"No. I’ve never punched Arakáno in any manner but in jest, and for every time that I wanted to punch Turukáno in his smug face, I showed restraint and either slapped him or hit him somewhere less crucial. I wouldn’t risk harming him, no matter how insufferable he gets.”
submitted by anonymous.
// Queues threads, still gets replies in a flood. 8) Cheers though, I’ll get to work on those tonight.
Findekáno looked so very different than the last time she had seen him, a harried High King with bloody braids and tarnished armor but shining with the command and inspiration needed by the Noldor. Now he looked nearly like the laughing headstrong youngster she had known. Nearly. His eyes were old and he still stood with the bearing of a king.
He spoke and Nerdanel was surprised. Why did Findekáno feel like he should make amends to her? Of all the people she held a grudge against, Findekáno was nowhere near the head of the list. She stepped aside “Please, come in. Now is as good a time as any” She didn’t have a very charged social schedule anyway “I will get us drinks and snacks.” She hesitated. She had lots of things she wanted to discuss with him, but maybe he intended this to be a short affair. She found the tea and some cake Indis had brought. This would do.
She sat in her chair, tensing when Findekáno passed what she thought of as Fëanor’s chair, only relaxing when he sat on the couch facing her. She broke the silence “We did have our fair share of disagreements and have butted heads frequently, most often than not about Maitimo. I guess we both loved him dearly and disagreed on what was best for him. But I am curious as to why you should desire for there to be a greater understanding between us” Angrily, she continued “I am for all intend and purposes a recluse, the mad artist remnant of a lost family”
She looked away, pain surging in her chest. This wasn’t a good start. She continued more softly “Russandol is lost to us but maybe we can share stories of him and the novelty might make his absence a little less painful. It might make it worse though” She laughed at herself and sipped her tea “Look at me assuming this is about Maitimo. Please tell me why you sought me out Findekáno”
Fingon inclined his head in gesture of thanks as he stepped inside, picking his way over to the only seat he could safely say he found familiar. He was tempted to reach immediately for the tea that Nerdanel brought, not least so he could have something to do with his hands while they spoke, but he worried what that would say of his manners.
“You have people’s sympathies,” he reminded her as she sat across from him. “Not so mad that people have lost all their respect for you. But in any case, I am hardly in a better position. I feel like a museum-piece sometimes; something that people can look at and discuss and write off as a pretty fancy at the end of the day.”
They were all ignorant to his plight of missing a loved one—which Nerdanel was sharp enough to catch. Of course she was; she had always been perceptive.
Then again, it was hardly likely that he would have come here to mourn the absence of Fëanor and Curufin. Even missing Maglor, who he was not on the worst of terms with, and the twins, who he’d privately always pitied for their youth, he would not have made his way to Nerdanel to reminisce with her.
Fingon’s chagrined smile was directed towards the window. His fingernails, meanwhile, started driving themselves into the palm of his clenched hand, which now propped up his chin against the arm of the settee.
“I noted your absence among those that I still count as acquaintances,” he said, deciding to hold off on engaging her questions about Maedhros for now. That confession would have to come, but old habits stilled his tongue. “I hear talk of you, and I am always reminded when I walk by that you’re the only one of your line left. Mind, your family’s is not the only conspicuous absence.”
Aegnor was gone, and Fingon had seen little of Angrod either. Then again, that might be for the best, given the petty resentment for their father that he couldn’t quite contain.
He sighed. “But you are right; I miss Maitimo. Rather keenly, I’m afraid.”
|| The moment you complete the sentence with “make out” but then you read that the last word is actually “amends”
"Turukáno was close with Findaráto; for my part I was always closer to Aikanáro and Angaráto. Our interests were more aligned, and when they were in Tirion and not Alqualondë, I spent many hours with them. Eärwen… no, I suppose I was not so close with her. We were not on bad terms, but I never wanted to remain with mothers and aunts when I could be out riding and hunting and sporting with boys my age.” Fingon’s lips twitched. “I had no time to speak to her after the Kinslaying, but I still do not know what I would have said to her. A few half-hearted words would not have been adequate to mend a ruined relationship, however faint it was to begin with. I am not even sure she would have wanted me to.”