Thirty Day Character Challenge: Feanor by eris_of_imladris

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Prompt 2

Prompt 2: Down Memory Lane, Part One. Think about your character’s childhood (or the early days of their existence if they had no childhood). What was the environment and daily life of their formative years like? Did they have siblings? What was their relationship to their family like? Who were their friends? What made them feel sad/angry/frightened? What made them feel content/excited/happy? Who were their teachers?

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He sat in the grass, tempted to rip tufts of it out. He was just so frustrated with Indis, and with his father for allowing her to pretend she was part of his family, or something like a mother to him. She would never be his mother, no matter what, and no matter how many times she kept trying to talk to him with love, he would never respond.

He lay on his back, feeling the grass tickle his nape as he thought of the day’s events so far. He had been awoken by Indis on a rare morning off from his forge work, and she had tried to convince him to go to the market with her. Why would he want to go to the market? If she wanted to spend all of his father’s money, she could do that without him being involved, and then being a convenient scapegoat if anything went wrong. Of course, she didn’t see it that way, and she summoned his father, and the fight had escalated to the point where Finwë was accompanying Indis to the market, and he was in the field not too far away, biding his time until his shift began at the forge.

Mahtan took him early sometimes, but if he went every time he had a fight with or about Indis, he would live in the forge, and there was no point in angering his master when there was still so much he needed to learn from him. Instead, he tried to cool down, tried to appreciate Laurelin’s light and the fair meadow, but he was having trouble.

He swore as he felt something tugging on his hair, and he sat up indignantly only to find a small goat with a mouthful of inky black hair. The goat ruminated a few times, and looked at Fëanor with its oddly shaped eyes and made a strange noise, almost like it was making a small scream.

“I feel the same way,” Fëanor said. He was now talking to a goat. That was incredibly stupid, but it wasn’t the first stupid thing that had happened that morning. “My stupid stepmother never leaves me alone.”

Some part of him thought that it might be unfair to think like this, but she had done so many more things that he deemed unfair, and it was not his fault that she had tried to court an ellon already married, although his wife was in the gardens of Lorien. Fields like this made him think of his mother, and the relaxation she supposedly needed, but he couldn’t understand how this was any more relaxing than a life at home with loved ones. Yes, it was isolated, but how could she have left him? True, she would not have known that Finwë would be so unfaithful to her, but there was at least a chance, and for the sake of that chance, she should have stayed with their family, and raised her child properly.

Thinking of raising a child made him raise his voice again, speaking to the goat. It was stupid to speak to an animal, but the goat was theoretically not interested in Noldorin politics, and would not blab on him.

“I overheard them last night,” he confessed. “They must have thought I was asleep. I was walking past their chamber - well, I think of it as Atar’s chamber, but still - and I heard them talking about the baby. The one they have conceived. Together.” The thought was repulsive, and it definitely confirmed in his mind that his father had taken Indis to wife for nothing more than pure desire that his own mother could not indulge anymore.

“I do not understand,” he said. “Atar was so happy to have another child, you would think I did not exist at all, or that I was the bastard and her child was legitimate. With the Valar sanctifying both marriages, it is unclear now which child is legitimate, and it is a threat to me, whatever they say. And the fact that they speak of it in secret - I will be able to see her pregnancy soon enough, even if they do not speak to me of it - means that they might mean to disinherit me.”

The goat screamed.

“Very well said,” Fëanor nodded. He had no idea where he might go for a home if this happened, if he was forced to watch the baby take away every meager scrap of love he had managed to hoard for himself like a particularly grumpy magpie. He knew few elves who might want to take him in - Mahtan was kind, but distant, and he already had his daughter, although Fëanor had not yet met her, and she was his heir in name and deed. There were some nobles who might believe in his cause, but he knew that they were too meek to do anything, too scared of the political repercussions. He had thought of laying down his life in Lorien with his mother, but he could not dishonor her sacrifice any more than he could put up with being in a field with nothing to do for the rest of eternity.

But if it was a boy, he realized he might not have a choice. A son from his father’s second marriage might eclipse everything, might take all he had ever known and turn it around. He wished he could speak to his father about it, but he never knew which version he was getting, the one who was loyal to him or the one who let Indis walk all over him and ruin everything.

 

The goat in front of him was far simpler. Just two almond-shaped eyes, thin pupils, four hooves. The goat never had to worry about anything like he did. And some elves wondered why he took an apprenticeship with Mahtan - he was completely sure he would lose his mind if he was stuck in his father’s house all day every day, with Indis lurking in every corner, that fake friendly smile pasted on her face, her blonde hair a painful reminder of what he could have had with his mother if she had been stronger.

The goat dropped a small chunk of his hair as it continued to chew the rest. He flipped over onto his stomach and watched the animal living its peaceful life, not knowing the meaning of pain or sorrow, of grief or turmoil. It was simply at peace, like his mother was supposed to be in Lorien’s gardens. All he had learned from his father repeating that phrase was that she was at peace, while he was not, and that was utterly not fair.

He pushed himself up, determined to confront his father and ask for his plans regarding the baby. It was not a bad idea to try to get more time to figure out his next steps, and putting his father on the spot might even let him influence the outcome a little bit. He looked down at the hair that the goat had chewed, which looked just like his father’s.

“Thank you,” he told the goat, and he reached out and patted it on its head. Its fur was soft, and the two ears flopped down in front as it nuzzled into the touch.

He stood up, not one to stay in one place for long, and when he left, the goat lay down in the grass. Fëanor made it all the way back to town before he realized that the livestock merchant was not in the market that day, nor were there any goats in the entire rest of the meadow.

 

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Finwë looked up when Indis pointed at Fëanor. “I did not know where you had gone, son - it is good to see you here,” he said, reaching out an arm to give his son a one-armed hug. “Where were you?”

“I was in the meadow,” he said. “Can we talk?”

“Yes,” Finwë said.

“Alone,” he clarified, and Finwë sent an apologetic look at Indis before Fëanor drew him away to a small break in the merchant stalls.

“What is wrong?”

“I overheard you last night,” he said, having decided on his walk back to confront the issue head-on. “I know you and Indis are having a child together, and I was wondering what this will mean for me and my position going forward.”

Finwë looked taken aback. “I am sorry you found out about it in that way,” he said. “We were speaking of how to tell you.”

“I am not a child,” Fëanor said.

“But I would not want to hurt you, so I was trying to think of how to break the news gently,” Finwë said.

“I have more problem with the fact that you have this news to break at all,” Fëanor grumbled.

“I knew you would, but Indis is my wife now, and part of our family.”

“She is not my family.”

“But she is mine, and for the love you bear for me, I have asked you to respect her,” Finwë said. “I knew you would be displeased, but I will tell you right now, and this promise lasts until the ending of the world: you are and will always be my firstborn son, and the High Prince of Tirion, in my eyes.”

“But what about the eyes of others?”

“Since when are you concerned with the opinions of others?”

“Since it might take away my birthright in addition to the love I know I will lose,” Fëanor said boldly.

“You will lose no love, but you will have to share it,” Finwë said, and the words meant the same to Fëanor. He sighed. “Nearly every elf has siblings, and this will be no different. You will be an elder brother, and at least partially responsible for the children growing up happy.”

Ignoring the mention of more than one child for now, Fëanor retorted, “I will be responsible for nothing. I played no part in your decision to wed Indis, or to get her with child, and I will not be responsible for the child.”

“I hope you will at least be kind,” Finwë said. “Your younger sibling will look up to you a great deal. You do more in one day than some elves do in a year, and your work ethic and powerful mind are inspirational. Surely, he or she will look up to you.”

“Half-sibling,” was all Fëanor said.