The Small and Secret Things by Dawn Felagund

But a Stone

Fëanor, it seems, has taken over the daily drabble. Today's tribble again features him, but when the Word of the Day means "fruitful and productive," then who else but Fëanor comes to mind?

I've always believed that Fëanor was a difficult, demanding father but nonetheless adoring of his children. In fact, I spent an entire novel developing this idea. Today's piece looks at the same in the more reasonable length of 300 hundred words.

It was one of our most fruitful times, with many discoveries and skills perfected beyond expectation, when the craftsfolk of the Noldor turned out ornaments and gems and jewelry in dazzling profusion.

I am called proud but I am only being honest when I say that I was at the hub of it. This day, I was working to perfect a green gemstone more splendid than an emerald. At its center quavered something of mystery, even to me--its artificer--that turned and folded upon itself and sent darts of light in the absence of facets until the stone seemed to possess life of its own. Maybe, it did.

But it was a delicate thing, and I was striving desperately to preserve it, to harden the stone before that flickering entity within dissipated like a flame without kindling, gone to smoke and ash. Behind me in the laboratory came shouts, but this was nothing new; another discovery, perhaps, or disaster caused by excitement and haste. But no, the timbre was different, and something touched my leg then; something warm and soft, and I had the choice to flinch away and save my stone. Or acknowledge this other entity that I also didn't entirely understand.

His face was upturned to mine: my Nelyo, my beautiful son with his mother's hair and my eyes and both our curiosity. "What have you made, Atar?" he asked, and my assistant swept in then to take him away, but I stayed him with a flick of my hand.

The stone clattered to the tabletop and there, I suppose, it "died," though I did not bother to look. This thing of my hands suddenly mattered little.

" 'Tis but a stone, Nelyo," I said, and I lifted my son and kissed his face. "Nothing of importance."

Chapter End Notes

Today's Word:

fructuous FRUHK-choo-uhs, adjective:

Fruitful; productive.

Fructuous comes from Latin fructuosus, from fructus, "enjoyment, product, fruit," from the past participle of frui, "to enjoy."