Thank you @mnimeresponding for tagging me! Since in my recent posts I’ve somewhat touched on Fëanáro’s relationships with his children, here’s a snippet from a new chapter of Unreal Unearth about Fëanáro’s and Nolofinwë’s different approaches to fatherhood. And yes, since this is Nolo’s POV, this fragment contains a whiff of toxic masculinity and sexism. As a treat (well… I mean that as a warning, of course).
How much Fëanáro’s sons had grown! How strange it was to find him just as gentle with them as in their childhood. Without even noticing it, Curufinwë was ruffling Nelyo’s shoulder, smoothing Kano’s hair, pressing a kiss to Tyelko’s temple, or drawing Moryo close by the shoulders. In truth, even the youngest had overgrown such tenderness. And didn’t Curufinwë think that he indulged his sons? How could he raise men, strong-willed and independent, if he was bestowing affections so carelessly? Perhaps, if he had a daughter…
Aracáno glanced at Finno and Turno, who sat beside him with propriety and composure, yet still managed to exchange remarks with their cousins. Did they notice how differently affection was shown in Fëanáro’s household? Did they feel as though they were deprived of something?
For Nolofinwë had always cared for distance. There were boundaries to be kept, he held, and subjects that should not pass freely between father and child. A parent was not a friend, but an authority to be respected, and thus Aracáno did not tolerate opposition in matters he deemed fundamental. Beyond that, he granted his scions the freedom to form their own opinions, to make their own choices, to learn from their own mistakes. Yet whenever the children turned to their father for counsel and support, Nolofinwë provided it readily.
Fëanáro was speaking to his sons as if they were his equals; without a note of admonition, with disarming cordiality. He was abundant in love, lavish in tenderness – and overwhelming, overpowering, claiming all things private. He wished for his children’s happiness too eagerly to let them shape it – for he had the mightiest hands. He was imperious, uncompromising, and always right.
There was an irony in it: equality demanded sincerity, but became impossible when Curufinwë was nothing other than himself. His charisma, his genius, his wholeheartedness compelled the love of those Fëanáro had beckoned into being. His fiery temper and all-consuming will taught them to tread carefully, to fear misstep, to read the subtle changes in their father’s expression, to blame themselves for his sorrows and angers. The piety Nolofinwë witnessed seemed to be at odds with how simple and affectionate Fëanáro was with his children. It wasn’t.
Fëanáro was laughing at Maitmo’s jest, turning sharply, brushing a strand of copper hair behind his son’s ear – and Nelyo was arching into the touch. The sparkling joy of Fëanáro’s attention was cherished with such trepidation because it was unpredictable and willful. Once, Maitimo found himself bereft of it. Of late, Maitimo had addressed Aracáno with marked formality, almost always in his father’s presence, almost never as “uncle”.
Evidently, Nolofinwë enjoyed Fëanáro’s unique resentment – it did not extend even to those who bore a striking resemblance to him. In the house of Curufinwë and Nerdanel, Findekáno and Irissë were always received warmly. Perhaps Fëanáro did not regard them as a threat, or assumed that the grandchildren of Indis were not as monstrously culpable in their birth as the children of Indis. At least, when the strictest part of the gathering had passed and Tyelkormo slipped away to the opposite side of the table, his father paid him no heed.
And a few no-pressure tags: @leopardchic79, @ffigwit, @lissomelace, @moringottocake, @abomination-unto-nuggan, @dreamyshiftyaching,
