Fëanor, The World's Worst Son-In-Law by Uvatha the Horseman

The In-Laws Depart

Before dawn, Mahtan woke to the sound of slamming doors and the tramp of feet on the narrow stairs. He went downstairs. The kitchen was bright with yellow lamplight, and the younger boys were standing up to their breakfast. Each one had a slice of bread and butter in his hand.

It was just beginning to get light outside, and the dew was still on the grass. It weighted down the stalks of delphinium and hollyhock along the side of the house. Nerdanel was studying them as if saving up good memories of her childhood home.

The pack horse was already harnessed between the traces of the wagon. Mahtan stood with his daughter, watching his son-in-law and the boys lift trunks and bags over the tailgate.

Fëanor yanked one of the bags loose and retied it more neatly. "I swear, if your brain exploded, it wouldn't even mess up your hair."

"I'm sorry Dad. I did my best," said Caranthir.

"That's what scares me. From now on, I'd prefer if you did someone else's best."

"Do you have to leave so soon? Couldn't you stay another day?" Mahtan's wife asked Fëanor.

"I have to show some investors the seeing stone. It was very hard to get this appointment, so I don't want to blow them off." And I can't possibly risk being late."

The last bag was put in the wagon. Their horses were gathered from the pasture and saddled up. The last of the boys swung into the saddle, and they started to move out.

Fëanor touched the pouch at his belt and nodded. A twin sat bolt upright in the saddle. He looked almost panicked.

"Dad, I need to go back to the house. I'll only be a second." He kicked a foot loose from the stirrup and swung a leg over the saddle to dismount.

"Twenty-one seconds, to be exact," said the other twin.

"You should've thought of it earlier. Cross your legs until the first stop," said Fëanor.

"But Dad…" The boy's eyes were pleading.

"Ooooh - waterfalls, fountains, mountain streams. Once you start thinking of them, you can't stop," chanted Celegorm in a sing-song voice.

Nerdanel scowled. "Amrod, please obey your father. If you didn't have to go two minutes ago, you don't have to go now."

Amrod looked from her to Fëanor and back, his eyes pleading with desperation. Both parents stared back with their hands on their hips. He shrugged his shoulders and put his feet back in the stirrups. "Whatever happens later, it's not my fault."

Mahtan's wife stood on the steps watching them go until they couldn't see the dust from the wagon wheels.