Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: Canon Ones
Warnings: AU
Chapter: 8
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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"Hi." If not for the fact he has sensed its' parent's arrival in Ercasseyonde, Mairon might have been surprised at the small face peeking at him from a safe distance. Cilinaril, now approaching his second begetting-day, was growing well faster than any other children he knew off. Or perhaps it was the fact that they had a head-start with their mental development, which meant easier time learning balance and such things. He was unsure...
"Hello." Regardless of which parent had brought them here, Aulë had clearly taught them the rules of the forge, as only once the hammer was safely back on the table did they toddle up to him from behind the un-used workbench they had been sheltering behind. "Going to overflow the gem-cabinet again?"
"I got a handle on that." Their adorable high-pitched voice almost twinkled in his ears, which was a weird thing, but he didn't know how else to describe it. Perhaps there was some left-over ósanwë going on between them. Tiny hands took a hold of the table-edge, just barely reaching it and the little Maia tried to pull himself up. "Hhngg...!"
"Do you... want me to help?" He cleared out a space on top at least. No use finding out how fragile a child-Maia was via them hurting themselves on sharp metal.
"No... I... Can... manage...!" The husband of the Lord of the city distinctly doubted it, from the look of things. He nearly snorted when the small form plopped down in defeat. "Okay... maybe not. Upsies?" The two tiny arms turned to him now.
"Upsies?" Clearly, it was still making the loremasters cry with new, strange words. Still, that was no reason not to oblige, so he picked up the child to plop it on his workbench.
"Look, I am like... a toddler, however that works with Ainur. Shouldn't even know words yet." It archly declared, putting on a serious face more in line with a venerable several-centuries-old-at-least. At least, until it broke out in giggles. "So I get to make my own!"
"I know several people that love you for that." He faintly wanted to see the meeting between Cilinaril and Fëanáro, just for the sheer hilarity of seeing his law-grandfather try to deal with ten new horrifying words in the span of a conversation.
"Well, I am the Maia of Crystals, not Words... Do we even have one of those?" They put on what was a clear deep-thinking-face as they stared into the middle-distance.
"You were in the Timeless Halls more recently than I." He pointed out, leaning on the workbench beside them.
"I know!" They muttered flatly. "We can't all remember three entire cities worth of people! There's a lot!" The toddler shrugged empathically. "Not to mention those new arrivals!"
"There's really... new ones?" The once-long-ago Lieutenant of Angband flinched. He did not want to consider exactly of what those new ones would be, if they came from the Marring.
"Yeah, like..." The toddler-tongue tripped over the Valarian phrase, to an adorable frown. Two more attempts got marginally close to what he suspected was the correct pronunciation, but in the end they gave up with another empathic shrug. "Errr... that guy. He's snow, and ice and things like that! Ulmo didn't think of it, it came from the Marring! He's my rival, and is gonna follow... At least, once a relevant couple gets going."
"Rival?"
"Yeah, he thinks ice-crystals are way better than proper crystals because they get all repeaty-fractally-turny. He's dumb. My crystals last longer than five seconds! That's immediately better!" Cilinaril gave a firm nod on his own statement. "Don't you think so too?"
"Well..." He was not going to point out that ice couldn't lock down a room with him in it. "I never cared much for the cold, so I guess yours are better, yes."
"Yes! Best Dad-iar!"
