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

Finwe comes and walks toward Maitimo, seating himself beside him. "I understand your angst, son." He whispers. "Too many things laid upon your head and heart, and though you ask others to open up to you and lean on you, when they do, you only feel more burdened. You want someone to love you and to care for you and treat you how you treat and love them. But despite your wishes, even those you thought to be the fondest friends end up wrecking your own sanity and taking advantage over your innocence and gentle disposition."

"If only someone would care for you and love you the way you want them to, the way that you express your love to them..." He muses. "If only... and yet you are the only thing that you can change. Elves may come and go as they please. It is your choice to see what you do with them. To forge bonds that last, and cast away those which bring nothing but angst."

Finwe believes he understands how Maitimo feels. He had always been inclined to a sensitive and sensual nature. He could feel others pain and hurt, and he knew them, and he knew how to respond. Seeing that Maitimo is heir and will one day be the High King of the Noldor, he feels that it is necessary and right to invest all of his attention into this young Elda's dreams and self-esteem. Upon this heart shall lay the burden of a nation one day, and he must rule with excellence, and fall into the line of his forefathers.

~~

"You do not see your fault, then?" Cries Fingolfin. "You do not see where you have said things that are terribly wrong?!"

Fingon shakes his head. "Father, what have I done wrong? Truly? He rose a sword against YOU! My father, my king, the manifestation of everything that I have ever sought to be, and he almost killed it!"

Nolofinwe's face becomes grave. "If I am the manifestation of everything you have ever sought to be, you have utterly and miserably in every way failed at your life's pursuit."

~~

Amrod enters the room of dried herbs, the smell intoxicating from the moment he enters, but a welcome change of scenery. He's alone. The guard is not here. He takes his dagger into his hand, cutting the ropes on some of the herbs hanging to dry. And suddenly, a dark thought enters his mind. 'What have I done to deserve any more life than my brother...?' He wonders to himself. His eyes are fixed on the dagger. Perhaps if he could punish himself, perhaps then he would have peace, and Maitimo would see that he was truly sorry and forgive him.

~~

Nerdanel flies down the stairs, walking towards the stable to grab a horse, unaware how far her son has gone or not gone.

Maitimo glances over at Finwë, temporarily surprised enough to be distracted from his grief. Perhaps for the first time since he spoke with Irmo, he feels like someone truly sees him, and the desires of his heart.

"You... you have great insight, Grandfather. What you are saying is accurate."

Then, before he knows it, a torrent of words comes flooding out of him, words he had been suppressing since all this started.

"I have always sought after peace, and aimed to put the needs of others above my own, and to make sacrifices when necessary, and I have done such, many times, even after my brothers betrayed me. And yet sometimes it feels as though I am the only one in my family who makes this a priority. For even when I was gravely wounded and sick with poison, everyone was lashing out at each other, in front of me, knowing how I loathe such conflict, and even then I did my part to soothe the tempers and make peace, and reassure them. I used to do this with a cheerful heart, but now... I feel it is unfair. Why should I have to be the most mature one in the room much of the time? I wasn't just now-- I lashed out at everyone, but that's not how I normally am. And Findekano refused to offer forgiveness, even verbally, for the sake of the family? I thought he was like me... I thought he would prioritize peace more, but I guess not... I feel like I have constantly poured myself out to others, only to be met with anger and betrayal."

Tears come to his eyes once more, and Fëanor quietly stands up, feeling that perhaps his son can benefit greatly from Finwë's wisdom, and it may be best for him to leave the two of them alone for it.

"I must return to the others, especially Nerdanel," he says. "Perhaps you two should talk a while."

And he leaves back towards the house. After he is gone, Maitimo says to Finwë, "I did not want to say this in front of him, but I forgave him when he asked me to, and it was the hardest thing I ever did, because he failed to protect me from the violence and even blamed it on me. Is this not just as bad, if not worse, than what he has done to Findekano? Why must I have to be more mature than him, then? It's not fair..."

~~~

Aredhel frowns slightly, but tries not to react too defensively to Ancalirë's words. "Don't think that I don't understand the severity of it, and I hope you are not rejecting the offer of friendship I have extended to you despite this conflict."

Finwe nods. "You're right, son. It's not fair. Nothing about it is just. You're so young, and you should merit a House that loves you, and others to care for you. And those your age or older, they should be as mature. They should take the higher path, and do what is best, no matter what it means for themselves." He goes on, "And they should applaud you, yes? For you have done everything and done it well. And you have stood in the flames of conflict even though they burn you, and the world only leaves you to burn." He gently casts his arm around Maitimo. "You have a strong sense of justice, child. You see so much hurt, and it pains you to see it. You want to see morality upheld, and innocents saved. And yet you seem like the only one. Everyone claims to agree with you, but they don't emulate your ideals, and when you are in trouble, they do not help you."

He blinks. "See, that is the trouble with people, son. They all see the world differently. As artisan glass you might liken it. No two pieces are the same, every fractal a different shade and that shade colors the world in a new and different way. And if you hold them too tightly, they shatter. And if they hold you too tightly, you do the same. All is beautiful and well and at peace until others enter the frame, and goodness turns to chaos, comfort turns to fear, and everyone reacts the only way that they know how." He smiles. "I know your father has hurt you, but upon my word, he never meant it. He reacted through his perspective. His shine of the glass. He sees a wrong, he wishes to right it. May I add, just like you do." He pauses. "But because your father has seen other things, his heart is shaped differently."

"Returning to the thoughts of an artisan glassmaker, do you know how the glass becomes a certain shade? It doesn't start that way. It goes through a process, many steps, many elements, many things that make it clearer in some pockets, and clouded in others. Dark and light in places, new and old and worn and glossed." He thinks this is a good analogy, so he sticks with it. "See your father is like a piece of that glass. Many things color the way he sees. Many broken fractals of his life, and many good ones unite and form his view of the world. You are the same. Everything that happens to you, it shapes you. And that's good. But you must never lose sight that even though others act differently, and we would change them, if we could, you must never lose sight of your own moral compass."

"Son, I know you see so much at this age. You see rulers, leaders, good, bad. You see friends turn against you, and wonder 'why?'. None of us know the answer to that question, son. Accept their side of the glass. And cling to the one thing that does not change. Character. To act the same, no matter where, no matter how, no matter when. To be genuine, and to speak from your heart and not hide your true self, nor dramatically increase it's relevance. You are a good young man. Your heart is pure, your aspirations are thrilling and good. Now you must remain true to that. Do not change yourself to fit into another's mold. When no one agrees with you, and everyone mistreats you, to be the leader is to say 'I don't care. I will do the good anyway. Not for them, but because I know what is right.' "

~~

Findekano's lip curls, his eyes shredding with tears. "I-" These words cut him to the heart. "Fine! If that's how you feel, then fine! Leave me behind. Banish me! Imprison me, I don't care! I'm sure Turgon will make a finer ruler than I ever would, and I'm sure you'd be glad to be rid of such a disgrace and dishonor to your family! Have your perfect peace, father, even if I'm not a piece of that-!"

With this, he rushes towards the door, and Fingolfin follows after him.

~~

Amrod stares at it, his heart darkening with every second. In his mind, it plays over and over. The time he cut his brother. The time he shed blood for no reason but out of cruelty. He still remembers it so vividly, as it were yesterday, and yet it has been a long time since any of this took place. He stares down at the dagger, whispering. "...For you... I'm...sorry..." Of course, he means Maitimo. And with this, he takes the weapon closer in his hand, clenching his eyes shut as he lashes a sharp cut against his arm, in the same place that he had wounded Maitimo. He yelps a little in the agony, and then sinks to the floor, out of grief and out of sorrow, and hatred for his own deeds.

~~

Nerdanel arrives and takes a horse, saddling it as she whisks it forward with a strong motion.

Maitimo is silent for a long while, deeply listening to and taking in all the wise words of Finwë. No one has spoken to him like this before, with words that seem to have an accurate understanding of what his pain is really like, and at the same time gently offer the truth and practical advice. He has been shown great compassion, of course-- by his sister, his parents, the House of Nolofinwë and even the Valar on occasion. And he has appreciated that, but most of them have had their own emotional issues to deal with as well as the astronomical stress of it all, causing everyone to behave in unusual ways. And thus even his own family and closest friends have hurt him without meaning to, in their quest to protect him.

At Finwë's words about the world leaving him to burn, his tears fall unnumbered once more, and he clings tightly to him, as a source of stability and protection. Both of which are things he has been severely lacking in recent times.

And he is silent for a while even after Finwë finishes, turning over everything in his mind. "You are right," he says quietly, after a long moment. "I can't control anyone, but I suppose I must not stoop to their level, and continue to do what is right, even if I am completely and utterly alone in that endeavor. I hope Findekano and I can preserve our friendship, but I suppose it may be better if I don't see him for a while. He surely has much to deal with, especially with his father, and it may not be good for him or me if I were to try to get involved.

"And as for Fëanaro, initially my forgiveness of him was lip service and nothing more. I did it because I did not want to be cruel to him or add that much more conflict and grief to the family. And I am glad I made that choice, but it's been taking a while for my heart to catch up with my words. But now... I'm finding it easier to get rid of that anger towards him. I actually agree with one of the things he said to Findekano-- that none of us truly have the right to judge his behavior during that time, since he was doing his best to end the conflict and restore justice. He was not there for any of the attacks, and had only his own logic to guide him. He does genuinely care about the truth. I wish he'd had a little more faith in my character, but... alas, we've all made mistakes. The deception and treachery of the brothers was not only unfair to me, but also to him, and to everyone else in our family, for that matter."

He takes a deep breath, beginning to feel calmed and less despairing, but there is something still that presses on his mind. "I have wondered," he says softly, "and indeed we all have... why my brothers did this. I had no idea they hated me so much. One day, I was sparring and hunting with them and teasing each other as we always did, and the next day, they were trying to violently kill me. I have always loved and adored them all, and assumed their teasing was just their own sense of humor or way of expressing affection. And lately I've been turning over in my mind everything I've ever said to them, if I ever gravely offended them at one point... I don't understand. Perhaps they think I would be a poor king and that was what motivated them. And yet, I've never managed to understand their reasoning."

~~~

Aredhel's eyes soften somewhat. "It's all right, sister. This has been hard on all of us."

She frowns a little at the mentioning of Amrod, not liking the idea of him running around unsupervised in the palace. "Has it been very long? I didn't see when he left. Would he have gone to the herb cellar, perhaps?"

~~~

Fëanor arrives back at the entrance, and just barely in time, he sees Nerdanel preparing a horse. "My love!" he exclaims, running up to her. "Please forgive me for leaving the way I did. Had I stayed, I only would have made things worse, I suppose. Do not fear for Maitimo. He is with my father now, who I think is imparting some much-needed comfort and wisdom upon him. Is everything else all right?"

"Perhaps," I respond softly. "Let us go there....take me there, if you know where it is."

"Mmm..." Finwe watches Maitimo, his keen eyes always alert for perceiving his grandson's emotions. It seems he has imparted some peace, and so he is thankful for that. "I am grateful for your receptivity, son. It takes a great deal of courage and nobility to accept the words which seem both accusing and loving. When you hear words like that, it is almost as if a battle breaks out in your mind, fighting over your conscience. You are right to respond in the way you have, but it takes much." He chuckles, reminiscing. "Your father did not learn that as quickly as you have. He would come to me in anger, nay, frustration. And he would be so intellectually challenged, because he had emotion, and he needed to let it out of him. Poor young boy... And yet he is a great leader now."

"Thank you for forgiving your father. He deserves that, and much as he may not like to admit such, he needs that. See, your openness and vulnerability is a rare trait. It's a hard one, but a gift. Your father is not like that, and only those who know him as well as I do can sense when he is deeply wounded inside. But he is good, and he just has different ways of expressing love. You are right to hold him worthy of love and forgiveness. I am sure he is thankful for that, and thankful for you."

At Maitimo's question, Finwe pauses, his arms wrapped around Maitimo, holding him tightly. "I know it hurts, son. You don't know why they would do such a thing. It was wrong. And that is a hard thing for someone like you to understand. You act with morality, justice, and now you cannot comprehend something that is not based on such principles. Love your brothers, forgive them, just do not reconcile with them." He pauses, holding Maitimo, cradling him. "They don't deserve your reconciliation. Not, yet."

~~

"Have things your way, father! If you want me gone, then let me be gone!" Findekano cries. "Mercy you have for your brother, and endless unwavering kindness, but for your son--"

Fingolfin interrupts. "Findekano, that is not what I mean- Wait!"

But Fingon flew out of the room too fast, and before Fingolfin knew it, his son had stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and moving past the rest of his family with speed.

~~

"Alright?" Nerdanel shakes her head, coming close to Feanor. "Is anything, anything at all, truly alright?"

"Well," Maitimo says, smiling slightly, "the way you say it, it doesn't at all feel like criticism. My family could certainly stand to learn your ways in that regard-- a few of them have given me well-meaning advice from time to time, but either it was timed poorly, or I did not ask for it, or it was made to feel like a personal attack."

He adds, "I'm beginning to understand that a little better, I think. He seems hard and harsh sometimes, but I'm coming to understand that he and I desire the same things. I wish sometimes that he'd have a little more gentleness and grace, but... that's not who he is, and I can't change that."

And as Finwë speaks his words about the brothers, Maitimo weeps openly and clings to him. "I can't comprehend it at all... for even now I have no desire to take revenge on them. I would not deal them any of the blows that they dealt me or anything like that. That would be evil and the idea brings me no pleasure. And yet, they devised this evil plan in their hearts and relished in my pointless suffering... I do not feel any love for them anymore, not any of the four... if I forgive them, it will be lip service only, and I'm not sure the feelings of my heart will ever catch up."

~~~

"Yes, I believe I know where it is," says Aredhel, vaguely remembering the last time she visited the House of Finwë. Since she has some knowledge of the healing arts as well, she has been to this herb cellar before. Quickly, she gets up, and she and Ancalirë head down there.

She gasps aloud at the sight of Amrod with a bloody gash in his arm... and his bloodied dagger is trembling in his other hand.

"Amrod, child," she mutters in both concern and incredulity, "what have you done?"

She had sensed trouble within him, but she never in her wildest imagination would have guessed that he would do such a drastic and horrible thing to himself.

~~~

Fëanor sighs deeply, his eyes grieved. "It doesn't seem like it these days. But are our other children who came here alright? Where are they?"

Finwe smiles. "Your family tries, and that's something very great, something very noble. I know that not everyone understands you. But see, that is what forms you. With no opposition, your life would be a dark and unfeeling place. And curiosity unmet would turn to desire, and desire denied would turn to anger, and anger turn to fear, and you would be trapped in your own miserable mind. Opposition makes us grow, it forces us to define who we truly are, and to stay with it, even when everyone around us does not understand or agree."

"Now you see it." He says in response to Maitimo speaking of Feanor. "He is trying to be the best husband to his wife, the best son to his father, the best father to his children, the best father to you. Be patient with him, and show him love, even when he doesn't show it to you. And when he tries to show you affection, take note of it. For very often, we love those around us the way we would wish to be loved."

"See, you are noble. You have a good heart, and dare I say, you shall make a fine king one day. Regal, strong, accomplished, brave, compassionate, empathetic... All good qualities." He sighs. "I understand your pain and desire to not forgive them. But as my own have taught me, forgiveness heals us, not them. Grudges are a darkness in our hearts, binding them to our pain, and making us subject to another's action. Loose the grudge, and be free. Don't reconcile, but pray, free your heart, son. It 'tis for you, nay for them."

~~

Fingon storms out of the room, facing Turgon who had apparently been waiting for him as he speeds by.

"Perhaps you should go speak with father." He says, in his anger. "I'm sure he would be glad to see his perfect son come and do honor upon this House!"

~~

Amrod jumps up, unraveling the silk which Feanoriel had wrapped around his wound and walking again towards the dagger. "No-! Nelyo's wasn't cared for... why should mine be? None of you understand! You don't understand! How could you? None of you are criminals... None of you have done what I've done!" And with that, he bends over, shredding the silk off his injury and reaching once more for the knife.

~~

"Feanoriel got a bit upset... so she was going to go with Indis and Maglor and Aredhel to cool down. And Amrod was on his way to the herb room, to make a tea for his sister after she had collapsed. And Maitimo, he stormed out..." She throws herself in Feanor's arms. "Love, I don't know what to do. I love our children, but I don't know what to do for them. I'm worried about Maitimo... He, he loved Findekano, very much, and--" She sighs, letting it all out to her husband.

"My head is reeling, dear. I- How Fingon could have that kind of nerve and audacity, and how his father reacted, and everything else. And Maitimo screamed at Amrod, which as you know is not like him to do, and Feanorie she collapsed, she's okay now, but... I'm worried that every emotional pain seems to manifest itself in physical loss of strength. It wasn't without joy-- your mother and I know how you feel about her, but she was helpful... And Aredhel, that girl is such a kind heart." She sighs, her fingers curled in a position of almost prayer as she comes beside Feanor. "I just don't know how to deal with all of this... this meeting was such a happy one, and now, now it's just not..."

"They do try, and I appreciate that they do," Maitimo says with a sigh. "I do not need everyone to fully understand. In fact, it's probably an impossible task. Even you, Grandfather, though your insight is great and you seem to accurately understand my heart, cannot fully understand what I went through, having not experienced it yourself, but it's the care and the effort that I appreciate. Even Father tries his best to do this in his own way, I suppose."

He smiles, his heart uplifted at Finwë's praise, the words meaning more to him than he can describe. For so long, he had always feared he would never be good enough as a king, partially because of the standard of perfection Fëanor had driven him to in his studies and training. And the hatred of his brothers had only solidified that thinking; surely they had some valid reasoning for trying so hard to kill him, didn't they? This sort of thing wouldn't just come out of nowhere. Even if their opinions were wrong and their motives did not at all justify their actions, there had to be some legitimate reason why Maitimo was either contemptible to them personally, or why they thought he would be a bad king.

But now, his brother's opinions and even Fëanor's opinion seem inconsequential now that he has the words straight from Finwë, High King of the Noldor himself, that he would make a good king.

"That... that means more than I can say," he says, struggling to hold back tears yet again. "I've believed the opposite for so long. But I suppose you would be qualified to give such a statement, wouldn't you?" He laughs softly, but adds in more somber tones, "Yet I hope I shall never become king. You are the best that there ever could be." For since they are immortal Elves, for Maitimo to inherit the throne means tragedy would have had to befall both Finwë and Fëanor.

He sighs deeply, suddenly weary from all the stress and all the tears he has shed, and says, "I suppose we should go back soon; I don't want anyone to worry about us. Yet I dread it, mainly because I don't know what sort of dramatic conflict we may be walking into, but also because I need to apologize to Amrod. Probably everyone else as well. I lashed out with my words, without really meaning to do such, but alas, I fear it has caused some damage."

Of course, the things he said are most likely the least evil thing that has happened on this night, but to have lashed out like that is so unlike Maitimo that it weighs heavily on his conscience regardless.

~~~

Turgon jumps, and he pales in shock at these aggressive words. "Findekano-- what?" he cries. "Why are you acting like this? This isn't like you!" And he runs after both him and Fingolfin.

~~~

While Ancalirë restrains Amrod, which Aredhel is grateful for, she does a quick search of his belt and pockets to make sure he has no other weapons or sharp instruments on him. She finds a small cutting blade and a needle, and confiscates those, and doesn't find anything else. Her hands are shaking and her heart racing from the shock of seeing all this.

And she doesn't speak any condemning words to Amrod, feeling that is not her place, but rather tries to calm him down. "Just hold still, and trust your sister. She's right, and we will help you and take care of you."

To Ancalirë she glances up and says, "I would dress his wound myself, but based on how things have been today, I don't think it wise that I should be found doing it. Let's take him to your mother, and quickly."

~~~

Fëanaro shakes his head in dismay. This is so much chaos, far too much to address at once. He startles at what Nerdanel says about Maitimo. "That isn't like him at all... he was in quite the state when we found him. He was a sobbing wreck on the ground, his sword firmly lodged in a tree stump-- even I had difficulty extricating it. I hope Father will be able to talk him down. He is much more skilled with such things than I am."

His eyes narrow at the mentioning of Indis. "That woman is not my mother--" he says sharply, but cuts himself off. "Forgive me; now is not the time for such things. I'm glad Fëanoriel is all right. I suppose we should find her and Maglor and Amrod, and I also hope to speak with Nolofinwë at some point."

He begins to walk swiftly back towards the palace, and Nerdanel follows him.

"Indeed... I don't understand fully, admittedly. And yet I have seen joy and pain. All the greatest rejoicing and all the lamentation. So that connects us, mm? You too, even so young, have seen so many of these things. And I'm sorry you have, because I know how heart wrenching it can be. And yet, son... You are built by this. You will be very fine, and very strong and very good in life, wherever it shall take you, and you will rise to the challenge of all that is in front of you. For from your youth, you learned this."

He smiles, casting his arms around Maitimo. Although this started as an investment in someone who would become great he thought, he was now really starting to like Maitimo. He enjoyed his company and found that the boy had a piece of his own heart, a remarkable quality in his own eyes. "I would know, son. And upon my word, do not misread, you would make a very good king. You would rule with a heart that is pure and glorious and regal. With no restraint, I would hand over my kingdom to you, when you reach maturity and if it were needed." He pauses. "I don't mean, son, that you must be king of this area. Mayhaps you shall go off and build your own empires, and your men shall swear allegiance to one who is very great." He lifts a single finger to point and touches Maitimo. "You."

"As for conflict, don't fear it. It will come and go, and you must only act as you would without it. Be genuine and unchanging. Be firm and steadfast, my son. And know, that for the now, I am here with you, and every step of this journey, I will hold your hand. Until of course, you have reached the time of walking alone, and then, you shall make a march worthy of remembrance."

~~

Fingon does not even stop to respond to Turgon, and only runs forward, flying down the steps and out of the fortress. Fingolfin follows him, praying quietly as he runs. "Ai, Iluvatar... Pray, do not let him do this..."

~~

Amrod glances up at the blade, seeing a small bit of metal still sticking out from the wall. If he can get to it, maybe he can finish this, and ensure that he has endured the same pain that Nelyo did on his account. So he leaps forward, moving so quickly that even though Feanoriel jumps after him, he is already too close. He pulls his arm under the blade, it scathing his skin and shredding a line down it as if it were a seam. He then screams, for the pain is too much to be quiet at, and he slips to the ground, still not regretting his choice.

~~

"Thank goodness he's alright..." She breathes a sigh of relief, hearing that he is with Finwe and not out running like a wild animal. "I was afraid that he would not be. He seemed very angry."

"Of course," She says, taking his hand and walking with him. "You are right."

"This is true," Maitimo says thoughtfully. "You may not have experienced the exact things as I have, but you have surely seen enough sorrows of your own that you can relate to the concept and understand deeply. And it seems as though you know what is helpful to say, and what is not. My family somehow seems to have the opposite talent, of figuring out the worst thing to say at any given moment," he adds with half a smile. "And on the reverse side... if I ever encounter someone going through great pain as I have, I know, for example, to have a calming presence around them and not bring up any grievances between us. That was what I needed, but my family did the opposite."

He listens, wide-eyed and in awe, as Finwë continues to cast a vision of what Maitimo might be like as king. He could be the ruler of empires, beyond the seas even, and do it effectively? People would follow him? The very thought of it seems impossible, like a distant and fantastical dream. "You truly think that?" he says, his voice hushed to a whisper. "I can't even imagine it... I can't even seem to make peace with my own brothers."

Embracing him once more, he says, "And I am grateful to have you by my side. You have helped me beyond what I can describe, Grandfather."

~~~

"Do what?" Turgon nervously asks Fingolfin. "Is there something he's planning?"

Being among the tallest of the Noldor, he picks up his running pace and begins to catch up to his brother.

~~~

Aredhel cries out and lunges after Amrod, but he's somehow too quick for her, and she gasps in horror as he commits his second gruesome deed. Has he truly gone insane? she thinks incredulously to herself. What is the matter with this boy? He's as mad at his brothers, yet his violence is not against Maitimo this time, but himself!

She tries to stay calm, helping Ancalirë wrap the cloth around his arm, and she adds a scrap torn from the hem of her own gown and tightens it tightly around his arm. Yet blood still manages to seep through all the layers.

"Let's get him out of here," she urges Ancalirë, and together they work to support Amrod, sort of pulling him along with them, and eventually they come to the group headed towards the garden, consisting of Indis, Maglor, Anairë and Argon.

"Help, he needs help!" she cries, but her lungs feel tight from the panic and she can barely get the words out.

~~~

"I have barely seen him react with anger to any of this-- only a few rare occasions. I suppose it had to come out sometime," Fëanor agrees, and eventually they arrive back inside.

But the scene that greets them is one of horror and terror as everyone is gathered around Ancalirë and Aredhel, who are supporting a bloodied Amrod.

"Mmmm... some people are like that, son. But perhaps you should remember, the glass... They most likely don't mean to do you harm. See, everyone has their perfect world. But it's only perfect until someone steps in, and the moment a new person is there, with their own motives and memories, their own fears and desires, the world is thrown into tumult. It's like a shore. Perfectly peaceful until the wave swoops up and splashes over, and everything is left differently than as it were."

"I don't just think it, son. Oh, I know it. You will be a great king. I have no shadow of a doubt upon that. Just, do me the favor of remembering your grandfather when the time comes for choosing armies. My own kingship will forever be willing to answer to your call, and I'd hate to see you win a war all alone... It would make you too weary." He winks, taking Maitimo's hand as they slowly leave the place where they were seated.

Embracing his grandson, he responds, "Of course, son. And as for gratitude, I am thankful for the chance to talk with a future king. That's no small honor." He smirks, fully embracing the idea of building up Maitimo's hopes and dreams. He wants this young Elda to feel unstoppable.

~~

Fingolfin sighs. "He spoke of leaving... He said you would make a finer ruler than he would."

And with that, he runs after both of his sons, slower than Turgon, but not so far behind.

~~

Amrod still struggles, but he's losing strength, and the wounds are taking the life he had used to fight at himself away. He gasps a breath, moving as quickly as they run with him.

~~

Nerdanel nearly screams, in fact she does let out some sound, her hand immediately covering her mouth. "What is going on?!"

"You speak the truth," Maitimo says. "Arda is marred, and all its inhabitants along with it. Everyone will harm someone else at some point... yet I seem to have endured a rather extreme case of it..."

He adds, "The honor is all mine, to learn from, I think, the greatest king the Noldor will ever have. I only hope your faith in me is not misplaced, and that should I ever rule, I will be content if I can do it half as well as you. And if I ever do rule, I hope it will be side by side, and not in your stead."

As they walk back towards the palace, his heart feels lighter than... perhaps since before all this started. Not that the pain of his brother's betrayal and the failures of the rest of his family no longer bring him sorrow; it will always be a scar on his heart. But now he has received something that not even Irmo had successfully imparted on him: hope, and something to look forward to, in the future. A reason to live not for the sake of pleasing others, but that would bring him joy of his own.

~~~

Turgon nods gravely, and, catching up with Fingon, grabs him by the arm. "Brother-- stop! What is the meaning of all this? Why are you acting like this?"

~~~

Fëanor's eyes widen in shock and concern at seeing his son in such a state. Seeing the way he struggles against Aredhel and Fëanoriel, he moves swiftly forward and helps him sit down, and places his hands firmly on his shoulders so that he can't move.

"Somebody fetch a healer," he says, his voice resonant and commanding, "and explain to me what happened, quickly!"

Aredhel glances at Ancalirë, but seeing how she seems shocked and stunned, begins to explain. "He had gone into the herb cellar to fetch healing herbs for Ancalirë, and he was gone a while, so we went looking for him and he... he had this dagger... he had done this to himself, it would seem... we took the dagger away from him, but he broke away from us and did it again!"

Fëanor falls into shocked silence, glancing first at Nerdanel, and then at Amrod. He had done this to himself? But that's so irrational; why would anyone do that?

"Is this true?" he says with both concern and severity to Amrod.

"Yes, Arda is marred. But do not mistake, my son... Our world is beautiful. One can easily fall into despair if they focus on all the negatives of our world. And indeed there are many, but still, please don't let that define your view. Peace and goodness are found in the hearts we see and love. We just must be ready to see it, with an open mind."

"You flatter me, son." He chuckles. "But I may yet not be the best. I see a spark of many qualities that I have worked very hard to gain and strengthen already in your heart at such a young age. You are years ahead of me, I would say. And of course, that means you may become a very great ruler, greater than even I, and yet... it never is, and it never was, a comparison. You shall be the perfect king, fion. Even if your rule is different than mine, in fact, I trust it will be."

Finwe can sense that the comparisons flows deep in this young Elf. He clearly has been looking at himself and wanting to 'live up to' the standards set by other rulers. Finwe now feels the need to instill in him a new message. To rule as himself, and not as a picture of another king.

~~

"Go back and be with father, Turgon." Findekano snaps. "I'll handle this," His eyes narrow. "alone."

~~

"To himself?!" Nerdanel's eyes widen with horror. What on earth would have driven him so far as to commit this deed of madness, against himself? Who could have possibly made this come about in his mind? A thought enters her head. Surely, not. And yet it feels so compelling. Was it, Maitimo? "Repeat that once more?" She stammers. "What all happened?"

Amrod shakes and trembles, panting. He hears the sternness in Feanor's voice, but doesn't want to respond. He feels his father will hate him if he knew, and he would think of him as weak and unworthy of respect or love. Besides, at the moment, he barely has the strength to respond.