“Why do you hate our brother?”
“What?” Feanor evaded the question the best he knew how – with other questions. “Why do you think I hate him?”
Finarfin was sitting on a chair too big for him, little legs dangling off. His other siblings were old enough to help their mother set out the meal, but this brother who refused to live in the same house was always exempt from such chores and often gave Nana disturbing looks. “’Cause I heard you say you did.”
“Oh, really? And when was that?”
“Last time you were here. You and Ada were talking and I was hiding behind the door.”
Feanor gave his youngest sibling a stern look. “Sneaking and spying are very low things to do, Finarfin.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Feanor, Finarfin re: Fingolfin