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

Maitimo sighs a little. "I know you're right, but it's easier said than done. I used to see the world as a good and beautiful place. For example, I used to think it was ridiculous that my father is constantly armed, even in his own home. And now..." he smiles sadly and gestures to the sword sheathed at his hip. "I can't take the risk anymore. Surely there must be a proper balance in taking wise precautions, while not getting consumed in it?"

He falls into thoughtful silence, contemplating Finwë's words about comparison. He begins to realize that this is something he's been doing his whole life: comparing himself to somebody or another, whether it's Fëanor, his brothers, or the abstract, unattainable ideal of perfection that Fëanor has set before him.

"Sometimes it seems like everyone wants to make me into something of their own creation," he tells Finwë. "My mother, for example, doesn't seem to like how I've been so focused on training and arming myself, while my father and sister are the opposite, and for a while they seemed to think I was too innocent and trusting. I can't please them all, and it feels a great burden. But there are some rare individuals who don't seem to have any desire to change me-- Findekano was, and hopefully still is, one of them. You are another."

Even saying this out loud, though, causes a new thought to enter his head. Is he doing the same thing, trying to change his loved ones by laying these complaints against them? He doesn't think he is-- he is merely venting to Finwë, since he hasn't really had an opportunity to put words to his deepest sorrows ever since this all started. That's entirely different from if he were actually trying to manipulate his loved ones and try to change them into becoming something they aren't. After all, he always has understood their point of view, or the color of their glass, as Finwë might put it. He can't fault Nerdanel much for wanting him to remain innocent and sweet, or Ancalirë and Fëanor for wanting him protected. He's only felt frustrated at times when their approach to it has made him feel like he's failing to live up to some standard they've set.

~~~

"Handle what?" Turgon's strong grip on Findekano tightens. "Listen, why don't you stop, take a deep breath, and take two seconds to think? So, you've made a mistake. It happens to the best of us. We've all said rash things in bad situations before. You need to own up to your mistake and make it right, instead of digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole. I'll admit, we're angry right now, but we're still your family and we love you. We're trying to help you."

~~~

Fëanor's eyes narrow. Instinctively, his suspicion is directed at Aredhel, given how tense things are between them and the Nolofinwians right now. And he can't even begin to wrap his head around why somebody would so grievously hurt themselves on purpose. It must be a sign of complete madness, and Amrod seemed sane and level-headed enough before, especially with his new interest in the healing arts.

But at the same time, he has great faith in his daughter, and has even greater trust in her than he did before the trouble with the brothers started. He is strongly confident that his Fëanoriel would never lie to him. Not voluntarily, at least...

This brings a new, darker thought into his head. What if Aredhel not only did the deed, but also threatened Fëanoriel with more violence, against her or perhaps Amrod, or anyone else for that matter?

But if there is anything Fëanor has learned recently, it is not to make blind accusations before thoroughly examining the facts. Besides, Amrod seems in a bad state, and standing around here arguing will do him no favors.

Indis arrives at that moment with a healer, and without another word, Fëanor takes Amrod in his arms and carries him off to a room where he can be treated. "Nerdanel, Fëanoriel and Maglor, come with me," he says.

Maglor?

My heart shudders a little, for reasons I cannot quite tell. Yet I am not one to disobey him, and thus I follow him swiftly.

"Maitimo, seeing good in the world does not mean rejecting the idea of evil. I am not telling you to walk around unarmed, or to place yourself into ultimate vulnerability, son." He sighs. "What I mean is that you must be prepared for the worst but fixated on the best. See the good, defend against the evil. Plan, of course. Plan. But be ready to adapt, and be ready to see the best readily and strongly. The world does not need more focus on the bad, fion." He whispers. "It needs the good."

Finwe works hard here to not contradict Feanor. He knows that Feanor had wanted Maitimo armed, and he wants the same for his grandson. He tries hard to direct the conversation in a way that Maitimo does not deduce a need to be more relaxed and less cautious. Such point of view could lead to this bright young Elda's demise.

"Ah, mhm..." Finwe listens, his eyes always attentive to his grandson. "I think I understand... So you feel as though you are... how do I say, pressured. You feel as though everyone wants you to be something, and you don't fit any of those molds, and even if you did, you can only fit one. You feel like your family has laid an impossible burden on you, and that they expect things from you that are, positively unnatural and unattainable, yes?" He pauses. "If that's the case, I think your answer is, as I said before, character. Don't modify yourself. Have the confidence to know that whether they like you or not, you are in the right. You are strong, capable, daring, accomplished, brilliant, resourceful, kind, charismatic, alluring, inspiring.... I could go on and on. The point is, you aren't the thing that needs to change. If anything does, it's them."

He smiles. "However, I know your father, very, very well and I would guess he has a reason for placing this kind of great responsibility on his fully capable son." In Finwe's heart, although he will not tell the boy, he suspects that Feanor wants to make perfection seem unachievable to teach the young Elf that he must trust himself and instead of fitting other's expectations, he must work to better himself for himself. However, he would not dare expose the trickery to the young son, and would rather see him struggle and learn than be fed all the answers. It is better for him in the end.

~~

Findekano almost just slips away, but as Turgon tightens, he realizes it won't be that easy. "Brother, I have been thinking." He snaps. "That's the problem." But as Turgon openly names his words a mistake, he gets suddenly defensive. "A mistake?! Is that really all you think it is? So you don't understand either, hm? You still think our uncle should have all the kindness and mercy in the world, while we struggle to make peace and find ourselves helpless. And what does Feanaro do for us?!" He briefly pauses. "NOTHING!"

~~

Amrod, now barely even consciously aware, goes with the healers involuntarily.

Maglor follows after Feanoriel, a little shocked from what is going on. It's crazy. He doesn't like Amrod, but he never would have wanted this for his little brother. Not in a thousand ages. He would want safety, and if Aredhel and Feanoriel are truly telling the truth, he's at a loss for why on earth his brother would do something so rash and reckless.

Nerdanel follows eagerly beside Amrod, not catching a moment of silence or ease, her heart racing faster and faster for each worry on her mind. She leans over to Feanor, "What could have driven him to do such a thing?" She asks, still disbelieving. "Could it have been... Maitimo?"

A dark thought grows in her mind. It could have been Maitimo. How rash it was of him, truly, to lash out like that. He never does that, and apparently it was just too much for his young brother. She secretly intends to bring this up with him later.

Prepared for the worst, but fixated on the best.

These words resonate deeply with Maitimo, since they acknowledge the danger he likely will face for the rest of his life, but at the same time, point out that such experiences do not have to define his outlook on life.

"You are right," he says, smiling. "There is much beauty in the world still, both in the land itself and those who dwell in it. Violence and betrayal may always be things I worry about, but I suppose they are not all there is to life."

And again, Finwë's insights seem perfectly accurate, and he seems to describe the feelings of Maitimo's heart even better than he could himself. "Yes, that's it..." he admits, a sorrowful look coming to his eyes. "I've always felt not good enough for Father. I never seemed to be studying or training hard enough to please him-- or at least, that's what he led me to believe. Perhaps he was secretly pleased, but he rarely, if ever, let on about it. And even when I was grievously wounded, I felt like I still had to perform to please everyone... it felt like they all expected me to have the perfect balance of trust and caution, forgiveness and protection."

He blinks, moved by Finwë's long list of compliments. "Do you really believe all that?" he asks, somewhat incredulously, not used to receiving such a high level of praise.

~~~

Turgon's grip remains firm, but despair creeps into his heart as he begins to catch a glimpse of what is really in his brother's heart. Of course it is understandable that the actions of Fëanor have hurt him deeply; they have all been hurt by it. And yet his refusal to forgive and willingness to sacrifice the peace of the family for his own desire to hold a grudge indicates a selfishness of sorts.

"Of course he has done all those things, and it was wrong. No one is denying that," Turgon says. "But really, Findekano, did you think this visit was just so we could have a fun little dinner party with Grandfather? Do you not realize that Fëanaro came here with the express purpose of apologizing to us, so that we might have peace? Do you not regret at all that you've ruined that, and that our families may be bitterly fighting because of this?"

They're harsh words, and he hates to say them, but it's the truth, and someone must speak it.

~~~

Fëanor narrows his eyes as Nerdanel mentions Maitimo's part in all this. "What are you saying, my love? Was what Nelyo said really so bad that you think his words were enough to inspire Amrod to do this terrible deed? He admitted to me and Finwë that he had lashed out, and he seemed to regret it. What exactly did he say, then?"

Turning to his daughter, he listens to her words and nods in agreement. "You speak the truth, daughter. We must be careful not to accuse Nelyo of anything before we have all the facts."

I nod back.

"Yes, indeed. We cannot accuse anyone of anything before we know of the truth behind a situation. That is a universal maxim that one could abide by."

Finwe places a gentle hand on Maitimo's shoulder. "Of course, son... There is so much beauty and potential in the world. And if we did not know that, then what would we have to fight for? We defend not because of our ire at evil, but because of our love for good."

He can tell that Nelyo has seen a lot of pain and rejection. Clearly, Feanor may have taken it just a bit too far in teaching his son the meaning of honor and nobility. The poor Elda did not seem to feel like he was enough. "Not good enough?" Finwe questions, his eyes darting. "Yes, that's a painful thought indeed, is it not? But don't run from it, child. From what you've told me, fix your eyes on two things." He raises a single finger. "Firstly, character. Do not modify yourself, do not try to change yourself in any way. Do not attempt to make yourself more remarkable or less so, or more agreeable or less so, and do not fit into the mold of someone's expectation solely to that end." He lifts a second finger. "Secondly, you must learn to give in totality. When you study, or you train, or you fight, or you listen, or you learn, or you speak, give all. Don't hold back your efforts, don't hold yourself to a higher level. Don't compete with another man, or another leader, or a figment of perfection."

He smiles. "If you must compare, try weighing yourself against your last performance. How did you do then? Was it better or worse? Build yourself up, instead of tearing yourself down. In short, be exactly who you are and nothing else, give everything of that 'who you are' freely, and do it for no one else but for yourself and out of good for bettering and improving your own character."

He held out his hands. "I'm afraid that's all I have for you, son... But know this, with your courage, your enthusiasm, thrill, excitement, commitment, talent, perseverance, honesty, charismatic nature, peacefulness, skill, brilliance, eloquence, on and on and on... You can accomplish anything and everything. You do not need to be afraid of conflict or any other thing."

~~

Findekano feels his chest tighten, a lump forming in his throat. Is this all true? Surely, Feanor isn't even sorry, right? It was just a fake out, to make their family trust him again. He thinks of Maitimo, and how much he hurt him by reacting the way he did, and the pain is just too much to bear. Have I failed? Have I ruined everything?

He sighs, facing Turgon. "You need to get out of here, now." His voice is tense. "Leave." And again, "LEAVE!"

~~

Nerdanel takes Feanor's hand, not wanting to provoke anything. "I don't think he did it on purpose, love." She whispers. "But he said some very harsh things to Amrod, and after everything that happened today..." She sighs, trying desperately to convince herself that Amrod is not truly this insane and lost and they were just oblivious to it. "I guess maybe he, uh... he thought that was the best choice."

Amrod sits up in the bed a little, not moving his arms. "Why are you--" He pauses, realizing he is being cared for. "Why are you caring for me? Nelyo wasn't cared for! I-- Father, what are you doing?!" He sighs, falling backwards into the soft surface behind him.

"It is our moral duty to care for you, and we will not forsake that." I answer in stern and firm tones, in response to Amrod's inquiry.

Maitimo nods and listens closely. Finwë is giving practical and specific advice-- for example, the part about comparing himself not to others but to his own previous performances is something he will readily keep in mind.

And his confidence is slowly beginning to climb. His first instinct, borne of paranoia and suspicion, immediately suspects that Finwë is insincere in his praise or trying to flatter him for whatever reason. But as soon as the thought enters his head, he rejects it swiftly, not because he thinks so highly of himself but because he thinks highly of Finwë. He is one of the wisest among all the Eldar, and honest; it wouldn't be fair for Maitimo to think him a liar, or lacking in judgment.

He really thinks I'm capable, Maitimo thinks to himself, almost shocked. He has no ulterior motive for saying such things, none that I'm aware of anyway... and I trust his judgment.

His heart overflowing with joy and warmth, he gives Finwë one more embrace, clinging to him tightly. "Thank you, Grandfather... I am indebted to you beyond what I can describe. Nobody has given me such comforting and wise words as you have, and I will treasure them and ponder on them, and do my best to act on your advice."

They then arrive inside the palace. Maitimo's dread of the whole situation resurfaces, but he takes a few deep breaths and remembers what Finwë said about not needing to dread conflict. He plans on apologizing for making a scene the way he did-- even though others made far worse of a scene than he did-- but as Finwë said, he needs to do what is right and not think about everyone else so much.

But he doesn't even get the chance to do so, because Aredhel, who has been lingering in the halls and hoping for news of either her brother or Amrod, sees them and hurries up to them. Her face is pale and grieved, and Maitimo immediately senses something is wrong, very wrong, far worse than the conflict with Findekano.

"Maitimo, Grandfather-- thank goodness you're back," she says breathlessly. "It's... it's Amrod..."

"What happened?" Maitimo asks, his gaze darkening in concern.

"He hurt himself, badly-- cut himself with a blade-- Ancalirë and I were there when he did it--" She shakes her head, her breath feeling caught in her throat.

"He what?" Maitimo's eyes widen in horror and his face goes pale, and he glances over at Finwë. "Why... why would he do such a thing?"

Aredhel shakes her head helplessly. She doesn't fully understand why; she remembers him making a few incoherent remarks about Maitimo, but she doesn't understand the meaning behind it, and doesn't want to burden Maitimo with the knowledge that he could be in any way connected to this.

"They're down the hall with a healer now," she says.

~~~

"No! We can't, and we won't!" Turgon exclaims, his grip remaining firm on Fingon despite his struggles. He glances over at Fingolfin for help.

~~~

Fëanor falls into a confused and dismayed silence. None of this at all makes sense to him. What could Nelyo have possibly said that would make Amrod cutting himself with a blade an understandable reaction? Maitimo, after all, had endured horrible hatred and abuse from his brothers and never reacted like this.

His confusion increases with Amrod's next words. "What are you talking about? Of course Nelyo was cared for."

He sits a little closer beside Amrod, gazing at him with both dismay and concern, and his voice softens a little as he asks, "Did you really do this to yourself, Amrod? And why?"

At Aredhel's words, Finwe finds himself troubled. Hurt himself? "Why? When did this happen?" Among the Eldar, when has that ever happened before? He can't recall it. His mind starts to reel, a little, with care and worry. Until he remembers Maitimo. He must be strong for the young boy.

He places a gentle hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Come, son... We should see what all has come about." And with that, he gently takes Maitimo's hand and walks with him, following Aredhel down the hallway and into a room with the healers.

~~

Fingon looks his brother intently in the eyes, both compassion and anger unhinged. Part of him wants to follow his brother, to just go back. To repent, in words and not in heart and to forgive likewise. But somehow, he can't bring himself to do it. He'd always been genuine. He couldn't hide his heart, he couldn't stop his words, he couldn't suppress his feelings. He was passionate, both for goodness and for empathy, in anger and in gladness, in hope and in fear. It wasn't a bad trait, but right now it felt like it was.

Still, he couldn't forgive in just words. If he said those words, "All is forgiven." Then he would need to mean them. And, he didn't. Feanor had done many painful things to his family. Even before all of this conflict, which tore his heart apart, Feanor had always made those hushed insults and disconnections. To call Fingolfin 'half-brother' and to shoot dull glares, abusing the love which Nolofinwe openly offered, and refusing it with such disgust. Such could not be forgiven. And he wasn't about to fake it, either.

He faced Turgon, his eyes tense and red. "Leave me alone." He mutters. "If I return to you, I will only ashame and disappoint father the more. Nothing I will say will please him. That I know."

~~

Amrod breathes heavily, fear intensifying in him as he is questioned by Feanor. Father was always frightening. He always had a certain presence about him that to be on the wrong side of his anger was downright terrifying. Much as father might be disappointed in him, he looks down, not facing Feanor, but speaking. "Yes..." He mutters. "Yes, I did. But please don't be angered at me father, at least for this... I deserved it. I merited every bit of it, this I know..."

Maitimo's heart races and he is filled with dread in anticipation of what they will see. At first, his mind is completely blank as to why Amrod might have done this to himself; it makes no sense at all.

But then a horrible thought hits him. Revenge. It's self-inflicted revenge.

He had thought he and Amrod had moved past the way he aided Amras in the first attack, but what if Amrod still carried deep and unspoken guilt over it, and then the way Maitimo had snapped at him earlier pushed him over the edge?

So this... is my fault...

He doesn't voice these thoughts to Finwë. Aredhel leads them to the room, but doesn't go in, knowing it may cause more tension if she does. And so, Maitimo and Finwë quietly enter.

Fëanor is in the middle of questioning Amrod further, asking him, "But why? Were you that upset over what Nelyo said?"

He turns to face Finwë and Maitimo, and is greatly relieved to see his father, especially. "Ah, good, I'm glad you two are back."

Maitimo barely hears this, gazing with numb despair of the form of Amrod with his bandaged arms, and the question of Fëanor confirming what he had feared. A complex blend of emotions stirs up in his heart. On one hand, his heart goes out with compassion and sympathy to Amrod, and he yearns to comfort him, knowing all too well what it's like to be in that situation. And on the other hand the guilt over his most recent words to Amrod consumes him.

And yet at the same time, anger lurks in the back of his mind too. Amrod having done this doesn't just affect him, after all; it is adding stress to a night that has already gone horribly wrong, and it almost seems like a grab for attention. Maitimo can't help but resent that, since he had no choice over the way his brothers had wounded him those three times, and if he'd had a choice, he would have chosen for it not to happen. That Amrod would choose injury and pain for himself, whatever his reasons might be, is just... infuriating. Unjust and unnecessary. Maitimo has been working so hard to overcome his own suffering; why would someone else bring suffering on themselves, especially on his account?

His stare is anguished and he is at a loss for words.

~~~

"If you return? No-- you're not leaving!" Turgon cries. "O, brother, how has your heart fallen away from us so swiftly? Would you really choose your anger over us?"

Amrod sees Nelyo, and doesn't want to cause any more disruption. He's done enough harm, clearly, to everyone but himself. With Nelyo here, he's even more wary, and side steps his words, trying to make sure he says what is appropriate and right. He can't set things off again. He needs to spare his remarks. At least for right now. "No, you don't understand." He says, feeling immediate guilt for saying that Feanor didn't understand. So, he tries to explain. "I'm not angry at him. He's not the one who shed innocent blood! He didn't do anything wrong! Why would I be angry at him when the only one at fault was me?"

Nerdanel sighs, coming beside Maitimo, whispering under her breath. "Love... what came over you?" Her voice is soft, but she does truly want to know the answer to that question. She feels so lost with this new understanding, and what Amrod did does not seem to have any direct justification. Why on earth would he do such a thing? Did he feel like this all along and they were simply negligent? No. Impossible. It must have been recent, and the last person Amrod spoke to, as far as she knew, was Maitimo. "You never lash out like that." She whispers to Maitimo. "What gives?"

Finwe steps cautiously beside Amrod, very much saddened to see the sight of a grandson of his laying in bed with such wounds. "I'm sorry, child." He whispers, a gentle and sympathetic gaze ensuing. "You have so much life to live for. Please, live it with joy." He doesn't know the full situation, so it feels wrong to give any either condemning or harsh words, and even words of wisdom to Amrod feeling self-destructive, feels out of place. A well-placed, loving, and kind remark seems far more appropriate.

He also turns to Feanor, a mutual smile shared. "It's good to see you, Curufinwe."

~~~

"Precisely the opposite." Counters Fingon. "It is because of my care for you that I am willing to put my emotions aside. The only problem is, I know that I cannot separate myself from them. So, I will separate myself from you. To protect you, and to kill this tension which my presence seems to have brought."

There's no way Turgon can deny it, surely. Fingon did indeed cause conflict among the family, and there was banter between him and his father since before the dinner with Finwe was even conceived of. Clearly, he's been the disturber of the peace. That so treasured peace which Nolofinwe would do nothing less than die for, it seems. It's a tough place to be. Either he betrays his own conscience or betrays his family. Neither of those things seem within reason for him. He has to leave. It's the only way to clear his head, and let the conflict settle.

Amrod looks down, the words of his sister hitting him like rain on the edge of a trellis. Her words are comforting. Too comforting. They can't be the truth. He already knows the truth. He's guilty. He's unworthy. He'll never be forgiven. That's the truth. He can't fall to the kind comments that she is making of him.

"I-I'll never be forgiven." He mutters. "It just isn't that way. Not with me. It's impossible. And even if the impossible became possible, and you all forgave me readily," He looks around the room. "It-it still wouldn't matter. I still wouldn't be forgiven. You would have to be lying- or-or--" He falls silent. Of course, there is one person who will never forgive him, no matter what. No matter how hard he tries, the voice will never be silenced. That is himself. The guilt he carries is crushing, and in his heart, he would feel that not even if he were hanged on Nelyo's account or thrust into the sea and drowned would this debt be paid, and would he be free of condemnation, and free of guilt.

"It's not easy like you say it is. And I'm not beautiful. There's nothing- there's nothing beautiful about me." He tries to keep his voice quiet, now feeling like a bother to everyone in the room and wishing they had just left him there in the cellar. Or better yet, imprisoned him with the others. In his mind, that was where he belonged. He didn't deserve freedom. He didn't deserve love or affection. And since that was the case, he was enjoying more than he merited. It would be as if a criminal was granted to keep what they stole and take more. He was a thief, a traitor, an attacker, and he was being treated like a prince. And that, that fact made him restless and numb.

Amrod looks down, hearing her words. She's right. He's not who he was. He used to run freely, laughing and playing in the fields, swinging from the arms of his eldest brother. The same arms that he cut and tore for his own pride and amusement. She was right. But he'd never be the same again. How could he be? Now, he was a criminal. A traitor. An attacker. A violent and murderous Elf, who had no place among the good and just anymore. He'd never be forgiven. But more, he'd never forgive himself. Till the day he faded from this world, he would beat his breast and forevermore he would loathe his own choices, his own existence, his own self. For his life, a pure gift that he had been granted, he squandered and used unrightly. And for that, he deserved all the anger and sadness and bitterness that he felt would color his days.

"I cannot forget it." He finally says, his heart racing. "I cannot escape it. For it defines me. I am what I have done. And I deserve only pain." Just as he says this, Ancalire grips his shoulders, causing some discomfort to him, and inside, he faintly smiles. Finally, some pain and not comfort. Finally, some hatred and not love. Finally, someone to deal justice on him instead of mercy. He doesn't want mercy. He doesn't want comfort and luxury. He wants what he deserves. And what he deserves is only bitter pain and agony.

Amrod shrinks back, seeing her pull the blade, his eyes widening. She can't be serious, can she? He doesn't know, but he's determined to stop her.
"No-!" He leaps forwards in the bed, though still laying down. "You're innocent-- don't-- DON'T!" He covers his eyes, clenching them shut. "Please, sister-- don't do it.."

Nerdanel jumps forward, leaving Maitimo for a second. "Feanorie! Have you gone mad as well?" Her eyes widen, and she comes close to her daughter, whispering in Feanoriel's ear. "You've gone too far, love." Her voice has a stern and warning edge.

Amrod shakes, unsure what to say to stop her, but knowing that he needs to. Again, he feels guilty. 'She wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for me.' He says to himself. 'It's not enough that I've hurt Nelyo. I'm hurting everyone else too.' It kills him inside to think of that, that he is the cause for all of this, and that he is ruining everything by just being there. He whispers, "Please, don't do it..." And with that, he falls back into the bed, shuddering from behind the covers, his damp fists curled around the sheets.

Nerdanel leaps forward, snatching the pendant out of Feanoriel's hand and laying the sword away. "What has gotten into you, young lady?" She speaks sternly. She then turns to Feanor. "Are you seeing this? Are you seeing our daughter?" She grabs the hand of her daughter in one hand, and in the other she holds the pendant to her chest. "Lovely, don't do anything foolish."