Title: Ata, It Hurts
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Rating: T
Length: 489 words
Content notes: Canonical character death
Author notes: N/A
Summary: Fëanor burned himself as a child, and then he burned to death, calling for his father.



“Ata! Ata, it hurts!”

Finwë looked up from his desk to see his son run into the room, holding his hand in front of him. He pushed his chair back just in time for Fëanor to run into his leg and clutch it with his uninjured arm. “What did you do to yourself, child?”

Fëanor sniffled. “I was trying to make something for you, but I got to close to the flame and it hurt me.”

“Up you go,” Finwë lifted his son off the floor until he was sitting in his lap. “Now, let me see your hand.”

Fëanor sniffled again but finally moved his hand where Finwë could see it. If he had not been so used to Fëanor injuring himself by now, Finwë might have panicked. As it was, he suppressed the feeling of guilt that stuck in his stomach – perhaps if he spent more time with Fëanor and less working, his son wouldn’t feel the need to impress him. But he was the king, and there wasn’t much else to do.

“Ata, am I going to die?” Fëanor sniffled again.

“What? No! It’s just a slight burn, Fëanáro, nothing that will hurt you that badly.” Finwë clutched his son tighter to him. “Have the other children been saying things to you again?”

Fëanor shook his head. “I had a dream last night, Ata, and it hurt and it felt like I was burned all over. But I was bigger.”

Finwë shook his head. “Nothing is going to happen to you, now or when you are older. Those of us who came here came so that our children would live in peace. Now, let’s get you to the healer and have something done about your latest burn.”
_

“Ata! Ata!”

Maedhros looked at the cot on which his father had been placed. Fëanor had been crying out for some time now.

Maglor entered the tent, biting his lip. “Is he any better?”

“No,” Maedhros said. “He just cries for Grandfather, and apologises for burning himself again, and then asks if he is going to die.”

Maglor stared at the bed. “What should I tell them?”

Them was their younger brothers – Celegorm and Curufin refused to acknowledge that their father was dying, and Caranthir chased after Amras, who was unable to deal with seeing another family member burned to death.

Maedhros swallowed. “Tell them to stay close, and that I will call for them if anything changes.”

“Will you?”

“If he becomes lucid or seems about to crossover, yes. Not while he remains like this – do you want them to remember him this way?” Maedhros asked.

“Ata,” Fëanor moaned from the bed.

Maglor slowly shook his head. “They’ve seen enough of his fall. We’ll spare him this last bit of dignity.” Maglor moved closer, as though to kiss his father, and then held back. “It would just remind him of Grandfather, wouldn’t it?”

Maedhros nodded.

Maglor wept.