I own nothing.
Anairë is not possessed of extraordinary skill with the harp, nor in song. She will never stand tall and proud among the skilled music-makers of the Noldor, the Vanyar, the Falmari. She learned to sing and to play the harp as a young girl, as most young girls with the opportunity do, and Anairë supposes that she has passing skill. It is not bad enough to draw the criticism of her finicky grandmother, if nothing else.
Anairë's harp-playing is nothing extraordinary, and she does not bear the art the passion that some musicians do. She practices sometimes, in the mornings when Laurelin's light is still washing over the city, warming the stones. Before Anairë must rouse herself and start the day in Nolofinwë's house, she sometimes goes to a quiet place, sits in golden light, and plays her harp.
"Mama?"
She looks up, startled, squinting in the light. Anairë's hands fall away from the harp as she spies someone small standing in the doorway, rubbing blearily at his eyes. "Oh, Findekáno, did I wake you?" Anairë feels a twinge of guilt in her chest; Findekáno isn't supposed to be woken for another half-hour yet. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart; I didn't realize that I was playing so loudly."
But Findekáno does not retreat back to his bedchamber. Spotting his mother's harp, his gray eyes light up with curiosity, and he quickly crosses the room to sit down beside her. "What are you doing?" he pipes up, reaching out to touch the walnut frame of the harp.
Anairë's hands twitch in her lap. "I'm playing my harp, Findekáno." And she needs to stop soon, if she wants to be ready to face the day. It certainly wouldn't do to go around all day in her nightclothes, and Anairë has no desire to start late.
"It sounds nice," Findekáno says, staring up at her earnestly.
"Oh… Thank you, sweetheart." Anairë frowns a little, in spite of herself. Her harp-playing is far from awful, but she is unused to receiving praise over it. Even when the praise comes from one unschooled, it is still rather startling to hear.
What Findekáno says next startles her all the more. With an eager gleam in his eyes, he asks her, "Can you teach me how to play?"
Anairë can barely believe her ears, but she knows what she heard. "Why yes, I can. But will I teach you, Findekáno?" she asks pointedly.
He smiles contritely. "Will you teach me how to play, Mama?" Findekáno repeats obediently.
Nodding, Anairë beckons him to sit closer to her and watch closely. She plays a scale and identifies all the notes, going over each one with care. All the while, she marvels at the situation, struggling to believe it. No one has ever asked her to teach them how to do anything before. Neither of her siblings ever cared to ask her when they were children. Neither have her cousins, one the rare occasions that Anairë has seen them and visited with them for significant lengths of time.
All concerns for the duties of the day in this house pass out of Anairë's mind, and do not seem to have existed in Findekáno's to begin with. She plucks the strings, drawing her fingers across, and he follows suit, in such perfect imitation that Anairë thinks he might go far, if he ever cares to learn from a master. Boys learn to play musical instruments with somewhat lesser frequency than do girls. It is common wisdom that nissi have the greater skill in music, and Anairë has no desire to go against common wisdom, but it's still worth looking into.
Eventually, around breakfast time, Nolofinwë notices the absence of his wife and his son. When he finds them, he steps back out into the hallway without alerting either Anairë or Findekáno to his presence, and goes to give his excuses to Finwë. He will be needed here today.
Later in the morning, Maitimo comes, looking to play with his cousin. When he finds them, he sits down in silence, and listens to the music being played by two pairs of hands, one learned and one still fumbling over the strings, but learning quickly.
Nolofinwë—Fingolfin
Findekáno—Fingon
Maitimo—Maedhros
Falmari—those among the Teleri who completed the journey to Aman; the name is derived from the Quenya falma, '[crested] wave.'
Nissi—women (singular: nís)