Sand and Flame by Tehta (PG)

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Fandom: SILMARILLION
Pairing: Feanor/Nerdanel
Author on LJ: tehta
Author Website: Tehta on ff.net
Why this must be read:

I thought I'd round off my whistlestop tour of the First Age (& before) with some humour. There's quite a bit of Silmarillion-based humour, but much of it requires the reader to have poked around in the more obscure corners of canon in order to really get the jokes. 'Sand and Flame', a cunning retelling of a well-known fairy tale, should make sense without much more than a smattering of Silm knowledge.

There are many things to enjoy in this short tale: the angst-lite characterisations of Feanor & Nerdanel (they get more than their fair share of angst in canon, but many ficcers insist on doling out still more), the clever way that Tehta's used the fairy-story framework, the incongruous flickers of Jane Austen (I kept picturing Feanor as Mr Darcy), the guest appearance by just the right Fairy Godmother ... not to mention one or two one-liners to die for.

(Set in Aman so watch out for the Quenya names. Most of them are obvious, but Feanor's young half-brothers Nolofinwe & Arafinwe are Fingolfin & Finarfin. Oh, and Laurelin is one of the two Trees: an early lighting system for Aman, they operated on an overlapping shift system.)

Lost in the pleasures of creation, he quickly lost track of time. However, after a while, he became aware that he was no longer alone. A maiden had entered the room, and was now standing by the door, perfectly still, as if waiting for someone.

"This is a poor place for a lovers' tryst," Feanaro told her without looking up. "I intend to stay here for some time."

"I am not here for a tryst. I find sighing lovers tiresome," she said. "I am watching you at your work. It looks quite interesting."

Feanaro put his tools down and examined her. Her hair was the colour of flame. Around her neck, she wore an intricate pendant, hanging on the finest chain Feanaro had ever seen.

She noticed his attention.

"This chain is my father's work; he is a smith, you know. Actually, I work in metal myself. I made my shoes." She sat down on a bench beside him, stretching out her legs to display a fine pair of golden slippers. "And you? What are you making?"

"Oh, me?" Feanaro looked back towards his furnace. "I am turning sand into something useful."

"About time. I am not overly fond of sand."

"Me neither. I have always disliked going to the beach."

"Oh, I know. Nothing to do there except sing and build ships."

Feanaro could not have agreed more.

Sand and Flame