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

Maitimo's concern only increases at this response from Findekano. He knows him far too well to accept this statement at face value; his eyes are troubled, and his voice sounds tense and uncomfortable.

Turgon glances at Amrod with interest. "Really? How do you know that--"

And Fëanor smiles at his daughter, but the arrival of Finwë interrupts all these conversations before they can continue. Everyone bows low before the High King before he motions for them all to rise again.

"Blessings to you as well, Father," Fëanor says, coming forth and embracing him. But over his shoulder he glares coldly at Indis, who turns her gaze away from him. She knows well that she is not liked by Fëanor, and it pains her, but out of her love for Finwë she has always tried to be civil to him.

I follow up behind Fëanor, glancing at Indis, but swiftly I turn away to focus on Finwë.

"'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Finwë. My heart gladdens at your arrival."

Finwe embraces his son gratefully, and whispers as they are tight in the embrace. "It is lovely to see you my son. Now I was thinking a feast may be ideal, to bring everyone into happier spirits, and there can the apologies be made. I think it will be more accepted in such an environment, unless you have objections."

Fingolfin also comes forward, standing aside and waiting his turn for an embrace. He knows that coming in with Feanor still there would be offensive to his brother-- half-brother, so he does not want to risk it. Instead, he comes beside Indis, bowing his head and gently caressing her with an embrace. "Mother," He whispers. "How fare ye?"

Amrod stands and mutters to Turgon. "Did I not tell you? Oh, well, never bother it. I know a great deal of the healing arts, now. I have learned them."

Findekano notices Maitimo's face drop a little, and grabs his left hand, trying to keep the bond they shared. "I'm sorry, brother." He thinks back to the conversation, and tries to gauge when things went wrong. "If you had really want to spar, I won't object it. I'm just-" He doesn't finish.

I smile joyfully at Finwë.

"I hold no objections. And a feast sounds beautiful...it seems long since we had last had one!"

Fëanor nods in agreement. "This sounds good to me. We have all been so devoid of any sort of merriment lately... everything has been so somber."

Indis smiles at her son, and embraces him fondly in return. At least he and Arafinwë are fond of her, and she has full trust in them. "I fare well, thank you, my son. And what of you? Finwë has told me all of what has happened, and it grieves me that such peril and trouble has befallen you all."

Truthfully, she is quite shocked and bitter with the Sons of Fëanor for intruding on Nolofinwë's land and committing their treasonous act there. The nerve of them!

"Have you?" Turgon asks, intrigued. "I am impressed that you have undertaken such a noble endeavor! Were you able to help Maitimo much during his recovery?"

"It's not about the sparring match-- I don't care much about that," Maitimo says to Findekano. "I'm only worried for you, brother, for you look troubled, yet at the same time like you are trying to hide it. Will you never learn that I know you too well to be fooled so easily?" he adds, smiling, as sort of a friendly jest.

Finwe smiles, "Very well, then!" Although in reality, he had already made the decision. Preparations were being made for the feast and a number of the guests had already been counted. But should Feanor have opposed it, which Finwe strongly doubted, there may have been adjustments. "Come, follow." And with that, he cast his arm in the air, leading as would a shepherd, and all of the children of his House followed him.

He looked to Feanoriel. "I was speaking with your father, and yet I appreciate your words. Very keen of hearing you must be."

Fingolfin takes Indis' hand and walks beside her. "I am well, though you are right in your belief that it is sad. Indeed it is sad. Yet I have forgiven my brother of the whole affair, and I do not intend to hold it against him for a moment."

Amrod nods. "Mhm. I helped Maitimo some, although not as much as I would've wished to. I was only a pupil then, and a very unseasoned one."

Fingon walks beside Maitimo. "I see... That's the trouble with you," He adds, trying to keep the flicker of humor alive. "You know me too well."

"That is noble of you," Indis says, smiling. However, she does have doubts that her son's unconditional devotion to Fëanaro is merited. She feels he is bitter and hateful against anyone who is not his father or his wife and children. But she doesn't speak of this; not now, when so much conflict is to be resolved.

"Well, that's very good of you. He must have appreciated your help," says Turgon. "Have you learned much over this brief period of time, then?"

Maitimo laughs slightly. "Indeed, and it will be a source of trouble to you whenever you attempt to hide anything! But..." Sorrow comes to his eyes once more. "Why are you not telling me what you really feel? You know that any burden you share is mine also, don't you?"

"Noble..." Fingolfin muses. "I don't know if that's the word that is fitting. Nobility is a hard thing to pin and define, and I feel I don't deserve such a title as that..." He smiles. "But I appreciate it all the same, mother. You know indeed how to lift the spirits of many." And indeed, he feels this way. She is only lifting his spirits, encouraging him, no doubt she worries for her children.

"I don't know how much he really did appreciate it." Amrod says. "But I enjoyed it, and yes. I've learned so much. I spend every waking moment under their tutorship. In fact, I miss it now that I have left."

Fingon nods. "Indeed. I do know that, and yet it's so unfair to you. Too many troubles are laid on your already, and many by my account. I cannot seriously lay more on your troubled shoulders.... I cannot."

Finwe also, smiles and looks at Feanoriel, and then at Feanor. "This daughter is very clever, I see. Music, and crafting... Very good, my son."

"If anyone is deserving of such a title, it is you," Indis says with a warm twinkle in her eye. "Forgiveness in and of itself is a noble thing, and a hard thing to master. Yet..." she sighs, not able to fully hold back her worries that Nolofinwë is giving himself too much to his undeserving half-brother. "At the same time, I hope you are guarding your heart, my son. Forgiveness and love do not mean you can have no boundaries with those who would treat you poorly."

"I'm glad you have enjoyed it. It's good that you have found your passion," says Turgon. Meanwhile, he watches Maglor out of the corner of his eye, and he still seems brooding and silent.

"We have all had burdens to carry-- I'm not the only one," Maitimo says, sighing and gazing with sorrow into the distance. "I can't help but worry for you regardless if you don't tell me what's going on. But--" he glances around at the company, seeing Nolofinwë nearby. "I understand that this is not likely the most appropriate place to discuss such things. But when the time is right, please, talk to me, won't you?"

Fëanor nods, smiling proudly upon his daughter. "Indeed; she has many gifts. Most recently, she has undertaken studying with me in my forge, and learning the craft of smithery."

Then, everyone takes a seat at the dining table.

Nolofinwe smiles. "And you would not be in the slightest way biased, mother? Of course, you have no partiality to me as I am you son." He laughs a little. "No, I will not accept such a title to be placed on me. For however much it may exult my heart to know that I have achieved the one thing that I had chased and desired and attempted to form in myself, it would be to no avail if my heart became puffed up and boastful." He takes his mother's hand closer. "I will guard myself when I must, of course. But not my brother. He means me no harm." But Fingolfin omits the final part he would've said, that Feanor loved him. For now, he is not so sure.

"Yes, I have, and it's wonderful." Amrod smiles at Turgon. "What is yours, cousin? I suppose I do not know you very well. Maglor was always closer with you than I ever was."

"I will." Findekano says, glancing deeply at Maitimo. "And I thank you for allowing me to. Many would silence me, not wanting to hear of troubles. But a true friend you are, for you stand with me in angst as much as in merriment."

Finwe's eyes widen. "Smithery?" He seizes Feanoriel's shoulders playfully. "You did not mention that -!" He turns to Feanor. "How lovely, that she has taken up such a craft. And Feanoriel, I may still have some of your father's old books on the matter, and you are more than welcome to read them, maybe even take some home with you." He smiles proudly. "But my son, Curufinwe will teach far more to you than a book. He is the best smith to ever have lived."

"Ah, but I know you so well, better than most," Indis says, laughing slightly. "All mothers have some bias; it's true. But shouldn't the fact that I know you so well make my claim that much more meaningful?"

She decides to drop the subject of Fëanaro, and simply says, "I hope you are right."

Turgon smiles slightly at this thoughtful question from Amrod. For one sometimes regarded as insensitive, the question indicates care and interest in others. "My passion... it's not as easy to define, like my sister's archery, or Maglor's music, or your healing arts. It's a bit broader and more abstract than that. My passion is for the kingdom, I suppose. I love to study its people, its architecture, the laws that make it great. I wish to see it ruled fairly and justly."

"Of course," Maitimo says warmly, putting an arm around Findekano. "You'd do the same for me, and in fact, you have. I never got a chance to tell you this, but, I was close to... giving up... at one point, as you may or may not know. There were a few reasons why I decided not to, but you were one of the main ones."

"Giving up" is really a polite and delicate euphemism for something much more gruesome-- that he had longed for death on that day, and actually begged Irmo not to make him return to life. But now, even though his thoughts still feel dark and despairing, life seems to be gradually getting better, and he finds himself glad to be here right now and not in the Halls of Mandos.

Finwë and Indis sit together at the head of the table, and the Fëanorians sit on one long end, and the Nolofinwians on the other. Maitimo is between Nerdanel and Ancalirë, and directly across from Findekano.

Finwe gazes in awe at Feanoriel's gem. "You made this?" He says incredulously, tracing a finger across it. "Just like your father... So, talented. It's beautiful." He says, allowing her to take it back.

Fingon turns to Maitimo, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Truly?" He looks down. "I always thought that you had wanted me there, but I didn't know that," His face creases with concern. "Ai, brother... I am so sorry." But it is a good feeling to hear this. After everything that he had been told, by his father and others, saying that he would only make things worse, or that his ideas were crazy at best, and at worst were of a far darker nature. To know he had truly been of aid, to know he had helped, it was a deep consolation.

Maglor also takes a seat, although intentionally, he stays far from Turgon and Findekano, as far as possible.

Nolofinwe does not respond to most of her words, he simply looks at her. "I am, mother... You will see."

And before any more of them have the chance to speak, Finwe gently bangs the end of his fork against a chalice, silencing them.

"Let's eat, shall we?" He exclaims, giving a glance to Feanor and reassuring him. "You can say your words after the meal," He whispers. "Everyone will be happier then. Too weary are they now."

Maitimo can see a glimmer of hope come to Findekano's eyes, and his heart is gladdened, hoping that his words have provided some encouragement. But he has to join his family at their side of the table before the conversation can continue. Perhaps they'll discuss these deeper matters after the meal, if they can get some time in private.

The meal almost immediately helps lighten everyone's mood, with freshly caught venison, an abundance of sweet fruits, and a smooth fine wine. Indis smiles as she sees a few of the somber faces of some of her grandchildren and step-grandchildren turn to cheerful smiles. Fëanor is glad for this change in the atmosphere, too. He hasn't been looking forward to the apologies that he, Nerdanel and Maglor must make, so if everyone is happier, perhaps it will go more easily.

Maitimo, glad to be seated beside Ancalirë, nods in agreement with her. "Indeed it is-- just the thing after a long and weary day of travel, isn't it?"

Though, this trip has felt easy compared to the last time he had to travel a long distance, back when poison was still running through his veins. It seems that every little thing, even cheerful and celebratory things, remind him in some way either of the brothers or the events of their betrayal. No matter how much he tries to shove it in the back of his mind and think of the joys and pleasures of this reunion with the House of Finwë, it always has a way of creeping back up.

I give Maitimo a gentle and warm embrace.

"Of course it is! Especially after everything we've been through, I'm sure you'd need some refreshments!"

Finwe turns to Feanor, eyeing Maitimo.

"How is he?" He whispers. "Is he taking all of this well, or...?"

"I am healed now, you know," Maitimo says to Ancalirë with a smile and a gently teasing sort of tone. "You've all done so much worrying lately, but there is no longer a need for it. Let's just enjoy this lovely meal, shall we?"

Fëanor watches them interact for a moment before turning back to Finwë with a shrug and a slight frown. "He's taken it all as well as anyone could be expected to, I suppose. To be so violently betrayed by one's own brothers, especially since they were so close before and this came seemingly out of nowhere... it surely would be a horrible shock to anyone. But, he seems to be doing fine now, as far as I can tell."

Truthfully, Fëanor has only really seen lately the cheerful facade that Maitimo has put on to conceal his inner gloom, and he doesn't see a need to worry about his son's mental state.

Findekano leans across the table, eyeing Ancalire. "Oh, yes, we do need to be worried." He says, hoping it doesn't seem too overbearing or loud, but he doesn't want Maitimo to feel abandoned or uncared for. He knows the pain is far from over, even if he is physically healed and well.

Finwe watches contemplatively, slowly nodding to his son's words. "Mhm..." He continues. "I suppose it would be hard, for anyone. But as your heir, we ought to pay him some attention. Surely you would not object to my, speaking with him, after the meal and the," he whispers the next word. "apologies. Yes? I can speak with him after all of that."

Nerdanel smiles at Feanor, trying to keep the mood light and cheery, but unaware of her husband's conversation topic.