RP 🎲 O Fëanoriel Runyaril ar i Vérë o i Silmarilli (Of Fëanoriel and the Oath of the 💎Silmarils)

Fingolfin sighs, looking at Findekano. "Did I not already tell you that you cannot live with your cousin's family?"

Fingon nods. "Yes, you did..." He says. "But all the same, Maitimo needed me."

"He needed you?" Fingolfin questions. "My son," He says with tenderness. "We need you." He sighs. "Listen, I love my brother, and his family, and they are all very dear to me, to all of us, but this is unacceptable. You're the heir of our line. Act accordingly."

"I know, father, but-" Fingon adds, "It isn't Maitimo's fault that I have duties here, he shouldn't have to suffer for it!"

"Son," Fingolfin says. "He isn't suffering!" He comes closer to Findekano. "I mean, of course, he feels pain, but his family is there for him." He stops. "And that means you don't have to be."

Aredhel winces, somewhat, as this exchange takes place. Everything is getting worse between these two, it would seem, and she finds herself caught in the middle of it.

Besides, she doesn't fully agree with the way Fingolfin seems to think Maitimo is out of danger. Based on the treachery the Sons of Fëanor have shown, she does worry greatly for him, but just feels that Findekano running off after him can't help, that the peril is too great for him alone to face. But she won't argue with her father at this time, either.

"I don't know if Maitimo is out of danger," she says slowly and carefully. "I certainly have feared for him, and this was why I was convinced to not oppose you, Findekano."

Fingon nods. "Yes!" He motions to Aredhel. "She is right, father. He needed me."

Fingolfin shakes his head. "The brothers are locked away. Feanor and Nerdanel are good parents-"

Fingon interrupts. "But are they?"

"Quiet, son." Fingolfin goes on. "Let me speak." He returns to his previous words. "They may have flaws, but they are good parents. Maitimo is surrounded by love. Their House has as good healers as we, perhaps better." He smiles. "There is no issue."

Fingon shakes his head. "But father," He begins. "Maitimo and I have a deep friendship. This you know well of. I couldn't leave him alone."

Fingolfin counters. "Yes, you could. And you should have." He says. "You made a bad choice, and others have suffered because of it. The best thing you can do now is to repent of it and quiet yourself."

Fingon's eyes widen. "Quiet myself? Father, w-what?" He stammers. "You care for their family like I do! How can you not care for Maitimo?"

"I do care for him." Fingolfin says, eyes flashing. "But you going to stay with his family is both ridiculous and out of question!" He pauses, shaking his head lightly. "You should know better than that."

"Was there anything you saw along the journey, brother, that gave some evidence that Maitimo is either in peril, or not?" Aredhel asks, hoping to redirect the conversation towards actually getting all this resolved instead of pointless arguing.

Fingon has seen a few things, the worst, perhaps, being Maitimo's almost collapsing in the moment where Nerdanel was coming at Fingon. Yet, that wasn't something he wanted to talk about even remotely, and he worried that even mentioning it could take this conversation down a much more blunt turn.

"I, he seemed exhausted." Fingon finally states. "He almost collapsed a few times, and he fell unconscious while on the horse, at least I think." He says these things based on what Maitimo had told him. Of course, he rode too far back to see every move.

Fingolfin shakes his head incredulously. "My son, that's ridiculous." He says. "Of course he was exhausted. He was traveling for a long time-"

Fingon interrupts. "B-but it was more than that, father-! He was struggling. I-I- saw it myself-"

"Did you?" Fingolfin's eyes narrow. "You said you thought. Hardly the words of confidence."

Aredhel's heart sinks somewhat-- she's been hoping her brother would have been able to make a stronger case for why his protection was needed, but it's not looking like it so far.

"They all set out only a day after everything happened," she says, thinking out loud. "I can't imagine Maitimo was in a good enough state to make the journey, and that's one reason why I was worried... but I remember us discussing, Findekano, our concerns about his mental state, since he had nearly faded from sorrow, and I thought that sending you after him would protect against that. Did he seem to you greatly sorrowful, and were you able to see him and comfort him at all?"

Glancing at her father, she says specifically to him, "Sorrow is every bit as deadly, if not deadlier, to our kind than physical ailments, Father. This was why we were both worried enough about Maitimo that Findekano would go after him, and I would allow it."

She's not entirely sure, still if she's more on her father's side or her brother's side. She's on both their sides, somehow, and is only hoping to settle this logically, justly and peacefully.

Fingon shakes his head in dismay. The truth was, he couldn't think of any such instance where Maitimo acted that way, much further one where he was able to comfort him. As painful as it was to admit, Maitimo was the one to comfort him, since he was leagues away from his family's House and shaken with surprise and grief after the past events.

"I-" He sighs. "I can't think of any such instance for sure." He says. "But I'm sure there was something. I mean, there must have been. And he was clearly in pain, and, and-" He lets out a deep sigh. He hardly as an argument.

Fingolfin looks to Aredhel. "I understand that, my daughter." He mutters to her. "I just don't think that is what we are witnessing with Maitimo, and even if it is, those feelings were long past by the time that he left our House."

Fingon interrupts. "No, they weren't!" He exclaims. "Maitimo needed me when he was fading!"

Fingolfin shakes his head, as one who is frustrated with a small child. "Fingon..." He says, his tone light, and almost chiding. "You can't seriously think it was because of you that he lived."

Fingon's eyes widen. "Y-yes! Why wouldn't it be?"

Fingolfin laughs, in a gentle and kind way. "My son..." He begins. "It wasn't because of you. It was because they found a way to heal him... It was because he was starting to get better." He sighs. "You were only a kind relief to his mind. His life didn't depend on you."

"But how can we know that, Father?" Aredhel says with a little more boldness. She's still not trying to directly oppose him, but rather to examine this problem from all its angles, and she can immediately spot a flaw in the argument. "Findekano was the only one there with him in that moment. You and I were not allowed there. We have not even spoken to Maitimo since you first returned home, and so much has happened since then. Would Findekano not have a better sense of his mental state than us?"

And she can understand how painful these words of her father must be to her brother, and glances at him sympathetically. But she can't say Father was wrong to say that either-- it could very well be true. All she's trying to say is that they can't know that.

Fingolfin nods. "Yes, Findekano would have a better sense." He says promptly. "Except for the fact that I do not know if one should trust his sense on something like this."

Fingon gives a look of surprise. It seems like a lot is coming out in this conversation, including more than was ever intended to. He can't believe that his father had always believed these things and just kept them quiet. 'I guess father was right.' He thinks to himself. 'We have been distant and disconnected.'

"I mean no offense to him, but he is young, and does not always have the greatest thoughts on things such as these." Fingolfin says. "If Nerdanel and Feanor approved of his leaving this House, there was no harm in it. And besides, one does not fade like that. What would even cause that? And moreover, how on earth could Findekano have fixed it?"

Fingon gazes down. He doesn't know. He didn't really do anything. And Maitimo didn't seem to be fading when he showed up. Everything seemed already somewhat fixed, perhaps his father was right, perhaps he had no part in helping Maitimo.

Aredhel is at a loss for words, her heart pained by what she hears. It's not that Father is being unjust... but it's almost more painful that he is. For she can't argue much with what he says, having not been there herself to witness any of this. All she witnessed was the evil deeds of the Sons of Fëanor, and the harshness and misguided love of Fëanor and Nerdanel.

And yet... she knows that it is entirely possible for an Elf to fade from ailments beyond the physical. It happened to Miriel, the grandmother of Maitimo.

"If there were any reason to fade of sorrow, I imagine having your own brothers try three times to kill you would be a satisfactory reason," she says quietly. "On top of that, there were many other sorrows happening at that time... I do not know if you saved him, Findekano, but I believe you helped him, at the very least." She hopes her brother will take some comfort in these words of hers after the painful ones of Nolofinwë.

Fingolfin listens attentively to Aredhel's words.

"Indeed, that would be a painful thing, but what good would Findekano do in such an instance?" He questions. "Would it not be Maitimo's own brother's repenting that would be a more logical thing?" He sighs, muttering almost inaudibly, but it could be heard, "Remember, it was after the brothers had admitted, or, had spoken, that it happened. Perhaps Maitimo believed that Fingon had orchestrated it all when Feanor told him, and the brothers weeping being recounted was the true cause for his healing."

Findekano doesn't even know what to say. He wants to take comfort in Aredhel's words, that he 'helped'. But he doesn't even know. Besides for the one time that he intercepted the sword at the House of Feanor, he can't think of any time that he certainly certainly helped Maitimo. There are vague moments he can recall, but he has no solid proof. And now, the way his father mentions this all is almost as if Fingolfin believes Fingon could still be the culprit, and that is a great pang against him, of course.

"I-I hope so." He mutters to Aredhel, his lips quivering as he holds back tears.

Aredhel stands up suddenly, unable to bear these words of her father, for her brother's sake. This whole conversation has been hard enough on all of them, and now it's derailing into something unproductive and hurtful and accusatory.

Her anger is stirred up somewhat, too, at the very idea of the brothers being the one responsible for Maitimo's survival, when she has seen for herself the way they were truly responsible for his near death. She's seen their hate, their cruelty, and the way they have intruded on her family's lands just to try to murder their brother.

Those four are irredeemable, in her mind. There's no way they would have repented so quickly.

And while she doesn't know Maitimo as well as Findekano, he is still her cousin and she does share many childhood memories with him, in addition to their recent time together after they took him and Ancalirë in. And she doesn't think he would doubt Fingon and accept the supposed repentance of the brothers so easily. He may be forgiving, more so than she personally is, but he also has enough self-respect to not believe anything foolish about the treacherous four.

"Father, please, what good is it to say such things?" she exclaims. "How can we know any of this? I may not know everything, but... Findekano and I were there when those four traitors shot Maitimo, our cousin and friend. And I know of my brother's honest and loyal heart. It may not have been the wisest thing for him to go away or for me to allow it, but it was out of good intent, and we have legitimate reason to be fearful of the House of Fëanaro, and how it may affect Maitimo. We were, and are, frightened, Father... we are worried about the relationship between our two Houses. And last I saw my cousin, he was pale as death and in great pain and barely conscious. Even if you're right that it was not really Findekano that saved him from fading, was his presence not a source of help and comfort to him? Did we not all help him some way, not the least of which by opening our home as a refuge to him and Ancalirë? I don't doubt that Fëanaro really does wish to protect Maitimo and is doing his best to do so, but after hearing all the details of what has happened between the two of them, I know that it will take time for it all to be healed..."

Tears come to her eyes, and she trembles slightly under the passion of her sudden rant. This isn't like her, to give a sudden and emotional outburst that isn't even a very well-structured argument. But this may be the first time she's expressed the full weight of the worry she's been carrying.

She takes a deep breath and makes one last point.

"I have realized we were wrong in the sense that... Findekano, on his own, cannot save Maitimo from the peril he faces. But this is not because there is no peril, but because the peril is too strong for him and I to overcome alone! You are denying it, Father..."

I glance towards Fëanor.

"Indeed....we could study it together. Have you compared mine with your own? How different are they?"

"They are very different," Fëanor replies, having taken it recently to his own secret chamber where he keeps his Silmarils. "As my fëa differs from yours, for we are each a unique person, and our Silmarils reflect who we are. Mine have greater power, which is to be expected, for I have labored long and made many failed attempts before creating my three."

Smiling at his daughter, he says, "We should go together to compare mine to yours, and indeed I am curious what this... other part is, as you have described. I can feel it too. There's something else inside it that does not feel entirely like you. But, it shall have to be sometime later. There are matters I must address with your brothers."

He sighs, and a grave look comes to his eyes as he explains, "The four who betrayed you and Maitimo have revealed that they convinced Maglor to plant a poison in the chambers of Findekano, making it look like he did it. I still have not spoken to Maglor about this, and I will do so in a moment, but I wanted to return your Silmaril to you first. And you should know that your cousin was innocent."

Fingolfin sighs.

"I understand that our family has sacrificed much for the good of Feanor and his family, and I do thank you all for being so cooperative, for welcoming them and not showing any hatred." He begins. "You could've done much else, and instead you chose the better part, that of peace and joy. I thoroughly commend you for your strength, each of you, that you did not come against them, and gave them a home among us."

"I fully understand your pain and even your impending fear at the doom that seems to await our kingdoms twain. I hid this from you for long, for I desired that you would think nothing of it. It would be harsh, very sad to hear." He says. "But there has long been conflict between our kingdoms, and this was simply the peak of a mountain." He sighs. "We all must not wage against them, however, he says. Too much has happened of late, and I know not whom I can trust." With his final word, he flashes a glance at Fingon, who does not meet his gaze.

Findekano immediately notices this and is infuriated. Does his father really still think he planned this all? Didn't he trust his heart?

"That whole speech..." He begins. "And just so you can shoot daggers at me!" He exclaims. "Rarely, do I defend myself, but this has all gone too far, and you cannot keep subtly accusing me from every angle. My heart is not as strong as you might think!"

Before I can mention anything else about the Silmarils, an expression of shock and surprise mounts across my face as Feanor mentions about the brothers' treacherous plot. After a few moments of stunned silence I exclaim, my fea blazing forth in passion, and my voice vehement:

"They framed Maglor? Kánafinwe? Such vile hearts of theirs, in so many ways...if indeed, no mercy I would grant them upon the righteous shackles of justice! And I am relieved to know that Findekáno is innocent...yet ne'er shall this e'er justify the ways of the four brothers! I almost wish they could be locked up there for as long as need be, for in my heart I am quite liable to believe that they shall ne'er truly repent!"

At least Fingolfin is speaking kindly and compassionately over the pain they have all suffered as a result of the recent events, and his words warm Aredhel's heart at the beginning. "You have shown such admirable strength and kindness too, Father," she says, smiling and taking his hands. "I know this has been hard on you, especially in regards to Fëanaro."

Her smile fades, though, at his mentioning of the conflict between the Houses, though she is not surprised by it. Fëanor had ever seemed hostile and suspicious to them, and it had always caused her to be suspicious of his House in return, so it doesn't surprise her that there is apparently more going on even than Fëanor pulling a sword on Fingolfin... something had surely led up to that. But she knows her father doesn't wish to discuss it, and remains silent.

She stiffens, though, at his passive-aggressive comment towards Findekano. "He is right, Father," she says in her brother's defense. "We fully admit our mistake in him leaving, but surely you do not still believe he is guilty of the accusations put up against him, can you?"

~~

Fëanor nods in understanding. The words of his daughter resonate closely with his own heart and his own feelings. "It has been very difficult for me," he says quietly. "For all of us, I know, but especially Nelyo, of course. But I have had to deal with the brothers and decide how to judge them, and I hate to believe that they are guilty of this... but alas, I have no choice but to see the truth. The treachery in their hearts is deep. How deep, exactly, is anyone's guess. That they so vehemently wished Maitimo dead, and were even willing to frame your cousin in some attempt to cast some blame off themselves... I can't believe it. At least they admitted the truth, but that, I fear, is only because I threatened them with exile, and not of genuine repentance. Indeed, they deserve to be exiled, so I have shown them mercy. They will be locked up for a long time. I hope it will not be forever, but what if they feign repentance, and then attack Nelyo at the next possible opportunity? I can't risk that. These decisions weigh heavily on me... I only hope I have made the right choice."

He is almost surprised with himself, for pouring his heart out to his daughter like this. Perhaps he shouldn't be burdening her with his worries. But she's so much like him, that he feels she understands his heart.

Fingolfin nods at her commending his strength. "Thank you, daughter." He says softly. "For I must be strong for all of you, to show you the meaning of love, and to help our family when they need it, for even if they are half in blood, they are fully ours in heart, and we owe them the same overarching kindness as if they were the closest of our kin and friends."

He sighs, as Aredhel mentions his remark towards Findekano, and also Fingon's reaction. "There has been no other evidence shown." He says gravely. "Still, you shall never know how much I wish that it is not the truth. For you have been a loyal son for years and years, and so I felt, you could never be guilty." He goes on, "But as I have seen your coldness, the distance that you have stayed from me, and your wrath against Feanor and his family, and your utter disobedience of my word, I question now how loyal and true you stand."

Fingon's eyes widen, and he just stands silently in shock. His eyes fixed on a random sight on the wall, deep in thought. How could his father possibly say this? He thought he had been cleared, that when he was released he was understood and deemed innocent. "How can you say that?" He mutters.

Aredhel's heart falls once again, dismayed by her father's words, not because they are unreasonable but because they are. She still doesn't doubt Fingon, but she can't deny either what her father said. The relationship between those two has been strained lately, and it is true that Findekano has been angry with the House of Fëanor. But then again, so has she, and that doesn't mean she would want to hurt Maitimo or Ancalirë.

"I have struggled with anger against Fëanaro and his sons too, Father," she says softly. "But I would hope you know Findekano and I better than to think he or I would do something to hurt any of them... In fact, I barely think of Maitimo and Ancalirë as part of the House of Fëanor. They were sundered from their family for a while, abandoned and betrayed by them... even if you think Findekano's anger against their House would cause him to commit evil, can't you at least see that our anger is not against Maitimo, but on his behalf? To hurt him would be a contradiction."

~~

Fëanor is a little surprised to see this impassioned speech from his daughter, but he understands it completely.

"I know, daughter, I know," he says gravely, taking her in his arms in a gentle but firm embrace. "They don't deserve mercy, but that is the very idea of mercy-- getting less punishment than what you truly deserve. If you ever have children of your own, perhaps one day you will understand, that despite their wrongs they are still my sons, and I cannot send them away forever... But I cannot put my eldest at any further risk either. So it seems the only solution now is to keep them locked up, and see what happens. I hope they will repent one day, but I cannot know their hearts."

Pulling away, he sighs deeply and says, "I must now seek after Maglor and determine his side of this story."