Father, Forgive Me
Lydwina Marie
~One~
"Adar?"
The tiny voice came from at his knees, and King Fingon looked down to see a dark-haired elfling plucking feverishly at the hem of his tunic.
"What is it, títhen-gil?" he asked gently, bending down to lift his chubby son into his arms. "Are you all right?"
At his father's words, Gil-galad's small face crumpled and he looked as though he was about to cry. "A-Adar!" he choked. "Do not be silly!"
Now a tear leaked from the corner of his eye as he gazed earnestly at his father. "I am so sorry!" he sobbed. "I did not mean to, but it just did it! It was not the real me!"
"Not the real you?" Fingon asked in some amusement, backing till he could drop carefully into a chair, standing his little son on his lap so he could meet the tearful eyes. "Of what do you speak, little one?"
Gil-galad had to move his feet swiftly to keep his balance as Fingon shifted a little, clutching at his father's forearms. He let out a shaky sigh as his father finally took pity on his plight, pushing him gently down until he was sitting.
"Now tell me what is wrong," Fingon said softly, stroking his son's back as he waited. He stared as the little shoulders began to shake, feeling hot tears soak his tunic.
"Adar..." Gil-galad wept, "it was not the real me, really, Adar, it was not! A-Ammë says th-there is a bad thing inside me that sometimes does things that are not good, and it made me hit your vase very hard!"
Fingon frowned a little, but did not comment. After a moment of heartbroken sobbing, the elfling continued.
"It made me hit it w-with a stick – and now it is lying broke on the floor! I am so sorry, Adar!"
Elven Translations
Títhen-gil – little star