Chapter Text
Feanaro chewed his lips, tucked as far into the bottom shelf of the parts cupboard in the royal forges as he could get. He blinked furiously to press back his tears, and pressed his forehead against his knees. He had to think. If he could just figure out why, maybe, maybe that would be enough.
He tugged absently at his hair, trying to search himself for the flaw. He was obviously broken, but why?
“Prince Feanaro?” Mahtan’s voice echoed. “Nerdanel said she saw you run in here.”
Feanaro pressed further back into the dark corner. He wasn’t ready yet, he thought desperately.
Mahtan’s face appeared. “There you are. Everyone’s looking for you.”
Feanaro shook his head.
Mahtan sat on the floor, hunching his broad shoulders so he could prop his forearms on the shelf Feanaro was on. “What are you working on?” he asked, the same question he’d asked every time he’d found Feanaro down here, scowling fiercely at metal.
Feanaro shrugged. “Indis is having a baby,” he said.
Mahtan blinked. “How do you know that?”
“Heard her and Atya talking about it,” he replied. “They’re telling me today.”
“Probably why everyone is looking for you, then,” Mahtan observed. “Why’s that send you down here?”
Feanaro shrugged. “They’re replacing me,” he explained. “I was trying to figure out why, so maybe I could fix it before they had to.”
Mahtan’s face went through a series of very confusing expressions, before settling on thoughtful. “Have you considered asking your father for help?” he asked. “He’s very wise.”
Feanaro hummed. “That’s true,” he said slowly. “I thought, maybe, he wanted to replace me.”
“I doubt that,” Mahtan replied, sounding strangely tense. “But you should ask him.”
Feanaro nodded and squirmed out of the shelf; he didn’t fit there so well anymore.
“You’re getting big,” Mahtan observed. “Too big for that shelf, anyway. Perhaps we ought to get you a workbench.”
Feanaro hummed. “If father doesn’t replace me,” he agreed. “I would like that.”
Mahtan sighed. “Come on, little prince.”
Feanaro followed Mahtan to his father’s sitting room.
Atya was pacing restlessly, and looked up when Mahtan came in. “Did you-? Feanaro!” he cried rushing forward to hug Feanaro tightly. “Are you all right?”
Feanaro nodded. His father still loved him, then.
“He was working on a problem in the shelf in the storage cabinet,” Mahtan reported. “He…” Mahtan hummed, clearly searching for words. “I think he needs your input to find a solution.”
Atya coaxed Feanaro over to the sofa. “What is it, my son?”
Feanaro hopped onto the seat next to his father. “What’s broken in me?” he asked.
Atya made a choked noise. His hand tightened on Feanaro’s painfully. “Why do you say that?” he asked hoarsely.
Feanaro waved this away impatiently. “I know I must be,” he said. “You only replace parts when they’re broken. But sometimes they’re fixable instead of needing replacement, and I thought, if I knew why I was broken, I could fix me instead of you replacing me.”
Atya was crying, Feanaro realized belatedly.
“Atya?”
“You are not broken,” Atya said fiercely. “And we are not replacing you.”
Feanaro’s head tilted. Atya had replaced his mother when she had broken. Everyone said he’d inherited his Amme’s marring. Indis was having a baby. All of this led quite logically to the fact that he must have broken, but his father never lied to him. “I don’t understand,” he said finally.
Atya gathered him into his lap and buried his face in Feanaro’s hair. “Pityo,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry you thought that.”
Feanaro shook his head, bewildered. “I don’t understand,” he repeated.
“Our family,” Indis said from the edge of the room, where she’d been standing unobtrusively through this conversation. “Is not a machine.”
Feanaro looked at her, while his Atya continued to weep into his hair. Obviously, he thought wryly. It was a metaphor.
“I was not taking Miriel’s place,” Indis said softly, seeming to realize this. “I could never. Your Amme is a hole no one could fill.” She crossed and sat down on Feanaro’s other side. She took his hand gently. “Feanaro, when a piece breaks, and you can’t replace it, sometimes you have to make a workaround.”
“You’re the workaround,” Feanaro realized. “Because Amme broke.”
Indis nodded. “And your new sister is an exciting new component, to continue to see what our family can do, not a replacement for you. We can’t function without you.” She squeezed his fingers gently. “And I hope that you will like having a sister.”
“What do sisters do?” Feanaro asked.
Indis ruffled his hair. “For a while, she is going to cry and sleep a lot,” she explained. “But as she gets bigger, she’ll find the things she wants to do, just like you do.”
“I want to do everything,” Feanaro replied.
“And you will,” Indis answered. “Because you are not broken.”
Feanaro nodded, slowly coming to a realization. It had felt terrible to feel he was being replaced. How terrible must it feel to have been accused of being a replacement? “Indis,” he said quietly.
“What is it, love?” Indis asked.
“I’m sorry for thinking you were a replacement.”
“Oh, love,” Indis said softly, touching his cheek tenderly. “It’s okay. I can see how you would think that.”
“I love you,” Atya said hoarsely. “Please know that.”
“I know, Atya,” Feanaro said, surprised. “I love you too.”
“And I loved your mother,” Atya added. “You are both irreplaceable to me.”
Feanaro considered. As awful as Indis must have felt knowing Feanaro thought she was a replacement, his Atya must have felt worse, thinking Feanaro believed he had just replaced his Amme. “I’m sorry Atya,” Feanaro whispered. “I didn’t understand.”
“I should’ve explained it better,” Atya answered. “I’m sorry for making you think you were broken.”
Feanaro leaned back into his father’s strangling hug. “It’s okay.”
“It isn’t,” Atya disagreed. “But we’ll get through it.”