6Written for tiny Silmarillion Whump Bingo card Anduniel made me last year
Prompt filled: tears of fear
Indis was in the garden, embroidering sleeves of her new dress, when she heard her son frantically calling for her and Finwe. She put away her work and stood up. "In here!"
"Amme!" sobbing, Nolofinwe ran to her and grasped her hand. "Help!" He pulled, urging his mother to follow him.
"What is it, Nolo?"
"It's 'Naro. We f-fell an he's n-not m-moooving!" Nolofinwe hiccupped and pulled. "Come quick!"
Indis hurried without hesitation. Something must have happened to cause her son being so distressed. She tried to question Nolofinwe while he dragged her through the palace gardens, but the boy was too upset. From what she grasped, it seemed that the boys had been playing and it had resulted in both of them slipping and falling down the stones creating an artificial waterfall, with Fëanáro landing under his brother and thus taking the full impact of the fall. He had sent his brother to find their father, but Finwe was nowhere around, so...
"Here!"
Fëanaro was no longer laying flat on the stones. He sat propped against a granite rock, his eyes wide and confused.
"Atto?" he called weakly as he heard them approaching. He didn't turn and Indis didn't like the way he sounded, shocked and at the verge of panicking, so she rushed to him, Nolofinwe at her heels.
"I couldn't find him, Naro," replied the younger boy miserably. "But Amme's here."
Indis knelt down beside Fëanáro. It was unlike him to sit so still with nothing to occupy his mind and hands. The way he kept his arm close to his chest meant nothing good, nor did the blood matting his hair at the left side of his head. "What happened, Fëanaro?" she asked and was rewarded with a more familiar glare, though it lacked the usual fierceness.
"Wanted Atar," he complained, his voice tensed and disappointed. He looked over her shoulder, as if expecting Finwe to come after her.
"It's alright, let me see." Indis reached out for his arm; the wrist looked either badly sprained or broken. "Tell me what's wrong," she prompted gently, ignoring the ever present reluctance in Fëanáro's eyes. It was nothing new and he was just a child, hurt and currently doing his best trying not to burst into tears.
"N-no!" By now the boy seemed desperate not to lose his remaining composure in front of her. "N-nothing. Where's Atto...?"
"Alright," Indis changed the approach. There was little point in trying to make Fëanáro cooperate with her and wasting their time sitting on the ground when he looked like he needed some help. "Come, I'll take you to Finwe." She reached out her arms and Fëanaro reluctantly allowed her to help him up. She carefully pulled him on his feet and steadied him as he swayed. He was shaking with effort, yet stubbornly tried to free himself from her grasp.
"Dizzy," he moaned quietly.
Indis held her arm firmly around his back. "I'll take you to Atto," she repeated calmly and picked him.
Fëanaro didn't object much nor did he make a sound. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes as Indis carried him back home. By now he was a little too big to be comfortably held in arms, but trying to lead him back on his own would have probably been even more troublesome.
Before they reached the house, they saw Finwe leaving the garden doors in a hurry. He hastened his steps even more as he saw Indis carrying Fëanáro.
"What's wrong?! I felt him screaming," he asked worriedly and opened his arms to take his son. "Fëanáro?"
Indis was relieved when she passed Fëanáro to him. The boy had been so terribly tensed in her embrace, yet so quiet that she wondered if he had been fully awake. Now, however, as soon as he felt his father's arms around him, Fëanáro relaxed visibly. He clang to Finwe and started sobbing.
... And so did Nolofinwe again, terrified to see his older brother crying.
Indis knelt down while Finwe was trying to figure out the main reason of Fëanáro's distress. "It's alright, Nolo. Hush. You did well to come to me so swiftly, now Atto will make sure Fëanáro's okay."
The boy didn't look too convinced and tears were running down his cheeks, threatening to flood them all. Indis hugged him and stood up."It's alright, Nolofinwe," she promised as he buried his face in her neck. "It's not your fault."
"It is." Fëanáro mumbled towards Finwe's collar. He looked up. "I told him not to go this high!" The accusation in his voice made Nolofinwe cry even harder and the adults exchanged exasperated looks.
"We'll discuss it later," said Finwe firmly, cutting off the upcoming argument. "Right now I want a healer to have a look at you, Fëanáro," he turned, intending to get back inside, when he remembered something. "Oh, Indis, if you could please have someone send a word to Mahtan that Fëanáro won't be coming today."
"What?!" Fëanáro jerked in his father's arms. "Why? Master Mahtan promised me he would take me to his great workshops!" he objected, his voice breaking. "He promised!"
"I know. I'm sorry, you'll go another time."
"But I did nothing wrong!" Angry tears appeared in Fëanáro's eyes again; he was already past the point of caring that he was crying in front of Indis and Nolofinwe. He tried to wriggle himself out of his father's grasp and yelped, turning a bit green.
"No, you didn't," Finwe carefully ran his hand through his son's hair and winced at the half-dried blood. "But I don't think you will feel up to going anywhere today," he added softly.
"Sick," the boy admitted quietly in defeat and rested his head on his father's shoulder. He leaned to the touch, so Finwe continued caressing his hair, careful not to touch the bloodied lump forming above his ear.
"I know. Now, let's see what can be done about it."
