Radiance by StarSpray

One

Maitimo was crossing the courtyard, thinking of lunch, when his father burst out of his workshop, where he had been holed up for the last several days, neither eating nor, as far as anyone could tell, sleeping. “Maitimo!” he cried, eyes alight with the fire of success. “Come! Come and see!” He did not wait for an answer, but seized Maitimo’s hand and dragged him into the workshop. The windows were shuttered, and it was very dark. As Maitimo blinked, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he saw a wooden chest sitting on the workbench. It was a beautiful chest, inlaid with jewels and enamels in greens and golds and silvers, representing the Trees.

“It is beautiful, Atar,” he said, “but why is it dark?”

“Hm? Oh, this chest—your compliments should go to your brother. Curufinwë made this for me; but that is not what I have to show you! Look!” Fëanor drew him closer, and carefully lifted the lid of the chest.

Maitimo ’s breath caught in this throat as brilliant light filled the room, as though they stood beneath Laurelin and Telperion at the Mingling. Nestled on pale blue velvet were three jewels, each many-faceted and as big as his fist. It was as though Fëanáro had somehow plucked three of Varda’s brightest stars from the sky.

He was reaching for them before he could recall himself, but when he would have drawn back F ëanáro said, “It’s all right. They are meant to be handled. You cannot break them.”

So Maitimo picked one up. It was surprisingly cool beneath his fingers, but it warmed quickly to the heat of his hands, and flared with many colors as he turned it over. “Atar,” he said, still breathless.

“I have shown this work, these Silmarils, to no one else, yet,” Fëanáro said. He smiled and placed his hand on Maitimo’s shoulder, a comforting and warm weight. “I am glad that you were the first.”