3A ficlet written a few days ago as a birthday mathom.
Of principles and safety
The first day in the forge was as exciting as it was demanding, all about rules and safety, but also about the purpose of all the exciting tools that were used to create marvels. Fëanáro listened to Mahtan, cheeks flushed with emotions, and he was even allowed to try to work under strict supervision of the master, who answered the myriad of questions that formed in the child's mind.
Before he knew it, the second mingling was nearing and it was time to finish the work. Mahtan left and Fëanáro felt a bit unsure among the other apprentices. They were polite, but kept their distance, so he had settled for directing his questions straight to the master. With him gone, though, Fëanáro didn't really know what to do. He looked around. Two older elves continued their work, but most of the others were setting their tools aside and preparing to leave.
"Who cleans this mess?" he asked, as he could find no servant around. There were trails of coal by the hearth and water that had been spilled nearby turned into a black puddle.
Some ignored his question, but the elleth standing closest to him just shrugged. "That would be you. There is a broomstick and bucket with cloths in the corner," she pointed to the right. "Start with the puddle first, then sweep the rest. Don't touch the hearth. It's hot." With that, she and another apprentice picked a basin with spoiled water that looked too heavy for one and headed towards the door, leaving Fëanáro speechless.
He blinked and turned his gaze at the others, but they were busy with their tasks, leaving him to wonder if the girl, who he knew was master Mahtan's daughter, was making fun of him.
"Are you in there, Curufinwe?"
Fëanáro smiled at the familiar voice. With Finwe around all was forgotten. Some of the apprentices gawked at the king stepping casually into the workshops, with a child in his arms no less. Fëanáro beamed, his joy dimmed only for a moment when he saw his brother. As Nolofinwe bombarded him with questions, he cheered up and started answering, eager to share what he had learned and please the child, thus please his father.
The next time Fëanáro arrived to the forge, he was welcomed rather coldly. The change of the atmosphere surprised him, as the apprentices had seemed friendly enough. Some ignored him, already busy by the working tables, some nodded briefly in greeting and resumed their tasks.
Nerdanel did not ignore him, though. She strode towards him and stopped but a few feet away, arms folded firmly on her chest.
"Why did you just leave yesterday without finishing? I thought my father told you to obey."
Fëanáro gawked at her. "Bu- But you told me to clean!"
"So?" Nerdanel glared. "Is it beneath you to do so?" The girl went to the corner and grasped the cleaning tools. "Perhaps you need more explanation. This is a broom," she picked said object and demonstrated it. "And this is how you sweep." She moved energetically, sweeping imaginary dirt.
Fëanáro felt his cheeks flush in anger and embarrassment. She was definitely mocking him!
"Alright. Nerdanel, enough." Mahtan appeared in the workshop and towered over the children. "I will talk to Fëanáro."
"Yes, Atto." Nerdanel nodded and disappeared in the part of the workshops Fëanáro had not yet seen.
"Come." Mahtan motioned at the doors. Fëanáro followed, feeling uneasy, though the master didn't look angry. He already had figured that, strange as it was, Nerdanel had the right to be angry, though it had all been an misunderstanding.
Mahtan led him through the yard and along the house to the gardens, way beyond the earshot of the others. When they reached a table almost hidden in the blooming butterfly bushes, he took a seat and pointed Fëanáro the bench at the other side.
"I am not angry at you," he said calmly. "You've come to me to learn and that includes learning the rules we have here. Now, I would like to hear from you why you didn't follow the orders. Nerdanel said you ignored the task she gave you."
"I took it for a jest, master," Fëanáro's eyes widened in surprise. "Surely you have people who keep your workshops clean?"
"Oh yes. My fellow smiths, my students and myself," Mahtan replied seriously. "The forge can be a dangerous place for someone unfamiliar with the threats it poses. Would you want some of your father's people to get hurt because they were unaware of the danger?"
"No, sir." Fëanáro swallowed the comment that they could be taught like every new student was.
"The forge is a place where you work," Mahtan continued. "You will learn that each thing has its place and handing over the task of cleaning to someone unfamiliar would only create unnecessary mess. Consider regarding the whole forge as you would a desk with scrolls. When you keep your own notes in order, it is easier to continue your study, is it not?"
"It is," Fëanáro agreed. He loathed when his siblings, especially Nolofinwe, tried to see what he was doing and ended up messing his papers.
"I'm glad you understand," Mahtan smiled. He had a warm, pleasant smile, Fëanáro noticed. "When you are here under my tutelage, I expect you to do everything we all do, no exceptions."
"Yes, sir." Fëanáro knew that. Here, in Mahtan's forges he was not a High Prince, but an apprentice. This was going to be interesting.
"Very well. Now let's go back, it's time to check whether the hearth is warm enough."
This time the work was done earlier and Fëanáro found himself free before someone came to take him back home. Mahtan's workshops were quite far from the palace and despite his pleas, his father had not let him go completely alone. He sat, waiting, and thought of the things he had seen being created, when he saw Nerdanel approaching. She had not talked to him at all during the day, so he wondered what brought her here.
He didn't have to wait long to find out.
"Sorry I yelled at you." Nerdanel stated. She climbed the pile of logs to sit next to him, a small package wrapped in cloth held close to her chest. "It was your first day and you didn't know."
"It wasn't that obvious." Fëanáro found it easier to admit than he would have thought. "And then my father came and..." He was cut off by Nerdanel's giggling. "What?"
"You should have seen Ferinyo's face! He almost dropped the bucket when he saw the king!" Still laughing, Nerdanel unfolded the cloth and revealed fresh cake with fruit and crumble. "Do you want some?"
Fëanáro found himself smiling too. "Sure!"
Eating delicious cake together and giggling, he realised he didn't mind waiting a little longer.
