Hanno by dalliansss

A Day Out and Raspberries

• Much of this work are based on shared headcanons between @skaelds and me. Special mention to @Antares0606.

Read A Day Out and Raspberries

For as early as Aikanáro could remember, the golden presence of Ingoldo had always been there beside him and Angamaitë, their eldest brother either carrying them strapped to his back as he did some chores around their parents’ manse or else reading and writing his own scholarly work. Aikanáro’s earliest memories with his brothers were the warmth of their hugs, the solid and youthful strength of their arms, and the many, many kisses bestowed upon him by both Ingoldo and Angamaitë. 

 

But for Aikanáro, Ingoldo was his favorite sibling.

He loved Angamaitë too, but Ingoldo simply was his favorite.

 

~0~

 

Findaráto had attained his majority and two years later, Aikanár was born. Though his parents had a considerable household staff, still he had left his own house and returned to them for a time to help around with taking care of Aikanár. Arafinwë told him he need not do so, but he did it anyway, moving back to his parent’s house so he could hoard his second little brother. Growing up spending summers with Fëanáro’s massive household had instilled in him instinct and skill to look after little ones, and Aikanár was no different. 

 

But Aikanár was barely ten – still very much a baby in elven reckoning – when Nerwen was born, and the joy of having a daughter split Arafinwë and Eärwen’s attention, such that Aikanár’s care had fallen to the wayside, leaving the little elfling terribly wanting the affection of their parents. The result was, Aikanár was often left with servants who spoiled him, giving him what he wanted if only to forestall tantrums, and Findaráto found that it would not do at all. Angamaitë, while still residing with their parents, was old enough to take care of himself and Aikanár both, but Angamaitë had no patience for children and was at the age where elleths were more of an ideal occupation than deal with Aikanár’s needs.

 

So, Findaráto, with leave of their parents, took all of Aikanár’s belongings and his little brother’s nursemaid Nemmirile as well, and relocated both elfling and nursemaid to his house in Tirion.

 

~0~

 

Wee little feet pad bare down the hallway of Ingoldo’s house, and it’s early morning and Laurelin has barely brightened, and Telperion steadily declining to prepare for the Mingling. There’s a giggle somewhere, and two small, soft hands push wayward flaxen blond curls out of big blue eyes. Egg’s gaze is riveted on the closed door of his brother’s door, and he grabs the doorknob and turns it, and the door is unlocked and easily grants him admittance inside.

 

Ingoldo has a big room; with a balcony and curtains, and Egg liked sitting in that balcony during evenings, squished onto his brother’s lap as he shot a thousand questions per minute, asking Ingoldo where he had been, what did he do with his morning, and whether or not he could come next time. There’s a rocking chair there, given to his brother by their Uncle Fëanáro, and it’s a chair older than he was, even. A chair is older than he is! Imagine that!

 

Egg finds his brother still abed, his blankets rumpled. Ingoldo liked sleeping on his stomach while hugging a pillow underneath him, and he is a mess of limbs and golden blond hair, the blankets almost off him. Ingoldo wore nothing, but nudity has never been an issue with Eldar, or at least, to his brother. Another quirk of spending much of his youthful summers in Formenos, or so their Atar said. Ingoldo had no decency. De-shen-see. Whatever the word meant.

 

He climbs up the bed with the vigor of childhood, and Egg sits on his brother’s back, grabbing fistfuls of Ingoldo’s lovely blond hair and stuffing them into his mouth. He liked eating Ingoldo’s hair because it looked like runny yolk from the breakfasts Nemmirile made. Yum yum.

 

A groan. Egg giggles as his brother stirs. “Egg…Aikanár…my back…heavy…”

 

“Innoldo, Innoldo, you promsee to take me to the park today!” Egg declares, yanking on his brother’s hair a bit hard, that causes Ingoldo’s eyes to snap open.

“Ai!” Ingoldo exclaims. “Ai, I’m up! I’m awake!” Another groan. “Egg, my back–”

“Park! Park, park, park!” Egg chirps. “Innoldo go to park with Egg?”

“Yes, yes. Ai, get off my back, come here–”

 

Egg promptly rolls to the side, allowing his grown brother to roll onto his back. Ingoldo brushes back his tangled golden hair from his face. He still has a massive pillow crease on his left cheek, and a streak of dried drool, which fascinates Egg. The chubby-cheeked elfling crawls forward and pokes at the pillow crease on his brother’s face. 

 

“Uwah, Innoldo, face broken!” he exclaims. “I fix! I fix, I fix!” So saying he gives his brother a massive smooch on the ‘damaged’ cheek.

“Ewwww,” Ingoldo winces. “Your breath is bad!”

 

---

 

The kitchen smells heavenly: pancakes and maple syrup, and coffee. Egg clings to his brother as they descend from his rooms together. Ingoldo had combed down his lovely golden hair and got into a verdant green Telerin skirt that reached his ankles. Nemmirile, Egg’s nursemaid, turns from where she has just finished setting the table and greets the princes good morning, the greeting which they return. 

 

“Breakfast looks lovely, Nemmirile,” says Ingoldo, smiling brilliantly at her. “You’re joining us, yes?”

“Yes, Findaráto,” she fetches the pot of coffee and pours them a cup each – Egg was judged to be too young still for the drink. 

 

Egg is relegated to the seat beside his brother’s own, given with his own plate and two pancakes. He eagerly picks up the knife and fork, and he nods happily when Ingoldo pokes a square of butter onto his pancakes and then adds the syrup on top. Egg watches in utter fascination as the butter melts and mixes with the viscous syrup. It enthralls him for some minutes, until his brother coaxes him to start eating – he won’t want his pancakes cold. That said, Egg cuts into breakfast and starts stuffing his cheeks. Om nom nom.

 

He is ten, and Ingoldo has always said he should start to eat cleanly, because eating messily would make him dirty and ugly, ai! Egg took the lesson to heart, striving at every meal time to eat as cleanly as possible, little crumbs and spots of sauce on his person or on his clothes. He has been doing exceedingly well since he and Nemmirile moved to Ingoldo’s house, primarily because Egg could not bear to have his beloved older brother upset or disappointed in him.

 

At the end of breakfast, Egg only had small amounts of crumbs around his cheeks, and not a dollop of syrup on his clothes!

 

“Well done, Egg,” Ingoldo praises him and kisses him thrice on each cheek. “As a reward, you have this cantaloupe for dessert.”

 

He is allowed a small bowl of cantaloupe balls. Egg’s eyes widen, and he takes up the longer and slender dessert spoon to get started on the sweet treat. As he eats, Ingoldo and Nemmirile move around the house doing the rest of the chores – and he wonders why Ingoldo does not have servants like Atar and Amil do back in Alqualondë. Even then, Nemmirile doesn’t do much chores – as far as he understands it, tasks were split between Nemmirile and Ingoldo, with Ingoldo taking the bigger share. 

 

Egg wonders when he can start helping with the chores too, as he eats more cantaloupe balls. 

 

---

 

Nemmirile gives him a bath in the bathroom in his suites – really, a guest suite of Ingoldo’s, given to him since they moved here from Alqualondë. Egg sits in the tub as Nemmirile washes his hair.

 

“Namma,” Egg speaks, keeping his eyes closed so as not to get shampoo suds in them. “Namma, I wear blue in the park today, okay? I wear blue.”

 

He hears his nursemaid’s soft, fond laughter. “Alright, Egg. We’ll pick blue clothes for you today.”

 

He isn’t allowed to play with his duckies in the tub today, because Ingoldo has people to meet and they will have time to play at the park, or so Egg is told. So Egg indeed does not ask for his duckies, and Nemmirile helps him dress in a blue-and-silver ensemble. She towel dries his thick curls and patiently and meticulously works out the tangles there. 

 

“There, don’t you look lovely,” Nemmirile smiles when the hair-combing is done. 

Egg smiles widely at her from the mirror. “I look lovely! Yes! Thank you, Namma!”

 

Ingoldo then enters the room, already fully dressed in verdant green and gold, his long hair kept hanging loosely except for the braids at either side of his face. He beams at Egg. “Ah, someone looks dashing.”

 

“Dash-eeng,” Egg repeats the word. “I dashing!” He scrambles out of his chair, runs to his brother and holds up his arms expectantly. Ingoldo rolls his lovely eyes and picks him up anyway, and Egg hugs into his neck, already nosing into his throat and his golden hair.

 

Ingoldo smelled nice! Like lavender! 

 

---

 

The park is the expansive, public one just before Mindon Eldaliéva, with its exquisite pathways, the mallorn trees, the tables and chairs. Ingoldo takes him to an area designated for elflings, and here Egg is let go to play with other early elflings there, sons and daughters of lords of Tirion and commoners both. Ingoldo beams at the parents there watching their children, and he is greeted with the courtesy expected for him, things which Egg does not understand yet. What Egg does know is that they are both princes, special, in a way. 

 

Egg is soon engaged, chasing two boys and two girls, and them chasing him in turn. They frolick unhampered – clamber up the slide, onto the swing, onto the see-saw, whatever else they could lay their small hands on. Egg picks up one of the free-use hoops and tries to play with it, but everytime he tries to ‘wiggle’, the hoop falls, simply too big. This frustrates him, and a tantrum crackles underneath his golden curls, until Ingoldo notices his displeasure and comes to his rescue, and distracts him toward the play pyramid nearby instead.

 

By the time he is too tired and now hungry, a crowd has formed around his brother, obscuring Ingoldo from his sight. Egg pauses, wondering where all the people had come from. They are all grown men and women, clad in the austere tunics and dresses of the Noldor and Vanyar, their clothing rich and ornately detailed with embroideries. A whine rolls from Egg’s lips as he runs toward the gathering, pushing aside legs and bodies. He wants hanno, he wants his brother, he wants hanno, he wants his brother, go away go away go away go away—

 

He gives the last few bodies a big shove just as the first whine rolls from his lips, and his cheeks and nose flush red as he starts to cry. The crowd has parted, and there Ingoldo sits on the bench, flanked by a Vanyarin lady who claps a hand over her lips when Egg draws near them, positively throwing a loud, wailing tantrum. 

 

“Ai, Egg, little one, what is the matter?” Ingoldo is on his feet at once, and Egg is swept into his warm, beloved hold. “Hush now, hush now, I’m here, I’m right here, I have you.”

 

Great sobs rack Egg’s little shoulders and he takes great gulps of air. He has balled his hands into fists and rubs the tears out of his eyes, and he twists in Ingoldo’s hold to look at the ellon and elleth around them. They are Noldor and Vanyar – dark-haired and golden-haired, all friends of Ingoldo’s from university. They are all amused with him, and the elleths coo at him and try to touch him. Egg growls at one elleth who offers him her silk kerchief, and he twists back to hide his face by his brother’s neck. 

 

“No! Go away!” Egg cries, his voice muffled.

 

Soft laughter ripples around the small crowd around him and his brother.

 

“Aww, look at him, he’s upset!” comes an elleth’s voice.

“One would think you birthed him yourself, Ingoldo,” an ellon’s voice says.

 

Egg feels the laughter ripple from his brother’s chest, and when it escapes Ingoldo’s mouth it is as if Yavanna herself laughed, and the world bloomed brighter for it. “He’s just hungry, and tired now, I expect. Excuse us.”

 

Ingoldo sits back down on the bench and turns to the picnic basket there. He fetches a towel and hands it to Egg, who promptly uses it to wipe his face. He looks up at his brother, but Ingoldo simply smiles at him. He is then offered a sandwich next. 

 

The food does its magic; soon Egg is seated properly on his brother’s lap as he eats his sandwich, unmindful again of the crowd around them and the philosophical discussion that had quickly picked itself back up. Words, words, drift around Egg, and he sits there for now uncomprehending. As he eats, he looks to the elleth still sitting beside them, and she smiles at him, and he supposes she’s lovely, but nothing can be lovelier than his elder brother.

 

---

 

The picnic basket is empty now, and the crowd that had earlier gathered around them has dispersed. Egg is still on his brother’s lap, but he is flopped against Ingoldo’s chest, drowsy and belly full of food. Ingoldo holds him there, and he is reading from a book, singing softly. It’s comfortable, being held like this, and Egg sleepily thinks he should not like to grow up if only to be held like this by his brother forever. 

 

(He wants to be held like this by Atar and Amil too, but they’re busy – too busy fawning over little Nerwen, who Egg dislikes, because if she didn’t get born, then Atar and Amil’s attention would have remained with him, still.

 

But he has Ingoldo’s attention.

Ingoldo’s attention is all his.

If Nerwen takes it, Egg decides, he will bite her so hard she will not attempt to do so ever again.)

 

“Ingoldo, out and about still? Have you had your midday meal?”

 

Egg rouses at this new voice. He opens his eyes and sees an ellon in indigo and white approaching them. This one is thoroughly Noldo in his dark hair, but curiously enough, he has gold ribbons in his braids. He wears a prince’s silver circlet on his brow, and even though Ingoldo is seated, Egg knows somehow his brother is taller than this approaching one. 

 

“We have had our midday meal, thank you, Findekáno,” Ingoldo replies. “We’re just resting now.”

 

Findekáno? Egg rouses, pushing away from his brother to sit up properly. He rubs briefly at his eyes, then looks at Findekáno curiously.

 

“Ai, Egg, tis your cousin Findekáno!” Ingoldo laughs. “Do you not recognize him?”

 

Findekáno is smiling at him, and Egg feels confusion cloud his young mind. Of course he regards Ingoldo as fairest and his most beloved, but then here comes this cousin, with gold in his hair, smiling so warmly at him. Findekáno, Egg decides then and there, is as fair and radiant to him as Ingoldo is. 

 

“Carry me,” Egg demands, twisting his body around and holding out his arms.

 

His brother and Findekáno laugh, but Findekáno picks him up from Ingoldo’s hold and cuddles him close. Egg is awed to be staring at Findekáno’s ageless face this close. For someone in a thoroughly golden household, a darker beauty like Findekáno is an exotic sight, so rarely beheld. Egg pokes his cousin’s cheeks, then he tugs at those gold-braid hair. He immediately puts the end of one gold-twined braid into his mouth, making Findekáno laugh again.

 

“This one has the tendency of our family to put things into their mouths,” Findekáno says.

“I know, right?” Ingoldo answers with a beam. “I drink ink, and Egg eats people’s hair. Nessa’s teacup tits, we’re a strange bunch!”

 

They laugh, and Egg smiles through the mouthful of Findekáno’s braids. 

 

---

 

Laurelin is waning when they go back home. They spent the afternoon being hosted at Findekáno’s home, where Egg wandered about poking his head into the rooms and inspecting trinkets as his brother and cousin discuss something about Grandfather Finwë’s palace. There is mention of their cousin Russandol as well, and Egg remembers Russandol because of his red hair, and he liked eating Russandol’s red hair and imagine that it tastes like tomatoes, or watermelons. Findekáno gave them corn muffins to eat, and it was all so very good that Egg ate five.

 

Nemmirile has supper cooking back at Ingoldo’s house. Since she is busy, Ingoldo takes him to dress down in his room. Egg obediently gets out of his now-soiled clothes and allows his brother to dress him in a worn shirt of his – they will have a second bath later, after supper. Egg sits on Ingoldo’s bed as his brother sheds his own tunic and gets back into his Telerin skirt. 

 

Egg topples sideways, drowsy from all the muffins he ate at Findekáno’s house. The last thing he sees as sleep overtakes him is Ingoldo’s long golden hair, swaying as he moves about.

 

He wakes again when Ingoldo lifts him from the bed. Egg yawns, and he wraps his small arms around his brother’s neck. Ingoldo presses kisses onto his curls, onto his forehead and his cheeks.

 

But Ingoldo’s lips remain by his left cheek, and there he blows a very loud raspberry on his brother’s face. “ BBBFFFFFFFTTFTFBFBFB!”

 

Egg only yawns, tightening his hug around his brother. “Bffftpfpftft.” He answers.

 

Ingoldo laughs in delight at his antics, and like this, they descend back to the kitchen-dining area where Nemmirile waits.

 

Hide-and-Seek

Read Hide-and-Seek

Aikanár, Egg, remains very still from where he’s curled up in Nemmirile’s closet, in her room at Ingoldo’s house in Tirion. It is Valanya, the sixth day of the week, and there is no work and all the royal courts of the Eldar in Aman, be they Telerin, Noldor or Vanyarin, suspend their proceedings. This meant that Ingoldo was home all day, which of course delights Egg to no end, needy for his brother’s attention he was. 

 

But back to the game.

 

They had finished breakfast and Nemmirile was busy with hanging their laundry by the backyard, after Ingoldo had done much of the heavy lifting of the washing: bedsheets, cloaks, tunics, tough breeches, blankets, curtains — and Nemmirile helped him with lighter clothes and the hanging of the laundry. This also meant the house smelled really nice, like flowers— the scent of the laundry wafting through the open windows.

 

Egg strives to be very quiet in the dark of Nemmirile’s closet. After the laundry and after Ingoldo turned over the rest of the chores for Nemmirile, he and Egg then turned into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Ingoldo covered his eyes with handfuls of his long hair and began counting, sending Egg toddling away, giggling hysterically as he sought to find the best hiding place there is.

 

Then he careened toward Nemmirile’s room and crept into her closet, closing the door behind him. Hee hee.

 

Egg strains his ears to listen. He could hear Ingoldo searching the rooms downstairs; he could hear the doors opening and closing, and his brother wasn’t exactly sneaking about, calling his name sing-song in that melodious voice of his.

 

“Ai-ka-nárooooooo~ where are you? Ai-ka-nárooooooo~!”

 

Egg giggles to himself in the dark. He burrows into Nemmirile’s folded dresses, even unfolding one or two of her garments and throwing it all above his head.

 

He stays still. 

He stays very still. 

 

---

 

Ingoldo opens the door to his personal study on the ground floor of his three-story house. Here he has about two hundred books in neatly-organized shelves. His work desk is expansive, a beautiful mahogany thing in dark hues, a gift from his Atar and Amil for his first Reading. The shelves he commissioned from Turukáno, who enjoyed wood-carving and wood-building projects, and who had been happy to make them for him. 

 

He strides into the room with purpose, grinning. He opens the wardrobe there where he keeps spare blankets and some cloaks for guests. It is only cloths that greet him; no curly-haired golden elfling to shriek in laughter and tackle into his middle. 

 

Oh oh, not here then, Ingoldo thinks, and he whirls around, his golden hair flying and the fabric of his Telerin skirt (red, today) swirling by his ankles. He crosses the room and peeks under his work desk— nope, also empty. Then he checks behind the freshly-put white curtains in the room— nope, no sign of a giggly Egg anywhere. Oh my! Oh dear! Where could he be?

 

He has checked the kitchen, the pantry and the storeroom— no Egg anywhere, so this means only one thing: his little hanno hid upstairs. Chuckling, Ingoldo exits his study and walks toward the staircase leading to the upper floors of his house.

 

He makes a show of stomping his footsteps, so wherever he’s hiding, Egg can hear him, and hopefully make a sound and give himself away. Here, on the second floor, there are three rooms: Ingoldo’s master suite, and two guest rooms that have since been converted to Egg’s and Nemmirile’s room. 

 

“Ai-ka-nárooooo~ I’m going to get you~” Ingoldo calls, and he goes into the nearest room by the staircase, that is, his own master suite. There is his four-poster bed and pillows, currently bereft of sheets and coverings. His windows are also bare, the curtains having been removed earlier in the day, letting Laurelin’s golden radiance into the chambers. Beyond the balcony there are the rooftops of the structures in that side of Tirion, and if he looked a bit more to the right, he will be able to see Finwë’s palace. 

 

Ingoldo flattens himself on the floor, his golden hair fanning out. He peeks under his bed, mischief on his beautiful face – but he finds no giggling Egg hiding under his bed. Oh my! Oh dear! Where could that little Egg be? He stands, makes a beeline for his closet– 

 

“Boo!” Ingoldo exclaims, but there’s no giggling here, not amid his organized closet where his tunics and skirts and cloaks are organized by hues of color, such that the rows upon rows of clothing resembled a veritable rainbow. Ingoldo steps into the closet completely, checking the spaces under the hung clothes, and then the shelves over those too, but finds no Egg. 

 

He searches his bathroom next.

Nope, no Egg hiding in the tub, curling in on himself like a big potato bug determined to be invisible, yet cannot truly manage it, with how round he is. Not here, then.

 

Which leaves Nemmirile and Egg’s rooms to be searched!

 

Ingoldo is jogging when he exits his own room.

 

---

 

Egg hears the door of Nemmirile’s room open. He hears his brother’s footsteps, and for a moment he quivers where he’s hiding, excitement running in his veins. What to do, what to do, what to do? Should he surrender? Should he burrow further into Nemmirile’s pile of clothes? Oh no! What should he do!?

 

He claps his small hands over his mouth as a giggle spilled from his lips.

Ah! Ah, too late! Ah!

 

The closet opens. Egg stays very still. Another giggle, however, betrays him.

 

“But where is my little Egg?” Ingoldo asks nobody in particular, pretending not to see the great round lump at the corner of the closet, covered in Nemmirile’s skirts. “Oh dear, he has disappeared, I think! Ulmo’s maia has taken him! Ah! I have to rescue him from the depths of Ekkaia! What do I tell Atar and Amil?”

 

“Egg not gone!” Egg declares, bursting from the pile of clothes – and, and, well, having one of Nemmirile’s undergarments on his head.

 

Ingoldo stares at his brother, and Egg stares back at him, both arms still raised.

 

“Pffffffft,” Ingoldo bursts out. Then he tips his head back and guffaws loudly and vibrantly, his cheeks flushing, then his entire face next, all the way to his neck and the tips of his elvish ears. “AI! AI, my heart, Egg! Manwë’s perfect nostrils, ai! I am going to die from hilarity! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

Egg stumbles out of the closet, Nemmirile’s undergarment stuck on his thick, flaxen blond curls. He tackles into Ingoldo’s middle. 

 

“No die! Innoldo not allowed go to Námo’s! Take Egg with you!” the elfling cries, clinging to him like a bright golden bear. “Take Egg!”

 

It proves to be too much. Ingoldo laughs like there is no tomorrow, so much that he ends up sitting on the floor, hugging Aikanár to him as he laughs and laughs and laughs. Egg clings closer, all small arms and legs. 

 

“Noooooooo!” Egg cries, small hands coming up to try clamp his elder brother’s mouth shut. “Don’t– laugh too much! Not going to Námo’s! Nononononono!”

 

Ingoldo snatches Nemmirile’s undergarment from his brother’s head and throws it back into her closet. He’s still laughing his heart out, and he lays on his back on the floor, and hefts Egg up, up, up–

 

Egg’s eyes widen. “Weeeeeeee! I fly! Innoldo, look! I fly!”

 

“Yes, you little rascal, you’re flying!” Ingoldo laughs some more, before he takes a great breath of air and lowers his brother back to cuddle him against his chest. He makes a sound of pure delight and attacks Egg with kisses all over his face and round cheeks, making the elfling shriek with glee. “Goodness, Aikanár! You make me laugh so much! Ai, you! Definitely going to be a rascal!”

 

“Ratkal! Egg is a ratkal!” Egg echoes.

 

Another round of laughter from Ingoldo. “My little rascal Egg! Yes, that’s you!” And he gives him a big, wet smooch on the cheeks. 

 

“Ewwwwwww,” Egg pretends to protest, but the grin stretching his boyish face says otherwise. 

 

Ingoldo’s laughter gently subsides. He hugs his brother to him still, nosing into those thick, flaxen blond curls. “I love you, little rascally Egg~”

 

Egg peeks at him with wide blue eyes. “Egg love Innoldo too! Egg love you best.”

 

Ingoldo feels his grin stretch. He kisses his little brother’s small hands, and sighs happily. Here in Aman, under the radiance of Laurelin like this, life is perfect.

 

Jealous

Arafinwë and Eärwen are good parents, make no mistake about it.
However, even in Valinor, elves have their individual flaws.

Arafinwë is the third son of the king, and has to match to his brothers and their children.
Fëanáro and Maitimo set the standard high in the House of Finwë.

Read Jealous

Aikanár’s face is plastered against the carriage window, no doubt going to leave oily patches where his forehead, nose, lips, cheeks and chin were pressed against the glass. They had been on the road for some days now – Ingoldo had bundled him and Nemmirile up, and one of Grandfather Finwë’s magnificent carriage came to pick them up, and soon they were on the road out of Tirion. Egg had only made this trip once, when Ingoldo took him and Nemmirile from Atar and Amil’s great manse at Alqualondë. The journey had been fun, so far, for Egg. The carriage rattled down the road, and he was often on Ingoldo’s lap or Nemmirile’s. Ingoldo and Nemmirile passed the hours by playing cards, or a board game with wooden horses and towers . And then they stopped when Laurelin brightened, got out of the carriage – Nemmirile accompanied him for toilet, or else he was with Ingoldo while she went to toilet. They had a footman and a carriage driver with them, all cheerful neri who admired Egg and praised him for being cute and chubby. Egg liked them; they always smiled– they were called Mára and Asion. 

 

They had lots of food – Egg knew Ingoldo cooked some, and some food were sent over by Grandfather Finwë and Grandmother Indis. They had fresh fruits, candies, sardines in jars and sweet hams, which Egg liked very much. They also had eggs, which Ingoldo cooked in a frying pan, or else Nemmirile boiled in water. He liked the latter, especially when Ingoldo would sit him down on his lap and he removed the delicate shell to expose the perfectly cooked egg inside. Egg eating egg!

 

==

 

“Innoldo, why going to Alqualond?” Egg asks his brother for the nth time that day. This is supposed to be the last leg of their journey, and earlier when they were packing up after camping for the night, Ingoldo made a remark about how it was hotter now and how the air ‘carried the salt of the sea’. How did air carry salt? Egg was yet to see jars of salt floating around…

 

“Because you have not seen Atar and Amil for a while, and it is always good to see of one’s parents,” Ingoldo answers him. “Also, Grandfather Olwë wants to see you. He wants to take you sailing, you see.” Here, his hanno beams brightly down at him. 

 

Egg has of course met Grandfather Olwë. Their grandfather from Amil’s side of the family has always been present in all of their begetting days. Unlike Grandfather Finwë who was always pristinely clad in Noldor layers and tunics, Grandfather Olwë had darker skin and lots of iridescent tattoos of swirls and circles and dots down his strong, muscular arms, chest, back and middle. Grandfather Olwë had very long silver hair that he always kept in a great braid woven with pearls, corals and small shells. As far as Egg remembered Grandfather Olwë rarely wore tunics; always he was clad in gossamer skirts that reached his ankles. Grandmother Nísime bore the same features: dark-skinned, silver-haired and bedecked with pearls and shells and corals. Amil looked a lot like her Amil. 

 

“What’s sailing, hanno? What’s sailing, eh?” Egg asks, bouncing on his heels. He grabs a handful of Ingoldo’s golden hair and promptly puts it into his mouth. Chews happily on the strands. 

 

“It means, little one,” Ingoldo patiently explains, poking his wee nose. “That Grandfather Olwë wants to take you onto his great swan-ship, and sail out to sea~.”

Egg’s darker blue eyes widen at the prospect. “Uwah! Sailing! Swan-ship! Hanno going with me, yes? Hanno sailing too?”

Ingoldo gives him a big smooch on the cheek. “Ai! Of course, darling little Egg!”

 

==

 

Arafinwë and Eärwen’s principal residence when they married had in fact been in Tirion, a manse built and decorated in Telerin design in the midst of the Noldorin city. Their eldest son Ingoldo and their second son Angamaitë were born in Tirion, and had grown up there. However, when things had started going downhill in the family – particularly between Nolofinwë and Fëanáro – Arafinwë and Eärwen relocated to their secondary residence in Alqualondë, and it was there Aikanáro and Nerwen were conceived and born. 

 

Eärwen waits by the courtyard of their manse, her hands clasped together. She is beautifully clad in a pale pink, halter-style gown with her arms bare. She wore a circlet made of silver shells and pearls, and her silver hair styled into a half-ponytail, the soft waves of her strands left to hang loosely down her back, small pearls interwoven with her hair on delicate silver strings. 

 

Arafinwë, by contrast, is in a Noldorin tunic in greens and gold, but this tunic’s style has been modified for Alqualondë weather and thus bore shorter sleeves and fewer layers. The third son of Finwë wore his silver circlet, and his golden hair (which Ingoldo inherited) was styled in a bun. 

 

They hear the carriage first before they see it, and Eärwen is already running forward, eager to see her youngest son. Arafinwë follows her at a more sedate pace, hands clasped behind him, his smile already in place. True enough, the carriage comes to a halt, and the driver and footman greet him and his wife accordingly. Arafinwë returns the greetings.

 

Eärwen will not be stopped; already opening the carriage door. “Ai! Little Aikanáro– how you have grown in the year you have not been with us!”

 

Arafinwë approaches just in time to see wide-eyed Aikanár reaching for his Amil, and Eärwen joyfully taking him into her arms. 

 

“So heavy!” Eärwen exclaims happily, taking their son and kissing him all over his chubby face. “I missed him! Ah, Aikanár, I missed you so much!”

 

Ingoldo gets down from the carriage and stretches his back. He turns to his parents and gives them his greetings. Arafinwë returns it, and he pulls his eldest child, his son, his heir, into a hug. 

 

“Artafindë,” Arafinwë hums, using Ingoldo’s Quenya father-name. “We are so proud of you. You grow more radiant each day – of course, no doubt where that came from.” Here, Arafinwë pulls back so he can wink at his son, who laughs. Arafinwë quickly has an arm around Ingoldo’s shoulders, and like this, he steers him – and leads the way into their manse, Eärwen and Aikanär following them, and after them follows Nemmirile, and Mára and Asion. Other attendants will tend to Ingoldo and Aikanár’s things.

 

Egg is wide-eyed.

While he loved Ingoldo most and loved him best – a part of him will always long for the attention and affection of his parents, of which he has been short-changed from, with Nerwen’s unexpected birth so soon after his own. It was not Nerwen’s fault, certainly – to be born close in age to him, or to be born a daughter even. But because of this – because of Nerwen being youngest of their house, and being a daughter – in a house that had sons in abundance and so few daughters – Arafinwë and Eärwen could not help but be enthralled by her more. 

 

(This holds no water for Ingoldo. Sons, daughters– all should be given equal affection, in his opinion.)

 

Eärwen peppers Egg with kisses every five seconds, and Egg is only all-too-happy to bask in it, tightening his small arms around his Amil’s neck. “Amil, Amil!” Egg exclaims. “Egg miss you! Egg happy to be here! Egg love you!”

 

The words make Arafinwë stop. In turn, Ingoldo has to stop walking too. Arafinwë moves to the side, letting Eärwen pass with Egg and Nemmirile. When they disappear back into the manse, Arafinwë turns to his eldest son.

 

“Why does he talk that way?” Arafinwë asks.

“What do you mean?” Ingoldo in turn asks, looking to him.

“He will be eleven soon, won’t he, Artafindë?”

“Yes, Atar.”

“Then why does he talk as if he were still five?”

Ingoldo stares. “Atar…” he says slowly. “Aikanáro is a child.”

“Mm,” Arafinwë murmurs. “None of your cousins were still talking like that when they were ten years old.”

“Atar–”

“Come now, Artafindë. I have lots of questions regarding Tirion, and your grandfather has just sent this spectacular rhum this morning. Join me in my study, will you? Excellent.”

 

==

 

Supper is held at the Telerin royal palace, and Egg is the center of everyone’s attention. Olwë and Nísime welcome their grandchildren and host a feast in their honor. Egg is seated on Grandfather Olwë’s lap, and the little one is wide-eyed and all beaming smiles, eager to be the life of the party – something that will stay with him until many years later, in Beleriand. Still, despite enjoying being the apple of his grandparents’ eyes, Egg often searches the crowd for Ingoldo and Angamaitë. There are his brothers – seated amongst their sun-kissed Teleri cousins and uncles and aunts, looking out of place, for while their Teleri relations look copper or bronze, Ingoldo and Angamaitë were simply radiant gold. 

 

Grandmother Nísime offers him more fresh, sweet crab meat, and Egg eagerly takes forks the chunk of seafood, poking it into his mouth. His eyes scan the crowd – Telerin nobility, some guests of honor who look like Noldor or Vanyar – where is Ingoldo? He finds his brothers – but his smile disappears and falls when he sees a little blonde one sitting on Ingoldo’s lap. 

 

Nerwen, six, turning seven soon – is in a Telerin-cut gown in pearl pink. She is fair and golden, as with her siblings, but at that moment she sits herself onto Ingoldo’s lap as she nibbles on a chunk of buttered chicken. Her radiant-goldsilver hair is interwoven with pearls, just like their Amil’s, and she wore a small pearl necklace with a matching bracelet, all made for someone as small as she is. 

 

Egg’s face immediately darkens. No! Nononononono! NO!

 

==

 

Egg is crying his lungs out. He is purple in the face, his eyes vanished, fat tears leaking out of his eyes as he screamed and screamed, hands bunched into little fists as he beat Ingoldo by the shoulder. Supper had been going well – that was, until Egg apparently spotted little Nerwen sitting on his lap – and then and there threw a massive tantrum – screaming as if he were being killed, then jumping from their Grandfather Olwë’s lap, ducking under the table, then running across the room to try get his hands on Nerwen. It was only because Ingoldo was fast and too used to Egg’s mercurial moods that he quickly stood up and held his sister high, hoisting her upon his shoulders for her own safety while Angamaitë tried to take Egg away. 

 

But Angamaitë was not used to Egg’s screaming and writhing and wriggling, and so the brothers traded a baby sibling – Ingoldo getting Egg, and Angamaitë getting Nerwen. Ingoldo picked up his little brother and left the dining area, leaving his stunned parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins behind. 

 

“Nononononononono! I hate her! I HATE HER! I HATE HER, INNOLDO I HATEHERHATEHERHATEHER!” Egg screams, tipping himself backward so suddenly that Ingoldo almost drops him. 

 

“Hush, Egg, hush, Egg, hush hush hush, come now, hanno is here. Nobody will take me, come on, come now, hushhushhushhush–”

 

Another great sob wracks Egg. He wraps his arms around his brother’s neck and burrows into his chest at the same time, crying as if every tragedy imaginable in Arda had just befallen him. 

 

Ingoldo holds his brother close and jiggles him as he dances around in the mercifully empty lounge room. Minutes pass like this, until Egg grows tired enough to only manage hiccups, still clinging to him. 

 

“Why do you say such sad things, Aikanár?” Ingoldo asks softly as he rubs his little brother’s back. “Nerwen is our sister. You should love her as much as you love me. We come from the great love between our Atar and Amil. We are family.”

 

Egg shakes his head furiously, sends his golden curls bouncing. He clings closer to his brother. “No. Nononononono. Nerwen took Atar and Amil away from me. She won’t take you, Ingoldo. No. Nonononono. Hate her.”

 

“Ai, Egg…look at me? Look at me, little one, please?”

 

A choked sob. Egg pulls back, rubbing little fists at his eyes before he turns his tearful gaze to Ingoldo. 

 

“Little one,” Ingoldo says, sitting down now on the couch in the room. “It is not Nerwen’s fault that she was born close to you in age, and that she was born a girl. Look here…mmm. She is smaller than you, did you see? Atar and Amil have to take care of her more, for now, because she is younger and smaller than you are. Do you know that you are her big brother? You are supposed to help look after her too, but you are also yet young. This is why I took you with me, little one. Because I love you, and I love our parents and our little sister. I am helping Atar and Amil this way. So you won’t be ignored.”

 

“B-but what about A-Anga?” Egg asks, hiccuping. “A-Anga stays with them…”

 

“Greedy little one,” Ingoldo hums, poking his nose gently. “Angamaitë stays without parents for now because he also helps them with Nerwen. I have Nemmirile to help me with you, see? Egg, listen, I love you very much, and I love little Nerwen, and I love Angamaitë too. I love all three of you. The place you have is different from little Nerwen’s place, or Angamaitë’s place. Your place cannot be taken from you.”

 

A sniffle. Egg’s wee button nose has gone red.

 

“You love me, Ingoldo?” the elfling asks in a quiet voice.

“Of course, silly little one,” Ingoldo smiles warmly at him, now using his right hand to wipe away his tears. “I will always love you. I’m your big brother. I will love you still even when you grow up, and start disliking me I expect, and even when you decide you love elleths more than you love me!”

 

Egg gasps. “No!” He says, distressed. “Egg will always love you best! I promised! I promised, Innoldo!”

 

“Alright, alright, silly little one,” Ingoldo hugs his brother, rests his chin on that head full of golden curls. “You love me best. But can I ask you to try to be nicer to our little sister Nerwen? Do you think she doesn't miss you when you are away in Tirion with me? She loves you too, Egg, if only you would give her a chance. Could you do that, for me, you think?”

 

The elfling lapses into quiet for a while. To try be nice to Nerwen? He doesn’t want to. He dislikes her. She has already taken Atar and Amil, and now she tries to take Ingoldo too. But…if he doesn’t try, Ingoldo will be sad. Now that – Ingoldo sad and disappointed – Egg knew he couldn’t bear.

 

“....I’ll try,” Egg concedes. He sniffles, and then hides his face by his brother’s left shoulder. 

Ingoldo rubs the little one’s back once more. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “Thank you, Egg.”

 

==

 

Ingoldo surveys his reflection on the mirror. Here at Alqualondë, his suites are more open and airy, and his balcony faces the Belegaer. He can even see the light from the lighthouse of Tol Eressëa from here. He combs down his golden locks with a sigh. It had been a long day – after supper, he was constrained to explain to his Atar and Amil the reason for Egg’s tantrums, before Arafinwë could insinuate that he couldn’t take care of his younger brother and that Egg, therefore, was better returned to his and Eärwen’s care. 

 

It’s because he’s young, and Nerwen born close in age to him, he’d told his parents. He’s needy in the way all children his age are – and he wants affection from you both, but your eyes only ever behold Nerwen, when it should behold them both, the same way you gave equal attention and affection to me and Angamaitë.

 

He had made his point at least, if judging by his mother’s shocked silence alone. Hopefully, they could make things right this time, his parents.

 

He hears his door creak open. Ingoldo doesn’t turn his head, and instead watches by his mirror as Egg dumps his duck pillows and seal pillows onto his bed before the little elfling climbs onto the bed next. The sight makes him smile.

 

“What are you doing still awake, little one?” Ingoldo asks his little brother, his smile warm and his tone kind.

Egg topples sideways on the mattress, already hugging his spotted seal pillow. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why is that, Egg?”

“Blankets are itchy…”

 

Ingoldo sets his comb aside. He turns down the lights and joins his little brother. Egg promptly burrows into his hold. 

 

“Ingoldo teach me how to sail tomorrow?” the elfling asks sleepily.

“Of course, dear. But I think our grandfather wants that honor, so I will go with you, but we better let him teach you instead, how about that?”

“Ok. As long as you go with me.”

 

Egg yawns hugely. Ingoldo smiles at him, and buries his nose into his golden curls.

 

“Good night, Egg.”

“Good night, hanno. I love you.”

 

Of Findekáno

Aikanáro and Findekáno's friendship have a long history, and an adorable beginning.

Read Of Findekáno

Aikanáro looks up at his hanno in confusion, his lower lip trembling, eyes already watering. Ingoldo had told him that he was going to go away for a week, that he was going to Taniquetil and he could not take Egg with him. It is for his Reading, he says, an important event– and he explains it further but Egg has stopped listening and trying to comprehend what his brother is saying. For the young elf, Ingoldo is going to leave, he must have done something terrible that would send Ingoldo away. Egg remembers Atar and Amil, how they handed him over to the servants whenever he displeased them, and once this happens he is forgotten, and neglected, their eyes turning to little Nerwen–

 

He cries. He cries hard, bunches up his hands into little fists that he presses against his eyes, and Ingoldo stops talking, alarmed and concerned.

 

“Ai, Egg, little one, no…” 

 

But Egg cries harder. He feels his brother scoop him up, and half-blinded by his own tears he wraps his arms around Ingoldo’s neck as sobs rack him. His brother’s hand rubs up and down his back.

 

“Aikanár,” Ingoldo says somewhere, voice only ever patient and kind. “Listen to me. Hanno will come back. I promise you this. I swear it to you under all the stars that Elentári has ever created. This is but a temporary parting; I am to be away to accomplish an important project; I will read my scholarly work before Irmo, Nienna and Aulë at Taniquetil and also answer their questions. I have to prepare for it, and I will only be gone for seven days and four, I promise you this, Aikanár. I will return, ai! I will come back to you. Please don’t cry, little one?”

 

“Ingoldo,” Egg sniffles loudly. “I promise I won’t behave badly. I promise, I promise. You won’t notice I’m there. You won’t notice. Don’t leave me? Don’t leave? Ingoldo! I talk properly now– no baby talk. No baby talk, and I’ll be quiet, and I’ll sit with my toys for as long as you need, please, please don’t leave me! Don’t leave!”

 

Here goes, Ingoldo thinks. He sits, his little brother on his lap. He explains, all over again – what a Reading is; why he cannot take Egg with him; why it is important to focus his energy and attention to this one event, such that he will not have to repeat it in the future. And if he does not repeat it, then he can go home and it will mean he will not part with Egg longer than necessary, over and over. It takes hours of repeating this explanation before Egg starts to reluctantly calm down. The elfling snuggles against Ingoldo’s chest, clutching fistfuls of his blond hair. 

 

“Where will I stay?” Egg asks in a small voice. “The house will be lonely…..” He hiccups. Young as he is, Egg already hates a quiet, empty house with a passion. 

“I have asked our cousin Findekáno to host you and Nemmirile for the seven days and four that I will not be with you,” Ingoldo explains, kissing his little brother’s flaxen blond curls. “You remember our cousin Findekáno?”

 

Of course Egg does. To his young mind, even now, Findekáno is the most beautiful of all Eldar, with his slight stature and his flowing tunics, and especially with his hair as dark as night, intertwined with gold. Whenever they see him at Mindon or at Grandfather Finwë’s palace, Egg has an irresistible urge to poke his cheeks or bite him (softly!). Somehow, he thinks Findekáno is very huggable. And he smells really nice…

 

If for this alone–.

 

“Is Findekáno nice?” Egg asks next, his voice small, still.

Ingoldo laughs softly. “Of course he is, ai! He is a big brother too, like me, and he has Turukáno and Ìrissë. He helps take care of them too, so he will take care of you very well, Egg.”

“But–but if he has siblings, how can he take care of me?”

“Turukáno lives in his own house now, like I do. Ìrissë stays with their parents, our Uncle Nolofinwë and Aunt Anairë. Findekáno has his house to himself. And for the week and a half I am gone, he has taken a reprieve from the council, so he too, is on a break of sorts.”

 

Egg finally, finally gives the nod. “Okay…”

Ingoldo smiles kindly, and kisses his little brother’s chubby cheeks. “Thank you, Egg. You will see. The week and a half shall be over, and I will be picking you up from Finno’s house myself. Alright?”

 

==

 

Despite his status as an heir to a cadet branch of the House of Finwë, Findekáno’s home is modest, located not in the upper levels of Tirion, but by its mid-levels, at the residential area which housed mid-ranking lords and commoners. It was by a secluded back-street, and while it had no front garden, the backyard was spacious enough for a vegetable patch and some fruiting trees, and also a small pond which was seasonally home to some frogs. Findekáno only had four members of his household staff, and all of them reported for work only in the hours of Laurelin and left for their own homes after supper. There is Vorosanya, his chamberlain; Calandil, his carriage driver-gardener-sometimes cook; there are Nillendil and Sinde, maids. 

 

A day before Ingoldo was set to leave Aikanáro with him, Findekáno had asked Nillendil and Sinde to ready two of the three guest rooms of his house, for Nemmirile and Egg. He had gone to his backyard vegetable patch and harvested many of his own crops: cabbages and carrots and many fruits– for Aikanár loved fruits, particularly apples and oranges.

 

On this day, the day of arrival though, Egg is being difficult again.

The Elfling is crying once more, clinging to his brother, shaking his head vehemently as he goes purple in the face, fat tears trailing down his chubby cheeks. 

 

“Ai, Egg!” Ingoldo exclaims in distress. “We have talked, remember? Come now, I will be back before you know it! Please, Egg!”

“Don’t go!” Egg cries. “Don’t go! DON’T GO, INGOLDO! I promise I will be nice! I will be nice!”

“Come now, little one, ai, ai! Tis only for my schoolwork, I love you very much, I will be back before you know it! Come on, come now–”

 

Findekáno descends from the upper floor of his house, where he has already guided Nemmirile to her rooms, and to Egg’s. The sight of Ingoldo looking harassed and trying to calm his brother brings a nostalgic smile onto his own lips. Not a long while ago, he was like this – trying to pacify a wailing Turukáno, but for entirely different reasons. The sight also inevitably reminds him of Maitimo, disrupted from his current work, and jiggling a crying baby Carnistir, and later on a shrieking baby Atarinkë. Such was the fate of eldest children, brothers or sisters.

 

“Hello,” Findekáno greets as he sits on the couch near the brothers. “Little one, it is important for Ingoldo to finish his Reading, you see? It will make him very happy if he does so. It does not mean he doesn't love you anymore. He will be back with you before you know it.”

“Very happy?” Egg repeats, sliding a look to Ingoldo. He sniffles. “Yes.” Hot tears still fall, but silently. “You’re leaving me. Very happy.”

“I am loathe to leave you, darling,” Ingoldo says, distressed, as he sits beside their cousin. “I will be back to you soon. I promise.”

“Promise…?” Egg reluctantly lets go of his tunic. He gives a nod, sad features still scrunched up.

“I’ll be back. I promise!” Ingoldo doesn’t let Egg go for now, and remains cuddling his baby brother. Kissing his cheeks still.

 

Another nod. Egg blinks away his tears, peeking over Ingoldo to look at Findekáno. It is alright, he decides. If it is Findekáno, then it is alright. He wiggles in Ingoldo’s lap, to get to Findekáno. “Mmhp!”

 

Findekáno then takes his baby cousin onto his lap, and kisses his chubby cheeks. “There now. If you want, we could wait for Ingoldo to return each morning. I will count the days with you. How about that, little one?”

 

Egg peers up at him with big blue eyes still brimming with tears. The little elf then takes a fistful of Findekáno’s gold-twined braid, stuffs it into his mouth, and nods. Egg clings to Findekáno then, as if his cousin bore all the answers to all sorrows in his yet-small world.

 

(Centuries later, Aikanár will still cling to Findekáno like this (with much tears and hugging, not braid-eating) – as if the latter had all the answers in the world to assuage the grief of the former with regard to Andreth.)

 

==

 

Living with Findekáno is a very different thing from living with Ingoldo. Every morning, others – attendants, Nemme said – move around his cousin’s house. They cook, clean and tend to whatever else may be needed, unlike in Ingoldo’s house where it was hanno and Nemme who split the chores between themselves, with Ingoldo doing much of the work. The plus side is that it leaves Findekáno virtually free to be pestered by Egg, and this is what the toddler does upon waking and after being dressed by Nemme. He toddles to Findekáno’s room, which is always unlocked, and he climbs up the bed even if his cousin is still laying down, sits on his chest, and pokes and pat and squish Findekáno’s cheeks, which were soft and endlessly fascinating to Egg. Like Ingoldo, Findekáno never gets angry when he is woken so – instead he smiles, and opens his eyes. The smile enthralls Egg more, for it makes his cousin’s dimples show. Now those dimples, Egg pokes and pokes and pokes – until finally he kisses them, twice on each. 

 

==

 

Today they are by the fountain at the court of Mindon Eldaliéva. 

 

Findekáno is clad beautifully in blue and starlight silver, his braids twined with gold and glinting under Laurelin’s golden light. He has his prince’s silver circlet on his brow. Egg on the other hand is clad in a Telerin skirt, in deep purple, the fabric reaching just two inches below his knees. He has pearl necklaces around his neck. Since their visit to Alqualondë, Egg has found that Telerin fashion is to his liking – where the men and boys only usually wear pearl and coral jewelry and their airy skirts. He certainly presents quite an adorable sight, what with his flaxen blond curls and his small-sized clothing and pearls, all made fit for a young boy.

 

“Fin’ano, what day is it today? What day is it?” Egg asks his cousin. He is standing barefoot on Findekáno’s shod feet. Findekáno in turn is holding him by his hands, and they are walking-waddling around the fountain like penguins, to Egg’s enormous enjoyment.

 

“Fin-de-ká-no,” Finno says, repeating his own name so Egg may learn it. “Today is the fourth day that Ingoldo is away.”

“Fourth!” Egg happily exclaims. They stop waddling and he holds up his right hand, four fingers raised save his thumb. “Four! Four! How many days left, Fin’ano?”

“Hmmm. Six days I think. Yes, six, to be sure. It is very close now, right?”

“Yes! Ingoldo will be home soon! Right? Right?”

Findekáno smiles down at his cousin, and nods.

 

Grown elves milling about Mindon eye their princes curiously. Many have amused smiles on their faces – for the eldest grandsons of Finwë have long been known to babysit their little siblings and cousins. Some elleth even glance at Findekáno appreciatively. 

 

They continue waddling. At least, until Laurelin prepares to wax, and then it is too hot to remain outdoors, what with Tirion’s white walls and streets, so they return home to Findekáno’s house for the midday meal and some cool drinks.

 

==

 

But there are bad days too.

 

One afternoon (on the sixth day that Ingoldo is away), Egg throws a tantrum. He had been asking Findekáno for a corn-and-carrot muffin, but Findekáno had gently refused, saying that they had just had breakfast and Egg ate a lot. In truth the elfling wanted the muffin only on a whim, not true hunger, and Findekáno had been mindful of Ingoldo’s instructions not to spoil his brother too much – Egg had had enough of that in Alqualondë, from Arafinwë, Eärwen and their servants there. The boy could not be tolerated to be overly-spoilt, Ingoldo said.

 

So he refused to give him the muffins. 

Egg then threw a big tantrum, all red-faced crying and bunched fists. Findekáno was unperturbed and let the child cry himself to exhaustion, and only then did he relent and pick up his cousin to kiss his tears away and gently ruffle his curls.

 

“Don’t hate you,” Egg sobbed. “I don’t hate Finno. I don’t. I’m sorry. Egg is sorry.”

“Do you understand why I cannot give you the muffin yet, little one?” Findekáno asked as he rubbed the child’s back.

“Yes. Ate earlier. I’m still full. Muffin will go to waste.” Egg sniffled.

“Good child. I will bake them for you later.” He pressed a kiss to Egg’s temple, and the child clung closer to him, red-nosed and red-cheeked, but the tears have stopped.

 

==

 

Tonight they take a bath together.

 

It is the last day that Ingoldo is away, and tomorrow he shall be back. Egg’s spirits are so high, and the morning was pleasant. They visited Grandfather Finwë and Grandmother Indis, and they even met Cousin Russandol, with his lovely gray eyes and even lovelier red hair styled in braids. Egg had been so excited; he couldn’t decide which handful of hair he would put in his mouth: Findekáno’s gold-twined black locks or Russandol’s crimson braids. In the end he grabbed one of Russandol’s intricate braids and promptly put a handful into his mouth to chew. Russandol laughed and gave him a peach.

 

Finno keeps his touch gentle as he rids Egg’s curls of excess shampoo suds. Egg is playing with small toy boats and toy whales. Apparently the whales are harassing the boats, and one whale was so big it ate a boat. Finno smiles here and there as he gives Egg a back scrub next, first soaping up and down the child’s back with the pomegranate-scented soap he favors so much (Ingoldo left them two blocks of the sweet-smelling soap).

 

“Oh dear, what has happened to the boat that disappeared?” Finno asks as he carefully rinses the shampoo now from Egg’s hair. 

“Eaten!” Egg declares, his eyes closed as he tips his head back. “Big Whale eat them– they upset Lord Salmar! GRAAAWR!”

“How scary. I will keep in mind to never offend Lord Salmar,” Finno grins. 

“Yes. He sends Big Whale to eat you! But Big Whale can be– can be–um. Fend off with offnemings! Offnemings, yes.”

Finno laughs. “And what of-fer-rings shall I give for Big Whale to be nice?”

“Cake,” Egg answers, cracking open a blue eye to look at him. “Big Whale like orange cake. Yes. One slices! Offnemings.”

“Hmmm. I might be convinced to allow extra dessert if you kiss me on the cheeks.”

 

There is a big splash as Egg stands in the tub, cups Findekáno’s cheeks and gives him a big smooch, over each of his dimples.

 

They sneak back downstairs once they are dressed: Egg in his cotton sleeping clothes and Finno in a pair of cotton trousers. The house is dark now in the lower floor, but Finno lights one of his Fëanorian Lamps as they go to the pantry, and get Egg a slice of orange cake. 

 

They share this slice of cake, there in the half-dark, the Lamp glowing a soft blue and throwing patterns of the Trees and stars at the walls. Finno smiles as he watches Egg munch away on a candied orange.

 

“How I miss the days when Turukáno was as small as you, and I was his world too,” Finno sighs as he pours them hot tea. 

“Wor-d? Wold. Wo-l-l-d. Wold,” Egg says through a mouthful of cake. “Fin’ano my wold. Ingoldo, too! But Ingoldo more! Fin’ano is– um. My star! Yes.”

 

Finno’s smile grows. He leans in and kisses his cousin on the forehead.

 

==

 

Ingoldo gets down from the carriage, and he runs toward Egg and Finno, arms outstretched. Egg wiggles mightily and all but leaps from Finno’s hold, running as fast as his little legs would allow, toward his brother.

 

“Egg! My baby! Little one, I missed you!” Ingoldo exclaims as he meets his little brother half-way, lifting him up, twirling him and then cuddling him close to attack his face with kisses.

“Ingoldo! Ingoldo! Missed you!” Egg chirps just as happily, clinging to his brother with all his might.

 

Findekáno approaches the brothers slowly, his own smile warm at the sight they present. Arafinwë’s children have a way of lighting up like a lamp when they are so thoroughly joyful. “He absolutely woke me when Telperion was just dimming and would not let us both sleep further. Such was his excitement.”

 

Ingoldo laughs, apologetic. He is cheek-to-cheek with Egg, both of them varying hues of golden radiance. “Ai, I am sorry Finno! But you can nap now – I will take this little rascal home with me. Thank you for tending to him!”

 

“Not a problem,” Findekáno smiles, and he lightly brushes a caress on Egg’s chubby cheek. “You two are always welcome to visit me.”

“And you are welcome to visit us,” Ingoldo grins.

“Nemmirile has gone ahead to clean your house. Vorosanya will have taken their things with him also. You two have nothing to mind.”

“Thank you, Finno!”

 

Ingoldo and Findekáno exchange a few more conversations about how the former’s Reading went. And then it is time for a temporary parting, and Ingoldo now bears Egg away to their home. Findekáno remains standing there on the street, waving bye at them. Egg waves bye enthusiastically, before he turns to his brother, hand already reaching for a handful of Ingoldo’s golden hair so he can put it into his mouth.

 

“Ingoldo, Ingoldo, I tell you something!”

“Ai, what is it, my little baby Egg?”

“I love you best! But I love Fin’ano best too! Sssh. Secret. Ok?”

Another laugh from Ingoldo. “Alright, Egg. It will be our secret!”