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Curufin was proud to call himself the favorite son of his father. Sure, his sister Maedhros might be the heiress, but it was still him , the fifth-born among the seven siblings, who shared the same father-name and looked most alike Fëanor already from birth. Also, he had been the only one to have a child at the time of the Exile and Oath, which at the time had seemed like the ultimate proof of his status in the family.
Alas, this detail about not helping him at the moment. The loud wailing kept coming and making his hearing hurt;
“ AMAAAAAAAAAAA!! ”
Today, Curufin and his beloved wife Astarë were babysitting their toddler-aged granddaughter Frëja, the half-Elf, half-Dwarven daughter of Celebrimbor and his Dwarrow wife Narvi. And it seemed like Frëja really did not like to be held by her paternal grandfather for some reason.
“Wow, it seems like she has finally been charmed by you,” Astarë commented with obvious sarcasm over the scene that her husband had no idea how to deal with, as her granddaughter again raised her voice in a loud demand for her mother.
“I know that not all children are the same, but she is always acting like this whatever I am the one to hold her!”
He did not manage to truly hide the hint of a small desperation in his voice as Astarë finally took some mercy on him and took the toddler before she ruined both their hearing for the rest of the day. Curufin had no idea why Frëja happily accepted being held by his siblings, even Caranthir when he was in a bad mood, but never him.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Back at their house, Celebrimbor and Narvi were getting some help in baby proofing some areas that Frëja would most likely try to explore now when she was able to walk on her own two feet. Such as his forge and the workshop where Narvi worked as a stonecraver.
“Do you think that she is giving Atar some of the usual screaming protests that she always does when he holds her?” Celebrimbor wondered, feeling a little pity for his father because Frëja had proved more than enough times that Curufin was not her favorite among his relatives.
“Nah,” Caranthir said from where he just tested the wooden gate to keep his half-Dwarven grand-niece from entering the forge without Celebrimbor spotting her in time, “it is only good for Curvo to find out that not everyone likes him at once and that he needs to work on getting them to actually accept him. He could be cocky as hell sometimes when growing up, all because of his name and similarity to our Atar.”
Celegorm, who was checking the stairs to the upper floor, seemed to be in agreement.
“He avoided the Ambarussa as infants because he felt that they stole all the attention meant for him and only started to be around them when they were old enough to be played with more. You did not help his impression of how to care for such small ones by being an easy baby to care for, nephew.”
Realizing that his own daughter clearly was of a far different character than himself at the same age, Celebrimbor could only laugh nervously. No wonder his father found her harder to deal with.
“My much belated apologies for that, uncles.”
One of the Ambarussa, unclear whatever it was Amrod or Amras since both had ducked their heads below a pile of sawed-off pieces of wood, waved dismissing with a hand as a sign that it was not his fault.
When it afternoon came, the baby proofing was finished thanks to the help from his four uncles and the unusual set of parents could go to bring their daughter back home.
“I think she will be happy to see us…”
Narvi found herself interrupted by a very restrained scream of pain when she opened the front door.
“Frëja dear, dropping your Atar's old toy hammer like that on your Haru's bare foot is not a nice way to request being set back down on the floor.”
Worrying slightly about his father and that he could have gotten a injured toe from the toy hammer, Celebrimbor stepped harder on the floor with the heels of his boots twice, a sign that he had been using to make Frëja aware of his coming presence because she learned early on the different steps between her parents coming to her crib.
“Ata!” the small girl called at once, running over to him in clear contrast to the scowl she had spotted just moments before.
“I am sorry if you got hurt, Atar.”
Curufin made a strained smile as his wife took a look on his poor foot.
“One...day...I will find out the secret to...make her stop looking like a miniature of Moryo when he is in a bad mood.”
That was all he could say for now, and Narvi asked a few questions how things had been over the past hours. Calm when Frëja had her midday nap, otherwise a bit of chaos as she proved herself indeed a challenge in different ways.