“Why don’t you go ahead and cut it, Nelyafinwë?” Grandfather gestured to the little almond cake he had set on the kitchen island. He had brought it back from Valmar, which made it a relative treat; it was unlike the many other sweets they often had at beck and call. Father rarely had cause to be up in Valmar unless he was lecturing, and he did not usually bring the children along when he did, nor was he one for showering them with gifts unnecessarily.
Maedhros took the knife, with Maglor watching intently (as much as he could when he could barely see the surface of the counter from his height), and cut the cake less 50/50 and more 75/25. He set the knife down and looked satisfied.
“Why have you chosen to cut it this way?” Finwë asked patiently.
Anticipating this question, Maedhros clasped his hands behind his back and answered smartly, “I am bigger than Kanafinwë. I should have a bigger piece. I have made them proportional.” The small smile on his face was nothing if not smug.
“Interesting logic,” said Finwë, nodding. He looked to Maglor, who was scowling, screwing his round little face up in preparation to start bawling, something sure to ruin the morning of everyone within earshot—which was to say the entire house. “Kanafinwë, why don’t you choose your half first?”
Maglor, ecstatic at this unexpected change of fortune, promptly swiped the much larger piece of cake and danced out of Maedhros’ reach, stuffing a massive bite of it into his mouth at once. He grinned around his full cheeks at Maedhros, who had a moment of shock, which was quickly overcome with chagrin. Ruefully, he picked up his much smaller piece of cake.
“You didn’t say you were going to do it that way, Grandfather,” he said, his voice bordering on sullen.
“Would you have cut it differently if I had?” Finwë asked. “Closer to even, perhaps?” Maedhros’ expression descended into sulking as he realized he had played exactly into Finwë’s game. “Perhaps next time you will consider things from another perspective,” Finwë suggested. Then his expression grew more serious. “As your father’s heir, and a chief representative of this house and of the Noldor, you must act always with fairness and equanimity,” he said. “Even where you desire to obtain for yourself preferential treatment. Kanafinwë is your brother, and inclined, I imagine, to forgive you the occasional bout of selfishness. But others will be less so inclined.”
Maedhros frowned and nibbled at his piece of cake. Maglor, checking first to make sure Grandfather was watching him, broke off a miniscule piece of his own and held it up with crumby fingers.
“Do you want some of mine, Nelyo?” he asked, sweet as sugar, the darling model of a generous Noldorin prince. Maedhros sighed and shook his head.
“No,” he said in a long-suffering voice, “it’s yours.”
Maglor did not offer twice, but skipped out, trailing crumbs across the hallway floor and trying to hum with his mouth full, which did not much improve the situation. Grandfather squeezed Maedhros’ shoulder on their way out of the kitchen and Maedhros sighed again.
“It seems there are a great many lessons for a prince to learn,” he remarked to Grandfather, who smiled.
“Indeed there are,” he said. “But for one thing you should be grateful, Nelyafinwë.”
“What is that, Grandfather?”
“This lesson came with cake!” And Maedhros could not argue much with that.
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