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

Fingon sits down to begin, his quill gliding across the paper quite clumsily, but all the same, it was the best that he could do. This whole evening had taken a toll on him, and between the intensity of every situation and the streaks of burning pain inflicted by his father's violence on him, he was in no position to write gracefully. Yet here he was, trying. He begins,

To Maitimo, my closest friend and brother. The one who never failed me, even when I failed, who never left me, even when I left, and whom I love,
I hope this letter finds you well. By this time, you should be back in your own House, safe and glad once more I should hope, away from all of this conflict and bitter turmoil which I have brought upon you.

He sighs, re-dipping the quill and going on.

I suppose I must begin by telling you the obvious. I am brutally sorry. And no, not just for 'this night' as I said so pathetically and pitifully to your father. Nay, for everything. I am sorry for not apologizing when I had the chance. I ruined everything for you, for everyone. I was so selfish, so prideful and arrogant, and it only grieves me that it took being whipped by my father to understand my error. I have caused you pain, I know it. Your father is probably right to separate us. I am not a good companion. I have made too many mistakes to be held as such. I've failed everyone this night. And brother, I have failed you. What horrors I have spoken should never have crossed my lips, nor dazed across my mind in the deepest caverns of slumber. And yet, with all lack of goodness and honor and nobility, I allowed such things to consume me. But most of all, brother, I am sorry that I have shattered your heart. I saw it, and I still see it. How I broke your trust in me, nearly trampled the shards of our closeness. I deserve nothing less than the worst. Not just my father's striking, or his anger, nay, I deserve the worst of his wrath. I deserve indeed to be banished from my House, from Valinor. And yet, it seems that the Valar still keep me here. I don't know why. They ought to strike me down in my path, if indeed they had seen what I have done.

He realizes how heavy this might be, and decides to lighten it, for Maitimo's sake.

I don't mean to lay all of this on you. If it is not good for you to hear, pray, move past it. But I say these things so that you may know that I am truly sorry. And to you, my heart goes out, or it would, if I deserved such grace. If you no longer desire my friendship, I understand. In fact, I commend you. You are wise, very wise, to leave me. It seems I cannot bear this that rides upon my shoulders. That I cannot be enough for any of you. I cannot fill the roles that were designed for me to fill. I am an utter failure, to all of you. But as long as you keep me, I shall slave away. Till the end of time, I will never stop pursuing the magnificence which you expect from me, further, which you demand from me.

At this point, he becomes vaguely aware that this is sounding like something to his father, but all the same, he means the same to Maitimo, so he keeps it.

'Alas, I wish you the best my brother. Only peace and goodness, harmony for your house as the music of the Ainur. I desire for you only the finest. And I know, I know that you will rise to a height so far above myself, for indeed, you already have. Yet for now, I must whisper, Namarie. Namarie my brother and friend, no costly price could fill the debt I owe to you, and so greater is my desperate state. Take only this letter, and do not think the debt paid. It is not. Indeed, it may never be. But even if that be true, know that I shall pay forever upon my life, and to the end of my life, and if it did come to it, with my life.

Namarie, este aras lye, herendo.

Lye meldo,
Fingon Findekano

~~~

Nolofinwe falls into her embrace, fully surrendering to the loving arms of his mother. Indis was always so fair and wise, and ever did she comfort him in his younger years, so now, it felt almost familiar, as an old thing left unused, once more opened ages later. "Thank you, my mother." He mutters. "Truly, I am sorry to lay this all on you. Normally I can restrain my words better, and I am-" He pauses, trying not to cry. "I am not able to right now."

To her words, he listens attentively. She seems to understand his current situation, and all the troubles that lay upon him in it. And he is relieved because of that, gladdened that he may have hope of being understood, and perhaps even advised. He had always sought advice from his brother, Feanaro. But now, now that he no longer could, grief seized his heart.

"That is fine," He says in response. "Love must be freely given, and it must be earned. I have tried, I have tried to earn his love. But he will not offer it. And that is-" He stammers. "that is fine with me. I will wait. Patience is not lost on me. I will wait. I will wait all the ages of this world if I must, if it means that he will come to understand, to share in the love I have offered him." And this truly was no exaggeration. Fingolfin had spent his whole life seeking this love from his brother, praying in silence that it would be returned some day, and it never had been. But still, he had hope.

"It is harsh and brutal, reality..." He agrees with her. "But Findekano must be able to handle it. He must not mess up anything. He must be perfect. Earn every bit of respect, never fail, never lose, never utter a cruel word in his life. He must have perfect justice, and he must be everything that I was not. He must earn the love that I never did!" He stops abruptly, realizing immediately that he has said too much, and just released a thought which he had never wanted anyone to hear. "Forgive me, mother... I should, probably leave..."

~~~

Finwe nods to Feanor, a smile spreading across his face as his son challenges his words. It's a strange thing, perhaps, to like being challenged. But he had always enjoyed it when Feanor was young. How his mind would be frustrated and he would simply want the answer, and then argue with Finwe over it for hours. It showed strength of mind, Finwe thought, and also a confidence which could seldom be rivaled. "Of course, son. But discipline and harsh discipline, are two different things." He adds, "See, I can discipline you, without hurting you physically or emotionally, and I can gently lead your heart back to the truth." He pauses. "And that is why I say, you must earn his trust. For if you have it, you have everything. You have his mind, his ears ready to listen, his heart receptively open to your voice. But if you do not have that trust, everything you say to him will roll off like raindrops on the peak of a terrace."

As Feanor becomes defensive, Finwe's smile spreads even wider. Now, he knows he has struck a chord. He can see clearly that he has reached the vulnerable soft wound where all of this must have started, and he beams with the realization of it. "Feanor, my son, I do not mean such in a dark and meritless way. Yes, you are right. You merit his trust merely by your role. As his father, he ought to trust you." He sighs. "But my son, as hard as this is to say, I am afraid you have broken his trust. And I know it wasn't intentional, but I have spoken with your son, and I can tell you, he does not trust you." His face becomes grave. "Now, this is serious. And I need you to respond with peace and receptivity." He looks directly into Feanor's eyes. "When did you feel your son grew distant? When did your son last come to you and lay his heart out before you?" His voice lowers to a whisper. "What happened that broke that loving, crucial, beautiful relationship?"

Nerdanel shakes her head, trying to figure out if her husband's words are true. "Oh, really? Hm... To me, it seems exactly like him. You're right that he's not the cunning and ambitious political type, but his father might be. And if I've seen anything from this evening, he's terrified to displease his father. Perhaps Nolofinwe ordered him into doing it."

Finwe looks over to this conversation, having not recognized that Feanor was speaking with his wife about these matters, or at all, until a few moments prior. But, he supposes it is not his place to get involved. Yet still, he opens his ears to hear it and listen attentively, should this topic continue to arise.

Maitimo's heart sinks, and his posture sags a little at Fëanoriel's words. He can't deny what she's saying; every time he's gotten his hopes up about something, it's as though his hopes have promptly gotten kicked off a cliff and shattered like a glass bottle. She's probably right. It would be better not to get his hopes up that anything will improve. The dream, though vivid, was only a dream, perhaps enough to give him some temporary relief, and nothing more.

"Then, what shall we do?" he asks her. "The Valar seem to want us here for a reason. I know my fëa has been weakened by these things, and yet for some reason the Valar have prevented me-- and you-- from fading. But why? There has to be a reason, unless they take delight in making us suffer, but that seems completely inconsistent with what we've personally seen from them."

~~~

"Is it fine, though?" Indis gives a slight tilt of her head. "I do not see it that way. Long have I held my tongue for your sake, but... I do not believe it was right of me to do so. Curufinwë has made his feelings clear, and so I do not believe you should continue to chase after his heart. If you wish to be there for him should he ever change his ways and come to you in love, that is one thing. But... son, it seems to me like you are desperately seeking after something which simply isn't there."

She looks on him with tenderness and compassion, and lays a hand on his cheek and says softly, "You are hurting yourself and your children in your quest for Fëanaro's heart. I say this to you in love, but it is time to let go. You have me and your father, and Arafinwë loves you dearly as well. My advice is to appreciate the love you do have, and to end this fruitless chase which will only bring you to hurt and sorrow."

And she pulls back, slightly alarmed to hear his talk of perfection and conditional love. Where did she and Finwë go so wrong, that they raised a child who would believe this?

"Wherever did you get this idea that love must be earned?" she murmurs softly. "Surely, not from your father and I? You have never needed to earn our love, my child. I love you now every bit as much as, and no more than, I ever have in the past. And, may I add, we are not perfect, and you are not perfect, nor do we expect you to be such. You should not expect it of your children either, or you will break their backs with such a burden." Her tone has grown serious, but it seems fitting for a serious situation.

~~~

If it were anyone other than Finwë saying these words, Fëanor would have reacted with anger and arguing, perhaps scoffing or accusation of lies. The idea that he has broken his son's trust seems outrageous and ridiculous to him, but Finwë would not say such a thing lightly. In all his life, Fëanor had never known Finwë to say random things out of impulse or dishonesty. If he was certain that Nelyo did not trust Fëanor, he must have good reason for believing it.

"Nelyo... told you this?" he says quietly, his voice broken. "Just this evening, when you were speaking with him? He told you as much?"

If this is true, he doesn't even know what to think or what to say. He didn't blame Nelyo for possibly having lost some trust in him during the events with the brothers, before Fëanor knew that Nelyo was telling the truth, but he had thought they were past that.

"Nelyo forgave me," he mutters, half to himself. "At least, he said he did."

He is so distracted with these thoughts that he doesn't respond to the question about when was the last time Nelyo really opened up to him.

And Nerdanel startles him a little with her idea that perhaps it was the influence of Nolofinwë that led Fingon to do what he did. This would certainly make more sense... and in a way, it could explain the way Fingon had seemed to recoil at his father's presence and be terrified of him. Regardless, something strange was going on, and Fëanor is certainly feeling more and more justified in his decision.

"I will speak with Nelyo about this later," he says to Nerdanel. "See if I can determine what the real influence of Findekano has been."

"Of course it is fine." Fingolfin says with a sigh. "I will never give up on my brother. Not if all the ages had passed of this world. I will never and truly I mean never, do it." He shuts his eyes. "Feanaro loves me. He always has, and he always will. He just hasn't shown it yet." He speaks dazedly, as if trying to convince himself, and repeats it. "He loves me... truly, he does. And all that I need to do is earn it. All that I need to do is be worthy of that love, and then I can receive it... and there can be peace... there can be peace..."

At her words of letting go, however, a deep anger and desperation arises in his heard, and he leaps up, backing away. "No, mother." He says firmly. "I am not letting go of him!" To him, nothing is more painful than that idea, losing his brother forever and never being able to gain his approval or love. He casts one hand over his face, bitterly weeping in silence. "I won't let go of him... I never will. Nothing you say can change that, mother. It's only because of Miriel that he does this... Otherwise," He stops in tears. "Otherwise, he would be as affectionate as any other."

Indis' talk of love is sentimental, and he listens to it, but it doesn't faze him very much. After all, she's saying it to make him feel warm and comforted, and he knows that. It's of course, all kind and good to say that love is given, but in reality, he knows the truth. He knows that any love, any sliver of affection must be hard-earned. Everything is conditional, after all.

And he backs further away, thinking of everything, and immediately feeling the need to get space alone, and be free from all of these worries. "I think-I think I may need to leave, forgive me."

~~~

Finwe nods slowly. "Not in those words, but yes... And he seemed surprised, when I told him that he would make a good king." He pauses. "Indicating that, such was not often articulated to him... I tried to explain to him that surely you only hold him to a standard for his good, and I very much spent my time in trying to help him see how much you love him, and how much you truly do care about him." His voice lowers, a bit, and he is not confident that it is a good idea to reveal the following words to Feanor, but, seeing that Maitimo is his son, and to hold anything back from his own father would be horribly sad and tragic, Finwe opens up.

"In fact..." He begins, "I didn't want to tell you this, but Nelyo, he... he told me that he only forgave you in lip service at first. That his heart was at that time starting to catch up, but in the beginning, it was nothing more than words." He shakes his head. "I'm terribly sorry, son... And I don't want you to be moved to despair or guilt or any sort of deep desolation. Believe me, all fathers make mistakes. I have made a fair too many with you and your half-brothers. But, do understand, the best thing you can do when you make them, is to acknowledge it and make it right." He sighs. "I know far too many fathers who have never made things right, because of pride. And they have left their children under bridle and bit and aching for any feeling of affection. And their children, they grow to be afraid and feel undeserving of love." He offers a sad smile to Feanor. "I simply don't want that for you and Maitimo."

He looks down, taking his son's hands into his own, and looking him deeply in the eyes. "So, tell me son, when did you last feel a deep and rich connection with your son? When did he last open up to you, with everything?"

Nerdanel nods. "I think that would be wise." She doesn't dare interrupt this seemingly very intense conversation, and almost feels like she truly does not belong here. But she's not sure when or how to leave.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Prevented? Up until now, that is...and yet who knows? It may happen swifter than we expect, for has our fëar not endured only too much?"

"Far too much indeed... any single one of these events by itself would have been too much, and yet we have seen multiple," Maitimo says with a weary sigh.

But he can't bring himself to think and agonize too much more over all this. He's done way too much of that already today, and his heart and fëa are exhausted from so much passion. Whatever his fate is, he barely has enough energy to care one way or the other. "Nauva i nauva," he says with a numb calmness. "If is is the will of the Valar that we should fade, fine. I do not resist such a fate. But if they'd rather we remain here, I suppose we'll figure out a way to carry out their will, whatever it is."

~~~

Indis sighs, wondering if her words have been futile, yet still refusing to give up, and hoping she can give some comfort to her son. "I am not saying you have to give him up," she tries to reassure him, though she feels like his distress is so great that her words are not reaching him. "Or even give up the hope that he will love you, but I am saying there is a time to stop seeking so desperately after his love that it hurts you and your children."

She hopes to get a better sense of how to touch her son's heart and mind, and asks him, "Tell me, what is it about Fëanaro that makes you yearn for his affection so much? And why do you think you are undeserving of it?"

It troubles her deeply that Nolofinwë is so entrenched in such a view of life, and she hopes he isn't beyond reach.

~~~

Fëanor is silent for a long, long while, his expression grim and unreadable. The stoic look on his face conceals the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling around inside him, so that only those who know him very well would know of his great distress. It had been easy enough in theory to claim that he didn't care so much about what was really on the heart as long as the right words were said, but now that that is exactly what has happened in Nelyo's case, he's not sure how he feels about it. On one hand, he holds his original view, and can hardly blame Nelyo for not having full feelings of forgiveness right away after all that had happened. And the fact that he would say the right thing out of mercy and desire for peace, despite his personal feelings, is commendable. On the other hand... it still hurts to know that there was some insincerity in Nelyo's forgiveness. There's no denying that.

Some anger arises within him, too. Why should he have to beg and plead to justify himself to his son? Fëanor has devoted many decades to the raising of his children, protecting them, educating them, giving his whole self for them, really. And yes, it had been wrong of him to believe so stubbornly for so long that Nelyo and his sister were the traitors, and falsely accuse them of the very wrongs that had been done to them. But he doesn't think it fair that both Nelyo and Findekano should hold a place of righteous superiority over him, judging his deeds as though they are the wiser ones. He is their elder and superior, and they both should have been grateful for his sincere repentance of his misdeeds, and not decide in their hearts that it wasn't good enough. Some fathers might never have humiliated themselves enough to apologize to their children and nephews. Fëanor had given them what he felt was right and that they deserved, and they both rejected his sincerity and humility.

"Why should my son and nephew lord judgment over me, and decide whether or not I am sufficient for them?" he says quietly and bitterly. "It's backwards. They should both be accepting me as their authority and yielding to my judgment, and accept the repentance and humility that I sincerely offered them."

Saying this out loud, though, makes him pause. To yield... that is exactly what Nelyo has done. Unlike Findekano who has lashed out in rebellion, and made his personal feelings widely known to the detriment of everyone, Nelyo has done the opposite. Though his personal feelings weren't aligned with what was right, he did what was right in spite of them. Fëanor realizes he cannot ask anything more of his son than that.

"Nay... forget what I said. It's not true," he says, slumping forward and putting his face in his hands, realizing with regret how his eldest deserves to be thought more highly of even than he has been. "I mean, it is, in a sense. Except that Nelyafinwë has indeed yielded to my judgment and accepted my words, even in light of what you have just told me, Father. I don't deserve such a son..."

His regret deepens with Finwë's question about when was the last time Maitimo had opened up to him. "I... I don't know," he admits. "I don't know if he has ever told me everything, personally. I have always thought that sort of thing as less important than the duties I know I have as his father: to protect, to provide for, and to educate him. I have done all these things, except for my failure to protect him from his brothers."

Fingolfin stares down, tears clouding his eyes. It hurts him that his own mother would tell him this, and even more painful is the reality that he is ignoring her words. But he can't bring himself to fully listen. He can't push himself to agree with her. Feanor deserves his love. But he must earn the love in return. It's always been this way. Why would anything have changed?

"I must seek after him." He finally says, voice breaking , but he tries very hard to hide it. "What you are asking of me is beyond my will to carry out. To abandon him..." His head dangles low and he shakes it with disdain. "I cannot... I will not... I never shall..." He mutters. "And as for my children, they ought to know that their uncle is far more important than their own preference. And after what Findekano did," He sighs. "This is beyond simply anything to do with Feanor. He has utterly failed me, failed us all, and dragged the name of our House down into dishonor. He does not deserve any mercy."

At her question, however, he pales a little, unsure how to respond. It was a worthy inquiry, but he couldn't quite decipher the answer. Feanor was his brother, yes, but so was Arafinwe. Indeed, Arafinwe was closer in bloodline. Yet, after much pondering and mulling over, he finally responds. "He's my brother, mother." He whispers. "And he is so frequently left unloved. Few desire to care for him so deeply, and few ever make it past his heart, cold and distanced. But, I don't know..." He sighs. "I suppose, I've always looked up to him. Always loved him. Always cared for him. I only want to receive that in return, but since I have not, the only plausible solution is that I have indeed not earned it, and don't deserve it."

~~~


Finwe remains silent for some time, allowing Feanor the chance to work through these things himself. Knowing his son, he can see the distress written on his face, and yearns to help him. But, he also knows that the best way to help Feanor is to simply let him solve these things himself. Feanor was always one to learn not from being told , but from turning things around in his own mind, solving every problem within the deepest caverns of his thoughts. So, he simply watches, his eyes fixed on his precious son, gazing with an endless love and abounding compassion.

"My son," He finally begins, after attentively listening to everything Feanor had said and letting him find his own way. "No father deserves his child." He whispers, placing a hand on Feanor's shoulder. "I never earned you. Nothing I could have done would have ever made you be merely a reward to me, something that I had worked for." He holds out his hands. " Instead, sons are a gift. Another chance, you might even say. A chance to redeem yourself and your forefathers, through the eyes of a new person. A chance to be compassionate, to be warm, to form someone... And to allow them to form you." His eyes deepen. "It isn't too late to be that father for your son. Today is a new day, even if yesterday went wrong. I know you will do the right thing."

"Me neither," Maitimo says with a sigh, embracing her. Despite the despair of everything, he finds some comfort in his sister's presence, and hopes his presence might offer her some small comfort as well. It reassures him in a way to know that she's feeling similarly to him; it makes him feel less insane and less like he's overreacting to everything. But at the same time, he grieves that she also experiences hopelessness and despair.

~~~

Indis nods, listening carefully to her son's words and turning them over in her mind. She figures she needs to find some way of convincing Nolofinwë that it is not his own fault that Curufinwë does not love him. That Curufinwë is cold and hard-hearted to everyone who isn't Finwë or his own wife and children, and that nobody should take it personally if Fëanaro does not show him affection. He isn't an affectionate person and there is very little love in his heart. She can see this reality clear as day, but it is clear to her that these beliefs are so deeply ingrained in her son's heart that her words will likely be futile in convincing him of the truth. Somehow, she must help him come to the truth on his own.

"Curufinwë does not love me very much, if at all," she tells him. "I know he has much pain in his heart about what happened to his mother, but still, I have spent many years pouring my love upon him. Not pretending to be his mother or aiming to replace her, but hoping nonetheless that he might be touched by my affection and come to love me for who I am. It doesn't seem to me like he has ever come to that point. Do you think, then, that this is because I am unworthy of his love?"

She's genuinely curious what his answer will be. If these beliefs are as deeply ingrained in him as she fears, he may honestly believe that Indis doesn't deserve Fëanor's love either. And if that's the case, she's not sure what else she can do to correct his wayward thinking. But if not, maybe it will help him realize this irrational self-hatred he's been carrying around, and perhaps he will eventually release it. And if he can do that, perhaps he will relent in his severe actions against his children too.

~~~

Another chance. Fëanor certainly feels like he has needed a great many of those lately. He needed one after believing the lies of his sons about Maitimo, after unjustly accusing Findekano of treachery, and now after the failures of this evening. Not that Fëanor blames himself for all of it, but he wonders if he were a better leader, if he would have managed to resolve everything better than he currently did. And now learning that he is still failing Maitimo in certain ways isn't an easy reality for him to contend with. Fëanor rarely thinks himself in the wrong, but once he realizes that he is, without a doubt, in error, he is determined to make things right. But it seems like those times have been increasing lately. The terrible treachery and strife they have all faced lately must have been bringing out the worst in him.

"Thank you, Father," he says quietly, thanking him for more things than one. "If sons are not deserved, then neither are fathers, and I know I am blessed beyond what I deserve to have you. I'd go to speak with Nelyo now, but if he is resting, I don't wish to interrupt. But in the morning, certainly."

He glances at Amrod, and then Nerdanel, and asks her, "I wonder if he should be well enough to travel by tomorrow? I would like us all to be home, but do not wish to depart too hastily." He remembers what premature travel had done to Nelyo not too long ago, and doesn't plan on allowing the same thing to happen with Amrod.

Fingolfin stops, feeling a certain darkness in his heart at her question. At first, he immediately wants to retort with the response that she of course deserves love from anyone, and that anyone who treats her as less than that, is simply being unjust. After all, she is his mother and he has always had an abundance of respect and affection for her, and a desire to protect her from any ill word uttered. But this time, he pauses. Why didn't Feanor treat her well? It was a tough question, and he wasn't about to pretend that he could read anyone's heart. But the deep inquiry that it was had to beckon an answer. So, he was determined to give one.

"I suppose it's that," He tries to begin, but quickly finds himself falling silent again. "Hmm..." He gazes at her, glancing at those golden strands of hair falling from her head like a river of riches. Who wouldn't love someone so beautiful, so wonderful, so truthfully blessed? The answer comes to him quicker than he expects it to. "Maybe, well maybe, mother... Maybe you haven't." He pauses, gauging her reaction and hoping he has not utterly insulted her with his words. "I'm sorry- I truly mean no offense. I just... I wonder sometimes, if any of us did the right thing for him. Feanaro saw you as a pretender of his mother no doubt..." He muses. "He must have seen you as a replacement, even if that wasn't true. He was very young, after all." His eyes fall to almost closed, and he mutters. "Perhaps none of us are worthy of his love... None but father, and his family..."

Tears cloud his vision, and he looks up to face Indis. "But enough of that... If this is indeed the truth, and it is..." He sighs, feeling more than anything that he has perhaps not been a good enough brother, or that he has never deserved Feanor's love, and has yet to do something worthy of earning it. His voice breaks, and he looks to her. "I have answered your question, much as it pained me so. Tell me, mother... What can I do to earn his love that I have not already done?"

~~~

"Of course, my son..." Finwe mutters, smiling and casting an arm around Feanor. "We all need this sometimes. Every one of us has made mistakes... And every one of us should receive a second chance." And as he listens to Feanor's plan, he smiles even wider. "Excellent plan, Curufinwe." And he gazes into Feanor's eyes, his glance softened and peaceful, and full of love overflowing. "This is the son I've raised. The son I will forever be proud of. A warrior, a fighter... A strong and bold and confident leader... A father... A husband.... But more than it all, more valuable to me than any of your other roles," He pauses. "My son. My true and honest, my good and pure, perfect son."

Finwe wants Feanor to feel all the support in the world, and he also loves his son more than anything else. Of course, Feanor isn't 'perfect' in the sense that he doesn't make mistakes. He makes mistakes like everyone. But he is 'perfect' to Finwe. He couldn't do anything to earn his father's love any more, and he couldn't make any rash choice that would lose it. Finwe wants him to know that.

Nerdanel smiles, her eyes becoming slightly teary as she watches the interaction before her. It makes her think of Mahtan, and how he loved her, but never showed it. It makes her remember the golden daughters of Valinor, and how she could never quite be like them, as much as she strived to.

At Feanor's question, she shrugs. "I think he would be fine... I imagine we can reassess in the morning, but I say, plan for tomorrow. We can always hold back another day, if it is indeed needed."

There is no shock or offense in the eyes of Indis-- only a sort of resigned and sorrowful look. She had hoped her son's misguided beliefs didn't run so deep, but it seems they do, and now she's unsure what to do about it. And while she doesn't entirely know what to do to help him, she know what she won't do, and that's to give up on him.

"Perhaps he did see me as a replacement, though I did everything I could to avoid such a misconception," she admits. "But, my son, is that really my fault? It may be the reason why Fëanaro does not love me, but is there anything I can do about that? You see, sometimes, no matter what we do or how good our intentions are, some people choose to see the worst in us no matter how much good we do, and the best we can do is accept that and move on. Otherwise, we will be filled with insecurity and self-hatred, which is a form of self-obsession, and it's bad for you and bad for everyone who loves you."

Indis gazes into his eyes, moved with sympathy to see his tears, and gently wipes one from his cheek. "You have been a wonderful brother to Fëanaro, ever since you were small children. You saved his son Maitimo's life, after all. From what I have heard, if you had not opened your home up to him and cared for him, he might have died. And from what I've heard, you treated Fëanaro with such compassion and gentleness, even while he was confused and grieved and lashing out at everyone. If he does not appreciate that... well, that's a terrible shame, because he ought to. The fact that he is still cold to you despite all that says something about him, not about you. And I know you do not wish to think ill of your brother, which is commendable, but it is wise to be aware of someone's faults in the midst of your love for them."

~~~

Fëanor doesn't know how to respond to such high praise, thinking he doesn't deserve all that. But Finwë has always been one to build others up and bestow on them words of encouragement and positivity. Embracing him, he says, "Thank you, Father. I am sorry that we must depart from you so soon. Perhaps after everything has settled down a little, we may come back and have a proper and less eventful visit."

He nods in agreement with Nerdanel. "I imagine he shall be much better tomorrow after having had a full night of sleep. But we shall make that judgment then."

Fingolfin listens attentively to the words of his mother, turning them over in his mind and mulling over them. They do seem to make sense, he thinks. And as much as he doesn't want to agree with her regarding Feanaro, he almost feels that she has a point, but his confidence that she is right quickly fades as he finds what he thinks to be a flaw in her words. She says that some people choose to focus on the worst in others. Such is of course true, but what could be done to prevent it? Not nothing.

"If there was no worst in you, they would have nothing ill to focus on." He points out smartly. "I believe that it is everyone's life pursuit, or ought to be, to be perfect. Mediocrity is simply an enemy. Perfection is the only thing that will be tolerated. In my home, I will not settle for the ideals which many say are normal and alright. Only perfect shall do. People only say that it is impossible to justify their own desires not to place in the extra distance and achieve it."

He firmly believes this. In fact, he has always thought it this way, well, perhaps not always, but for most of his life. After all, why should perfection be out of reach? If you deem it worth reaching for, what is to say that you cannot achieve it? Why would the laws of the world prevent you from the very thing they ought to be leading you towards? No other way makes sense to him than this.

He sighs. "So I suppose it must be, that I have not rooted out the worst in myself. For if I had done so enough, my brother would have nothing to hate, for there would be nothing in me worthy of scorn or hatred. It is indeed my fault, for not being the perfect brother I ought." He thinks he has found the answer to his original question, and it makes him relieved.

~~~

Finwe smiles. "Of course. You deserve all of those words. And I certainly hope that we shall see each other again. In fact, I mean to stay close, very close, with both you and your son."

Nerdanel nods, smiling.

"But, my son..." Indis can no longer contain her shock at the extremity of Nolofinwë's mindset. "No one is perfect save Eru Iluvatar Himself, can't you see that? Is Finwë, your father, perfect? He is a good and honorable man, but even he has made mistakes sometimes. And what about Nerdanel? Or Maitimo? Are any of them perfect? You do not have to be perfect to deserve love, my son... Everyone deserves love."

Her despair grows. Where did she go so wrong, and fail so miserably, in the raising of her son? How did he come to have such a warped and unattainable worldview?

~~~

"And I with you. Our bond is a great one, and I wish it to flourish. I hope my children will continue to benefit from your wisdom too," Fëanor says to Finwë. Standing up, and turning to Nerdanel and Maglor, he tells them, "It has been a long enough day for all of us. I think it is past time for us all to get some rest."

Fingolfin again listens, not agreeing with his mother, but fully intent upon letting her speak and have her word. After all, if what she is saying is not true, he would want to know what it is that she was saying. Her words seem convincing, full of sentiments and emotion, which Fingolfin had always found were both a good thing and a bad one. On one side, sentiments could make you feel something. They could change your mind through way of seeing something deeper, something beautiful and strange and indescribable. That was good. For they could reach even the hardest hearts. But on another level, they could blind you to truth, which is what Fingolfin expected was now taking place. His mother wanted to believe that everyone deserved love, but such a thing would make no sense. No one deserves anything. By what? By their nature? If anything, the flaws of their nature would decrease their deserving of things, and since they had already deserved nothing, a decrease would mean even what they had being taken away.

"True you are, mother..." He begins, pointing out the positives first in a strategic attempt to not insult his mother by disagreeing with her. "That father, and Nerdanel and Maitimo, none of them have reached perfection." He is fully comfortable and confident with this statement. "They are striving for it- but it frankly doesn't matter. Feanor has chosen to give them love despite their being completely unqualified and undeserving of it. He has chosen to give them something that they do not deserve and have not earned." He pauses. "And that is fine. It is his love, and it is his to give to who he wishes." He stops, thinking of how to go on. "But as for myself, he has not given it to me. And perhaps you would think that I feel injustice by that, mother. But, I don't. Quite the opposite would be true, actually. So, he has not given it to me. It doesn't matter. No one deserved it in the first place, he gave it freely. So what would deem me 'worthy' of it? I am not worthy. What other reason would there be? What? I should pine for a gift because a few others received one? I am no longer a child. I can see others praised and blessed and not have any jealousy in my heart or feelings of unfairness."

He sighs. "The point is, I don't deserve his love, and he has not chosen to give it to me anyway. And why should he? I am one of justice. I will accept love, despite my being undeserving of it, but I will never glory in it as if I had earned it. I know I am not so good as to achieve that. Thankfully, some of you have looked upon my pathetic attempts, and have seen enough good in it to be worthy of your love. Now, that does not mean that I am worthy. It only means that you think I am. And Feanaro, perhaps seeing clearer and not through sentiments, well, he sees the truth. That I don't deserve it," His eyes brim over with tears, a little. "And I shouldn't get it unless I earn it." He takes a long, deep, breath out. "So I will choose that path. I will earn it, like I ought. And if I fall short of perfection, I should not receive it. For it is my fault, not his. I will never question his standards."

~~~

Finwe nods. "Indeed. You should all get some rest, and I expect I will do the same. Yet I will be awake to bid you farewell in the morning." And with that, he embraces his son and departs the room.

Nerdanel smiles and agrees with him.

Maglor, who had been completely silent, pales at the mention of his name. So, father knew I was here... He thinks to himself, but promptly obeys his father's order and comes to Feanor and Nerdanel, gathering into his satchel the parchment he has written poems on and placing it away.

Indis can detect flaws in Fingolfin's logic. If his whole argument for not being loved by Fëanor is that he doesn't deserve it, but he admitted that neither do Finwë and Nerdanel and Maitimo, that argument seems circular. If those three can receive Fëanor's love despite (according to Fingolfin) not having earned it, then why does he think he can earn it? None of it makes sense. But Indis doesn't bring any of this up, feeling that his heart is so set in its ways that arguing will not do any good. This doesn't mean she's giving up on her son; she's just trying to be smart in how she approaches this, and she won't go on in a futile chase.

Her heart grieves, though, at the harsh and unfeeling world that Nolofinwë has painted for himself.

It is not a world she wishes to live in, and it pains her that he has somehow locked himself up in it, and she and Finwë were unaware until it was too late. Perhaps it isn't too late, but it certainly feels like it. Nolofinwë is no longer an impressionable child, and his ways may be firmly set in stone.

In her attempt to politely end or redirect the discussion, though, she still can't help but try to impart just a little more truth on him. "Pathetic attempts? Nay, my son, you are anything but pathetic. You are strong, wise, compassionate, caring... do not forget this. No matter what troubles befall us, do not forget who you are."

She adds, "I can see that you are not persuaded by my words, but I hope you will think on them, and know that they are sincere and not a mere attempt to flatter you. I would not say such things of you if it were not true."

~~~

Fëanor takes Nerdanel and Maglor to their respective guest rooms, and they all retire for the night.

Indis and Nolofinwë part ways, not coming to an agreement, but still parting in love. Later, she and Finwë tell each other of the things that have happened this evening until finally, the entire House of Finwë has retired for the night.

The next morning, the healers agree that Amrod should be fine to travel, so long as someone rides with him and steers his horse. Nerdanel promptly agrees to do this, and she makes preparations for her family to leave. At the request of Fëanor, they do not see the Nolofinwians as they prepare to leave. Meanwhile, Fingon tries to plan how he can send out his letter without his father noticing, and Maitimo and Fëanoriel, though partially refreshed by the night's sleep, are still burdened with sorrows.

Maitimo watches numbly as Nerdanel orders the servants around, ensuring that all their belongings are packed and loaded up on horses. He and Fëanoriel and Maglor are waiting near the grand front entrance of the House of Finwë, watching as both their parents go in and out of the house. Amrod is still waiting inside, but will be brought out soon. At least Amrod wasn't so severely injured that he can't travel; that's one small thing to be thankful for.

But Maitimo was almost surprised that both he himself and his sister woke up that morning at all; the Valar apparently still want them here, for whatever reason.

And the three of them are a moodily silent bunch, except for Maglor's soft humming and plucking on a small lyre. None of the eldest three children of Fëanor have much to be cheerful about, and don't feel inclined towards talking about it.

Maitimo wonders if there's any way he can break away from his family for a moment and make some attempt to bid his cousins farewell-- possibly for a very, very long time. This fills him with bitterness and regret. Though things were strained between him and Findekano, he still hates the thought of leaving him without saying goodbye. But Fëanor has made it painfully clear that he does not wish any of them to see any of the Nolofinwians. And he keeps walking in and out of the house with Nerdanel, keeping a close eye on his children. Maitimo knows that if he were to break away, it would be an act of rebellion and make everything that much worse.

But then, after the servants seem to have finished packing and tacking up the horses, Finwë comes out alongside Fëanor and Nerdanel, and a faint glimmer of hope arises within Maitimo. If the Nolofinwians have not left yet, perhaps Finwë would be willing to take them a message on Maitimo's behalf. Or, he might be too loyal to Fëanor's will to do such a thing, but out of everyone here, Maitimo thinks Finwë would at least receive the idea with kindness, even if he wouldn't go through with it. Maitimo catches his grandfather's eye and smiles, though he can't conceal the pained look in his eyes.

Nerdanel turns to Feanor as what looks to be the last of their belongings is stowed away for the journey. "Is that everything, love?"

Finwe smiles as Maitimo catches his eye, at first, thinking that it was only a silent gesture of humor or happiness. But flashing one more glance backwards, he can clearly see that there is bitterness and pain engraved on his grandson's face and turns immediately to meet him in it. "Maitimo," He says, coming close to his grandson and casting an arm around him, his eyes soft and sincere. "You look to be horribly grieved... what is the matter?"

Maglor then becomes completely silent, not wanting to bother anyone with his music and hoping to go unseen. However, he still inaudibly mouths the words, and in his head, there is a melody.

~~~

Meanwhile, Fingon is hiding in one of Finwe's studies, and has been for the entire night. He's trying to figure out what to do, how to deliver the message. Obviously, if he could, he'd just walk out and hand it to Maitimo personally, perhaps enjoying a quick embrace also. But he's not so fortunate. Father has made it perfectly clear that he is not to interact with practically anyone, and that if he gets caught doing so, the punishment will be severe. He doesn't know how much more of the constant screaming and hitting he can handle, so it seems out of question to do that. Still, there has to be a way. The guards would tell father if Findekano left something with them. And if he walks out to sneak something in his cousin's satchel, he runs the risk of being caught. It truly is a great predicament to deliver something, when no one wants to see him, and the few that do would immediately get him caught.

"It should be," Fëanor says, though in truth, he hasn't kept track of everything they brought. It always astounds him how much stuff his wife manages to bring along on these trips, even short ones. "Let's get Amrod, then, and we should then be ready to leave."

Maitimo, being unaware of how he was carrying his emotions on his face, is initially a bit surprised by Finwë's response. He had been trying to conceal his emotions all morning, and had mostly been successful in front of his parents, anyway. They seemed too distracted to be paying much attention to him, which was probably for the better. And his heart yearns to tell Finwë everything, since they'd had such a heartfelt conversation yesterday. But then again, he feels certain that if Finwë had really known how terrible Maitimo had apparently been to his brothers all these years, he wouldn't have such a high opinion or glowing praise.

"Everything is wrong," he blurts out, despite his reservations. "I don't know when I'll get to see Findekano again, and I think I know why my brothers did what they did..."

Inwardly, he scolds himself for letting even those few words out. He doesn't want to get into the full reasons why he feels guilty about his brothers in front of Fëanoriel, since he doesn't want to burden her with the idea that he showed favoritism to her. Besides, they don't have time to get into it all. Fëanor and Nerdanel seem in a hurry to leave.

"Forgive me," he says with a sigh. "Now is not the proper time or place to talk of such things."

"Perfect, love." Nerdanel nods as she glances at her husband lovingly. "Do you want to get Amrod, my love? Or should I?" She is not as eager to get home as she was the past time, however she does not wish to think about those past things. Better to forget them. But as she fights thinking of him, she can't help but come to the realization that she never truly did apologize to her nephew. Still, it doesn't bother her much. After his actions, he doesn't warrant an apology. Everything is even, if not worthy of an apology from him.

Finwe's eyes widen with horror for what might have happened. Not that something has been done that was wrong, but only seeing how Maitimo blurts out his problems, Finwe immediately feels his pain. The poor young Elda most likely has been carrying all of this with him, and heaven knows what thoughts are spiraling around in his mind because of it.

Finwe throws his arms around Maitimo after listening to what he has to say. "Oh, my son... Tell me... Tell me all about it, all about these things that are troubling you." He sighs, a gentle hand enfolding around Maitimo's. "I can think of a time no better." He says in response to Maitimo's excusing. "Come, come... If you would like, we can sit down in my study and talk for a while. What is burdening you? Remember, as your grandfather, you never bear a burden alone. I bear it with you."

It worries him deeply that Maitimo might be experiencing hurtful and dark thoughts again, and he longs for the son to open up to him. After all, this is the very thing he was afraid of. That Feanor wasn't being father enough for him, and that his sad thoughts were spiraling into pain and bitterness, all carried silently and dutifully, all the while when he should have been opening up. In fact, Finwe internally makes note of how he is currently acting, and even considers asking Maitimo if it would be okay that Feanor sits with them in their discussion. After all, he wants to make sure that Maitimo is comfortable going to his father for anything. But on the other hand, he doesn't want to frighten or overload the young Eldar, so he still mulls over whether it would be a good idea or would not be.