Summer Storm by oshun

Chapter 1

Unbeated. 

Read Chapter 1

I was born into a family, which contrary to common belief, was both as close-knit and as tough as chain mail. That afternoon in the country, my father and his older brother were annoyed with one another. This, of course, irritated my grandfather the king. My grandmother Indis chuckled under her breath. Aunt Nerdanel smiled, ruffling my hair and grinning. She had taken a fancy to me, as women will to many an awkward puppy or boy. They tend to hold horses and girls to higher standards of behavior and appearance.

“Poor little Finno! If I took every time they quarrel like that so seriously, I would have done very little with my life except mope and wring my hands.” Her husky voice tinged with humor and her crooked smile did calm and encourage me a little.

“She’s right,” said Grandmother Indis. “One should take their behavior as a cautionary example of how not to deal with one’s brother.”

“But they are fighting about me!” My voice squeaked and then cracked, falling lower again. I recall I was at the very pinnacle of self-consciousness when one is no longer a boy, but not nearly a man. I was still small for my age and yet had lost any redeeming childish beauty I might once have had. I comforted myself every day that it was clear already that I should favor the men of my father’s family, who tend to be tall and handsome. It is just a matter of time was my mantra but it did little to qualm my fears of growing up to be the only short and homely one of the House of Finwë.

Indis pulled me into her arms and hugged me close to her. She was a tall woman. At that time I barely reached her shoulder--I would eventually surpass her. She smelled of fresh lilacs and sunshine, familiar and comforting, reminding me of my earliest childhood. “They are not really fighting about you and Maitimo,” she said. “They are fighting out of habit as much as anything else, that and competitiveness.”

“I agree with both of you and Fëanáro that Findekáno is progressing well studying with Nelyo,” my grandfather said. And then turning to me he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Let’s go for a walk, Finno. When your father is finished he can ferret us out.”

The relief at moving out of earshot of the argument allowed me to observe the beauty of the day to which I had been blind. A little warmer than it should have been for the beginning of summer, the closeness of the air indicated that a storm was coming. I loved summer storms as a kid and this would be the first one of the year.

“Awww,” Finwë said sniffing. “Notice that pungent zing, lad? That's the scent of ozone. Does Nelyafinwë instruct you on the science of weather, its causes, and predictability?”

“Ai! Does he ever, haru! Just on the edge of being hopelessly over my head!” I laughed at my father, Uncle Fëanáro, even my grandmother and Aunt Nerdanel, and at myself for being so easily distressed by their squabbles. “I do love a good storm though!”

“I’ll bet you do. It’s in your blood.” He looked longingly back up the sloping meadow toward the summer house. “We are going to get soaking wet! Too late now to make a run for it,” he said, throwing his head back in a full-body laugh. “A brief summer storm won’t hurt us. Chin up, Finno. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. But you are a bright boy, quick too, and have a great heart. Don’t be afraid.”