Child of the Woods by Aprilertuile

Chapter 2: The start of the journey

Fëanáro hated to admit it, but Nerdanel seemed happier on the road than she had been at home recently.

She was pretty reasonable as well. If ‘reasonable’ was the right term for a heavily pregnant woman who decided to travel far from home on a whim.

Fëanáro and Maitimo were using their own horses, if only because Maitimo would need to leave them sooner or later to go back to his studies and work at the palace, but Makalaurë and Nerdanel were using the family cart.

It was better than he had feared, honestly. He wouldn’t have put it past his infuriatingly headstrong wife to decide to ride her horse instead. He had almost cried of relief when she had got onto the cart upon the hour of their departure.

She had planned frequent pauses in their travels to rest, and he couldn’t help but think that the journey that was already going to be long would be exceptionally longer than he had hoped.

But again, she might need those frequent stops, and Fëanáro didn’t know whether skipping them to arrive sooner would be a better or worse idea. 

Even if he was aware that logically, the child wouldn’t be born the next day, Nerdanel was still closer to term than he was comfortable with considering they were travelling and how long they should be taking to arrive.

At least, Makalaurë was in the cart with his mother and seemed to enjoy telling her stories and listening to her own stories in turn.

Perhaps he’d be able to tell if anything were to happen. Eru knew his wife wouldn’t admit to anything wrong out of stubbornness alone.

They travelled at a lazy pace for about half a day, before Nerdanel decided to stop. She wanted to eat, and she wanted a break from the cart.

She accepted Makalaurë’s hand to get down the cart, fully aware that if she was to fall, Makalaurë would never be able to catch up and would fall with her instead. She was too amused at his attempt to refuse him. Meanwhile, Fëanáro took one of the baskets of food from the cart.

While Maitimo was, somewhat grudgingly, checking the horses, Fëanaro, Nerdanel and Makalaurë settled down to eat, just waiting for the red-head to join them to start lunch.

Makalaurë was humming something under his breath as he waited rather impatiently. Fëanáro wasn’t surprised. That child of his was never silent, and was also, it seemed, a bottomless pit.

Like his brother at the same age, to be perfectly fair, and, probably, like he had been at their age a number of years ago.

They had fresh meat cooked the day before in preparation for the journey, and bread, fresh fruits and vegetables...

At 59, his eldest was... Well, taller than himself was, and alas very happy to make trouble with his brother for the fun of it.

That’s how Fëanáro and Nerdanel found themselves sitting side by side, Nerdanel leaning against his side, watching the kids bicker like... Well... Children... Over a piece of fruit Maitimo stole from his brother’s plate.

Never mind the fact there were dozens of other similar fruits in the container in front of them.  Fëanáro entertained the brief thought of stopping that silliness, but Nerdanel chuckling at his side convinced him to let the boys be.

He supposed they weren’t doing any harm.

He sighed tiredly when Makalaurë, in a huff, started to sing a mocking rendition of one of his study songs, with apparently brand-new lyrics painting the miserable adventures of a red-headed food thief. Far from being offended, Maitimo was humming along with his brother, looking more and more amused, until he fell of laughter at:

“alas, oh alas, for the thief

One day came soon,

When he ate the house,

No more food to find,

Only wood and steel

The shell of an empty home”

Fëanáro had to admit he was quite amused at the speed at which his second son was thinking up lyrics to suit him.

Alright, lyrics mainly to mock his brother, but also...

“I beg your pardon, there are many more materials to the house than just wood and steel. Also steel in this case is a misnomer...”

Maitimo’s cackle echoed Nerdanel’s snort of amusement at Makalaurë ‘s groan of pain as his father started to describe the exact alloy he had used in the process of building the house.

“Dad... I don’t care how the house was built.” He said deadpan.

“Even art can do with a touch of realism. My house was a gift to your mother. I made it through several years of work, which required extensive knowledge and research.”

“If I promise to cease and desist, will you please spare me a lecture on house building? Please?”

“Of course, my son. Now, shall we eat in peace?” Fëanáro asked with his most charming smile.

Nerdanel was laughing openly, and leaned against him to kiss his cheek at that.

Makalaurë threw him a glare, but pouting settled back, picking up his plate from the floor where he had left it.