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Fëanáro ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Nelyo was so charming and eloquent! His short speech during the opening ceremony was better than anything that followed for the rest of the day! But is anyone talking about that? No!”

“Well, I did think people were suitably impressed by him, judging by the applause he received and–”

“Same thing with Káno!” Fëanáro interrupted his wife. “He did so well up there! And that last song he performed was his own composition! His own! But no one has commented on that either!”

“Your father and Arafinwë both complimented his performance. Findaráto seems to have greatly enjoyed it as well,” Nerdanel said, remembering how her young nephew had danced to the music and then enthusiastically clapped his pudgy little hands after the performance had ended.

“That’s not what I mean. At court, all that people are currently gossiping about is how ‘disruptive and troublesome’ our children were during the festivities. ‘Behavior not befitting the grandchildren of a king’ they call it. That awful cousin of hers that Indis invited referred to our children as ‘unruly and ill-behaved, downright feral even’ within my range of hearing. How am I supposed to just walk away from that?

“Besides, our children weren’t the only ones unable to sit still. Findekáno was easily as fidgety and restless. Ñolofinwë had a hard time keeping him in place. Turukáno also cried and whined non-stop for what felt like the entire day. And yet, I haven’t heard anyone call his children disruptive or poorly behaved!” 

Nerdanel listened patiently to her husband’s ranting and then squeezed his hand. “They’re just bored old busybodies with nothing better to do and no clue what they’re talking about. Don’t listen to them. They’re not worth it.”

Something that was easier said than done where Fëanáro was concerned. Her husband took criticism of their children extremely personally. Not that Nerdanel was completely unbothered by people talking badly about her babies, but these things tended to get under Fëanáro’s skin in a much deeper way. 

For as long as she had known him, Fëanáro had felt a strong urge to prove to himself and to the rest of the world that he was the best at whatever he set his mind to. He wanted to be needed, admired. He wanted to be irreplaceable. 

And although Nerdanel thought these desires had their origins in unfounded fears – it was more than clear to her how much Finwë adored both Fëanáro and their children – she understood how the unique circumstances of his life had shaped him and left their mark on him. 

She also understood how disparaging remarks about their children poured salt on old wounds that had never quite healed. After all, Nerdanel herself remembered hearing the unkind rumors and speculations that had gone around when she and Fëanáro had been young. Some people had been convinced that there was ‘something wrong’ with Fëanáro, that he had somehow caused his mother’s death. Others had blamed his mother, or both of them. 

Even now there were people who viewed Fëanáro with suspicion, who looked at Finwë and Indis and the four healthy children she had born him as proof that this was the real family their king was always meant to have. That Míriel and Fëanáro had been a mistake somehow, an aberration that should never have happened. 

So when their children were being judged unfairly in Fëanáro’s eyes, or ignored in favor of his half-brothers’ children (as he felt was the case when people kept gushing endlessly about sweet, precious, golden-haired Findaráto for example, while not doing the same with Carnistir or Atarinkë), she really, really did understand why this stirred up deep-seated insecurities inside of her husband. That didn’t mean she wanted to feed into them though. 

“It is true that our little ones were a bit unruly that day, and yes, they could have behaved better, but by the Valar, they’re just babies! Babies who had to sit through a very drawn out, boring event, from their perspective. Most children would find that difficult. It’s normal. They are normal. There is nothing wrong with them. And all the people that matter know that. Who cares what Indis’ cousin thinks? So please, stop worrying about what these gossips are saying. They’ll find something new to run their mouths about soon enough.”

Fëanáro rubbed his hand over his face, considering her words. “I suppose it is one of these things we’ll look back on and laugh about one day.”

“I think I can laugh about it already,” Nerdanel said, a wry smile appearing on her face as she recalled the events of that particular day. 

The trouble had started about four speeches into Finwë’s begetting day festivities. A particularly monotonous and long-winded courtier who clearly loved to hear himself talk had droned on and on in his praises of the king with no end to his speech in sight.

Next to Nerdanel, Tyelkormo had grown increasingly restless and fidgety. Tyelkormo struggled to sit still at the best of times, but that day had proven to be particularly challenging for him.

“How much longer, Ammë? When can we leave?” he had asked her none too quietly. “This is really boring.”

“Really boring,” Carnistir had repeated.

(Three seats down, where Ñolofinwë held his own restless child trapped on his lap, Findekáno had dramatically proclaimed that he too could not bear the boredom any longer, followed by ‘What Maitimo said was funny at least, but this is so dull. Can we leave too, Atya? Please?)

People all around them had started to snicker, but a few had also glared at them, including the courtier giving the speech. Sitting on her other side, Fëanáro had tensed slightly and put on his most haughty and challenging expression. 

Meanwhile, Nerdanel had tried to shush her children and quietly promised them that it would only take a little while longer. 

Tyelkormo had groaned and continued to fidget in his chair while Carnistir had squirmed around miserably in her lap, being generally cranky and making pitiful little sniffling noises. 

Nerdanel herself had been more than ready for the speeches to be over by that point and only hoped that their youngest son would not wake from his peaceful slumber in his father’s arms.

Unfortunately for the courtier though, his speech had soon been interrupted again by a piercing shriek from a lady a few rows behind them. 

“Something just tried to crawl up my leg!” she had yelled in alarm. The people around her had gotten up from their seats as well, trying to locate the mysterious creature. 

Tyelkormo had watched the proceedings first with interest, then with dawning horror. 

“Nyarro!” he had cried out after he’d put his hand in one of his pockets and found it empty. 

It took Nerdanel only a moment to realize what had happened, and what was about to happen. 

“Tyelko!”

But she’d been too late. Her third son had already dropped to the floor to crawl around beneath the maze of chairs in search of his pet mouse. 

“You let your son bring a rat to the king’s begetting day celebrations?!” a tall elf who had heard Tyelkormo’s exclamation had asked indignantly.

From somewhere underneath the chairs, Tyelkormo had yelled, “He’s not a rat, he’s a mouse! Nyarro’s just his name!” 

By now, with both a rodent and a young child crawling around between the feet of the guests, a small commotion had ensued. The courtier had been glaring daggers at their family. 

Fëanáro had glared right back, daring him to say anything. 

“Everyone stop moving, please! Don’t step on him!” Tyelkormo had yelled again from approximately five rows of chairs behind Nerdanel and Fëanáro, sounding very upset and close to tears now. 

Turukáno, who had been fussy all day and clearly did not appreciate the chaos of the situation, had started sobbing hysterically. Nerdanel had glanced at Carnistir and knew her own son was about to join in any second now.

Meanwhile, Makalaurë had sunk down in his chair, clearly embarrassed and pretending not to be related to the rest of his family. But then again, he was at that age where pretty much everything his family said or did was highly embarrassing to him. 

Maitimo had merely sighed and gotten up as well, slowly walking along the rows of chairs in search of Nyarro.

And in the end, it really had been Maitimo who’d spotted and caught him. The terrified animal had fled the countless moving feet and ran towards the aisle separating one section of chairs from the other, heading directly towards Maitimo. His reflexes fast as ever, Maitimo had immediately crouched down and trapped Nyarro in his hands.

“Tyelko, I’ve got him, come here!”

Within mere moments, Tyelkormo had resurfaced and attached himself to his big brother’s side as he carefully passed the mouse to him. He had smiled up at Maitimo with hero worship in his eyes, cheeks still stained with tears.

“Right, that’s it. I’m going to take Tyelkormo and Carnistir out of here,” Nerdanel had told her husband.

Holding onto Carnistir with one hand, she had marched down the aisle to grab Tyelkormo, but not without whispering a relieved ‘thank you’ to her firstborn son and giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. 

Behind her, Anairë and a handful of other parents with young children had gotten up as well, clearly intending to follow her example.

They had ended up outside of the main hall, where the palace corridors opened into the gardens. Someone had created a small play area for the children attending the festivities there and Nerdanel had gratefully released her boys to run wild and release their pent-up energies.

For a while, everything had gone well. Nerdanel had had a pleasant time commiserating and chatting with Anairë and a few other mothers and fathers until the rest of the guests had joined them, looking very ready to hit the buffet tables (or the drinks, in some cases).

Fëanáro had walked up to her, their youngest son crying heartrendingly in his arms.

“I think Curvo’s hungry,” Fëanáro had told her. “No wonder, he’s been sleeping unusually much today. The endless boring speeches must have affected him as well.”

Nerdanel had hummed in agreement, intending to take him from her husband, when they were interrupted by one of Finwë’s most high-ranking courtiers, who’d been dragging Tyelkormo and Carnistir along by their hands, and his wife, who had one arm wrapped protectively around a tall boy’s shoulders.

“Release my sons at once,” Fëanáro had demanded before the new arrivals could even get a word out.

The other man had hesitated a little at the menacing tone of Fëanáro’s voice, evidently considering whether he really wanted to confront the crown prince about a children’s spat, but then pressed on. “Your sons,” he had intoned, “first hit and then bit my son, for no discernable reason whatsoever!”

“That’s not true! We had good reasons to do that!” Tyelkormo had cried out in protest. 

The baby, as if agreeing with his older brother, had started to scream even louder. 

Nerdanel and Fëanáro had only looked at each other, sharing a look of profound exasperation and exhaustion, and had decided then and there that they would leave this celebration early. 

As is turned out, Carnistir and Turukáno had been building a castle in the sand pit, while some of the older children had run around chasing each other.

Somehow, the courtier’s son had either ‘stumbled into’ or purposefully kicked Carnistir and Turukáno’s castle and destroyed it (depending on who you asked), which had upset the two elflings greatly and caused Tyelkormo and Findekáno to get into a fight with the courtier’s son. Who had then proceeded to make fun of Tyelkormo for crying over his lost pet mouse earlier that day and told him that he was going to step on Nyarro on purpose if he ever lost him again.

In response to that, Tyelkormo had struck him across the head and Carnistir, either wanting to support his older brother or still angry about his destroyed sand castle, had sunk his teeth into his arm. 

The version of the story now going around at court, no doubt spread by the boy’s parents, lacked any trace of their own child’s wrongdoings of course, much to Fëanáro’s chagrin.

“That brat had it coming,” Fëanáro said, still lost in the memories of that particular disaster. “It wasn’t even a one-off occurrence. Arafinwë mentioned that he’s been picking on Findaráto as well. So really, it seems he just likes tormenting younger children. I don’t feel bad for him.”

Nerdanel smirked. “He is a rather unpleasant child, yes. And speaking of unpleasant children, ours will be terribly unpleasant as well tomorrow if we don’t get them to bed soon. It’s past their bedtime already.”

“Right, let’s go hunt our feral children down and put them in their cages.”

Nerdanel laughed as she stood up, glad to hear Fëanáro joking about the situation now. 

The only child they actually needed to ‘hunt down’ was Tyelkormo though. They knew Maitimo was watching their youngest two in the nursery and they could hear where Makalaurë was easily enough. So they made their way outside, the most likely place to find Tyelkormo.

“Tyelko! Where are you? It’s time to go to bed!” Nerdanel yelled as they walked along the edge of the nearby forest, since they hadn’t found him in their gardens. 

They couldn’t see their son anywhere, but then as they passed under a huge oak tree, Tyelkormo suddenly dropped out of the leaves right in front of them. He was hanging from a low branch only by his legs, his long hair nearly touching the grass below him. 

Nerdanel yelped in surprise and placed a hand above her racing heart. 

“I’m here!” Tyelkormo exclaimed rather unnecessarily, grinning up at his parents. 

“What have I told you about scaring your mother like that?”

“I didn’t just scare Ammë, I scared you too!” Tyelkormo replied cheekily, still hanging upside down from the tree branch. 

Fëanáro snorted and helped Tyelkormo out of the tree. “Get down here, you little monkey.” 

“I’m not a monkey, I’m a squirrel! There are baby squirrels up in that tree and I thought if I acted like I was a squirrel as well, they wouldn’t be so scared.”

“I see. Did it work?”

“Yes, Atya! I saw the baby squirrels and got really close to them!” Tyelkormo told them excitedly and then proceeded to fill them in on all the adventures he’d had in the short span of time since they had eaten dinner, barely pausing to take a breath. 

Nerdanel eyed her son’s appearance. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek and twigs and leaves stuck in his hair. The bath they had made him take earlier had clearly been pointless. “Go inside and get cleaned up again. And then off to bed with you.”

Without any arguments, Tyelkormo took off running and Fëanáro and Nerdanel followed at a more leisurely pace, aiming for the nursery.

Once there, they thankfully found their children as expected; their two youngest sons were playing on the floor with blocks and various other toys strewn around them, and Maitimo was keeping one eye on them while he was working on a speech he’d been invited to give at court the next day.

 “Curvo keeps taking my bricks,” Carnistir informed them as they entered the room, sounding a little frustrated and annoyed. 

Maitimo looked up from his speech. “I think Curvo is growing bored of the simple blocks and baby toys. They don’t really hold his attention anymore.”

“Of course they don’t,” Fëanáro said and picked his youngest son up from the floor before kissing his cheek. “You are far too smart and advanced for these old things, aren’t you? Atya will make you some new toys.”

The baby gurgled happily in response and drooled a little on Fëanáro’s hair. 

“Can I have new bricks too? I’m also too ‘vanced for mine. And I need more, I never have enough of the really long ones and the flat ones,” Carnistir said with big, round eyes from where he had sidled up to Nerdanel to cling to her leg. 

Fëanáro considered the large, strange structure Carnistir had built from the more complex interlocking bricks that Fëanáro had invented for his children and nodded to himself. 

“You’re right, Moryo. Tomorrow you’ll tell me exactly what types of new bricks you need and which types you need more of and then we’ll design some together. And you can even help me make them, if you want,” Fëanáro offered. 

Carnistir beamed at him and ran over to cling to his father’s leg instead, mumbling something that sounded like “I love you, Atya” into his father’s clothes.

“I love you, too,” Fëanáro said, reaching down to ruffle Carnistir’s dark hair.

Nerdanel was overcome with affection for her family at the sweet scene before her, but still raised an amused eyebrow at her husband, silently indicating the boxes upon boxes of bricks and various other playthings already filling the room (and frankly, the rest of house). 

Fëanáro had started making toys for their children when Maitimo had been a toddler and he’d never stopped, and the children’s grandparents and other relatives loved showering them with gifts as well. They owned veritable mountains of toys by now. 

“I really do think the children should have some more of these specific bricks,” Fëanáro defended himself. “They’re clearly insufficient for Moryo’s purposes, at the very least.”

“I see,” Nerdanel simply replied, amusement still tinging her voice. 

In truth, she didn’t really mind. Her husband was probably right to lavish some extra attention on Carnistir. Ever since Atarinkë had been born, Carnistir had struggled a bit. Being replaced as the baby of the family by a younger sibling was a transition many children struggled with, but being stuck between Tyelkormo and Atarinkë was an additional layer of difficulty. 

Tyelkormo was a demanding child by his very nature and Atarinkë demanded a lot of their attention simply by virtue of being an infant, and a rather difficult one at that. He slept very little, but cried a lot, and wanted to be carried around and entertained at all times. Though things had gotten better recently (at least compared to the first few months of Atarinkë’s life, during which he had done nothing but scream it felt like), Nerdanel suspected their youngest would probably not grow into an easy child either. 

As a result, poor Carnistir tended to get somewhat lost and overlooked at times. Not that he complained – he was a quiet child and often played by himself, but every now and then the pent-up emotions overwhelmed his small body and came out in a rather explosive manner.

Most often in the form of ear-splitting temper tantrums or sometimes fits of jealousy.

Nerdanel herself was trying to rectify the situation by spending as much time as possible with Carnistir, so how could she fault her husband for spoiling him a little?

She was ripped out of her musings by Tyelkormo, who dashed into the room and came to a sliding halt in front of them, nearly crashing into Maitimo. “All clean again!” he declared.

“Good job,” Nerdanel said, deciding to ignore the new stains on her son’s tunic that he had somehow managed to acquire in the meantime. “Now whose turn is it to pick a story?”

“It’s my turn! And I already know which one I want!” Tyelkormo nearly yelled in his enthusiasm. 

“Alright then, let’s go,” Fëanáro laughed and moved towards Tyelkormo’s bedroom with his three youngest sons.

It was a tradition that had begun out of necessity, since their children frequently disagreed on which books they wanted to be read or what kind of stories they wanted their father to tell them, so now they took turns and they would all pile up in the room of whichever child’s turn it was for their bedtime story.

“...the one with the bears and the wolves and the brave elfling in the woods! But the new version you made up yourself! Where he learned their languages! No wait, I want the new book from Grandpa Mahtan! I think I fell asleep before you got to the ending last time and–” Nerdanel heard Tyelkormo babble outside in the hallway as she turned her attention to her eldest son, who was furiously scratching out a couple of sentences he’d just written.

“Everything alright, darling? Are you making progress?”

“Yes, it’s fine, I just can’t get the conclusion right. It’s not… it’s not great. Not good enough,” Maitimo muttered, still staring at his writing and absent-mindedly chewing on the nails of his left hand. A habit he’d overcome years ago, but every now and then, when he was feeling particularly stressed or anxious about something, it had a tendency to return.

Nerdanel eyed her son with slight concern. He had inherited his perfectionist streak from both herself and Fëanáro, but as his mother she still felt compelled to reign him in a little. “Knowing you, I’m sure it’s better than most people could do already. Why don’t you take a break, Maitimo? Get some fresh air, do something else for a little while and then come back to it.”

Maitimo sighed, clearly disagreeing with her, but he nevertheless got up and stretched his arms, before walking away to hopefully do what she had suggested.

“I will check on you!” Nerdanel yelled after him, in a playfully threatening way. 

“I’m going to get myself something to eat, that counts as taking a break!” Maitimo yelled back, but Nerdanel could hear the smile in his voice.

Nerdanel smiled as well, shaking her head. As a child, Maitimo had been a slightly picky eater, but these days, she could only marvel at the amounts of food her eldest could pack away, especially when he was going through another growth spurt. Maitimo had long surpassed Fëanáro in height, but if his appetite was any indication, he wasn’t done growing yet.

Still, she had achieved what she had set out to do and now made her way to Tyelkormo’s room, where she was presented with the adorable sight of her husband lying on the bed with a book in one hand and their three youngest children draped over him and curled up next to him. Unable to resist, Nerdanel joined them on the bed and listened in.

Her husband was a great storyteller. Their little ones were listening to him with rapt attention, only interrupting to ask questions. Or to answer their father’s questions, since Fëanáro often liked to ask them what they thought about a particular topic or plot point. Nerdanel loved listening to their conversations, often getting caught up in them as well. 

Today was no exception, and it was only when she saw that Atarinkë had already fallen asleep on Fëanáro’s chest and that it was only Telperion’s silver light coming through the window now that she realized just how much time had passed.

“I think we should continue this story tomorrow,” Nerdanel interrupted softly.

Lost in the story himself, it took Fëanáro a moment to process what Nerdanel had said, but then he too noticed how late it had gotten and he carefully sat up, trying not to wake their youngest son.

Carnistir also sat up and yawned, struggling to stay awake. “But did they find the treasure?”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out tomorrow,” Fëanáro replied, snapping the book he was holding closed.

They tucked Tyelkormo into bed and kissed him goodnight, and then Nerdanel proceeded to carry Carnistir to his room while Fëanáro went to their own bedroom to put Atarinkë into his crib.

As Nerdanel gently lowered Carnistir down into his bed, he suddenly looked at her with alarm. 

“Titse! Where is Titse?”

‘Titse’ was the stuffed cat toy Nerdanel’s mother had made for Carnistir when he was a baby because he’d kept crawling after her parents’ cats every time they visited, always trying to catch them and pet them. Unlike Fëanáro’s mother, Nerdanel’s mother was no great seamstress, nor particularly gifted at toy making, and the scraggly looking thing was barely recognizable as a cat, but Carnistir absolutely adored it and would not go to sleep without it. 

“I’ve got her, I’ve got her,” Fëanáro said, entering the room.

Carnistir’s face lit up and he held out his hands for the cat, before remembering that there was one more thing missing. “The lamp! The lamp too!”

Nerdanel looked around for the miniature-sized Fëanorian lamp her husband had made for Carnistir and finally found it hidden underneath the blankets. 

“There you go,” Nerdanel said, handing the small lamp to him.

Heart full of fondness, she watched as her son clutched both the glowing orb and the stuffed cat to his chest and curled up around them, finally ready to go to bed. 

“Stay until I fall asleep?” Carnistir asked pleadingly, and Nerdanel and Fëanáro gladly obliged.

They sat down on his bed and reached out for their son’s bright little fëa with their own, wrapping him up in feelings of love and safety. As they did so, Nerdanel began to sing softly to him and Fëanáro gently carded his fingers through his hair.

This way, it merely took a few moments until their son’s breathing had fully evened out and they knew they could risk standing up again to head for Makalaurë’s room.

Once there, they found their second son’s room a mess of clothes, musical instruments, books and papers. Makalaurë was sitting in the middle of the mess with his favorite harp, plucking at the strings and humming an unknow melody to himself, not even realizing he wasn’t alone anymore.

Nerdanel cleared her throat. “Makalaurë, it’s late. Off to bed with you as well now.”

Makalaurë looked up from his harp and stopped playing, his expression growing petulant instantly.

“But Ammë, I’m not tired yet. And I’m old enough to decide for myself when I want to go to sleep,” Makalaurë whined. “How come Nelyo gets to stay up as long as he wants, but I don’t? It’s not fair!”

Nerdanel sighed. She knew it was normal, Maitimo had been a bit difficult at that age as well, but Makalaurë was really trying their patience recently.

“When you’re his age, you’ll get to decide for yourself as well. But for now, you’ll go to bed when we think is best for you.”

“Besides, our next stop will be Nelyo’s room, where we’ll at least try to annoy him into going to bed as well. And your younger brothers are asleep already. You’re not being unfairly singled out here,” Fëanáro added. 

“But I just had this really good idea for a new song!”

“Then try to remember it for tomorrow. Write it down if you must. Also, why does your room look like a herd of oliphaunts trampled through it?”

Makalaurë let himself fall back onto the floor dramatically. “Because I was entirely focused on my musical pursuits and on turning my creative vision into reality.”

Nerdanel nearly burst out laughing at the pretentious answer and she saw her husband’s lips twitch too, but he kept his face straight.

“And let me guess, you did not have time for plebeian concerns such as picking up after yourself?”

“Exac-,” Makalaurë started to say, then realized he was being made fun of and glared at his father. “That’s not funny.”

“Neither is arguing with you every day about a thousand different things.” 

“I don’t see why I should have to anyway. We have servants for that kind of thing.”

“Because it’s character building. You should have seen the kind of work your grandfather Mahtan had me do when I was apprenticing with him.”

“Not this old story again,” Makalaurë groaned.

Nerdanel once again had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. There was a certain irony in Fëanáro, of all people, having this discussion with Makalaurë. Keeping things clean and orderly was the least of Fëanáro’s concerns when he was engrossed in his own passions, but she wasn’t going to undermine what her husband was trying to do here. 

“I’ll bring it out as often as necessary,” Fëanáro said and then bent down to pull Makalaurë up from the floor. “Come now, I’m serious. You can clean the mess up tomorrow, but we really do want you to go to bed now.” 

Makalaurë sighed, looking very put-upon, but then an idea seemed to come to him. “I’ll clean my room every day and I’ll go to bed whenever you want me to for the rest of the year if I get the horse I’ve told you about for my begetting day.”

“Nice try, Káno. You already have a horse.”

“I have a pony. And I do love her, but I’m way too old for a pony. I need a real horse.”

“We can discuss this some other time, Makalaurë,” Nerdanel cut in, wanting to bring this discussion to an end. 

“But I mean it. Even Findekáno’s soon getting a horse. I can’t be riding around on a pony when Findekáno has his own horse. He’s practically a baby compared to me!”

Fëanáro looked surprised. “Findekáno’s getting a horse? Ñolofinwë hasn’t mentioned anything like that.”

“Because you barely talk to him,” Makalaurë stated plainly, ignoring the look his father gave him. “But yes, Findekáno told Nelyo that’s he’s getting one. According to Nelyo, it’s all he talks about these days when he follows him around chattering his ears off.”

“Be that as it may, your mother is right that this is a discussion for another time. If you’re really serious about this, we will talk about it, but not now. Tomorrow, if you like.” Fëanáro said, holding the blankets on Makalaurë’s bed up for him. 

Thankfully, their son did actually follow the unspoken invitation now and climbed into his bed. 

“Promise?” he asked once he’d made himself comfortable and been covered with the mountains of blankets he insisted on sleeping with. 

“Yes, I promise,” Fëanáro said and brushed Makalaurë’s hair aside to kiss his forehead.

Makalaurë hesitated for a moment, but then suddenly said, “I’m sorry for being so argumentative and difficult lately. I don’t mean to. Or maybe I mean to a little, but not really.”

Both Fëanáro and Nerdanel laughed at that. “We believe you. And don’t worry about us, we can handle it. Just try to make life at least a little easier for your poor old parents, if you can.”

“You’re not that old. Compared to some of my friends’ parents at least,” Makalaurë said, scrunching his face up in thought. “You were really young when you got married and you were still pretty young when you had Nelyo and me. And you also still haven’t told me how you made us, by the way. I mean I know how it works in theory, but how exactly does it work in practice? Is it like with horses? That doesn’t really seem right. But every time I ask Nelyo, he gets weird and tells me to ask you about it.”

Nerdanel buried her face against her husband’s shoulder to hide her laughter, while Fëanáro wiped his hand across his face before chuckling in good-natured exasperation. 

“That too is a discussion for another time,” he said eventually. 

Makalaurë pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“That may be the case, but it’s only because we love you and want you to get the sleep you need to grow and to stay healthy. That’s a good reason to be boring, no?” Nerdanel asked.

“I gueeess,” Makalaurë drawled, but his eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement. Then he quickly reached his arms out and pulled his parents down to hug them, nearly causing them to fall on top of him.

Surprised, Nerdanel squealed a little and then tickled her son’s side in retaliation. Fëanáro joined her efforts right away and Makalaurë dissolved into helpless giggles.

“I love you, too, Ammë. And you too, Atya,” he said after they had stopped their attack and he’d calmed down again.

Fëanáro and Nerdanel both kissed his cheeks in response and Makalaurë only grinned happily at them. He might have been too old for bedtimes and ponies in his mind, but he was not too old for goodnight kisses apparently.

They told him to sleep well and then, finally, made their way out of his room. 

Nerdanel took a deep breath once they were out in the hallway, before quietly saying, “This felt way too easy for Makalaurë’s standards. He’s going to sneak out of bed again as soon as we’re gone, I’d bet on it.”

“I’m sure he will,” Fëanáro agreed.

“He’s way more exhausting than Maitimo was at this age.”

“He didn’t get that from me.”

“He most certainly did. Your family has told me plenty of stories about you.”

“Lies. Nothing but lies and slander. You can’t believe anything my half-siblings, or worse yet, Indis, have told you.”

“If you say so, darling,” Nerdanel smirked and knocked on the door to her firstborn son’s room before entering. 

Their oldest was pacing up and down in his room, muttering the words he had composed to himself. 

“You should get some sleep as well, Maitimo. You have a big day tomorrow,” Nerdanel said. 

“I will, I just need to adjust a few minor things and prepare an alternative-”

“Nelyo, you can argue circles around these dullards even on your worst day,” Fëanáro interrupted him. “They’ve got nothing on you. You’re smarter than every single one of them. You’ll be fine.”

“I just want to leave a good impression. I might get to work with uncle Ñolofinwë and his people in the future if I succeed,” Maitimo said, sounding excited at the prospect.

“The way I see it, Ñolofinwë should consider himself lucky to have you work with him. You’d be doing him a favor, not the other way around.”

“Fëanáro,” Nerdanel admonished mildly.

“What? It’s true.”

“Anyway,” Nerdanel said, ignoring he husband, “we just reminded your brother that growing elves need their sleep and that still applies to you as well, apparently. So please consider getting some sleep and don’t stay up the whole night again.” 

“Plus, a well-rested mind is sharper and clearer, which will shine through in your work.”

Maitimo raised a skeptical eyebrow at his father. “You often don’t sleep for days when you’re working on something, Atar. So while I’m perfectly aware of that fact, this really isn’t a very convincing argument coming from you.”

“This is a case of ‘do as I say, not as I do’, Nelyo,” Fëanáro smirked.

Maitimo turned his head to the side, smiling. “You’re both annoyingly persistent, I hope you know that.”

“As we told Makalaurë, we’re only annoying, or ‘no fun’ as he put it, because we love you and want what’s best for you,” Nerdanel said and then stood on tiptoes to kiss her eldest son’s cheek. “Good night, love.”

“And remember, you’ve got nothing to worry about tomorrow. They’ll be blown away by you. In the very unlikely event that they’re not, that just means they’re even bigger idiots than I already think them to be. It will be their loss. But either way, we’re very proud of you,” Fëanáro added and then also kissed his son and wished him a good night. 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Nerdanel told her husband after they’d left Maitimo’s room, “but you could do with being a bit less disparaging towards the people our son is likely going to work with in the future. Or you know, people in general. Especially considering that you yourself are rather sensitive to that kind of thing.”

Fëanáro groaned and then took a moment to consider his answer. “I’ll concede that you may have a point. But these particular people in question? They really are idiots.”

Nerdanel slapped Fëanáro’s butt. “You’re incorrigible.”

“It’s one of my best attributes,” her husband grinned. 

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Nerdanel said and pulled him into a quick kiss. “But anyway, now that we have at least attempted to put all our children into bed, we’ve got some time to ourselves. Got any ideas, darling?”

Fëanáro hummed, thinking. “We could have some more of that wine your parents sent us, go for a nice walk in Telperion’s light, and then, you know-”

He never got to finish that thought, because suddenly the sound of things crashing to the floor shattered the relative silence of the house, followed by loud wailing.

They immediately ran for Tyelkormo’s room and found him sprawled on the floor, a bunch of books and old toys scattered around him. Tears were running down his face as he gingerly held his left arm to his chest.

“Tyelko! Are you alright? What happened?” Nerdanel asked and immediately started checking her son for injuries. 

“I climbed onto the wardrobe, but then I f-fell off and the box fell down as well and… and some of the stuff in it hit me on the head!” Tyelkormo cried, sounding terribly offended. 

“Why did you climb onto the wardrobe?” Fëanáro asked, sounding rather exasperated.

“Because I was in bed and I couldn’t fall asleep and then I noticed the box on top of it and I couldn’t remember what was in it, so I wanted to look,” Tyelkormo explained, still crying.

“And you couldn’t have waited until morning to do that, when you could have asked someone to help you?”

“No. I wanted to know now.”

Fëanáro sighed and knelt down to take a closer look at his son as well. “Let me see your arm, can you move it? I want to check if it’s broken.”

Thankfully, the arm didn’t seem to be broken and they couldn’t find any other serious injuries on Tyelkormo either. A few bruises and scratches maybe, but that was more or less an everyday occurrence for their most rambunctious son.

“Stupid box,” Tyelkormo grumbled, sniffling. 

A moment later, Maitimo appeared in the room. He was carrying a sleepy and rather grumpy looking Carnistir, clearly having been woken by all the noise coming from the room right next to his. 

“What’s wrong? I heard Tyelko screaming and then I found Moryo outside of his room and- is he alright?”

“He fell off the wardrobe, but he is unhurt. Just had a bit of a fright,” Nerdanel answered.

Maitimo didn’t even question why his younger brother would be on the wardrobe instead of in his bed. 

Across the hallway, in Fëanáro and Nerdanel’s own bedroom, Atarinkë started screaming. 

“So much for time to ourselves,” Fëanáro muttered and went to get their youngest son, while Nerdanel helped Tyelkormo put the things strewn around the floor back into the box.

“By the way, I think Káno snuck out of bed again as well,” Maitimo commented.

Nerdanel paused and listened, and indeed, she could hear the sound of soft singing and harp playing from upstairs.

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” Tyelkormo asked his parents pleadingly when Fëanáro had returned with Atarinkë in his arms, eyes wide and still shining with tears.

“Of course you can,” Fëanáro replied with a fond sigh, as always unable to deny his children anything when they looked at him in such a way. Nerdanel only nodded in agreement and hugged her son to her side.

Tyelkormo was growing up so quickly and only rarely asked for such childish comforts these days, but Nerdanel and Fëanáro were determined to enjoy their sons’ childhood days while they lasted. Their two oldest were a daily reminder of just how fast these days went by.

“Me too! I want to sleep in your room too!” Carnistir piped up from Maitimo’s arms. 

Nerdanel looked at her husband and her three youngest sons with a wry smile. “Looks like our bed will be pretty crowded again then tonight.”

“Yes, so it seems,” Fëanáro said quite happily and kissed Atarinkë’s head, while Nerdanel reached out to relieve Maitimo of Carnistir, who was holding his little arms out to her.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” Maitimo said. “But I can check in on Káno on the way up and tell him to go back to bed, if you want me to.” 

Nerdanel gave her eldest a grateful smile. “Thank you. And tell your brother we’re neither stupid nor deaf. We can still hear him playing, even when he’s trying to do so ‘quietly’.”

With that, they herded the rest of their sons into their own bedroom and helped everyone get comfortable, including Atarinkë, who decidedly did not want to be put back into his crib when everyone else was cuddling up together.

It took the children a while to settle down, but after all three of them had finally fallen into a deep sleep, and also taken up most of the space in their parents’ bed, Fëanáro and Nerdanel gazed at them adoringly. 

From upstairs, they could hear the muffled voices of their two oldest sons (apparently ‘telling Makalaurë to go to bed’ had turned into chatting and bantering), but neither of them wanted to risk waking their youngest children by getting up again. Besides, Maitimo was responsible enough to not keep Makalaurë (and himself) up for too much longer, and if Makalaurë was tired and cranky the next day, it would mostly be the tutors’ problem.

Next to Fëanáro, Tyelkormo turned around in his sleep and instinctively wrapped his arm around his baby brother, who was lying between him and Carnistir. Fëanáro placed a gentle kiss on his third son’s fair hair. 

“You were right, Nerdanel; I will try not to care anymore what these obnoxious busybodies at court say. I do not find our children ill-behaved or unpleasant to be around in any way. Frankly, I think our children are the most precious and perfect children to ever be born. Every single one of these five is a treasure beyond measure,” Fëanáro said. 

Nerdanel hummed in agreement as she lightly stroked Carnistir’s cheek, still somewhat round and soft with baby fat. 

“They are quite marvelous.”

“Do you think we should have one more maybe?” Fëanáro asked.

Nerdanel smiled at the idea. “Not anytime soon, but you might be able to convince me in a few years…”

“A little daughter maybe,” Fëanáro mused. “I’d love to have a daughter.”

“Yes, that’d be nice,” Nerdanel mumbled drowsily before both she and Fëanáro succumbed to exhaustion as well, lulled into sleep by the sound of their oldest children’s laughter from above them and the deep breaths of their younger children resting between them.