Fic: Drabble: Locked Out (Tolkien)
Mar. 10th, 2010 04:45 pmTitle: Locked Out
Fandom: Tolkien
Author: Alex (alex_cat_45@yahoo.com)
Type: 200 word Double Drabble
Note: For
jaiden_s, who asked for Fëanor and Nerdanel.
Summary: Fëanor doesn’t understand his wife’s anger.
~~
LOCKED OUT
Fëanor put in a very hard day in his workshop. Maedhros was supposed to help him but he had not shown up. He’d probably gone riding with that worthless son of his brother again. Fingon was the reason he never got any work out of his eldest son and he had told Maedhros as much.
Fëanor cleaned up and then headed back toward home. Nerdanel met him at the door. She wasn’t happy.
“Why did call Fingon a spoiled brat? Are you insane? Or just stupid?”
“My brother’s children cannot compare to mine in any way. And Fingon *is* a spoiled brat.”
Her voice grew louder. “Your children? Yours?”
“Mine,” he answered even though he knew he said too much. Way too much.
“You, my dear husband, are a horse’s ass.” She slammed the door in his face and he sighed as he heard the lock turn. He was glad that he had a cot in his workshop. It seemed that he spent more nights there lately than here at home.
It was just as well, he supposed, as he lit one of the lamps. He never would understand why she got so angry with him all the time.
Never.
~end~
Fandom: Tolkien
Author: Alex (alex_cat_45@yahoo.com)
Type: 200 word Double Drabble
Note: For
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Summary: Fëanor doesn’t understand his wife’s anger.
~~
LOCKED OUT
Fëanor put in a very hard day in his workshop. Maedhros was supposed to help him but he had not shown up. He’d probably gone riding with that worthless son of his brother again. Fingon was the reason he never got any work out of his eldest son and he had told Maedhros as much.
Fëanor cleaned up and then headed back toward home. Nerdanel met him at the door. She wasn’t happy.
“Why did call Fingon a spoiled brat? Are you insane? Or just stupid?”
“My brother’s children cannot compare to mine in any way. And Fingon *is* a spoiled brat.”
Her voice grew louder. “Your children? Yours?”
“Mine,” he answered even though he knew he said too much. Way too much.
“You, my dear husband, are a horse’s ass.” She slammed the door in his face and he sighed as he heard the lock turn. He was glad that he had a cot in his workshop. It seemed that he spent more nights there lately than here at home.
It was just as well, he supposed, as he lit one of the lamps. He never would understand why she got so angry with him all the time.
Never.
~end~