A Fire Consuming

Chapter One

Disclaimer: As much as I wish it I do not own any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, characters or property. I only own Niquessë and any other OC's you will come across. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! :D

Many thanks to all those who voted, and commented they are Raider-k DeLacus MavisMcQueen CJ_Callahan90 and  e_Silmarwen_elf Also another big thanks to DeLacus MavisMcQueen CJ_Callahan90 and elvenmystery for adding this story to their reading lists. You are all great! 

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Running as fast as his little legs could carry him, Fëanáro sharply turned onto the path that led to the garden. She can't catch me now, he thought triumphantly. Today was a special day, at least in his father's mind. The king and queen of the Teleri were coming to visit and that meant fish. Oh, how the fifteen-year-old elfling hated fish. Disgusting, wiggly, and too fishy were some of the terms the young prince would use to describe all varieties of seafood. It also felt strange to eat something that had been unaware of its capture. At least deer knew when death was approaching; to them, it was usually welcome.

All creatures would simply be reborn in the coming months – that was, if they were the animals of Oromë. Animals here did not die permanently. If they did, why would it be called the "Undying Lands?" Admittedly, that meant fish would be reborn as well, except Fëanáro refused to accept that fact. He was simply looking for another reason to not eat fish.

"Curufinwë Fëanáro Finwion, where are you?" Niquessë called in the hope that the young prince would respond. Pausing, she heard rather loud, deep breaths coming from the shrubbery to her left. Smiling, the young nursemaid pretended to not know where the elfling was hiding.

"He must have disappeared. That boy is much too clever for me and he knows how to hide very well. Or maybe he turned into a star and flew up to the sky," she said, rubbing her hand through her dark hair in an exaggerated manner.

The elfling rolled his eyes as Niquessë pretended to be lost. He knew that she was pretending to make him trust her. That was something that all adults did. They would pretend at his cleverness; he was clever, but why couldn't they see that?

"You are no fun," he grumbled as he came out of the shrub. "You knew I was hiding there, didn't you?" The elfling rolled his eyes in disgust. "Why does everyone treat me like a baby?" he whined, folding his arms across his chest he slumped to the ground in defiance.

"Maybe it is because you sometimes act like one," Niquessë said with a smile, sitting next to the prince. She noticed his deepening scowl she laughed and continued, "Or it is because I like to be silly every once in a while."

"As I never act like a baby, it must be that you are silly." Fëanáro allowed a grin to form on his face as he looked at his old nursemaid. "I like you," he decided, "you're not boring like everyone else is, and Rúmil is the worst of them all. His writing is even worse than he is!" he remarked, being quite proud at the fact that he had been able to vent his frustrations clearly. Most of the time it came out in a mess.

Niquessë smiled fondly at the young prince beside her. It wasn't often that Fëanáro would declare affection for anything or anyone.

"I like you as well. Although, you shouldn't say call other people boring." She admonished, "even if his writing is boring."