Betas: Many thanks to Julie, Istarnie, and to Lynn for their help.

Disclaimer: I am playing in Tolkien’s sandbox and make no money from this.

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“Come back here right now, you naughty child! That was a wicked thing to do!” she commanded, brandishing the wooden spoon with the vile menace that only an irate mother can achieve at such times.

He knew the tone of voice and the sting of her spoon all too well.

“But Naneth,” he pleaded, edging toward the door through the floured mess he had made, two stolen berry tarts clutched tightly in his hands.  “I watered the plants and grew them all by myself. I picked those berries all by myself yesterday! It was my hard work. They were my berries. The tarts should be mine!”

“You are very selfish!” Naneth shook the wooden spoon at him.  “The plants are on your adar’s land and I baked the tarts. Should not the whole family own them instead of just you?”

He paused a moment, hiding his tarts behind him, the warm stickiness of the berry filling oozing onto his fingers. Naneth did have a point about all of them owning the tarts. But he was hungry! And he did not go play with Elrond and Elros and the others yesterday like he had wanted to because he was picking berries. He deserved the tarts!

“It is not proper for a young lord to behave like a thief. Put those tarts back!” Naneth growled.

Naneth really meant it now.  But he knew from past experience that if he gave back the tarts he would receive a swat on his hand and be sent to bed with no tarts and no friends for the rest of the day.  Then his adar would scold him and he hated it when Adar was cross with him. That was the worst!

But he really loved berry tarts and the kitchen smelled so good and he was so hungry, he just had to have some!  Resigning himself to a fate worse than being sent to bed, he reached up to the latch and dashed out the door as fast as he could.

“Galanor Glorindirion, you come back here this instant!” his naneth hollered after him. “When your adar comes home, you will be punished!”

As he made his way down the path and onto the lane which led to the docks and then to the beach and freedom, little Lord Galanor knew he would be punished and rightly so.  But he knew his naneth would not follow because she had more tarts in the oven and would not wish for them to burn.

But he had HIS tarts and he had an apple in his pocket which he had snatched from the fruit bowl a while before the tarts were done.  He would go to the caves and eat his tarts and his apple.  The berries were his so the tarts were his, too! And he would enjoy them all by himself and not have to share with anyone.

When he reached the docks, he saw lots of ellyn gathered there, including his adar! Why did Adar have to be there now of all times? He would be in so much trouble if his adar saw him with stolen tarts. Adar must not catch him!

Slipping behind some barrels and piles of ropes, Galanor ran from one hiding place to another until he made his way around the crowd. Why were there so many gathered there? And why did it have to be today?

Suddenly a great shout went up and the ellyn in the crowd waved their arms angrily. Once the ellyn grew quiet again, they turned and left the docks, much to Galanor’s relief. His adar was less likely to see him with so many others moving about!

Galanor ran as fast as he could down the beach away from the havens and did not stop until he arrived at the safety of the caves. No one would find him there. He would go to his favorite spot where he could watch the fish caught in the tide pools and eat his tarts in peace.

~~*~~~~

Many hours later, the light from outside grew dim. Galanor was hungry again and bored with poking at the trapped fish. He was thirsty, too. He should have brought a skin of water with him. He would have to remember to do that next time.

The tide had gone again, so the way was dry and he would not get his new shoes wet when he left the cave.  The walk down the beach would be a long one and then he would have to explain to the dock workers why he was out alone after dinner time. He was tired and did not feel like talking to anyone just now. He only wanted to go home.

So, he turned away from the sea and went up through the trees, taking the path his adar usually took when they went to the beach together and did not want to have to stop and talk to everyone they passed.  Even though he was a lord of elves, his adar once confided that he did not like to be surrounded by them all of the time. It was Galanor’s and his adar’s secret. It was also why his adar’s land was on the outskirts of the settlement at Sirion.

When Galanor emerged from the last stand of trees, he looked at his house just a short ways away. He should have been able to smell dinner from here, but he could not. He should have been able to see the lights in the windows, but there were none. Perhaps his adar and his naneth were not home?

That would be perfect! Then he could sneak in and snatch some more tarts from the kitchen before they got home and sent him to bed with no dinner. He would be punished for sure, but if he hid some tarts under his bed, then being sent to bed early would not be so bad. These tarts were some of the best his naneth had ever made. Perhaps he was wicked, as naneth had said, but wicked elves ate yummy food.

As carefully as he could, Galanor crept through the darkness up to the house with only stars to spy upon him as he eased open the kitchen door.  It creaked warningly, so he moved it as little as he might and still slide through.  Just as carefully, he closed the door behind him. The kitchen was dimly lit by dying embers left over from the cooking fire as if Naneth had not used it to make dinner. The room smelled slightly of tarts and herbs, but not of roasting meat as it should have.  Tarts lay scattered across the table as if they had fallen off the baking pan or tipped off the plate when Naneth picked it up. Food often tipped off the plate when he picked it up if he was not careful.

Stuffing two cold tarts in his pockets, he poured himself a cup of water which he drank quickly and then poured himself another.  After drinking two more whole cups of water, he grabbed two more tarts and left the kitchen. 

Only one more room lay between the kitchen and the hallway leading to his bed chamber. No candles were lit and the hearth lay cold so the room was very dark. He did not want to bump into something and drop his tarts, so he felt his way along the walls.

Had his family yet lived in Gondolin which was no more, he never could have sneaked in like this. His adar said that the home of the lord of the Golden Flower had been huge, with many levels and many rooms and just as many servants. Galanor often wished he had been born there so he could have lived in a home so large and beautiful and played with swords with a daeradar as brave and fierce as Lord Glorfindel. But just now, young Galanor was glad that the refugees at Sirion could not afford such grand houses or servants for he did not have as far to sneak to reach the haven of his bed chamber. And with his parents away, there was no one to catch him and take away his tarts.

As he slipped into the shadows past the first window, he tripped over something large, sending his tarts flying across the room to be swallowed up instantly by the greedy darkness.

He heard a loud grunt as if of pain and suddenly strong arms surrounded him, lifting him and pinning him tightly against something hard, sticky, and wet. 

“Galanor!” his adar’s anxious voice cried.

He had been caught! How had this happened?!

The boy knew there was no use in struggling or trying to deny what he had done.  At least he still had his tarts in his pockets so he would not have to go to sleep hungry tonight.

“Yes, Ada?” Galanor meekly replied.

“Oh, my precious, precious child,” his adar choked. “You are safe! You are safe!”

Galanor felt something wet drip onto his head. He reached up to wipe it away and more fell. Why was his adar crying? All he did was steal some tarts and hide. Was stealing tarts and hiding that bad?

“Are you hurt, child?”

Immediately, Galanor felt his adar’s hands move across his body, squeezing arms and legs, rubbing his stomach and back, cupping his face.

“No, Adar. I am well.”  

“Thank the Valar!  Your naneth and I have been so worried about you.” He kissed his son many times on the forehead and cheeks, then nuzzled his face into his hair. “So very, very worried.”

Confused, Galanor felt more of his adar’s tears trickle down his neck. Where were the spankings and the fussing and the scolding? Were they still to come?

“Ada, where is Naneth?” She should have been there glaring at him sternly with her arms crossed, watching as Adar punished him for his wickedness.

His adar took a few moments to reply. “She is here, little one.”

“Why is the house so dark? Why has Naneth not made dinner yet?” Even if he was not going to get any dinner, he still wanted to know what he was missing.

“The house is dark because it is not safe to light candles or a fire tonight.”

“Why is it not safe? That is silly. You are very careful with fire and so is Naneth. You will not burn the house down.”

Galanor felt his adar smile and chuckle softly against the wetness on his neck. “Yes, we are careful, little one. But tonight is different.”

“What about dinner? Will we have bread and butter and fruit for dinner tonight?”

“We can if you would like.”

Now Galanor knew that something was very wrong. He never got dinner when he was wicked. And if Naneth was there she would have told his adar just how terrible he was and he would be punished.

“Where is Naneth?”

“She…she is here beside me. She is very weary and rests just now.”

His adar’s voice sounded strange.

“Ada, why do we sit on the floor?”

“Because I am weary and sore. I do not believe I can rise again to sit in a chair just now. The floor was easier for your naneth and me both, so here we sit.”

Galanor pushed against his adar’s chest to sit back and try to look at him better. His adar and naneth never sat on the floor unless it was to play with him.

“Ada, why are you wearing your armor?”

His adar shifted a bit, hissing and grunting before settling Galanor on his lap and replying. “The sons of Fëanor came to the Havens today. They demanded the silmaril which Lady Elwing bears. When we refused to give it to them, they attacked us. Many people got hurt and…and many have gone to be with Namo in the Halls of Mandos. We will have to leave the Havens soon and go live elsewhere.”

Galanor’s eyes grew wide as realized what his adar was saying. Excitedly, he asked “Did you fight a balrog like Daeradar Glorfindel?” But he could faintly see his adar shaking his head.

“No, son, I did not fight a balrog. We did not fight against Morgoth today, though his cursed evil brought this battle upon us. Today we fought against elves. Wicked, thieving elves.”

Galanor was crestfallen. His adar did NOT fight a balrog or orcs.  But this did not make any sense.

“It is wrong for elves to kill elves,” he said simply.

“Yes, it is.”

“So why did they attack us?”

His adar sighed. “How do I explain this? The silmarils are pretty jewels full of Blessed light from the Two Trees. They were made by Prince Fëanor long ago. Morgoth stole the silmarils and ran away to Middle-Earth with Fëanor and the Noldor chasing after him. After Fëanor was killed by balrogs, his sons renewed their vow to get the silmarils back any way that they could. They have stolen, and they have killed many elves trying to get the jewels back. They killed Lady Elwing’s naneth and adar when she was a child like you. The people of Doriath came here after the sons of Fëanor destroyed their homes trying to steal back one of the silmarils.”

“But Ada, if the silmaril Lady Elwing has was made by their adar, it should be theirs. Why did we not give it back to them?”

“My son, they lost their right to the works of their adar’s hands– they lost their ownership of the silmaril when they stole and killed to regain it.”

Galanor thought about this for a long while then burst into tears.

“Galanor, hush….hush…. why do you weep?”

The boy gave a huge wet sniffle, then whispered, “Adar, I am wicked. Will I be killed, too?”

“What?!” his adar looked on him incredulously, gripping the shuddering boy by the shoulders. “Why…my son, why… why do you say this? What could you possibly have done to warrant being killed?”

“I am a wicked thief like Fëanor’s sons. I picked my berries and then got mad at Naneth when she would not let me have a berry tart, so I stole some tarts filled with my berries.  I thought they were mine so I took them and made Naneth angry. Then I ran away. I am wicked and…and you did not punish me or scold me or send me to bed with no dinner because you are going to kill me for being a wicked thieving elf!”  Then he closed his eyes and sat very still, tears dripping down his chin, and waited for his adar to begin the killing.

Lord Glorindir of the House of the Golden Flower gave an exasperated sigh followed by something that wracked his body like half of a laugh and half of a cough. Then he clutched his side, twisting around while still making the strange sounds.

“Galanor?” It was Naneth speaking softly as if she had just woken up.  Carefully, she pulled him off of his adar and gathered him close against her with one arm. Clutching her tightly, Galanor buried his head in her shoulder, but her dress felt oddly wet and crusty. She stiffened, cursing quietly and roughly pushed his head to her other shoulder.

“I took an arrow in that shoulder, little one. It hurts when anyone touches it.” She shifted him a bit more, pressing his face into her good shoulder and stroking his hair. “My precious little one, no one is going to kill you for what you did. Your actions – your stealing – was wrong, but you are still a good person. You just made a bad choice. The sons of Fëanor are cursed with great evil. They are not good people and never will be again.” 

Galanor looked up at his naneth and sighed in relief.

“I did not tell your adar about the tarts,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I only told him you ran off before the fighting started.  After all that we have endured today, we are not going to punish you for your mischievous behavior. If you had waited until after lunch, I would have given you some tarts. As it was, your running off was a good thing today -- but only today--for you did not see the battle and you were kept safe.”

Beside them, his adar moaned and whispered bad words.

“Glorindir, are you all right?” Naneth asked worriedly, shifting a bit toward his adar’s shaking form.

“I think I am bleeding again,” he gasped. “But not as much as before. Laughing hurts very much.”

“Should we send Galanor to fetch the healer back again?” Her voice rose, sounding strangely fearful.

Adar reached over and briefly grasped her hand where it now rested on Galanor’s shoulder. “No, my love. I will be all right. I just need something to staunch it. I think the stitches are still intact.”

Sighing in relief, Naneth gently pushed Galanor to sit up. “My son, if you wish to prove that you are a good elf, then go fetch your adar a cloth from the basket of clean laundry in my bed chamber. When you return, he will show you what you must do to help him feel better.”

“Yes, Naneth,” Galanor said brightly, jumping up off his naneth and scuttling across the floor toward the bed chambers. Crawling under and around furniture in the dark was much more fun than running past it. 

He was so relieved to be escaping punishment! After he helped his adar, he would give him and Naneth some tarts and fruit for dinner. After all, the tarts did belong to the whole family, so they should all eat some together. Besides he wanted to be nice to them after they had such a hard day and did not punish him.

What an adventure he was having! In the morning, he would go find his friends, especially Elrond and Elros and tell them all about it. Besides they might have seen some of the battle and have stories to tell him!

The End

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Adar – father

Naneth – mother

Ellon/ellyn – male elves (singular and plural)