#a Feanor who adores elflings even while trying to deny it

[istaricelebelasse]

Fëanaro sewing little stuffed animals for his sons as babies, because his mother had made him one and he treasures it.

Fëanaro seeing the way his tiny nephew looks longingly at the animal that Makalaurë carries and so sewing Findekano a little eagle all his own.

(Only because he doesn’t want the son of Nolofinwë to steal Makalaurë’s toy, of course. The pleading eyes and bright grin upon receiving the gift have Nothing To Do With It.)

Continuing the tradition for each new child born to the family, until there is a veritable menagerie of stuffed animals.

Idril giving hers to Eärendil, who in turn tucks it into the crib of his sons.

(It is always warm. Warm as though it is lit up by something inside, some feeling that Idril’s great uncle would forever deny. A warmth that had been invaluable on the Ice.)

A soft toy that, though patched and worn, is recognisable to those attacking the children’s home.

A soft toy that, eventually, many millennia later, makes its way back to Valinor. Held in the arms of one who never had such a gift, one who needs the warmth and love that infuses it.

#silmarillion #Feanor #sons of feanor #house of finwe #look I’m just having feels about a Feanor Who Sews To Show Love #a Feanor who adores elflings even while trying to deny it #the power of an heirloom passed down for comfort instead of wealth #I could probably go on even more