Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: Canon Ones
Warnings: AU
Chapter: 28
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Because it was a Finwean family-gathering, the large mortal contingent was mostly absent, though it still held a large pile of royalty of all elvish kindred... and a handful of Ainur.
The three Valar were a bit to the side, while the bat that was the most recent new arrival fluttered around Mairon. Everyone was quite sure she was doing it to annoy him, but no one dared accuse her of it.
"I am not sure we can count Mellissë as Finwean-adjacent though." Fëanor snorted, looking at the blindfolded Valie.
"It's because she's Thuringwethil's Valie." Finarfin shrugged, his skewer flailing a bit in the air. He had managed to get some time of from his duties as High King of the Noldor - for once, if one had to believe him - and had seemingly left any self-respect on his throne as well.
"I'm haunting you if you poke my eye out." Fingolfin leaned back, moving out of the way of the flailing metal rod. He was honestly starting to regret letting his little brother get comfortable in his lap.
"Let him, eyes are overrated." The eldest of the three gestured back over to the subject of their talk, who seemed in a soft discussion with the two Ainur beside her. "She's managing just fine without them, after all."
"Says the one who heard of her being blindfolded and immediately started planning glasses." The golden-haired brother poked empty air with the skewer.
"Okay, I am confiscating this because otherwise you will really just take someone's eye out." Indis' eldest plucked it out of reach, to the immediate sulk of his sibling. "No more pointies for you, that's for sure."
"And here I thought that'd be a rule for me." Finwë's eldest chuckled, offering some breadrolls to the grumbling form. "There, there, little one, I am sure I can find you a pointy later."
"Don't you dare." The one in the middle - age-wise, at least - looked vaguely tempted to start poking himself. "I am currently not trusting him with anything pointy."
"I am your king." The youngest pointed out, briefly considering if he could win back the skewer through brute force.
"You are also acting like a toddler whose running on pure sugar." He pulled off a piece of food from the iron, offering it to his sibling, who took it. "The only reason you're not bouncing from the walls is the lack of bounce-able walls with only the tents here."
"Clearly, we should put him for a nap." Fëanor accepted the next piece, chewing on the well-spiced fowl-meat while he patted the golden head.
"I will bite you." Finarfin sulked, but still nibbled on the bread-roll instead of some limb of either his brothers.
"That does not help your case, I hope you realize that."