Hanno by dalliansss

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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.

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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.”