I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I did. I kind of really like the nice! big brother Fëanor headcanon? I think that he must have actually liked children very much if he had seven of his own, and it would be really hard to live in the same house with four adorable elflings and hate them. The title is awful, I can't title things.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Little Fingolfin accidently walks in on Fënor and Nerdanel.
Warnings: None, actually? This just implies things.
Fingolfin was searching for his oldest brother.
It was a sunny day that Finwë had decided to spend with his wife and children, and as much as Fingolfin loved the company of his parents and his older sister, sometimes they were hopelessly boring to be around.
Like today for example. The day was just right for exploring the forest of take a swim in the lake, but his parents decided to spend the whole afternoon sitting under the trees. It wasn't that Fingolfin didn't like sitting in the grass and enjoying some peace and quiet, it was that he couldn't do that all day long.
His mother was laid across his father's lap, playing a harp while Finwë braided her golden hair. The music was great, Indis was one of the greatest musicians Fingolfin knew, and he knew that the melodic sound was pleasing to Finwë, and he didn't have the heart to take his parents away from their moment of bliss.
At first he had read a book, and when he had grown tired of that he walked a little around, laid in the grass and tried to sleep, but in the end nothing worked and he was hopelessly bored to death. He had nudged Findis and asked her to play with him, but she had glared at him and told him that she was reading her book. So Fingolfin asked her to read it to him as well, but Findis -annoyed with him now, he could tell- told him that she was very far in the book and Fingolfin wouldn't understand what was going on, and she didn't want to waste her voice.
So Fingolfin got up and went to find his brother. Fëanor, the eldest son of Finwë and Míriel Therindë as he so much liked to remind everyone, was completely against his father's second marriage. Fingolfin loved both of his parents, and although he didn't have a problem with Finwë's second wedding, he could understand why Fëanor did. The black-haired smith liked to spend most of his day working in the forges, or locked up in his room to avoid his siblings, something that didn't always work.
Most elves whispered that Fëanor's hate for his father's second marriage extended to his younger siblings, but Fingolfin knew that wasn't true. Fëanor usually acted as if he disliked him and Findis, but he had also never ignored them when they asked something from him.
Sometimes he would shut his siblings out and tell them to leave him alone, but if they didn't, he never yelled, just sighed and grudgingly answered all the questions they might have, played with them and helped them with their homework. So, while Fëanor might sigh exasperatedly and pretend to whine the entire time, he was still a better option than the endless hours of boredom in the garden.
Fingolfin skipped through the polished corridors, wanting to run all the way to his brother's bedroom but knowing his mother's very insistent rule of "no running inside the house". Fëanor's wooden door was closed, a fact that did not discourage the Elfling in the slightest, because that one particular door was always closed. He thought he heard a muffled banging sound from the inside, but all the rooms were constructed with the intention of keeping the inside sounds from being heard outside and vice versa. He dismissed it as something that must have fallen to the floor, and turned the handle of the door without knocking.
His father insisted that they were no locks in the rooms so that no one would feel unwelcome, and he had established his own rule of knocking before entering. Findis never failed to knock and so did Fingolfin, but he had learned early on that whether he knocked on Fëanor's door or not, it truly wouldn't make a difference. His brother usually discouraged anyone who wished to enter, so the ones that were determined to do so ignored him, or did not knock at all.
"Fëanáro-" Fingolfin's cheery voice stopped abruptly mid-sentence, as he took in the scene in front of him, frowning as he did so. "What are you doing?" Fingolfin asked his oldest brother, who was pressing Nerdanel against the wall, both of them entirely disregarding the concept of personal space. They pulled away abruptly at the sound of Fingolfin's voice, breathless, and turned to him with startled expressions on their faces. Nerdanel's face had gone the same shade of dark red as her hair once she stopped him, and she buried her head at the crook of Fëanor's neck to hide her embarrassment.
Nerdanel was the daughter of Mahtan, Fëanor's teacher at the forges, and a very good friend of his brother. All the times Fingolfin had met her, she was smiling and she was always eager to play with him if he asked. She was nice, but also very fiery spirited and quick tempered like his brother, which usually resulted in some pretty loud and heated arguments between the two of them.
Fëanor looked unimpressed as soon as he overcame his sudden start at their interruption. His arms that were encircling the redhead's waist gently pulled her closer against him, hiding her face of Fingolfin's sight even more. His oldest brother stared at him for a moment, and then he spoke, choosing his next words carefully.
"Well Nolo, when two elves love each other very much-" He had to stop talking as the breath was knocked out of him when Nerdanel elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.
"You can't tell him that, he is but a child!" She told Fëanor with an incredulous stare.
"What am I to tell him then?" The oldest son of Finwë asked.
"Not that." Nerdanel scowled at him.
"Fine, how about you answer him then." Fëanor suggested, which earned him a punch in the shoulder from the redhead.
"He is your little brother." Nerdanel hissed. "You explain yourself."
Fëanor looked at Fingolfin with a calculating look that made the Elfling uneasy. It was the same look he had whenever he started a new project at the forges, and Fingolfin did not like it directed at him.
"We shall compromise." He said, and his tone made it clear that this was not something negotiable. Fingolfin nodded. "You will go back to whatever you had been doing, and you will not say a word to Father about this or anyone ever again, and tomorrow I promise I will suffer the whole day doing whatever you want. Alright?"
"That does not answer my question." Fingolfin pointed out. Fëanor raised one eyebrow at him, perfectly conveying the meaning of what he wanted to say with only his facial expression, something Fingolfin had always been jealous off. "Fine." The Elfling huffed, crossing both arms over his chest. "But you have to promise that you will teach me that trick with the sword."
"Tis not-" Nerdanel started to say, but Fëanor cut her off.
"Fine." He said, ignoring the surprised and very soon disapproving look Nerdanel shot him. "Now shoo, back to whatever you were doing."
Fingolfing found himself in the corridor, his brother's wooden door slamming shut behind him. He stood there for a moment, trying to understand what had happened, before he finally shrugged, deciding it didn't matter. Fëanor was going to teach him how to use a sword.
The next day locks were put in the door of every room in the household.
So what do you think? Good? Bad? Let me know!