Child of the Woods by Aprilertuile

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Chapter 7: Leaving the Pastures

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When finally Nerdanel had enough of being in the Pasture of Yavanna, months later _ perhaps helped by seeing how out of patience Fëanáro was growing with the constant presence of the Maiar who were all very interested in the baby _ they prepared to leave.

Fëanáro wanted to go to the halls of Aulë, but Nerdanel wanted to see something in the woods of Oromë first.

For that reason, they planned to stop first in the Woods of Oromë, which was at a solid day of travel from them, two if Nerdanel didn’t find what she wanted on the edge of the woods, and then they planned to ride a bit along the edges of the gardens of Lórien, and then toward Valmar, which they would avoid with care if Fëanáro had any say in is, and they’d rejoin their preferred route to get to Aulë’s Halls.

That was, if no Maia found clever to steal his son again!

Was it a crime to put a maia on fire? It’s not like they could die from it, could they? And perhaps that’d teach the baby thieves a lesson they wouldn’t forget about asking the parents first before taking the baby from his crib just to show him whatever plant took the maia’s fancy this time around.

Fëanáro was quite sure his baby son had been shown about every possible plant in Yavanna’s domain by now.

“Far from it, no.” Came a voice from a nearby bush-thing.

“Keep. Your attention. Out of my mind.” Fëanáro said deeply out of patience.

“Fëanáro, focus instead of getting into an argument or we won’t be able to depart today.” Nerdanel intervened even as Makalaurë was looking up from his writing at his father and down at the bush... Being.

Fëanáro gave a side-eye to the bush but then turned back to his task, putting the family’s belongings in the cart and his horse’s saddlebags.

“Turkafinwë will ride on the cart, fair warning to you.” Nerdanel told him.

Fëanáro looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And?”

“And if you want to ride with him, you’ll have to take the cart. I, of course, graciously volunteer to ride your horse in your stead.”

“In other words, you’re already tired of the cart even though we haven’t started to go yet.” Fëanáro said amused.

“Quite. So?”

“If you get along with my horse, you deserve to ride it.”

“Excellent. I knew you’d agree.” She said smugly.

Fëanáro snorted at that.

A blind idiot would have known he’d agree. It was his baby!!! Of course that, if given the choice, he’d ride the cart with him in his arms.

Not to be blunt, but Turkafinwë started to crawl and found great delight in the world around him. Fëanáro didn’t trust him to stay peacefully in his bed on the cart, and he didn’t trust Makalaurë to keep an eye on his baby brother.

His delightful second son was far too easily distracted for that.

It was almost midday when they started on the road to leave the Pasture.

Makalaurë was looking like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep his baby brother in his arms or chat with his mother who was riding the horse next to the cart, or pick up one of his books or instruments or just look around... In short, he looked like he wasn’t sure where to put his attention the most.

That was, until Turkafinwë grabbed a strand of his hair and pulled, threatening to undo completely his brother’s braids:

“Ey, wait, no stop! Don’t pull my hair! I’ll pull yours too if you do!” Makalaurë reacted by reflex, pulling his hair back out of the baby’s hand.

Fëanáro snorted in amusement at that.

For one he could have told him that was going to happen, and for a second, he seemed to have forgotten both his parents were there and...:

“Makalaurë Kanafinwë Fëanárion, if I catch you pulling the hair of your baby brother, you won’t touch or see that harp of yours for a week minimum!” Nerdanel said.

... that. Exactly that. Nerdanel may have wanted to ride her horse instead of enjoying having her baby son in her arms, but she definitely wouldn’t let one of her child knowingly hurt the other, not when one was an innocent helpless being for now.

Makalaurë froze like a rabbit in front of a fox, and nodded swiftly, taking Turkafinwë and placing him in his father’s arms:

“Well, hi there, little treasure. Don’t pay attention to your mean older brother, he only abandoned you coldly...” Fëanor started, repositioning his baby son in his arms properly.

“I put him in your arms, I didn’t abandon him!” Makalaurë spluttered in protest.

“In the middle of the night.”

“It’s midday!”

“In the cold of winter!”

“Please, it’s as warm as ever! We’re not in the mountains!” Makalaurë protested.

“Under the rain...”

“The sky’s as clear as it can ever be...” Makalaurë sighed.

“But I will not abandon you as well, and I, contrary to your brother who acts like he never even met a baby in his life, know already to keep my hair firmly out of your reach, little love, yes, I do.”

“Ugh... Mom, dad speaks baby again!” Makalaurë said.

“Dear one, you’ll soon learn that your father will always speak like that to a baby in his arms. He even did it with his siblings at the time.”

“I. Did. Not!” Fëanáro protested firmly.

“I was there, and witnessed it. You. Did!” Nerdanel answered cheerfully.

“Lies and slander!” Fëanáro claimed.

“I... Will side with dad there. He’s never said anything nice about or to uncle Nolofinwë so far.” Makalaurë said cautiously even as Fëanáro looked smug at his son’s declaration.

“That you know of.” Nerdanel protested playfully.

“You can’t prove it!” Fëanáro teased his wife in return.

They travelled until the mingling of the trees, and stopped to rest the horses.

Fëanáro left his wife and Makalaurë in charge of seeing to the animals, and took care of little Turkafinwë who seemed very interested in something nearby.

Fëanáro put his son on the floor, curious to see what he’d do. Turkafinwë found himself in the soft grass, and suddenly he giggled, and raised on his hands and... Feet, which made Fëanáro laugh slightly at the position and just... Went fast, or baby fast at least, to the nearest bush, trying to get under.

Fëanáro frowned at that, and checked under the bush to see what might have interested the child.

And he found... a very unimpressed raccoon.

Fëanáro yelped and grabbed his son, alarmed, to pull him away, for once not caring much about the baby’s tears.

Sure, on Valinor most animals were friendly or at least didn’t pay attention to the elves around, but there was no reason to tempt fate. Or to tempt the moody raccoons, as the case may be.