#i use quenya names for everything cuz it is years of the trees

[actual-bill-potts]

Let's try Orodreth with "weary and content" so maybe your poor lil guy can have a nice time for a change 😭

lsdjkfskldf a nearly impossible prompt. but i have done my best

There was a timid tap-tap-tap outside his door.

Arafinwë groaned inwardly, and wished it would go away. He had been awake for days on end in Tirion, helping Nolofinwë to soothe Fëanáro's latest political mess. This was his first night at home, and he had hoped to sleep.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Perhaps if he stayed still and silent, his son would give up. Eärwen beside him had not yet stirred.

He heard light footsteps enter his room hesitantly, and then a tugging on his sleeve.

Silently offering a prayer to Varda for patience, Arafinwë sighed and opened his eyes into Artaresto's enormous brown ones.

"Atya," whispered Artaresto, loudly. "Atya!"

Arafinwë sighed again. "Yes, Artaresto?"

"I had a bad dream," said Artaresto. "I cannot sleep."

Eärwen pushed herself up on one elbow beside him. "Artaresto," she said, "you must go to bed. Come, I will tuck you in."

Artaresto's lip trembled threateningly. "No!" he said. "Want Atya!"

"Atya is tired," said Eärwen reasonably.

"But he has been gone," said Artaresto. "I missed him! And I cannot sleep," he added petulantly. "I do not want to be tucked in!"

Arafinwë sighed for a third time, but rolled out of bed and tucked his feet into slippers. "It is all right," he said, smiling a little at Eärwen. "Artaresto and I will go to the kitchen and have something to drink, and then he will go back to bed. Won't you, hinya?" he added, turning to Artaresto.

"Yes," said Artaresto, nodding vigorously, eyes lighting up. "May I have yullas, Atya?"

"You may," said Arafinwë, taking Artaresto's small hand in his own and leading him out of the room. Artaresto padded beside him, seeming quite content, and Arafinwë's tired exasperation quickly abated at the little fingers clutching his own tightly.

"I missed you, Atya," said Artaresto again, as they entered the kitchen.

Arafinwë felt a little pang. He begrudged even the short days spent away from his children; they were growing up so quickly! Artafindë was already grown, and often wandered far from home. Soon Artaresto would follow him, no doubt; he idolized his older brother.

"I missed you too, hinya," he said, smiling down at his son. "Now, what sort of yullas would you like best?"

Artaresto's eyes lit up. "Oh! I would like ornemalin!"

"Very well," Arafinwë said, putting water on to boil.

Artaresto sat down at the table, snuggling further into his night-shirt. "I am cold, Atya," he said.

You could go back to bed, Arafinwë almost muttered; but he refrained, shrugging out of his outer robe. He draped it around Artaresto's small shoulders.

"There," he said, "are you warm enough?"

"Yes!" said Artaresto. He sniffed at the robe. "It smells nice," he said. "It smells of the Sea!"

"Yes," said Arafinwë. "Ammë Sung such into the weaving."

"Could she do that for me?" asked Artaresto eagerly.

"Perhaps," said Arafinwë. "Or perhaps she could teach you how to do it yourself."

"I would like that," said Artaresto, swinging his small legs.

Arafinwë sat down beside him and put an arm about his son. "Would you like to talk about the bad dream?" he asked. Where Artafindë would confide his troubles without prompting, Arafinwë had found already that Artaresto was shy about his innermost heart. If he was not asked, he would keep his troubles buried deep until they burst forth in upset that had festered.

Artaresto shuddered, a movement that seemed almost too big for his small body. "There was a lizard," he said. "Like the ones that like to sun themselves on the rocks by the palace, but much bigger. So big it blotted out the whole sky. And I could not see the light of the Trees! Then it looked at me and laughed, and I felt as if - as if I had done something terribly naughty. Then I woke up."

Arafinwë wanted to laugh - a huge lizard? - but refrained, for Artaresto's eyes had filled with tears. He tightened his arm about his son's shoulders. "That sounds frightening," he said.

"It was," admitted Artaresto, trembling again.

"Well," said Arafinwë, "there is no chance of a giant lizard coming to attack us here. Tulkas and Oromë would hunt it down before it gave us any trouble; and in any case I doubt Yavanna would create such a thing. It was just a dream."

"But -" said Artaresto. Then he hesitated.

"Yes?" said Arafinwë.

"What if -" said Artaresto, in a very small voice, "what if it was a true seeing? It felt so - so real. I have not had a dream like that before."

Arafinwë felt a chill. Foresight did run in their family. And Artafindë too sometimes had terrible dreams.

What was Vairë weaving for them, his gentle and shining children? Why could he not see it?

He shook it off. There was no reason to alarm Artaresto without need. "It may," he admitted aloud, "or it may not. There is no way to know unless it comes true - and I cannot think of a way that would come true! So let us put away worries for tonight."

"But what if," said Artaresto again, "what if the huge lizard fights its way past Tulkas and Oromë, and rips our house down? With us inside?"

"It will not," said Arafinwë.

"But if it does?" persisted Artaresto. "What will we do?"

Arafinwë exhaled a sigh. "It will not," he repeated. "But supposing that it did, it would doubtless already be friends with Artafindë. And upon seeing your brother, it would pause and apologize, and they would soon be dining together in great friendship. Though I do not know if your lizard would fit at the table."

Artaresto giggled. "You are silly, Atya!" he said. Then he sobered. "But what if Artafindë was not here?"

"Then I would simply have to tell the lizard very sternly to leave, and of course it would listen. I would use my fiercest, angriest voice!"

"Do you have one of those?" asked Artaresto, smiling.

"I do! But I reserve it for particularly annoying nobles," said Arafinwë, "and lizards who threaten my sons."

"But what if you are not there?" said Artaresto.

"Of course I would be there," said Arafinwë. "You are my son! If you were in danger, I would be there, even if I had to gallop across all Aman to do it."

Artaresto leaned his small head against Arafinwë. "Thank you, Atya," he said; and Arafinwë briefly had to close his eyes against the swell of feeling. The silver hair, so similar to Eärwen's - the little hands clutching at his sleeves - the warm press of his son's body against his own! How he loved his children!

The kettle began to whistle, and Artaresto sprang away from Arafinwë's side. "Yullas!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," said Arafinwë, rising to prepare two mugs. He poured the water over the ornemalin, briefly mesmerized by the swirl of silver light and shadow over the pale-yellow dye of the leaves. Then he turned back to Artaresto, and could not decide whether to laugh or groan.

Artaresto was slumped over the table, fast asleep, chubby hands clutched in his borrowed robe, hair falling over his face.

Love once again swelled in Arafinwë's breast; and fear for a moment clutched at his heart. So small - so defenseless! If the visions were true - !

They could not be. Perhaps in Endórë, where his father had grown up; but here in Valinórë evil could not touch them.

Arafinwë smoothed Artaresto's hair away from his face; then, when his son did not stir, gathered him up in his arms and carried him to bed.