Chapter Text
Nelyafinwë had a peculiar way to look at him, in certain moments: he stared, sitting decorously like a small adult, he observed with an intent gaze and pursed his lips, and never spoke, not before he seemed absolutely certain of what he wanted to address. Fëanáro noticed that it was very much alike to how Nerdanel behaved, and maybe he was copying her habit, and noticed also that such was his wife’s approach whenever he showed the slightest hint of an upset mood.
« Why are you not satisfied with it? », asked his son, after the long minutes of silent observation.
Not asking if he was not satisfied, but why. Fëanáro put down the compasses and pursed his lips, giving him credit at least for the perspicacity; the interruption aggravated him more than the question itself, for questions while he worked were not always a bother when he could simply reply and go on with what he was doing at the meantime.
He placed his hands on the desk and clasped his fingers together, forcing them to stay still. « The answer is simple, Nelyafinwë. Because I am aware there are things I can and must fix, and yet I cannot remain concentrated enough to do it. »
His son shifted his weight on the chair across the desk, that he occupied silently everytime Fëanáro let him inside the study. « Should I leave? », he suggested, tilting his neck.
Fëanáro glanced at him askance – his firstborn was quiet and the core of the problem had hardly anything to do with him. « It matters little whether you stay or not, Nelyo. » Then his eyes concentrated again on the process of compression that would lead to the creation of gems – not their mere shapingand cutting, but the act of creation that would make a gemstone out of dust. The paper was covered in neat Sarati, but the vagueness of his annotations was not enough to call it a project yet.
He disliked what was vague, for it was either a sign of lack of knowledge or lack of competence.
The door cracked open and he looked up, right in time to see his son leave the room discreetly. Fëanáro frowned, just slightly, but did not call him back: it was not a day to give him lessons, not even those about knowledge and inspiration. The latter did not strike people without being teased, bribed, coaxed, hunted down; the former did not come from above as a gift from Ilúvatar, it had to be earned.
Yet, his mind was elsewhere, with words that had not been pronounced for him to listen to them, but such that would not leave his thoughts. The paper before him could have been blank and would not have made any difference.
The door opened again and he saw Nelyafinwë bringing in Nerdanel by his hand. He raised a brow and watched his firstborn sit on the chair again, as his wife walked around the desk to come to put a hand on his back and watch the notes from behind his shoulder. « Maitimo tells me you are angry », she said, in a low timbre.
« I am not. What I am is distracted, which by consequence makes me frustrated », he corrected. He felt her mind brush his own, a sensation not unlike the one of fingers sliding through locks of hair and untangling them.
We both know where that leads, her thoughts whispered, raveling layers of his looping thoughts.You being distracted is not a new thing, but frustration because of that is rarer. I would not believe that another could carry one more than one project at once, but I know you. What kind of distraction can burden you so?
Fëanáro inhaled, kept a stern wall of protection around his annoyances, then glimpsed at Nelyafinwë and exhaled. She did not judge the uneasiness at the bottom of it, did not dismiss that last veil – thus he opened her the curtain and let her see his bother – a mere sentence from a bystander commenting on young Ñolofinwë’s athletic performance, on how much it seemed to see Finwë again, when he was still a Tatya in the days of his youth. Fëanáro did not care at all about the performance, but the comment that he had overheard, that had dug a hole in his head.
Nerdanel only nodded and retreated from his mind, slowly, and as slowly her hands reached his neck and then jaw, and touched his cheeks close to his pursed lips. That kind of statements never stopped you before, as far as I remember. But in any case, you do not need this project now just to prove them wrong.
I need it, he replied, just in the moment she pulled his lips with her index fingers. He was certainly making a face, such that Nelyafinwë curled his mouth in an amused expression.
You do not, she insisted, with a soft tone. Look at Maitimo, he was worried.
Fëanáro stared at his son, whose eyes sparkled. Nerdanel hooked the corners of his mouth and stretched them showing part of his teeth. « Not your father’s best smile, is it? » she chuckled, talking with Nelyo.
Nelyafinwë cackled, holding his belly, and his voice made a silvery sound. His wife was quick to release him, and it was the echo of both of their laughters that lifted part of the weight from his mind. A low chortle left his chest as he lay his wery gaze upon the words that he had written.