Tradition
"But Atto, why must I go? We do this every year!" Curufin complained, glaring at his father as if Feanor was doing him some great harm by insisting he join in for the annual strawberry picking that dominated the lives of the entire Finwean clan for nearly a week every year.
"Because," Feanor replied impatiently and for the third time that morning, clenching his teeth in frustration, "it is a family tradition. My father first started it with my mother and I when I was barely a child. If you are part of this family, Curufinwe, you will come."
Curufin sighed in exasperation before rising and following his father slowly and irritatingly as the two caught up with the rest of the rather large Finwean clan to go out and pick enough pounds of strawberries to last themselves the entire year.
They picked all day, and as evening drew near proudly brought their full baskets back to their mothers who began to busily sort the berries and started to preserve some, make others into jam, and put still others into a bowl to eat.
"Ambarussa!" Nerdanel scolded laughingly as her twin sons handed her an only half-full basket between the two of them.
It was clear from their red-stained faces and clothes where the rest had gone.
"You two look like you have been eating people!" Caranthir exclaimed with a smirk before proceeding to wash his protesting younger brothers up.
"I have never seen so many strawberries in my entire life." little Aredhel announced solemnly, staring at the rows upon rows of drying berries with awe.
"Here, grandfather, try this one, it is especially ripe." Angrod offered, smiling, holding up an especially luscious looking bright red strawberry up to Finwe's mouth expectantly.
"Thank you, darling." Finwe chuckled, patting his little grandson lightly on the head before popping the berry in the mouth of a surprised Indis.
"Atto," Curufin mumbled hesitantly, approaching his father who was in the midst of loudly organizing, categorizing, insulting, and ordering about his countless relatives, "I am sorry I was cross at you. This is a marvelous tradition."
Feanor's head snapped up suddenly, eyebrows raised incredulously.
"Nelyo told you to say that, did he not?"
"Yes."
"Do you mean it anyway?"
"Yes."
Feanor hugged his son tightly.
"Do not eat too many now, you will make yourself sick."
"Ambarussa both already have, Makalaure is taking care of them."
"How good of him. Run along now and go help your Amme, she has her hands full."
"All right, Atto."
Yes, there was a reason this tradition had endured for so long.
I felt I needed to give you all something sweet after all this angst, XD
Translations:
Amme-mom
Atto-dad
Curufinwe-Curufin
Nelyo(nickname)-Maedhros
Makalaure-Maglor
Ambarussa-Amrod and Amras