Fingon was sharply pulled aside. “That is my mother,” hissed Feanor. He received a slight nod. “What are you doing with her?”
“Having dinner,” replied Fingon. He acted as if this was obvious, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Would you care to join us?”
“Findekano..” Feanor fought hard to keep his voice from rising. He looked beyond the Elf before him, seeing his dear, sweet mother sitting at a cozy table for two.
Before Feanor could add anything, Fingon said, “You can stop worrying, uncle. It is only a date. I have no intention of bedding your mother.”
**
Caught between the urge to sigh in relief or be offended, Feanor went with the latter and blurted out, “Well, why not?”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Fingon, Feanor, speaking of Miriel