Marbles by grey_gazania
Fanwork Notes
- Fanwork Information
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Summary:
Fëanor finds that his feelings toward his little brother are not as black-and-white as he thinks they are. Pure fluff.
Major Characters: Fëanor, Fingolfin, Finwë
Major Relationships:
Genre: General
Challenges:
Rating: Creator Chooses Not to Rate
Warnings: Creator Chooses Not to Warn
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 427 Posted on 13 March 2011 Updated on 13 March 2011 This fanwork is complete.
Marbles
Thanks to the Lizard Council for their help.
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"He's always following me," Fëanáro huffed, crossing his arms and meeting his father's gaze with sullen eyes. "Everywhere I go he tags along. Can't you make him stop?"
Finwë sighed and rested a hand on his son's shoulder. "He admires you, Fëanáro; you're his older brother. He just wants you to play with him."
"Half-brother," Fëanáro said. "And I don't care; he's annoying." He picked at a loose thread on his tunic and scowled. Bad enough that he had to share his father with her - now Nolofinwë insisted on intruding as well, tagging after Fëanáro and demanding Finwë's attention with an endless stream of babble. "Besides," he continued, "he only plays baby games, and he can't even play them properly."
"Then teach him to do better. That's a brother's duty," Finwë said, with the slightest emphasis on brother - they were both his sons, and Fëanáro would have to accept that.
The door to Fëanáro's room squeaked open and Nolofinwë toddled in, hanging onto the handle with one hand and clutching a small bag in the other. "'Ta? Play marbles with me?"
"I have a council meeting soon, Nolvo," Finwë said, lifting the boy up and kissing his braided hair. "But your brother will play if you ask nicely."
Fëanáro opened his mouth, ready to let out an indignant objection, but Finwë silenced him with a stern look.
"Play marbles with me please, Fe'náro?" Nolofinwë asked, wriggling out of his father's arms and settling on the bed between them.
"Fine," Fëanáro sighed. "But not in here - I don't want you getting clumsy and breaking things. Let's go." He stood and took Nolofinwë by the hand, tugging him out to the hall. They settled in an out-of-the-way corner, and Nolofinwë pulled a piece of chalk from his bag and drew a shaky circle on the floor.
Fëanáro snorted. "That won't do. Here - like this." He corrected Nolofinwë's attempting with a sweeping, fluid stroke. "That's a proper circle."
Nolofinwë nodded solemnly and tipped the marbles out of the bag. "Show me aiming please?" he asked. Fëanáro acquiesced with another sigh, and the next half-hour was spent teaching Nolofinwë to knock marbles from the circle with consistency. After his fifth success Nolofinwë paused and beamed at his brother. "Thank you, Fe'náro," he said, tugging himself up on Fëanáro's sleeve and planting a kiss on his cheek. "You're my favorite brother."
"I suppose you could be worse," he said. His voice was grudging, but when Indis came to fetch Nolofinwë for his nap she found her step-son smiling.
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