7. Like Mother, Like Son (PG-13)
Summary: Fëanor is in the dog house, but his heir does not mind. A double drabble (200 words as counted by MS Word). Thanks again to IgnobleBard for a Beta read.
Fëanáro had not slept for three days. He crawled into his matrimonial bed and nuzzled his nose into Nerdanel’s wild red hair. A sharp elbow jabbed his rib cage. She’d get over it. She always did.
“You stink. You could have at least shown the courtesy of bathing.”
“I took a sponge bath!” He tried to use his most penitent voice.
“It was far from sufficient,” she replied.
“I’m impressed. You remember the name of your only son. We can only hope that he remembers you.”
He tried to insert a knee between her thighs, but her legs clamped tightly shut. Too exhausted to pursue a course that undoubtedly would take a level of finesse that he did not possess, he rolled over and fell instantly asleep.
He awakened several hours later, with the light of Laurelin streaming over the bed. Outside the window, a small face surrounded by flame-red hair beamed at him.
“Atto!” he crowed. “You were making funny noises. Can I come in?” The boy was already clambering over the low windowsill.
“Come here,” Fëanáro said, pulling the tiny body into his arms.
“You smell funny too.”
“And you, Nelyo, sound exactly like your mother.”