Fingon and Turgon are both…” he did not get any further. Nerdanel was giggling. Anaire wore a long-suffering expression. Feanor was smirking and pointing towards where some of their children were playing...
Aredhel was wrestling in the mud with Celegorm. She appeared to be winning. She has already beaten Curufin, and he was sitting on a log, which Aredhel had dubbed the losing log. He was completely covered in mud and missing both boots and his tunic belt. He sat there, hands in his lap, not daring to move.
“Our sons are well behaved,” Fingolfin said, with as much dignity as he could muster.
Feanor snorted. “Didn’t Fingon get stuck on the palace roof last week?”
“Yes. Trying to retrieve a ball that YOUR Maedhros had throw up there,” Fingolfin grumbled.
Feanor tried to tease Fingolfin again, but he was prevented from doing so by Amrod covering his mouth. “Shush! I make you pretty,” Amrod explained. He then selected yet another ribbon (a baby blue one) and began braiding it in at the back. Feanor was not quite sure why him talking prevented his son from decorating his hair, but he kindly remained silent.
Fingolfin laughed and poured himself some more lemonade from the jug. He could hear Celegorm shouting something about a rematch, and Aredhel smugly calling him a poor loser. He tried to tune it out by listening to Nerdanel and Ananire instead. They were talking about Maedhros and Fingon. Their eldest boys had gone fishing for the day. The ladies hoped they were having a lovely time.
“They go fishing on their own now, all the way to the lake!” Anaire was saying. “How quickly they have grown up!”
“Oh, absolutely,” Nerdanel agreed. “Finwe is so proud of them both. Why, just the other day, he was teasing Feanor and I, saying that it would not be long before Maedhros started noticing fair maidens!”
Fingolfin blinked. He stared at his glass, watching the bubbles rising.
From what he knew of Maedhros, he was pretty certain that he was not noticing fair maidens.
Not at all.
But he was writing an awful lot of poetry about Fingon’s hair.
“Done!” Amrod announced, startling Fingolfin out of his musings. The little elfling was beaming round proudly, and Feanor’s hair was now decorated with multicoloured ribbons. Nerdanel and Anaire giggled, while Amras pulled at the nearest ribbon. Feanor shrugged and grinned.
“Don’t tease him. I expect I look most dashing,” he said.
“Oh, very much so,” Fingolfin smirked. “Shall I fetch you a mirror, brother?”
Amrod reached out and poked Fingolfin in the chest. His eyes were focused on Fingolfin’s mane of lovely, but undecorated hair. “I do you now, Uncle!” he said.
Fingolfin started. “Er, thank you dear,” he stammered. “But...but there really isn’t any…” His words were lost as Amrod clambered into his lap. Feanor gleefully handed over the ribbon basket and Amrod giggled as he chose a red and gold one out.
“Oh dear,” Fingolfin murmured, as Amrod began work on his hair. “I think...I may need some wine. Do we, perchance, have any?”
Anaire gave him the dirtiest look she could muster.

Twelve:

The Fourth Age

Anaire was sitting in the palace gardens, drinking a cup of tea. She was relaxed as she listened to the birdsong and watched the leaves dancing on the trees.
She sipped her tea, waiting.
She had been waiting a long time, but at last, today was the day. For the first time in a very long time, Anaire could really enjoy her tea.
Because she knew, from this day on, she would no longer be drinking it alone.
Anaire took another sip form her cup; her hand trembling slightly. Not long now, surely, she thought. Where is he?
And then...there he was.
Walking under the rose arch; there was Fingolfin, her dear husband. He looked older and (if possible) wiser. His dark hair was decorated with white-gold streaks. And he wore faded blue robes, as if they were simply a memory from the old days.
But he was real and alive again. Mandos had finally returned him.
Anaire dropped the teacup, and leapt to her feet. Fingolfin had seen her now, and he gave a cry. They ran towards each other, and then they were embracing; laughter and tears mingled until it was hard to tell which was which.
“Anaire, my love!” Fingolfin tried to speak but it was difficult as Anaire kept kissing him. Which was perfectly understandable, as she had about seven thousand years worth of kissing to catch up on. Fingolfin suspected that he was going to be very occupied for the foreseeable future!
At last, possibly a couple of hours later, Anaire paused in her kissing to speak to Fingolfin. “Dearheart! I am so happy,” she breathed. “I do not have words powerful enough to convey my joy!”
Fingolfin just smiled. His lips were sore, but in the best possible way. He held Anaire close, caressing her soft hair. She nestled close to him as she could get, gazing up at him with luminous blue eyes.
“This day is beyond lovely,” Fingolfin said. “To be with my family again…” He tailed off, happy tears shimmering in his eyes.
“The children will be overcome with joy, to see you,” Anaire murmured. “They have missed you so much! I have missed you so much…”
She paused, arching her eyebrows. Fingolfin blushed and grinned.
Anaire’s smiled rearranged itself into a pout. And then...
“Dreadful husband!” she scolded, slapping Fingolfin across the bottom. “Why did you take so long to return?”
Fingolfin kissed Anaire’s forehead, then looked across the courtyard. There, standing in the shade of a butternut tree, was a familiar figure. A brotherly figure, whose features were slightly softer, and whose hair was now fully silver.
Feanor was standing there, with Nerdanel and all seven of their sons. They were laughing softly, and Nerdanel was hugging him as if she would never let go.
Feanor’s fire, instead of burning, was now warm and comforting.
Fingolfin smiled. “I was waiting for someone”.

The End