All That Was Not Lost to the Fire by Isilme_among_the_stars  

Peek-a-boo

Ammë played a game with me when I was small.

“Goodbye Maitimo!” she would cheerfully say and bring her hands in front her face.

My mouth was a little, round ‘o’ as I waited, eyes as big as saucers fixed on her freckled fingers. Her smile grew behind them as she hid, and when she burst forth suddenly, I fell back in rapturous laughter.

“Again,” I cried, breathless, “Again!”

She always obliged.

I thought to try it when Makalaurë was born. I waited patiently until he could sit all on his own. But when I hid my face… he screamed.