#Nolofinwe has a headache

[sweetteaanddragons]

Pick Your Battles (Pick - Different Battles. Put That One Back.)

(I wrote this at Christmas and put it up on AO3, but it looks like I forgot to crosspost it here!)

(Having written a lot of time travel stories where people wish they could just attack Melkor, I decided it was finally time to let someone. Time travelling Fingon seemed perfect for the job.)

“You attacked Lord Melkor,” Fingon’s father said with incredulous emphasis, “with your teeth.”

“With a chair, first,” Fingon said. He had attempted to use weaponry before resorting to unarmed combat. “I wanted Uncle Feanaro’s sword, but I didn’t think I could get it away from him in time.”

He was aware that this was not actually helping his case. It might have helped his case if he had collapsed into some kind of mock breakdown instead, puddling onto the desk in his father’s study in heaving sobs, but he had never been much of an actor, so he stood before it instead, a reporting soldier before his general, instead of a penitent youth before his father as he should have been.

He might have been able to dredge up some penitence, actually, if only for the pain on his father’s face, except the provocation had been so very great that he really felt he could not have done otherwise.

His father at last stopped his pacing and collapsed into a seat behind his desk, holding up his hands in supplication. ”Why, Findekano?”

Fingon paused.

His reasons were entirely natural and entirely irresistible.

However.

They were not reasons that would have been at all comprehensible before Findekano had found his way to Thangorodrim and become Fingon.

“I had sworn to do so,” he tried.

The last time he had seen his father look so despairing, it had been right before he went off to go fight Morgoth, although not, admittedly, with his teeth.

He thought. He'd never actually asked.

“You swore to hit one of the Valar with a chair,” his father clarified in the flattest tone Fingon had ever heard from him.

Technically, no.

Technically, what he had sworn was to never let Morgoth lay a hand on Maedhros again. The fact that he had not pictured anything remotely similar to these circumstances when making that vow did not exempt him from it; nor did he particularly wish to be considered exempt from it.

Just because he had somehow found himself in a time before Morgoth had revealed the evil in his heart did not mean that evil was not already beginning its foul work.

“Swore an oath to whom?” his father demanded.

Fingon did not think the truth would be useful to family tensions, or the fully explained truth to the recently shaken belief in his sanity.

In the face of his stubborn silence, his father’s exasperation slowly drained away, leaving only his weariness behind. “You could have been killed,” he said. “If Lord Melkor had lost his restraint for even a moment - “

For a moment, it was not his father’s current, unblemished form, that Fingon saw.

Whatever his father saw on his face, it made him change tactics. “This cannot be kept quiet. If we can assure the Valar it has been handled, perhaps it need not come before Manwe, but - “

An idea suddenly blossomed, one born of a very different case before Manwe.

He did not wish to approach the Valar with the truth of his situation, not when he didn’t wish it undone.

But certain other truths . . . well, they had come out in a trial once before.

“Let it go before Manwe,” he said, interrupting his father. “Let it all be handled in the open. It will be better that way.”

“Findekano - “

“It will be,” he promised with a quick bow before darting out of the room without waiting for leave.

He suspected his father wouldn’t want him to leave the house at present, but he really must; he needed to find Maitimo as he had a horrible suspicion he might have accidentally hit him with that chair.

[that-angry-noldo]

You Don't Know My Name - part three

[Fingolfin is in a process of adopting this unknown warrior who also happens to be his long-lost younger brother but he's not aware of it. It's okay, he's in denial.]

Part one - part two

It was early in the morning when Finarfin woke up, ready to face the new day. It is late in the night when he allows himself to collapse near his son's bed.

Near his son's bed. Nowhere near his house.

Gods, Eärwen must be so - they were supposed to be home by breakfast. By breakfast.

She must be worried. Holy hell, she's definitely worried. Was she looking for them? Eärwen knew how to track trails-

Finrod was pale and unnaturally still. Finarfin breathed out.

Finarfin swallowed a hysterical laugh. Not like it matters now. Tirion was miles and miles away from his house, from his land - gods, it was in another country. How the hell was he in another country? What had to glitch so hard in the fabric of the Universe to create such a - such a mess?? Was it intentional? Was it the divine intervention? What WAS IT?

He'll panic later.

What does he know? The Universe glitched, bringing him in the middle of a fight. In the middle of an orc attack (assasination?) on the Royal family of the Noldor. From what Nolofinwe had said, the king wanted to express his gratitude to him, which... could've meant literally anything, from a formal "thank you" to lordship, or knightship, or any other royal nonsense.

... Well, he didn't know what to expect from Ölwe either, when he was first called upon His Majesty's face. Perhaps, the best strategy was to be quiet and quick to learn. It carried him through Ölwe, it will carry him through... whatever this is.

Finarfin wasn't new to royalty and its traditions. He met Ölwe on several occasions - on battlefields, in ballrooms, hell, on his own goddamn wedding - and there was always a sense of mutual respect. However, Finwe wasn't Ölwe, and Finarfin didn't know what to expect.

Upon deciding so, Finarfin closed his eyes, too exhausted to keep the sleep away from his mind.

~

Fingolfin woke up with a ringing headache.

... Nolofinwe Fingolfin Arakano also had an antisocial warrior and his underage son under his care now.

Anaire wasn't beside him, which made sense - he collapsed in his private chambers the second Finarfin and his son were in healer's hands. His body was sore. Not that somebody cares, though. Nolofinwe Fingolfin Arakano was supposed to carry his duties no matter what.

Why.

...Gods, he missed Anairë and boys already, but reporting to his father would be at top priority list.

He groaned, throwing a blanket aside and getting up. Great. He somehow managed to get his armor off yesterday, but had no strength to change his clothes nor to take a bath. It was probably good he didn't make it to his and Anaire's rooms yesterday. She would definitely force him into changing and bathing and what else, and Fingolfin wouldn't Have Any Of That.

... on the other hand, he really didn't want to report to his father today.

It was absolutely not because he felt petty or - actually, you know what, he did feel petty. And hurt. And he's pretty damn sick of Finwe forgetting he has two sons. And two daughters.

... And Arafinwe, if he's going that deep. Even though father hadn't exactly forgotten about - well. Whatever.

It's not like Finwe actually needs to hear Fingolfin's report. He was there himself, for one. For two, he has Feanor's we're-the-best-we-fear-no-man we're-trained-to-eat-orcs-for-breakfast escort.

Finarfin, on the other hand, is in bigger need of someone who could explain what the hell had he gotten himself into, and he just happened to be under Fingolfin's care, so maybe the prince should pay him a visit.

(It is definitely not because Finarfin is painfully similar to -

Gods. Fingolfin really, really should stop projecting Arafinwe on anyone who has a slightest resemblance with his brother.)

~

Knock, knock, knock.

Weird. Finrod never knocked on their door. Did something ha-

For the love of Gods, what the hell was Nolofinwe doing in his house.

Wait.

Oh.

"Good morning?"

Yeah. Right. Good morning. That's how people great each other, sure, holy - okay, okay, just say it back -

Oh wait. Is that food?

"I've supposed you haven't got the chance to get yourself something to eat, so-"

Finarfin didn't realize he was starving, even though it wasn't surprising - he didn't eat a thing yesterday.

He casted a quick look at Finrod. The boy was still asleep, but he was looking better.

He muttered a quick "thank you" and grabbed his bowl. Hell, he was hungry.

He felt like Nolofinwe resonated with his statement - the prince sat by the opposite wall, eating his own food in silence.

"I don't think I asked for your son's name yet."

Finarfin snapped his eyes on him, instantly tensing. He opened his mouth, closed it, struggling to form a response.

Nolofinwe smiled, drifting his gaze to the sleeping boy.

"I think he's the same age as my youngest," he said quietly. "He's not older than fourteen, is he?.."

"Thirteen," Finarfin finally whispered. "He's thirteen."

"Oh. Turgon turned thirteen few weeks ago. Where are you from?"

"I'm- north Telerin kingdom."

Nolofinwe frowned.

"That's... a long way from here. Are you a traveler?"

You certainly weren't packed like one, hanged in the air. Finarfin locked his eyes on the plate.

"No. I'm not."

"What brought you to these lands, then?"

Heck if I knew, Finarfin wanted to laugh, but he pressed the hysteria down.

"I- don't know. Teleportation magic. Not on my will."

"Ah," Nolofinwe didn't look as shocked as he should've been. "Yes, you tend to do that." It took Finarfin longer than usual to remember that he did, in fact, teleport right after the battle. "In that case, we'll figure out how to get you and your son back. That's the least we can do." Nolofinwe smiled, but then sighed. "Not the last, though. The King wants to speak to you."

Oh. Yeah, that was expected.

"I'll try to arrange the audition after your son wakes up. I suspect you'd want to stay with him here for the time being? Right."

Nolofinwe stayed a bit longer, talking about other mandatory things. Finarfin tried his best to listen. He did. He regretted not having something on him to write it down, though.

Nolofinwe left after.

Finarfin couldn't shake off the feeling of familiarity and fondness whenever he thought about the prince, so he turned his attention to Finrod.

Somehow, he was sure Nolofinwe loved making paper ships and letting them swim down the stream.

[ambarto]

A prompt on the silly side: it is Finwe begetting day and the whole extended family is meeting to celebrate Grandpa. What could possibly go wrong?

Arafinwe could feel a headache building. It had started forming days in advance, at the mere prospect of having to sit at a table with all his siblings and his parents. He was sure there was no other in Valinor who despised their own father’s begetting day quite as much as Arafinwe did.

“I heard young Irisse is proving herself quite talented with the bow,” Finwe said, conversationally. As many grandparents did, he quite enjoyed talking about his grandchildren. Being the father of some of those grandchildren, Arafinwe was normally delighted to discuss their achievements with him.

But there was no such thing as a polite conversation when all their House was in the same room.

“You should come to see her practice some day, father,” Nolofinwe said. “I reckon she may become a talented hunter. She has expressed a lot of interest in learning.”

Arafinwe wondered where Irisse was. Most of the youngest had left the table already, off to play or pass time in ways that didn’t involve waiting for Feanaro and Nolofinwe to start arguing. Three of Arafinwe’s children had disappeared, and only Findarato was still with them. He seemed involved in a terse conversation with Makalaure, both of them looking as if they wanted to escape.

So did Arafinwe.

“Learning? You mean you have not begun to teach her yet?” Feanaro sneered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arafinwe saw Maitimo mouth something that may have been a curse.

Nolofinwe glared at Feanaro. “She is quite young to be hunting live animals.”

“Tyelkormo could already skin a hare when he was her age.”

“I’m shocked, brother, that you remember my daughter’s age.”

Arafinwe’s mother took a sip from her wine. Indis had stayed wisely quiet for most of the lunch. Next to her, Findis breathed in deeply, eyes closed as if to wish for patience.

Only Finwe appeared unconcerned by the blossoming argument between his sons. Arafinwe wondered at times how could one as wise as his father turn blind and deaf whenever his children were at each other’s throats.

“It is much better to begin teaching skills when children are young and their minds are still pliable,” Feanaro said, taking on the tone he used when he wanted to lecture. “If you truly think your daughter has the skills to become a hunter, you should instruct her on tracking rather than simply focusing on archery.”

Finwe smiled. “I remember the first time I went hunting with Tyelkormo. He could read tracks better than many experienced hunters.”

Was there a way to change someone’s parentage? If his father had persuaded the Valar to allow him a second wife, surely Arafinwe could ask them to be counted as someone else’s son.

“He always had talent,” Feanaro commented, aiming a smug smile at Nolofinwe.

Before anyone else could speak, Artanis ran into the room.

“Angarato and Carnistir are fighting in the courtyard,” she said, sounding like she found the fact quite entertaining.

“I’ll go see what’s happening,” Arafinwe replied.

Findarato and Maitimo were both halfway out of their chairs already when Arafinwe spoke. They sat back down, with pained faces.

Arafinwe did not particularly feel sorry for his son and nephew. Perhaps next time they would be faster. As it was, Arafinwe had many more years of experience when it came to jumping at any chance to get out of a terse situation involving his older brothers.

[wulfiestired]

00:00:00 (From Nolo)

It isn't unusual forsomeone to find their soulmate within their family tree. That doesn'tmean it was supposed to happen. It was out of thought- so much sothat when he tucked Telvo alongside Pityo in their cradle the nightbefore their presentation in the palace and notice the numbers on hiswrist ticking down, Feanaro assumed there would be a guest or servantpresent. It was just- there were no struggles or stress in findingyour soulmate if it happened while you were so young. Hopefully Pityowouldn't have to struggle either. The peaceful thought continued asNerdanel took Pityo in her arms and he Telvo, the family loading intotwo carriages for the ride to the palace.

Even at this age,some of their sons were twitchy. While Tyelkormo liked to be lavishedin gems and silk, he would rather be running with Ailin alongside thehorses instead of stuck still and stagnant. Curvo and his wife weretalking excitedly about something aside him though Feanaro didn'tlisten in. He assumed Morifinwe was in the same state as Tyelko inthe other carriage, bored but peaceful enough with his two olderbrothers.  Makalaure likely lost in thought, hearing the tail end ofa maia's song or focused on a curious site. His wife Lisse was likelyignoring all of them and pointedly reading a book.  Maitimo wasprobably lost in his own mind over something that happened in courtlast he was active. All of his sons were alike in their restlessnessbut very different otherwise.

But at least theybehaved.

In fact, theybehaved exceedingly well. Maitimo did not immediately flock over tohis cousins, Makalaure paid attention once he left the carriage anddidn't cling embarrassingly to his wife, Carnistir did not pick afight with Findarato, and Tyelkormo stayed at Curufinwe and Ravien'ssides. Feanaro only hoped this would last. Peace rarely did stay inhis home.

Feanaro didn'treally pay attention to the numbers ticking on Telvo's wrist. Thebabe was suckling on his fingers quietly, seemingly uninterested ineverything around him. Pityo remained fast asleep, his face buriedinto Nerdanel's chest. They met with Finwe first who was overjoyedover more grandchildren to fawn over. It took an interesting turncompletely when Nolofinwe walked across the halls to meet with them.

“Are these yournew sons, brother?” There was an underlying tension in his voicebut nothing close to animosity. Feanaro gave him a strange look butnodded. He feigned a smile, keeping a careful eye on hishalf-brother.

“Pityafinwe iswith Nerdanel and Lalwen.” A glance across the hall would show thetwo nissi laughing over a frustrated Pityo who was chewing on hishand in what was developing into an angry habit. At least he didn'tscream.  Nerdanel gently tugged his hand free and gentled him with afew gentle strokes to his cheek. She glanced over at them and smiledbefore returning back to her conversation with her law-sister.

“He seems to haveinherited your famous spirit,” Nolofinwe said in a vague voice.Feanaro tried not to snort. When they weren't at each others throats,they both took the same line of humor that their father enjoyed.Perhaps they had to share something from inheritance. He wasn't aboutto admit it aloud though.

“Spirited is agood word for him. He has taken all of it for Telufinwe here iscalm.” With gentle hands he moved the blanket out of his son's faceso his brother could look. He waited for some witty word fromNolofinwe but nothing came. Frowning, he glanced back up at hishalfbrother only to see the elf staring unnervingly down at his son.Feanaro's brow furrowed as he glanced back down at Telvo and the tinywrist bared to show a series of zeros. He hadn't cried in shock ofthe feeling as infants typically would if they reached the end oftheir mark. Instead Telvo only stared curiously at Nolofinwe for amoment before he sneezed and turned his face to burrow back into hisblanket. Ah…

Feanaro glanced backup at Nolofinwe but the elf still said nothing about the occurrence.He simply rubbed at his own wrist hidden under cloth and jewelsuncomfortably and complimented him on his new children beforemeandering away. Feanaro frowned at him but said nothing back foronce. He didn't approve of this fate for his child but he tookcomfort in the fact that Nolofinwe would hopefully not act. He wasmarried with children and was wise enough not to cause a futurescandal with his nephew…. Hopefully….

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They met several times after that, though Telvo never seemedinterested in talking to his uncle for long much to Feanaro's relief.He often stayed at his brother's side, calming the firey Pityo whilePityafinwe defused the miasma of emotion and song around them for hisbrother in return. Osanwe quickly proved to be overwhelming forTelvo. Instead he would seek solace and quiet during socialgatherings while his brother found delight in gambling and dancing.

He wasn't overly surprised to find his uncle had also sought outthe quiet of the gardens. There were a few other elves wanderingaround but Telvo sought out Nolofinwe and sat down on the benchbeside him. “Hello.”

The elf startled slightly but quickly calmed himself and gave anod. “Good evening. Are you not going to enjoy the party?”

Telvo wrinkled his nose, ears laying flat against his scalp andshook his head. “No. It's too much. Everyone's thoughts becomeloser when they've had so much to drink.” He worried the fabric ofone sleeve, eyes focused on the silver light that played over thegarden. “It gives me a headache.” He was silent for a momentbefore he glanced at his uncle again. “What about you?”

The elf smile wearily before gesturing vaguely towards the mainpalace. “Avoiding a headache of my own.”

Telvo followed his gaze and hummed in sympathy, “father?”

“That would be the particular ache, yes. He is determined tospend the party bickering over a legal matter his own son settledthree years ago.”  Nolofinwe grumbld, a bit exasperated.

“Over the rights to that silver mine?” Telvo laughed, shakinghis head. “He grumbles about that at least once a week! He can'tbelieve Maitimo would betray him like that.”

Nolofinwe huffed, “I don't know what he expected. Your brotherdoesn't know HOW to break rules. He isn't going to sign over a silvermine found by my men, even if it is close to one of your father'squarrys.”

“He can always hope for a chance in Maitimo's heart, I suppose.”Telvo sighed and scuffed his shoes against the stone. “Expectingany of us to chance is like-”

“Expecting Feanaro to become cool-headed,” Nolofinwe finishedwith an exasperated look.

After a short pause Telvo smiled and nodded. “Exactly. And weboth know that is impossible as mixing oil and water.”