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

Maitimo tilts his head slightly in concern. "Come now, you and I both know that's not true," he says gently. "I understand if you don't want to tell me, but you can if you need to get it off your chest."

He's growing weary of carrying everyone's burdens, but he can't let Amrod suffer in silence and be forced to bottle up whatever it is that's bothering him so much.

Fëanor nods, almost relieved that Finwë sees this similarly and doesn't seem to judge him for understanding one of these conflicts, but not the other. "Both the twins have always had a strong sense of justice," he says thoughtfully. "Perhaps Amrod even more so, since he was the first, and only, of the brothers to repent, for he was involved in the first attack against Nelyo. I didn't believe it at first, I regret to say... I didn't even believe Amrod when he wept before Nienna. I thought Nelyo had threatened him somehow. And I haven't given the whole matter much thought since then, since we... we nearly lost Nelyo in the final attack, and Amrod was not involved in that."

His voice trails off. Thinking through all this causes him to finally make the connection: Amrod's strong sense of justice, his repentance, his irrational remarks about how Nelyo wasn't cared for... He must have done this out of guilt. Fëanor's eyes widen as he comes to this realization.

Glancing over at the two of them talking, he sees the tears in Amrod's eyes, and immediately decides it's unwise for the two of them to be talking. He doesn't blame Nelyo for what Amrod did, since Amrod is fully responsible for his own actions, but clearly there is much more angst between these two than Fëanor has realized.

"The two of them should not spend too much time together. It could make all this worse until I more truly understand what is going on," Fëanor says softly to Finwë, his eyes wide with realization. Then he comes closer to his sons and speaks sternly to Maitimo. "Nelyo, I think it is time for you to leave."

Maitimo blinks in stunned confusion. "But... why? What did I do?"

"Do not question me; just get out. Go find your mother and sister."

Maitimo stares at him, shocked, for a long moment. Then he turns a pitiful, almost apologetic glance at Amrod, and glances helplessly at Finwë, too shocked for words. Why is Fëanor doing this all of a sudden? Does he think all this is Maitimo's fault now?

Seeing as how there's no way around a direct command from his father, he flees from the room, his sorrow and weariness in heart starting to turn into a deep despair in fëa.

~~~

Aredhel's face pales with horror. She can't believe she's hearing this out of her father, who is normally so patient and gentle... it doesn't take a genius to infer what happened. She can admit that Findekano acted poorly in front of the Fëanorians, but does he really deserve to be struck like that? And his eyes seem to blaze with a rage he is struggling to contain, and she glances at him with sorrow and sympathy.

Not wanting to involve herself in whatever is going on here, she realizes they must all be aware of the situation with Amrod, and tells them, "Something terrible has happened. Amrod greatly wounded himself with a blade; Ancalirë and I saw it, and could not act in time to stop it. He and his family are with a healer now."

Amrod falls back into his bed, a little disheartened to have Maitimo taken away. It was the one brother he had that he could talk to, besides of course for Maglor, who was fully occupied staring at the wall and mouthing lyrics in the corner. He turns to Feanor, wanting to be respectful, but not wanting to mess anything up. "Father," He mutters weakly. "Why'd you make him go away? Now he might never understand that I meant well, and I wasn't trying to keep things from him." But as he says those words aloud, a new thought enters his mind. What if Maitimo is getting close so that he can have revenge? It seems only right. It's not like he has had much of a chance since the accident where he lost much mobility in his arm. Maybe Maitimo is now plotting, looking for a chance to make Amrod pay. If that's the case, Amrod agrees with him. It's probably best that way. For while he has nearly accepted forgiveness from Maitimo, he cannot forgive himself, and still holds himself guilty on all accounts. In fact, he would probably strike himself again, if he knew he could do it without hurting or stressing Maitimo.

Finwe lays a gentle hand on Feanor's arm. "Always the one to take action you are..." He mutters, a bit of warmth and mirth to his voice. After all, Feanor did not seem to express much of anything. Although, he knew that was his way. He would ask for help when he really just wanted a spark to ignite his mind, and a lead that would take him as far as the answer. "Still, I trust you have made the right choice. For seldom do you and will you ever need my words. You have my heart."

~~

Nerdanel sighs. "Aye love, believe me when I say that I share your pain. Distress is such a hard thing, and on the brink of peace, to lose it so.... It is very sad. Very sad indeed..." She goes on, "But make no mistake, 'twas not our fault this time at least, and in time, I pray everything will be brought together. I grieve for Amrod's choices, and Findekano's choices... And everyone else who partook in the destruction of a perfect evening. But I cannot count them all too guilty, for I have done my share of troubles as well. And I would wish to be welcomed with mercy, not justice."

She looks to her daughter, taking her hands.

"When I was young, my father would always tell me, 'Nerdanel, you are so stressed about things that are meant to happen.' He would take me onto his lap, and I grant you very rarely, but still. And he would whisper to me, 'See the stone? Once one cut is made, one chisel, it cannot be undone. And it may sadden us, for a moment. But we must move on. For if left, that one strike may become a scar and a flaw unkindly seen, but if we are to go on, it may be the beginning of a new creation.'
I would always treasure that, I suppose. And it is a good reminder. Everything happens for a reason. And what we do with it, it shapes what we will become."

~~

Fingolfin's eyes widen upon hearing this. "Who? Who did this? What a terrible deed against oneself... I am glad he is being cared for, but this must go on no further... For the now, all the blades should be hidden away, and the armory locked... This, this is serious..."

Findekano doesn't know what to say. Normally, he would have more pity. But right now, he's furious. Being dragged around like this, and in the House of his grandfather, nonetheless. It's humiliating. And he knows he'll have to give the apology, in front of everyone, and probably tolerate rude remarks for the rest of the evening, if not the entire rest of the visit. He's definitely not looking forward to it.

And inside, as much as he doesn't want to be, he's almost mad at Maitimo. After all, who messed this all up in the first place? No, he's not pinning the blame of Amrod getting in trouble, or Maitimo getting shot. It wasn't his fault. But Maitimo was the one to start the distrust between him and his father. Fingolfin and he used to get along relatively well. They had disagreements, and Fingolfin was a harsh and just judge, but it always met in the middle. Until, for Maitimo's sake, he was forced to lie, he was forced to put his own House in danger, and he was forced to make choices that he never wanted to make. He knows that his relationship with Fingolfin is not Maitimo's responsibility, but still. Why did doubt have to enter his father's mind about his honesty? And now, his father treated him like this bad, rebellious child who needed the harshest disciplines and punishments, even when he has never willingly done anything of ill will, and never would choose evil over goodness.

Nerdanel nods, her face creasing to a smile, rich with radiance and love. "That's right, my love... A very fast learner you are, but of course, I already knew that." She chuckles. "Ah, what a blessed mother I must be, to see my children learn and watch the silent workings of their hearts... What privileges... What grace."

My smile brightens in response.

"And what grace it is to be blessed with such a beautiful mother that pours the love of her heart out so deeply, so fondly, and heals the hurts of her children in her most loving and tender ways. Nin hantalya, Ammë."

I wrap my arms around her in a firm but gentle embrace.

Fëanor smiles slightly at Finwë, his gaze softening, heartened by his encouraging words. "Thank you, Father, but give yourself more credit than that. It was you who led me down the path of thinking that helped me realize the truth."

Coming closer to Amrod's bedside and kneeling beside him, Fëanor speaks in gentle yet firm tones. "I sent him away because I realized there must be more weight and trouble between you two than I was aware of. I think it wise that you should be separated for a little while. It was your guilt that led you to do this, was it not?"

~~~

Aredhel nods in agreement. "Perhaps we should find Indis and let her know to do this, since I believe Finwë is with them now. I'm afraid, Father... I'm only glad you were not there to see how brutally he slit his arm. It is madness. I hate to use such a word, but that's the only fitting thing to describe it."

~~~

Maitimo runs blindly down the halls, though his gait quickly turns to stumbling and staggering. These shocks and sorrows have rained down tonight in a torrent too severe for his heart to bear, especially since he hadn't even arrived here in the greatest mental state in the first place; his fëa hadn't even been close to fully healed after the betrayal of the brothers. And now he has to contend with the fact that his friendship with Findekano may be broken, Amrod wounded himself because of him, and now, worst of all, Fëanor seems to think it's his fault. Besides, he now fears that Amrod and the rest of the brothers have some legitimate reason to hate him, that he made them feel unloved.

The advice and encouragement from Finwë earlier is distant from his mind and feels faint and distant relative to all this gnawing guilt and grief.

Some king I would be if I cannot even make my brothers feel loved, and if I am the cause of one of their destruction... perhaps all of theirs...

Most of his brothers are languishing in prison now. Not that they don't deserve that, but if Maitimo brought all this on himself by not loving his brothers enough and inspiring their hatred, is it not he who put them there? If he had only been a better brother, perhaps none of this would have happened.

And it's an endlessly destructive chain of events. Indeed, if the conflict between him and his brothers had never started, neither would have the conflict between these two Houses. Father would have never drawn a sword on Fingolfin. Fingon would have never been framed for treachery or persecuted by Nerdanel. There would have been no need for apologies between these two Houses, and Maitimo and Findekano would likely still have their happy and innocent friendship, and Amrod would have never wounded himself.

All this because Maitimo had failed to be the brother he ought to have been. These countless disasters are entirely his own fault.

Eventually, he finds himself needing to stop and lean against the wall just to stay standing; he feels limp and almost dizzy all of a sudden, his fëa weakened with these thoughts.

And he has no idea where he is. He had been blindly running down these halls and not minding where he was going.

Perhaps it would be better if...

Voices startle him out of his thoughts, and he glances up to see none other than Fingolfin, Fingon, Turgon and Aredhel. Immediately, his heart sinks with dread. He isn't at all prepared to interact with any of them, and they all look to be under varying degrees of stress and anger.

And it's too late to turn back and pretend he never saw them. Fingolfin has seen him and is looking him right in the eye.

Nerdanel laughs softly, the sweet embrace of her daughter feeling so innocent and peaceful, and reminding her of when Feanorie was nothing more than a small child. "You've come so far..." She whispers. "So, so far... And you are such a beautiful young maiden now, a glorious example of pride and passion..."

~~

Finwe nods. "Perhaps, and yet as a father, my quest is nothing more than to prepare you to leave me. For no son can grovel in the footsteps of his father, or turn for counsel all his life. He must rise to the challenge, and be his own warrior, his own king, live his own life..." He smiles. "I take nothing but pride and immense joy that you have reached such a time, where you no longer need me as you once did, and yet I shall always stand fast, guarding your heart through my presence and care."

Amrod trembles a little at this. Those are strong words, and it seems like father has put the pieces together. He wants to cry hearing the word guilt. It's like a spear to the heart, killing any belief that he had done right, and warding off any feeling of acceptance and love. "Y-yes..." He mutters finally. "Guilt, and bitter hatred... Not against Maitimo... But against-" He stops short, but he is sure that Feanor would deduce with ease what his next words would have been.

~~

Fingolfin does not say a word for a moment, but his eyes remain fixed on Maitimo, wondering why on earth this young Elda was running around, and why especially that he would barge into a conversation that truthfully had nothing to do with him. It wasn't like the quiet Elf he was, and yet, who was acting like they usually did?

"And you are here because...?"

He's not sure what Maitimo would be doing here. After all, he should be with his brother, right? If something went wrong, Fingolfin ought to tell him so. He looks to Aredhel, nodding slowly.

"You should tell him..."

Fingon interrupts. "Tell him what?"

"About his brother."

"Wouldn't he know?"

"If he knew, wouldn't he be with him?"

Fingon stays silent at that, but as he glances at Maitimo, seemingly full of distress, a feeling jumps out of his heart. No, I didn't mean that. Fine. It's not his fault. It's mine.

"And so have you," I murmur softly. " A beacon of hope and light in the darkest of times...always one to rely on."

"My desire is the same for my own children-- that they should not need me so much as they grow older," says Fëanor to Finwë. "And while it is true that I do not need you in the same way I did when I was young, your wisdom still guides me."

He smiles at his father before turning to Amrod.

And his expression turns grave, reading the great distress of Amrod. He finds himself at a loss for words. He can't relate to this particular type of torment his son is experiencing, and he doesn't share the skill which both Finwë and Nerdanel possess, which is to talk through the feelings of the heart. Fëanor can reason through a problem, determine what needs to be done about it, and give commands. But this is not that sort of situation at all; he can't command Amrod to put away these feelings of self-hatred. And he doesn't know how to talk him out of it.

So he changes the subject to something he understands better, something that may resonate with Amrod: justice.

"I see..." he says slowly. "You sought to punish yourself in some way, did you not? Since your brothers are in prison, and you are not, did you perhaps think that the mercy and forgiveness you received was unjust?"

~~~

"Forgive me," Maitimo stammers, his eyes widening as he reads the unfriendly tone of voice and questioning stare of Fingolfin. "I did not mean to intrude on you. I think I'm somewhat lost in these halls... I was looking for my mother and sister... I think..."

His heart sinks. His words must sound like a feeble excuse at best, or suspicious at worst. Yet it's the truth. He was supposed to be looking for Nerdanel and Ancalirë, though he entirely forgot about it in the midst of his despair. And that same despair put him into such a deep daze that he truly did lose his sense of direction.

Aredhel glances at him in concern, and says quietly to Fingolfin, "I did tell him earlier, Father. Him and Finwë, when they returned earlier."

She has no idea why Maitimo is no longer with Amrod, but she can see he looks deeply distressed, and wonders what could have happened that would have pulled him away.

But Fingon makes his remark before she can ask about it, and Maitimo visibly flinches at his words.

"I was with him," he says bitterly. "Before Father sent me away... Forgive me; I should not be here."

He turns to leave, but Turgon interrupts: "Maitimo, what happened? Are you all right?"

What a strange situation this is; normally, it would be Fingon jumping to Maitimo's aid, filled with concern for him. But Fingon clearly has much to grapple with and hasn't really been behaving like himself this whole evening. So, despite the tension, Turgon feels somebody should make sure Maitimo is all right. They are still cousins, after all, and Turgon, like Aredhel, has no desire to make enemies out of the Fëanorians. And Turgon is well aware what despair nearly did to Maitimo not long ago.

Finwe nods. "Indeed. And yet as your father I can say in all truth that both you and your brothers have far surpassed my hopes and aspirations, and have even greater wisdom than myself, and will go on to do many great and immeasurable deeds."

Amrod loses it a little as his father mentions the other brothers, and tears streak his face. "It really- I mean it really wasn't just. To throw them in the prison to rot, because they went farther and more elaborate in their plot. In truth-I-I did the same thing. Just with less to it. But who, who even measures that? Death is death, whether by the sword or the darkling plot of an arrow and poison. If Nelyo had..." He stammers. "Well if he had..." He does not want to say it. "If he had, if they had been successful, or we had, who would care how it happened... Much further, all that would matter is, well, is that it did happen."

He thinks about Amras, Caranthir, Celegorm, Curufin. He imagines them, like an image playing back in his mind, each one shackled to the floor, unable to move, while he ran free. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He ought to be chained with them, or worse. He certainly didn't deserve any of this. He deserved a worse fate than the others, or the same at least.

"So I did punish myself... Of course, I did. I-I needed to. You may never understand..." He clarifies. "Not because you are dumb, read me not wrong, I mean no offense. I only say that I-- you are good. I am not. That's the difference."

~~~

Fingolfin's tenseness fades, and he smiles, as would a father upon seeing a lost son return. "Are you alright, child? You look scared, you seem scared... Come close. Trust us. We will not hurt you." He thinks back to the last interaction with the Feanorians and immediately feels the need to apologize. "I am sorry, young Maitimo. We meant not any harm to your family." His eyes narrow with a dark glare at Fingon, voice stern. "The actions of my son do not reflect our House's feelings towards you, I assure that."

Findekano breaks inside, seeing Turgon come to Maitimo's aid, and all the distress he's caused facing him. So much so that he wishes he could be blind to all of it, blissfully unaware of everything, for it hurts his heart so much to know that he is guilty. The eyes of his father upon him feel like fire, every stare, every glance, burning guilt into his heart, already aching with anger and sorrow and brimming with emotion and words repeating like a chant in his head. So loud.

All. My. Fault.

~~~

Nerdanel loops an arm around Feanoriel, tugging her close.

"You have been the same for me, love... and so much more."

"I don't know if I would say that, Father," Fëanor says with a hint of mirth in his eyes. "But I have learned well from your teachings, and I thank you for that."

And the words of Amrod cause him to fall silent for a while, his eyes grave as he contemplates all this. Was it unfair of him to imprison the others and not him? In the chaos of that dreadful day, both he and Nerdanel had been so focused on catching the four in the action that they had overlooked Amrod entirely, and seen him as harmless because he was not involved. But he was involved the first time; there's no denying that, and he was indeed never properly punished for it.

But some confidence in his decision returns to him. "Amrod," he says, "the others are not necessarily to be imprisoned forever. They must prove their sincere repentance, and they have not done such in a satisfactory manner, whereas you have. And mind you, it was your repentance to Nelyo that day when we fought by the Two Trees, and the way you remained uninvolved with the other attacks, that proved this. Not this violence against yourself."

He adds, "Besides, answer me this question. Whose right is it to administer justice within my household? Yours, or mine?"

Amrod is a logical and analytical one, so Fëanor hopes this question will cause Amrod to arrive at the answer on his own by reasoning through it.

~~~

Maitimo gazes at Fingolfin and his children for a long moment, his eyes full of a conflicting mixture of emotions. Longing and suspicion, terror and numbness, but most of all grief and great weariness. The softened words of Nolofinwë stir Maitimo's heart and causes him to yearn to be fully open with them, as he once had been. Not that he doesn't trust them, but because he doesn't trust the situation itself. After all the sensitive and volatile tempers flying tonight, Maitimo fears that one wrong word from him could set everything off again.

And especially looking more closely at Findekano-- something's wrong, very wrong, with him. Not only is there a significant red mark on his face, but there's something deeper in his eyes that fills Maitimo with a sickening dread. He can't explain what he's sensing or why, but whatever it is, it's not good. Maitimo wishes he could just ask Findekano what was going on, but he gets the feeling that he shouldn't.

Glancing down, he realizes his hands are trembling slightly. He only hopes he can continue to remain standing.

Despite his reservations, he decides he'll tell the Nolofinwians a little, and see how they react.

"So you heard about what happened to Amrod," he says, trying so hard to suppress his emotions that his voice comes out numb and flat. "He did that because of me, because he was guilty over our fight, and I can only guess that's why Father told me to get out."

And before he can stop himself, more words tumble out: "Apparently Amrod feels that I never loved him. The other brothers must have felt the same way, so this must be why they tried to kill me."

Finwe smiles a little. "Trust me. I should forever be gladdened in heart by what you have become, or moreover, what you have developed into. For you have not truly changed. You are true to yourself as ever you were."

Amrod sighs. I mean, yes. He cannot deny that Feanor will not have the other brothers imprisoned forever. But still, he feels he should be right there among them, enduring whatever pains and loneliness they do, and under the very same shackles that have held them captive. He deserves nothing less, after all. He did the same as they. He made the same mistake. But the part of repentance does make him think a little. He had repented. Still, was repentance really enough? He didn't think so. To him, this had all seemed like an injustice, and still did. Until Feanor made his final point.

Whose right is it? Yours, or mine?

His immediate thought is Feanor. Obviously, it is in his household, and the brothers were never the ones to reprimand themselves or stop themselves from doing ill deeds. It was always their father who conditioned them, who loved them and disciplined them. But on the other hand, if Amrod needed to be punished, and his father wouldn't do it, what other option was there?

He stammers a little. "You, I would guess. And yet, you, and forgive me, but you-you didn't do it. You didn't carry out justice on me. I couldn't let myself run free unjustly. I had to- well, I had to punish myself. Since, you-you didn't do your task." The words seemed to sound blunt, but they always did in his head, and he figured any clarification would make it worse. Best to leave it. So, he does just that, watching eagerly to gauge his father's response.

~~~

Fingolfin takes a step forward towards Maitimo, afraid for him. The young Elda looks frightened, a sad state indeed, but an expected one after all that had taken place, for which he still blames Findekano completely. Still, there seems to be a deeper aching here than just a feeling of unrest or anger. And after hearing Maitimo's words, he thinks that all of this stress must be wearing through the young Elda's mind.

"Maitimo," he says quietly after listening, not wanting to scare him any further, or say anything that would spark a negative response. "I think you may be jumping a bit ahead of yourself... The conclusions you have made are far-stretches. And I find it very hard to reason that you were not loving enough." He takes another step, holding out one hand, the other one still firmly grasped around Fingon's wrist. "Come here, we want to help you... I want to. You are so young... Best not to make concluded ideas like this, son."

As Fingolfin speaks the last word, calling Maitimo son, Findekano breaks inside.
Son? Why would that title be used for Maitimo? Why did his father seem to express more love towards a nephew than his own son, his own heir? Every glance at Findekano seemed to be one of contempt, and every at Maitimo exuded a certain loving kindness. He doesn't want to feel jealousy towards Maitimo, or anger, but it's hard to suppress those kinds of feelings. He closes his eyes and opens them, wishing this had all been some distant dream that was all over and gone. It was not. His lips quiver with sadness and his eyes brim with tears. Why am I not enough for father? He thinks to himself, trying not to look at Maitimo or even think of him, lest he have some built up emotions, or worse, lay it all on Maitimo. But it is quite a battle to fight thinking of him. Still, he will continue all the same. He must.

~~~

Nerdanel smiles. "Of course... Now, Feanorie... If you do not object it, perhaps we should return to Feanaro and your brothers. I am sure they are wondering where you have gone. We were all frightened at your leaving." But she does not, however the thought crosses her mind, give back the Silmaril. The idea that her daughter could hold an object which if shattered could destroy her own being seems extremely farfetched, but if true, immeasurably dangerous. She intends to ask Feanor about Silmarils later, and for the now, hold onto it.

"Indeed, we should," I answer, giving a nod as I stand up. "It has been a while since we had went to them; let us return."

Fëanor, frowning slightly, responds to Amrod in a stern and commanding voice, yet not too harsh. "This reveals to me that you do not respect my authority as your father. Whenever I give a command or pronounce judgment-- or lack thereof-- it is not your place to question it, to try to figure out whether it is right or wrong, and certainly not to disobey. You have disobeyed me in doing this deed, and from now on I expect you to yield to my judgment for as long as you live in my House."

Where did he go so wrong, that basically all his sons came to scorn his authority? Did he seem weak to them, like his threats were not really to be feared? Why did his sons show such contempt for him and blatant disregard for his orders? Even Maglor had been shockingly insolent somewhat recently when Fëanor had forced him to reveal his part in the plot to frame Findekano. At least Maitimo had obeyed him just now, but even he had not done it without questioning the order first. The most basic thing Fëanor had taught his children, ever since they were infants, was to obey him immediately and without question. Why were all his children now seeming to forget such basic teachings?

He sighs, and his expression softens ever so slightly as he continues, "You have indeed gotten less than you deserve. I would be perfectly within my rights to lock you up with the others. But on the other hand, this would be unreasonable of me, since you have made it reasonable for me to expect that you will not harm Nelyo again. For the others, I cannot be certain of this. But there is something more to this, Amrod. You must come to understand the concept of forgiveness, and that it is not injustice. The whole idea of it is that you owe someone something, but they no longer hold it against you. You are released of a debt you can never repay. Can you change the past, Amrod, and turn back time so that you had never hurt Nelyo? No matter how badly you hurt yourself, or no matter how long you spend in the dungeons, you can never undo that deed or truly repair the damage. And what Nelyo has done is to tell you that this is indeed true, but you don't have to make it up to him. It is a gift-- not something you earned, but something that is freely offered to you, and you must accept it and not reject it."

He continues, "I've had to accept forgiveness too, you know, and I know it's not easy. It's almost shameful, in a way. For I hurt Nelyo too-- you remember, surely, how I thought he had lied about you and Amras, and I threw him in the dungeon, even while he was still wounded. Tell me, Amrod, what sort of punishment do you think I justly would have deserved for that? And yet, what do you think might be happening right now if I had refused to accept that Nelyo forgave me?"

~~~

Both Aredhel and Turgon exchange a glance, clearly seeing the unfairness of this move from their father and how it is an unnecessary low blow at Findekano. Surely, there must be a way to help Maitimo without mocking and humiliating Findekano, isn't there?

And Maitimo, though he has no idea what has really happened amongst the Nolofinwians, can see clearly that something is off. Why is Fingolfin so tightly gripping Fingon's wrist, almost as though restraining him? And why is there a red mark on his cheek? There's clearly been a heated argument, and Maitimo wants nothing to do with it. Seeing all this causes the words of Fingolfin to not soothe him in the slightest, but rather to make him more suspicious.

He's tempted to just turn around and run away and pretend he never saw any of this. It's none of his business, and he could make everything worse just by being here.

But finally, some of the words of Finwë return to his mind: words about character, and doing the right thing even when no one else is.

He realizes what he must do. He must reject any preferential treatment, and come to Findekano's defense, even if he has done him wrong.

"Stop this-- whatever is going on here, I want no part of it!" he cries out. Not the most diplomatic thing to say, but in his state of dazed grief it's the first thing that comes out. Taking a deep breath, he adds more calmly, "Don't think I don't appreciate your kindness, Uncle, either in the past or the present, because I do, deeply. But... I'm not the only one who needs it. And if you're going to offer it to me and not your own son, then I do not want it."

Amrod nods slowly, a feeling of guilt gnawing away at him. Father was right. He had, indeed, done the wrong thing. He should've asked for permission from Feanor before hurting himself. But it seemed such a silly notion. To ask... Especially when he knew father would say no and think of him with contempt and shame because of it, or at least that's what he had thought. "I'm sorry." He mutters. "I didn't mean to defy your authority- really. It was the furthest thing from my mind at the time... But it shouldn't have been. I should've been thinking of it all the way through. I'm sorry. It was, uh.. it was selfish of me."

But at Feanor's second mention, his expression pales a little and he finds himself deep in analytical thought. Father, punished? It couldn't be. Anyone but father would have to answer for actions. The thought that Feanor, his father and the future High King of the Noldor, would have stooped so low as to both ask forgiveness and then receive it, leaves Amrod stunned. But, his analytical mind just can't help but answer Feanor's question. What would have been just? 'Well,' he thinks to himself. 'it would have to be something that would cover both of those things. Most likely, being thrown in the dungeon himself, and perhaps allowing Nelyo to lord the whole ordeal over him. He responds without restraint. "I suppose it would be that you would need to go into the dungeon yourself, be low to Nelyo..." He pauses, thinking about what he has just said. "But of course, that's not right! I mean- I don't really mean it father- you could never deserve that, and no one would do that to you- much less in your own house, and among your own sons--" He can't believe he just said that. He knows he's had troubles with being too blunt in the past, but this is a step too far.

~~~

Fingolfin turns his head, glancing long at Maitimo with a perplexed and shocked expression. "I offer kindness of a different nature to Findekano." He finally responds. "The kind that he needs." He flashes a glance at Fingon, speaking, "The kind that will teach him how he ought to behave, and temper his poor judgement."

Findekano isn't sure what to say about all of this. Maitimo looks so genuinely concerned about him, and it makes him feel even guiltier for ever pinning blame on Maitimo, even if it was just in his head. But as his father gives him another cold look, something inside him just snaps. All the planning of not looking at Maitimo, and all the forcing himself to stay quiet and stare at the floor, is suddenly shoved out of his head.

He shakes away, feeling the hand of his father grasp his wrist tighter, but unconcerned with it, for the moment. "Listen, father-" He exclaims. "I know that I have done wrong in your eyes," He says this vaguely, without hinting on whether or not he believes that he has done wrong. "and I know that you are angry at me, very, very angry at me. But what have I done to deserve this kind of hatred from you?! From all of you?!" He stammers a little, glancing around but feels that this is an accurate thing to say, given that his brother literally watched him be hit by his father, and did nothing. "I know I've ruined this evening- believe me, I do not need any more reminders! Just tell me, what have I done that has made you hate me so-?"

~~~

Nerdanel nods, taking her hand. "Let us go, then, love."

Fëanor nods and says, "The greater sin is against yourself than it is against me. Yet still, I hope this has made you realize that there are multiple areas to which my authority extends-- and your treatment of yourself and administration of justice is one of those areas." Here, both his eyes and his tone of voice soften significantly, and he gazes deeply into his son's eyes. "My life's goal, you know, is to protect you, and all your brothers and sister, and your mother. You all are... the dearest thing in the world to me, and no amount of conflict we may face will change that. In fact, you should know too that your brothers deserve far worse than they are currently getting. You may think that you have received mercy and they have not, but this isn't true. I threatened exile, and it would have been within my rights to do that, but I couldn't, because despite all the evil they have done, they are still my sons, as are you. And nothing will ever change that."

He is pleased to see that his method of reasoned questioning finally seems to be breaking through to Amrod. Fëanor is glad to see, honestly, the conflict and the horror that comes to Amrod's expression as he thinks through the question. Maybe it will help him understand the harm it does to hate himself and refuse forgiveness.

"Perhaps what you have described would be a fitting punishment for what I allowed to happen to Nelyo," he says. "Perhaps my father could have seen it fit to do that to me... who knows? And yet, what would the result of that be? Let's say I subjected myself to such punishment, and languished in the dungeons, feeling sorry for myself. Let's say Nelyo reminded me of his forgiveness multiple times, but I refused to accept it. Let's say he wanted me out of the dungeons, but I insisted on staying there and serving my time. What would you think of me then, Amrod? What kind of leader, what kind of king, do you think that would make me?"

~~~

Now, Turgon and Aredhel are stirred to anger at Fingon's words.

"That's not true or fair!" Aredhel says coldly, her eyes narrowing. "All of us? Brother, we've only been trying to help you."

"You have not earned our hatred," Turgon adds, resenting being spoken to this way. "We love you as we always have."

Maitimo's eyes widen with horror as he realizes what a heated argument he has stumbled into, and likely only made worse. He immediately regrets his words to Fingolfin, thinking that they have done no good and have only stoked the fires of rage going on here.

Such drama was always commonplace in his own family, but now it seems to have spread like a poison to the Nolofinwians, who were once such a levelheaded, compassionate and peaceful family. They were once the refuge he and Ancalirë had turned to, but they had unwittingly brought with them the wrath and ire of Fëanaro, which had then in turn spiraled into all these conflicts, dividing Fingon from his father and the rest of his family, it would seem.

And now the damage seems too deep to repair. Fingon seems unable to put aside his hurt from Fëanor, and it's now dividing him from the rest of his family, and it doesn't seem like anything Maitimo can say will help.

"Forgive me," he says yet again, beginning to back away slowly. "I should not have come here at all, let alone said these things. And I'm sorry, so sorry, for the evils that my family has brought to yours, the terrible things my parents did to you, thinking they were protecting me... my brothers intruded on your lands because of me, and... If I had never brought my sister to your House as we were fleeing from our own, none of this would have happened. I only hope the damage we did can be repaired one day. Please, do not hate each other over this. I pray you will never become like us."

Tearfully, he turns away, intending to leave.

Amrod nods, moved deeply by Feanor's words about caring for them. What a good father he was, and how much he loved them, it was like a song to his pain. And even Maglor overhearing this is moved to a level of delight for it. "Thank you, father..." Says Amrod with a soft smile. "I'll never be able to understand how you achieve such an unattainable sense of true finesse in all things such in the manner of leading, and how, even in your high state with your power and legions and warrior spirit, you still manage to make room for love and peace in our family. It's- amazing. Inspiring, I might say. I wish I could see such qualities in myself.

He watches frightened for the response to the second part of his words. After all, father had every right to lash out and hate him for saying such a thing. Father was a king, and to propose that he would be shoved into a dungeon? Such a more despicable thing might never be heard, and it grieves him that such words had ever escaped his lips, much more in an audible and public way.

He listens attentively to Feanor's words, absorbing every piece of it, every word, every inflection on every letter. And finally, he sighs. "I- don't what I'd think of you. But I know this much..." He pauses. "It wouldn't be any more than I already do. And I might think you were- well, with no offense to your lordship and fatherhood - trying too hard. It would be better, I suppose... to accept the forgiveness readily, even if you did not feel that you deserved it. For by going into the dun--" He stops himself. Does he really want to say that again? Not a bright move. "I mean the, uh, where you were, going to... go, anyways, you would be depriving us all of a father, and all of our hearts would be both grieved and effected." Again, he feels the need to correct. "But I mean- you of course would never do such a thing, or anything that deserved any treatment in there... and, I probably shouldn't have said it- again." He pauses. "I-I'm sorry."

~~~

Fingolfin watches as all of this goes down before him. Their House rarely fought. Why was tonight this fateful day where everyone seemed to have a different opinion? It frustrates him. After all, he was a seeker of peace. Always caught up in having silence and wholeness, all while raising his children and caring for his wife. It wasn't easy for him. It never had been. But today seemed much worse than usual. So, he was faced with the question. What changed? As a believer in reason and a strong pursuer of knowledge, he had always believed that there had to be a change. The routine or peaceful flow of life had to be altered whether dramatically or incrementally. Something had to have gone wrong that shifted everything off course. However, in both his frustration and lack of silence and peace, his thoughts betrayed him. Fingon. He thinks to himself. It must be Fingon.

Now, the brunt of the fight is over, where Turgon and Aredhel gave their displeasure. At this point, it's only Maitimo. And Fingolfin cries out before he leaves, "Wait- Maitimo," His eyes shift gaze. "Do not leave us, child. For you have not been misled. Indeed you have taken role for what indeed you have done wrong. Both of you."

He narrows with a dark glance at Findekano, his son. "It's you. You are the dissonance between our two Houses! Always you have sought to separate me and my brother and whispered to me that you are seeking to protect! You reject the idea of reconciliation and forgiveness and seek to wallow in your discontentedness! When shall you learn? When shall you listen to me, and not merely hear?! How far shall you take this miserable road? You have already proved a disgrace, and are a dishonor upon our House, our kin, and all the Eldar and Arda! Repent now, to me and to all of us here, or I shall not give you what you seek-! You have earned hatred, and yet I have spared you from it thus far! But I may not any longer if you try my patience anymore! Son you are and forever shall be, and yet if you shall bear any resemblance to your father is yours to decide!"

He looks gravely at Maitimo.

"And you..." His eyes narrow. "You have led him away from me. You have taught my son rebellion rather than obedience, and have colluded with him seemingly against our kingdoms twain! Both of you through what looked to be a deep companionship have indeed broken bonds and shattered relations. Authority is not given to me to punish you, nor to condition you, Matitmo. But I may, and I shall, give my disapproval with whole clarity. You have done wrong."

Fingon looks terror-struck. Unaware what to say, and fixed on his father, waves of sadness and anger crashing like a flood.

~~~

Nerdanel smiles. "It is me, Nerdanel..." She mutters. "Open up, love... Feanorie is with me, and we wish to come in."