I own nothing.
He hears rain pounding on the roof of the library, and the silver light glimmering dully on the window frames tells Nolofinwë that the hour is late indeed. He clicks his tongue anxiously, wondering if the rain will let up long enough for him to return home without getting wet.
Finwë and Indis had made known their intention, earlier in the day, to eat supper privately today, so at least he will not be seen to be late in front of the entire court—no need to worry about embarrassing his family. And when Finwë and Indis say they wish to dine privately, they mean privately; even their children will not be present.
If Fëanáro was here, he would probably mock Nolofinwë's tardiness. He loves being able to find something to mock in his half-brother (Loves it too when Findis and Lalwen do something worthy of mockery, though he doesn't point it out as often). But Fëanáro is not here. He is abroad, somewhere in Aman, with his wife Nerdanel; no one knows exactly where.
So it's just Findis and Lalwen, then. Lalwen will be alright; she's still a little girl, and has very little concept of tardiness. The worst that will happen will be that Lalwen will fuss at him if he's late enough to keep her waiting too long to eat.
It could be a problem with Findis, though. Findis is just five years Nolofinwë's senior—a far lesser gap than is usually the case for siblings—but she is very nearly of age, while Nolofinwë is not, and acts like it too. She may take exception if he is more than a couple of minutes late.
"Oh, dear," Nolofinwë hears someone next to him murmur. He looks down, to his right, and sees a brown-haired girl about his own age standing there. She is looking out the window, brow furrowed anxiously.
Nolofinwë blinks, and then stares. He's seen this girl before; she's the daughter of one of his father's councilors. He's seen her for years, lurking around the palace compound with her fair-haired siblings, while her mother, a Vanya like Indis, visits with the Queen. He's seen her, never spoken to her, and has frankly wanted to.
Well, here's the chance.
"You're Anairë, aren't you?" he asks somewhat awkwardly, wracking his brains for something to say to her that won't sound completely boorish.
Anairë practically jumps when he speaks, having been clearly oblivious to his presence. Well, there goes any hope of not being seen as boorish, Nolofinwë thinks to himself, not without some bitterness. He'd hoped on a good impression.
Her pale blue eyes snap to his face. Anairë plasters a false, strained smile on her face and bobs a shallow curtsey. "Your Highness, I…" She falters, seemingly unsure of what to say.
He shakes his head vigorously. "It's Nolofinwë. I'm sorry, I thought you knew I was here."
They stare at each other, silent and awkward, the silence between them only growing more ponderous. Anairë fiddles with her sleeve hem uncomfortably; it becomes clearer with each passing moment that she's waiting for him to speak first, the way you could expect any well-mannered young girl to do, if she wasn't sure of what to say.
"Do you need to go home as well?" he finally asks, nodding towards the window, and the steady rain falling outside.
Gratitude at being given something to say washes over Anairë's face; she nods sharply. "Yes. But I'm afraid coming home wet would not reflect well…"
Nolofinwë laughs ruefully. "It's the same with me."
They stand there, watching the rain outside of the window and listening to the pattering of the rain on the roof, in a now-companionable silence, until Anairë's father comes to fetch her. At that point, Nolofinwë decides he had best get on home, in spite of the rain—Findis has probably let Lalwen eat out of sheer desperation, and will not be happy with Nolofinwë for stalling the meal for so long. It doesn't seem to matter quite as much.
Nolofinwë—Fingolfin
Fëanáro—Fëanor