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

The Switch

Later in the afternoon, Mahtan watched from the shadows of the stairway landing as Amrod lifted Fëanor's pouch from the table with studied casualness, then removed the orb, and carried it over to the window seat.

"Dad said not to touch it," said Amras.

Amrod looked around for something of suitable size and weight. He put the snow globe made by his mother in the pouch and returned it to the table.

"Much better," said Amras.

They retreated to the window seat and settled in among the cushions and pillows.

"Look at that! He put his paw in the milk pitcher. He started all the way down to the armpit. Now is looking his paw. He's going to try again. Whoa, he tipped over. I never saw a cat run so fast," said Amrod, laughing.

"Can you make it look a few minutes into the past? I want to see that again," said Amras.

"I think I know how to do that. Wait, I got it," said Amrod.

The two of them crouched over the stone, laughing hysterically. Celegorm came in from outside. "It appears that some village has been deprived of its idiot." The twins looked up. "Correction, two idiots."

The door open again, and Fëanor entered the room. Amrod sat bolt upright, then shoved the seeing stone behind a window seat pillow.

"Make sure you switch it back later," said Amras.

Fëanor's refusal to let the boys Except Aulë's offer gnawed at Mahtan all day. It was such a vehement "No", with no obvious reason behind it.

All through supper, Fëanor talked about his accomplishment. "I saw it. I saw Lake Cuiviénen. I know how to do it now, I can do it on command. This is going to amaze the investors." Mahtan had never seen Fëanor looking so excited.

Mahtan said little. He was still upset with Fëanor, and he didn't feel like talking. But since he normally didn't say much anyway, no one appeared to notice.

After the dishes had been cleared away and washed, the others retreated to the main room, and Mahtan found himself alone at the kitchen table with Fëanor. The shadows deepened outside, and through the open window came the trill of frogs.

Ever since the success with the seeing stone, his mood had been buoyant. It seemed like a good time to bring up the subject again.

"I think the boys would benefit greatly from a chance to study under Aulë."

"Well, Aulë may have been good enough for you, but I have very high standards," said Fëanor.

Mahtan rocked back in his chair, stunned. A feeling of heat crept up his face. In one sentence, Fëanor had managed to insult him and Aulë both. Keeping his voice neutral, Mahtan said, "Aulë is the god of Craft. He has access to secret knowledge we don't."

"Yes, I know. Too bad he's dumb as a bag of hammers," said Fëanor.

For one fleeting moment, Mahtan actually thought of killing his son-in-law, but shoved the thought aside. No, I'd just have to clean up the mess.

After Fëanor left the room, Mahtan stared at the kitchen table as the flame flickered in the lamp and went and then died.

Mahtan would miss the boys terribly: Maglor with his sensitive artistic longings, Curufin and his astonishing skill at blacksmithing, the twins for their cheerfulness and good nature. He would lose all that. He wouldn't see them grow up. He wouldn't have the comfortable day-to-day relationship you get by spending a lot of time with someone.

He grieved the loss. It seemed almost unbearable.