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

Fingolfin sighs, his heart full with emotion and thought. On one side, the ideas that his children are proposing may not be so far-fetched. But on the other, he knows that Fingon will come to his senses and fix this mess, and the only way that he can bring that into happening is by not rewarding his son's behavior, nor sparing him a single loud insult or punishing remark. If he wants his son to learn, he ought to teach him, and this is how he must teach him.

"All he needs to understand are his wrongs and my displeasure for them. He will come to sense soon enough and will see what a terrible brother and son he has been, and he will fix his bad choices." He pauses. "Do you truly think your brother so dumb and incompetent that he will not see his own fault? He may be naive and young, but he is not so blatantly ignorant. He will see that he has wronged all of us. And in fact, it would be better for the both of you to do your part in letting him know that he has done wrong. Scold him, if you must. He needs to know that he has sinned against our family and against our kin, and does not deserve his place in this House any longer."


~~~


Fingon stares down. Another person looking at him with contempt does not feel so good, and yet he does not know how he would stop it. After all, he is the one at fault and he ought to repent openly. He only wonders if now is the right time or not. He only wonders if his repenting now would fix everything or only make it the worsened. He doesn't know.

Nerdanel comes forward to Maitimo, paying no heed to Fingon and not even giving him a moment's glance. "You ought to answer your father," She mutters. "He ordered you to do something and you blatantly disobeyed him. I do not mean to condemn you for this, but you should answer to him."

Findekano feels a little hurt, although slight, at Nerdanel's words. About not condemning. While he never thought he would desire it, he now wishes that at least one quality of his father would be closer to that of Feanor's House, at least the mother.

Both Turgon and Aredhel drop their gazes to the floor, both feeling a strange mix of guilt and sorrow for their brother. Is it true that if Fingon doesn't come to a solution to the conflict on his own, that means he's incompetent? That seems awfully harsh, but is there some truth to it?

Yet neither of them feel they have the heart to continue to heap Fingolfin's condemnations on him. In fact, Turgon has already done some of that himself and feels the need to do no more.

"I'm sorry, Father," Aredhel says quietly after a long moment of silence, "but I cannot say that Findekano has no place in this House. That is the one thing I am unwilling to do., for he is still my brother. What he has done this evening was wrong, but nowhere near bad enough to merit exile from our House, not like the sons of Fëanor."

~~~

Yet another wave of guilt crashes over Maitimo. He has no valid excuse, after all, other than that... he forgot. What kind of son and brother forgot about his own mother and sister? Apparently the same kind of brother who would convince all his younger brothers that he did not love them.

Gazing helplessly under the piercing stare of Fëanaro, he doesn't see any valid excuse that would seem acceptable to him, and figures he must try to do the right thing, though it won't nearly make up for all the wrong he has apparently done.

"I... I did not mean to disobey you," he mutters. "I have no excuse, and I can't explain it, but I was lost in my own thoughts, and... I'm sorry..."

He glances downwards, avoiding all their gazes.

"It was a simple enough command," Fëanor says, exasperated. "And this is a tense evening, and I wanted to make sure your mother and sister were safe. It is a good thing they returned without having faced any danger, no thanks to you!"

Fingolfin sighs. "It is for his good, children. He must find a way out of this problem himself, and the sooner he knows how big a mistake he has actually made, the sooner he will likely come to his senses and fix it. As I have said, your brother is neither weak nor incompetent. He can take your insults, and mine. Anyone who is strong can. And he is wise enough that he will see the error of his ways and come to repair them. Or he ought to, anyway. Yet I have no doubt of it. Unless you think your brother a weakling and quite ignorant, he can and should repair this himself."

Fingolfin is rather shocked to see the mixed reactions to his decisions regarding Findekano. In what world is it such a horrible thing that his son must know that he has done wrong? Why do his children seem to not understand the meaning of discipline? Again, he thinks to himself, 'I must make these children see discipline more. I have grown too soft with them.' And he inwardly decides to treat his children with a touch more justice, starting with his eldest, of course.

~~~

Nerdanel stands aside, hearing her husband's words and thinking that he has perhaps said more than he needed to, and could have said it all in a gentler tone, which would have been preferred. And she laughs a little, inwardly, at seeing her daughter challenge him for it. Feanorie had always been the first to passionately challenge her father, and she seemed so defiant, whether for good or for bad, but right now it seemed good.

"What he means love," She says, looking to Maitimo. "Is that orders are given for a reason, to protect you and those around you. And even if you do not see that it will do any good, you should submit to it anyway, for your father is your keeper."

Findekano isn't sure what to think of all this. So, it's Maitimo's turn to get bawled out. He hears the words of Feanor, knowing they aren't nearly as harsh as the words of his own father, but seeing how they are hurting Maitimo, he knows he has to do something. Not necessarily something big, but something.

He casts an arm around Maitimo, pulling him slightly closer and whispering, "It's going to be alright..."

It wasn't necessarily the most heroic or brotherly move, but he has to do something. Something with any honor in it, lest he see his life as one not worth living.

Both Turgon and Aredhel can see at this point that their father will not be budged. Turgon wonders if he was right to even question him in the first place; what right does a son have to judge his father? Aredhel does not regret any of her words, but she worries and grieves that their relationship with him will likely be much different from now on. It used to be that he was so gentle, and she could always tell him what was on her mind without fear of judgment.

"Very well, then," Turgon says quietly, and Aredhel nods. Neither of them plan on chastising Fingon, but they do not feel they can argue with Fingolfin any further.

~~~

A glimmer of hope arises in Maitimo's heart, both at Ancalirë's coming to his defense, and at Findekano's attempt to reach out and comfort him. He realizes that Findekano has every reason to bolt from the scene and try to avoid Fëanor, so the fact that he would stay despite everything brings him some comfort. He glances gratefully and with a faint smile at Findekano, but Fëanor interrupts before either of them can say anything.

"This is a matter between our family, and it is none of your business, Findekano, so I wish you to leave," he says severely. But, after pausing for a moment, and considering the words of his daughter, his heart softens a little and he adds, "Unless you have something worthwhile to say which would benefit everyone here."

He wonders if his young nephew will understand his implication, that he is offering him a chance to make right what he said over dinner. For he does not wish there to be such bitter conflict; that is why he came here in the first place, after all.

"Good. I am, very glad that we can agree." Fingolfin says, feeling an instant wave of relief at having his children agree with him. He knew that they would understand eventually, and he is glad they finally do. Casting an arm around each of them and walking, he looks at them both deeply. "Whatever you do," his voice drops to a whisper. "Do not try to help your brother. He must figure out all of this on his own. He made this huge mess, and it is his responsibility to fix it. I will not be helping him, and I anticipate the same will be true for you both."

In his mind, Findekano has always been a good young Elda. He would try hard, fight harder, he was constantly striving for the best. The greatest thing that Fingolfin could do for him, as his father, was to hold him to the standard of perfection. And after all, he did not want his son to turn out good enough, but rather, great.

~~~

Findekano returns Maitimo's smile with a faint one of his own. At least he could still do one thing right. Or, at least, half right. He has no doubt that he should be doing more for Maitimo, but if he can do this, that is something at the least.

At Feanor's words, he pales a little.

So soon?

Of course, he wants to make it right with everyone, but right now that feels impossible. Now? Right now? After everything that's been said to him, and everything that's happened? He's not sure if he can take another ounce of humiliation right now. One more crippling blow. He's already been virtually mocked and criminalized in the eyes of everyone. But on the other hand, if this could be the end, if he could have hope again and regain some of the dignity which seemed to have been shredded this evening, it's worth it.

"I'll admit..." He says, beginning. "I've made mistakes this evening." He stands up but can't even meet Feanor's gaze. He hates his uncle so much. Too much. "And I'm... I'm sorry," His hand tightens into a fist. "for that."

It's all he can manage to get out, and he realizes now how absolutely pathetic he must look. From the scar on his forehead from before and now the bruising from his father... If this doesn't work, if Feanor doesn't take this apology, he's not sure he can manage another.

Turgon and Aredhel nod, and Turgon only hopes that his conversation with Fingon earlier was enough to help him find the truth on his own. It feels wrong, so wrong, to both of them to be told not to help their own brother. In the House of Nolofinwë, everyone has helped each other. That is, or was, the basic rule of the household for their entire lives.

"I only hope he comes to do the right thing soon enough, then," Aredhel says, trying to sound neutral and diplomatic.

~~~

Fëanor gives a huff of annoyance, and presses, somewhat impatiently, "That? What does 'that' mean? What exactly are you sorry for?"

After the outrageous way Findekano spoke to him and shattered the peace between their houses, Fëanor feels he deserves a much stronger apology than that.

Maitimo, sensing both Fëanaro's growing irritation and Findekano's tension and disgust, puts an encouraging hand on his friend's shoulder and gives him a nod. "You can do it, brother," he whispers, quietly enough that hopefully Fëanor won't hear.

Because, as much as he's thoroughly convinced that he holds much guilt within himself, and can't deny that Fingon has done wrong this evening as well, he doesn't want to believe that he and his cousin are on the wrong side of things, let alone irredeemable.

"As do I." Fingolfin says, smiling in response to his daughter's remark. "I know it must seem harsh of me, all of this... It's not how I ever acted in front of you. I would never have done any of this publicly when you were young. And I still, I still don't want to. But what your brother did," He glances up in disbelief. "It's detestable. I can't stand for that sort of behavior from my own son. And none of you should stand for it from your brother either. We all know how we are to act. We are the Eldar, it is written in our hearts that a certain code of morality and conduct must be followed. The fact that your brother so blatantly disregarded that and went on his own path of selfishness, it..." He stops, seemingly at a loss for words. "it's just infuriating to me, and so frustrating... but above all, it's disappointing."

He feels that he is doing the right thing, of course, for his children. He wouldn't do anything that he thought would harm them. He never would. Surely, this although harsh, was the only way right to respond.

~~~

Fingon takes a breath in. So this wasn't enough to satisfy his craving for an apology. Immediately, he feels anger. Who was Feanor to deny his apology when most likely the former's wasn't even sincere? So what, he didn't name all his outrageous sins! He'd seen enough humiliation to last a lifetime, and most of it at the hands of those whose opinions he valued the most. Why should he pay any more interest into even attempting to reconcile these two sides? So, the bond was broken with his uncle. Who cared? It wasn't like they were ever very close. Feanor always gave cold remarks, distancing himself from their House and letting them be viewed in an unkindly light. To be frank, all of the bonds with the House of Feanor would have been broken, shattered into pieces irreversibly by now, if it hadn't been for the insistence of his father upon this infuriating closeness that he never sought to have. But, there was just one problem with that. He did seek to have it. Maybe not with Feanor, but with his son.

Maitimo. Of course, it all came back to Maitimo. They had been close friends ever since their younger years, and that friendship had grown into a bond that made them almost inseparable. Almost. But now, he wasn't so sure. Would it even make any difference to do anything? Would any attempts made at reconciliation or anything else actually make any difference at all?

Nerdanel speaks, and Fingon is immediately interrupted from his thoughts. "He is speaking to you." Her voice is exasperated and she snaps in the air with irritation. "Give him a response."

Now? He's not ready. But right now, he's not sure he ever will be. 'Fine.' He decides, hearing Maitimo's voice. 'I'll try. For you.'

He lifts his gaze, looking to the left of Feanor and hoping that it appears he is facing him straight on. "I'm... sorry..." His hand shakes in a fist, anger coursing through his veins, every bit of it directed at Feanaro. "For this evening." He probably should've stopped there but doesn't. "And if that's not enough for you-" He stammers, trying to hold in all of his emotion that he wishes he could unleash on Feanor. "Then, then, maybe it should be, half-uncle!"

The words escape him before he can change them, and he looks away, glancing at the ground, awaiting responses from all present.

Turgon and Aredhel can do nothing but give nods of their apparent agreement, though both feel their consciences torn in two between their father and their brother, and they quietly follow him out of the hall.

~~~

Maitimo's heart drops as he hears this, and he shudders deeply and closes his eyes in dread. Even before Fëanor can react, he can immediately foresee how all this is going to play out. Fëanor will unleash his wrath, another huge conflict will ensue, and all friendliness between these two Houses will likely be destroyed. Which means that Maitimo will likely never get to be friends with Findekano again, either, as much as he longs for it.

Why, Findekano, could you not have paid Fëanaro a bit of lip service for the sake of our two Houses? he thinks bitterly. Forgiveness isn't always about feelings, after all; sometimes it is a choice out of mere obedience, and the heart takes some time to catch up.

For a long and terrifying moment, Fëanor is silent, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with rage. Everyone around seems to brace themselves as in the calm before a storm.

"So, you have rejected the opportunity I have offered you to give a sincere apology," he says, his voice even and stern at first. "When I apologized to you, Findekano, I named my specific wrongs and expressed my sincere regret over them. You have done no such thing, which indicates to me that your heart is not sincere at all. I am disgusted by this selfishness and lack of forgiveness I see in you. I had done much worse to Nelyafinwë than I did to you, and he forgave me sincerely, and you could not even do that even when the peace between our Houses is at stake! Further, I do not see it as a coincidence that shortly after Nelyo defied one of my commands, he was found out here with you."

Maitimo can't bear to listen to these false words, and interrupts, "Father, I promise, Findekano had nothing to do with--"

But Fëanor casts him a severe glare and cries, "Silence! Don't you dare interrupt me!" Turning back to Fingon, he continues his tirade. "From this day forth, our two Houses are sundered and bitter enemies, and you should well know that this was not my doing, but yours. For so long as I see fit, you are not to see my son, and in fact, I do not wish anyone of my House to see anyone of yours."

There is another long silence after he speaks these words, and they seem to echo over the stone.

Maitimo trembles, hearing this, and can't even bring himself to look Findekano in the eye. It is all as he foresaw, all ruined...

"Come, Nelyo. We must leave," Fëanor says in a gentler voice. But Maitimo doesn't respond, finally lifting his gaze to look Findekano in the eye for what may be the last time, for a while, at least.

"Now," Fëanor urges, angered at being defied yet again. He grabs Maitimo by the arm, firmly but not too roughly, and pulls him to his feet and away from Findekano.

After having endured so much grief and stress all throughout the evening, and with the passions of his fëa having sapped his strength, the shock of this is too much for Maitimo. With a sigh, he collapses into a faint.

Fingolfin smiles at them. "Why so much grief, children? I know tonight has been fraught with troubles, but please do understand, there is still hope. Everything will be resolved once your brother fixes this all." He looks deeply at his son and daughter. "I know it is hard, but you must see that there will be good again. We will have peace again... All will be alright."

As much as Fingolfin has certainly had his own share of despair and sadness tonight, he wants to restore the hopes of himself and his children. Good will always come again. He must remember that, and so must his children.

~~~

Fingon stands silent, stunned at the words of Feanor, feeling sadness and anger and worry all wound up into one great mix of emotion. But more than any of those, one thought, one fear, pierces his heart like nails.

Father will hate me for this.

And it wasn't even an unreasonable thought. Fingolfin hated him enough for messing things up once. Another time would just be, too much. Far too much. So he leaps up, not from any emotion of repentance, not from any feeling of sincere remorse, but out of fear, and runs after Feanor.

"No! Please! Please don't do this, please! This will ruin everything! I- you don't understand... My-my father, he'll-he'll force me out of the House! Please- just, don't leave, you can't, leave! PLEASE - !"

This plea probably looks ridiculous. It probably looks needy and desperate and not at all dignified. But right now, he doesn't care. It's his last hope. Father struck him across the face for what he had done before. He shudders at what might happen now. He'll be doomed. This will all be over, and father will never have a shadow of love for him again. It's over.

And what's worse, he won't even have Maitimo to turn to. Everyone will hate him and there will be no escape from it.

Nerdanel catches Maitimo, steadying him. "My love! Are you alright?"

"I hope you're right," Turgon says, trying to convince himself that Fingon really will make this right on his own, without further help from the rest of them. Neither he nor Aredhel have the heart to explain their grief since it will just start another pointless argument. so they remain silent and try to turn their thoughts hopeful as they follow after him.

~~~

Fëanor pays no heed to Fingon at first, in his shock at seeing Maitimo collapse. He doesn't seem to respond to the concerned words of Nerdanel either. This confuses Fëanor, as he had thought Maitimo was fully recovered, and he doesn't understand the true emotional impacts the disastrous events of the evening have had on his son.

After a moment, Fëanor finally registers the impassioned cries of Fingon, and he turns around and glares fiercely at him. "Listen to yourself-- you are still thinking only of yourself and not of what you have done to our two Houses or to my son. If you fear Nolofinwë's discipline, you really ought to have thought of that before you spoke so recklessly to us!"

Fingon shudders a little, as he hears Feanor's words. "Wh-what?" He doesn't fully understand what Feanor had said until he mulls over it a bit more, coming to some conclusion, and hating the conclusion once he comes to it. "No...no...no... no...no...no... no..." He mutters, one hand cast over his face in grief, feeling that last flicker of hope that he had extinguished like a light. "No, no, no, please! I-what do you want from me? I-I apologized and I didn't even want to," He stops, noticing how his choice of words might make this even worse. "Must I name all my grievous atrocities?" Again, he pauses, feeling that perhaps he is overstating this, or that Feanor will think him a liar and fraud. But he stops trying to get in Feanor's head quickly. There's no hope of having any idea what Feanor is thinking, and it's better to not even try. But, this really seems like the last chance. Apparently, well, according to Feanor's words there won't be any more meeting with the family. This is his last shot at getting some forgiveness, that or face his father's doom which wil probably be both painful and permanent. Besides, the thought of not seeing Maitimo also fills him with a sickening dread. He's always known that Feanor didn't like them together, and while it bothered him, it never seemed to be an issue. Maybe he didn't want them together, but he never intentionally separated them, and that was something to be grateful for. But now... Never seeing him again... It felt so real and permanent, and he worries for it. Will he have anyone left? By the end of this visit? Honestly, by the end of this night? Will he have anyone at all? These thoughts lead him to grief, and so he pulls himself together for one last plea. One last cry for forgiveness and mercy. Here it goes.

"But just so you know... So that this is set straight, and if this is truly what it takes...." He breathes deeply in, scared that this will come out just like before and he'll ruin everything further, if that's even possible. "Fine..." He whispers to himself, "Three... two... one..." and with that, he begins. "I'm sorry for my words to you earlier, at the supper. I'm sorry for my rejection of your apology. I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I'm sorry for my anger all throughout this evening. You should know it wasn't..." He pauses, trying to think of how to end this. If he goes the honest route, this is only going to further worsen everything. "meant. It may have been, how do I say, deserved, but it wasn't meant to come out like it did from me," His voice drops to a whisper, and he thinks that Feanor can't hear. "even if you did merit every bit of anger directed at you, and I was only responding with justice..."

He finishes with a full stop, mulling over his own words. It's a strange thing to do, since he said the words himself, and yet they feel strange. They feel distant and foreign and... not his own.

He looks to Feanor, not facing him but giving a glance in his direction, fear and desperation engraved on his face. "Please-please don't do this..." And suddenly, out of nowhere, words come pouring out of him, a flood he never expected. "My father he-he struck me in the face. He pulled me around and threatened far worse- and you-you don't get it! He would, he will-- I'm not exaggerating! He won't even treat me like a son -- I- Feanor, please!"

Nerdanel stands aside, having slipped into a position of sitting on the garden floor, her son laying in her lap as she holds him, his head resting on her shoulder and his long red curls dangling about untamed. "My love..." She says stroking his forehead gently before kissing it. "Wake up... wake up, love..."

Fingon overhears her and looks up, puzzled, only to see Maitimo laying lifeless in her arms.

Did he miss something? It seems like it. At least, that's what it looks like. What's going on with Maitimo? Did he collapse or something? He hadn't heard any arrows whistling or swords or daggers unsheathed, so it must not be deadly, and yet it fills him with a deep dread and guilt, prickling deep within him. He has a faint thought of going to help him, but feels it would be useless. He'd do no good, and besides Maitimo is already with his mother and Fingon has no desire to be yelled at... again... But still, it awakens his heart to a question that he doesn't quite know how to answer.

My gosh, if I've missed this, what else might I be blind to?

Fëanor is initially inclined to be moved by his daughter's words, but as he thinks over them for a moment, he says gravely, "I did give him another chance, and he rejected it."

But then, Fingon speaks again, and Fëanor is at least calmed enough by Fëanoriel's words to hear him out, and listen fully and carefully to what he has to say.

But as he listens deeply, he does not approve of what he hears.

"You have so much as told me that your apology is insincere," he says, the heated and passionate anger gone from his voice, replaced by a cold hardness. "You have said you didn't want to-- and in truth, I do not care much for your motives. I care little if you like me or hate me, or if the only reason why you would apologize is because you fear your father's punishment. But what I do care about is your words themselves, and you have revealed that this apology of yours is backhanded and insincere. You have even admitted aloud that you do not think I deserve such an apology! How, then, can I accept it? How can I accept something that I know is ridden with insincerity and insults? It would be one thing if you harbored these secret thoughts of resentment and managed to conceal them. I don't judge anyone by their secret thoughts; we all have them, and I don't demand that anyone have perfect intentions on the heart. But based on what you have said to me just now, I cannot accept your apology while still maintaining any tiny scrap of self-respect. My judgment still stands that I want nothing to do with you or your House from this day forward."

He abruptly turns his back on Fingon, and returns to his wife, son and daughter.

Maitimo stirs awake, his head spinning and his mind disoriented. At first he doesn't remember where they are or what has happened, but the memories quickly return, and he is filled with dread once more. He tries to smile at Nerdanel, but it probably looks like a pathetic attempt.

"Nelyo, what has come over you?" Fëanor asks, his voice a strange mixture of concern, confusion and even anger. "Are you hurt?"

Maitimo shakes his head, at a loss for words. Fëanor will never understand the way these sorrows heaped upon him tonight seemed to sap away all his strength.

Nerdanel looks in shock, a hand over her mouth as she quickly grabs her daughter also and holds both of her children in her arms.

"Maitimo, my love..." She whispers. "Are you alright? What has happened to you?"

Honestly, this is becoming frequent enough to frighten her. Both her daughter and son seem so weak in spirit, and she isn't sure why they keep having reactions like this. She can understand, of course, that things like this have impacts on the Eldar, and that the emotion would be much to bear, but is it really that strong? In her mind, she awaits the chance to get her children away from the Nolofinwians. This seems strange for her, of course, being so well-versed in diplomatic calmness and always having a desire for peace. But in her heart, she does not believe that the Nolofinwians deserve her children, and she certainly thinks that Fingon is a very bad influence and companion for her beloved son. A much better one would be, Maglor... Nay, perhaps not, since indeed Maglor made his own mistake. But at least, he repented for it, at least to them. He fixed what he had done wrong to the best of his ability, and he would indeed be a good friend for her son.

She holds Maitimo close, embracing him and whispering, "How do you feel? Is your heart at peace?" It may be a foolish question, but she feels the need to ask it. Otherwise, it would be very hard for her to understand anything. Being from her background and knowledge, she has always believed in the heart as the center and gracing feature of every person, and that there will start hurt and sorrow, and love and joy and all those emotions which blend into each other and form the reality as we all know it.

To Feanoriel, she also turns, kissing her forehead and tracing a finger across her cheek, one hand held over her eyes. "Arise, daughter..." She whispers. "Let me take you away from this desperate place."

Fingon hears Feanor's words, and his heart sinks into dark dread and paralyzing fear.

If there was ever a time he wishes he could escape this world, this is it. His pleas have fallen on deaf ears. It's over. He closes his eyes, thinking to himself, 'Once father finds out about this, it's over. I'm done. He'll scream at me and beat me, I'll never escape.' Now what? He tried to apologize and it miserably failed. Then, he tried a second time, and that was a failure as well. What can he do? Must he close his eyes and succumb to the fact that Fingolfin will simply treat him how he will, and there's no way out of it, and he'll never see Maitimo? His heart feels like it's shredding apart, and everything he had once held dear or cared about is crashing into chaos before him.

"Please-!" He screams. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry! If I could take it all back, I would!" He pauses, trying to decide if that's really the truth or not. But he supposes it's just vague enough. After all, if he could take back his actions that got him framed in the first place, maybe he would. "Please-- you, you have to help me! Father he'll-" He pants breathlessly, fear turning his shuddered breaths into hyperventilating. "You don't understand! He's peaceful with you- but he won't be with me!" He falls to his knees, feeling that this is hopeless and Feanor will just turn and laugh and mock him for being so desperate. "PLEASE! Just, pretend, at least! I don't expect you to forgive me, just please don't publicly reject it like this-!"

He stops, noticing the choice of words. Publicly rejecting an apology... it sounds familiar. And then, it hits him. He's blaming Feanor for the same thing he did himself. He isn't sure what else to do, how to feel or what to say. So he just stays silent, despite the growing feeling of discomfort within him at an inward accusation.

I stir just a little at hearing Nerdanel's words, and I whisper:

"Take me away then....I cannot stand it....any longer...."

Maitimo vaguely realizes his sister has collapsed as well, and initially he is alarmed, but thankfully she comes to a few seconds later. The same thing must have happened to him just now. If Ancalirë's sorrow is anywhere close in intensity to his own, then he pities her indeed.

"Nay, Mother, and Father, my heart is not at peace," he whispers. "How can it be, after... after all this?"

There's the obvious conflicts with the Nolofinwians that burden his fëa, and the troubles with Amrod, but Maitimo can't figure out the words to describe the problem of his guilt. He's not sure any of them will understand. Perhaps Ancalirë will, but in a way he's not sure that telling her of it will do any good. Of course she won't think he's guilty, since she was the subject of his favoritism, if these new realizations about their brothers are true.

He nods in agreement with Fëanoriel's words, and adds, "I hope we can leave soon-- in fact, I wish us to return home, though I realize we may have to wait a little while for Amrod to get better."

Somehow, he both yearns to be home because they will be away from the conflict, but he also dreads it because of what he knows he must do.

"We will discuss all that later," Fëanor says with a surprising amount of gentleness, his concern rising for both his eldest children. He still doesn't understand what exactly is wrong with them, but they both look so wan and frail and utterly stricken by grief, and he knows it's entirely the fault of the Nolofinwians, but especially Findekano.

"My love, why don't you take them both inside, away from here and from anyone else?" he says quietly to Nerdanel. "Let me settle the matter with Findekano."

And speaking of Findekano, he seems to give a great outburst all of a sudden, passionately pleading with Fëanor for forgiveness. Maitimo finally becomes aware of this, and his eyes widen. "Please, I know he has offended you, and I don't defend what he has said, but he is my friend... please show him some mercy..."

"He may have been your friend for a time, but he is not anymore," Fëanor says bluntly, and turns away from them to face Findekano.

"Your words are ironic, for you beg me not to do what you yourself have done to me," he says sternly. "Besides, whatever discipline your father chooses for you is none of my business. You are distressing my children, so now I am asking that you leave us. Now."

Hearing these painful words, some tears fall from Maitimo's eyes, but he shuts his eyes tightly, trying to stop them. It is not Findekano who has caused him distress, but a great number of things, not the least of which is the lack of mercy being shown to his closest friend and brother in heart. Yet at the same time, he can't find a logical reason to disagree with Fëanor's judgment. He just wants all this to be over, and to get away from everyone and forget about it all. Yet he knows this is impossible.

I give Maitimo a gentle hug, knowing that it is the least, and yet the most, that I may do to soothe his agony in fëa.

Nerdanel smiles with slight rejoicing that her two children are both awake. She was afraid there, for a moment. Yet now that they have come to, she's more determined than ever to get them out of this place. Clearly, this evening which could have been a beautiful bridge of peace and love was shattered, and now, she does not intend to take another chance with her lovely children, and she holds her arms tightly around them, as if guarding them from the situation and from Fingon, not as though he would attack them, but still.

She looks to her son, holding his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, whispering, "I know, my love... It's so hard, so devastating... But understand that we must walk unscathed. Do not let your cousin become the obstacle to your inner peace... No one deserves such a place in your heart, to block your happiness." At his other words, she smiles a little. At last, it seems he is finally catching on, coming to terms with the fact that the Nolofinwians are not worth their time, and that Findekano is certainly not a stable and worthy friend. Finally, he's letting this all go. Finally, they may be able to heal.

"Of course we will be able to return home here, soon... And in the meantime, there is your grandfather. From what your father tells me, he had spent a good much of time speaking with you." It seems a little odd, to talk about these sorts of light matters. But she thinks in her heart that it is good for her son to hear about them. This all has been hard on him, not the little things, but the large, and she hopes sincerely that she can force those things such as Fingon and all this chaos out of his head, or leastward distract him enough to have peace of mind.

She looks at Feanor, a firm nod ensuing. "That's a very good idea, my love." And with that, she rises, taking both of their hands and intentionally turning her back away from Fingon and her husband to shield them from all of the imagery behind them. "Come, children... Let us go." She isn't sure quite where she will take him, but she remembers a balcony far off, where she used to sit and read in the evenings when she and her husband were first wedded, and they would stay at Finwe's House. And so, she takes their hands, giving a glance of loving farewell to her husband and taking them down the hall, across to the other side of the great structure, hoping that they will have some peace.

Sitting down beside them, she smiles, looking them both in the eyes. "Now, now... peace at last... All is well. How fare ye both?"

~~~

Meanwhile, Fingon stands stricken with guilt like a spear. A thought awakening in his mind that he wishes he could fight away, but he can't, no matter how hard he tries.

He's right. Feanor's right.

And for a moment, he begins to wonder, am I in the wrong? He had shunned that thought before, it being too painful to take, but now, he thinks it and he can't get rid of it. So, this is all my fault?

He turns to Feanor, hoping that he won't just turn away and leave with the rest of his family, hoping that he'll stay for a few moments to listen.

And he cries out in a loud voice, his eyes now brimming with tears of both anger and sadness and fear and regret, guilt and terror all wrapped up in one mixed expression of misery. "Please, Feanor! This will- this will destroy my family! Father- he'll disown me! You don't care, maybe, for me... Probably. But would you really want our whole family to be torn apart by this?! We HAD peace! Please, even if you don't forgive me, just don't tell my father- please-please... just don't let him know about this...! PLEASE! I'm begging you!"

And just then, soon after, Fingolfin, Aredhel and Turgon walk in. For they had heard the voices from the hall and found it worth investigating.

Fingon, however, did not yet notice them. He was too occupied with trying to fix all of this, begging Feanor for mercy.