In the House of Feanor by Aiwen

Kids and Toys

Disclaimer: These stories are based on the Silmarillion, the Book of Unfinished Tales, the Lord of the Rings and the HoME by Proff. J.R.R. Tolkien. I make no money from this whatever, so kindly do not attempt to sue me.

Kids and Toys

"What are you doing here, Ereinion? You should have been in bed half an hour ago."

Celebrimbor turned away from the discussion about magnetism he'd been having with his father to see Finrod leaning down to talk to Ereinion, who was playing quietly on the floor with some brightly painted wooden soldiers. Finrod extended his hand to Ereinion, but the child shook his head. "I'm not tired, Uncle Finrod." he said. "I don't want to go to bed."

"You will be tired and grouchy tomorrow if you don't go to bed," Finrod said, picking Ereinion up.

Ereinion struggled in his grasp. "I'm not finished yet. Just five more minutes."

"Not tonight, child," said Finrod, starting to walk towards the door.

"No!" yelled Ereinion, bursting into tears. He still had one of the toy soldiers in his hand and he hit Finrod over the head with it. Finrod turned rather red, and attempted to remove the toy from Ereinion's hand while holding on to the still struggling child with the other.

A sound suspiciously like a snicker burst from Curufin, and Celebrimbor turned round to stare at his father. Curufin pushed his chair back and walked across the room where he removed the offending object from the the child's hand.

"Thank you," said Finrod.

"You need to remember to remove the toy before picking up the child," Curufin said.

"Yes. I shall keep that for future reference, but for now I think I'd best cart this young one off to his mother for her to put to bed." With that, Finrod turned and left the room with Ereinion still hiccupping sobs.

Curufin walked back to the table where Celebrimbor still sat. "Did I do that when I was that age?" Celebrimbor asked.

"Frequently. We Feanorions are not easily separated from our toys." Curufin smiled for a moment, then resumed a serious expression, pointing at the paper in front of them. "Now, the pattern the iron filings create demonstrates..."