Work Text:
Anairë floats back to wakefulness, subtly aware of another presence in the room. It is not Nolofinwë, who is away with his younger brother, stepping back from the pressures of court life in Tirion to relax on Alqualondë’s beaches. Nor is it an attendant – those closest to her are nearly soundless when they move about her rooms.
She listens, without stirring, to the soft swish and clink, the gentle rattle of what sounds like stones. Someone is breathing, quietly but open-mouthed: focused and purposeful and fast. Anairë waits, unworried, until the breathing hitches into giggles. Then she rolls over in the bed, stretching and yawning dramatically, sighing a cascade of falling notes into the air.
The noisemaker gasps and falls silent, momentarily. Then the giggling resumes, even louder, and Findekano peeps over the foot of her bed.
He has draped himself in what appears to be the entire contents of her jewel case: tiaras and necklaces and earrings glimmer and click against each other, rings shine on every finger of his sticky hands. There is a smear of pastry cream on the end of his nose and he is grinning: a sweet, confident, mischievous smile that draws her own laugh out in return. Her jewels will need to be cleaned – Findekano has clearly breakfasted with gusto while trying on her things – but his delight more than makes up for the mess.
Anairë beckons to him and he clambers up beside her, beads clattering and clacking as they swing and shine. He has hooked every last one of her golden earrings in his braids, and the light catches on them while he climbs.
“Firefly!” she exclaims, pulling him into the circle of her arms. “How you twinkle, treasure of mine!”
Findekano gives her a sticky kiss and opens a be-ringed fist to offer her a sweet, squashed bun. “This is for you, Ammë,” he says, solemnly. “I am glad you are awake, because it was very hard to keep from eating it.” His little red mouth trembles, wistfully, but he firms his lips and meets her eyes, determined to follow through with his gift. “You'll like it. The cream is delicious!”
Anairë tucks him closer and divides the flattened, oozing treat between them as Findekano sighs and snuggles in. What a wonder he is: her generous child, her eager boy, her heart’s bright light. He is so loved, so loving.
The light sparks from the jumble of her jewels on Findekano's shoulders. He licks the cream from his fingers and grins sweetly up at her, and she sees in that impish face a foretaste of the man he will become.