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

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

Nerdanel looks to her son. "Love, will that be an issue?" She suspects he is concerned about the smith's work, and she wants to see if he will be open about it.

~~

Fingolfin nods. "Right. But you must not provoke anything Fingon. Am I clear?"

"Yes, father." Fingon nods.

"Good. Then, we should all make preparations, nay?" Fingolfin looks around at his children.

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

"No," Maitimo says quickly. He'll talk to the smiths later and see if there's any chance of them finishing by tomorrow, but if not, he'll find some other mail and sword. It wouldn't be ideal, but better than nothing.

Trying to smile at Nerdanel, he says, "It's fine, Mother. I can leave tomorrow."

Fëanor nods in approval. "Excellent, then let's inform Amrod and Maglor."

Maglor certainly won't be excited about this trip, but that's his own fault. But then, a realization comes to Fëanor-- they may have to break the news to Maitimo about Maglor's involvement before the trip, or he'll be in for quite the shock when Maglor has to apologize to the Nolofinwians.

~~

Turgon nods. "Yes, Father. When should we be ready to leave?"

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

Nerdanel takes Maitimo's hand, whispering to him, "Hey, love... What's a matter?" She can tell by that concerned look on his face and his attempt at a smile that something is weighing on him, she just doesn't know what. It may very well be just for safety. Her poor son has been more watchful than ever, because he needs to be to survive.

She glances over to Feanor, and then back at Maitimo. She loves them both so much.

~~

Fingolfin sighs. "Perhaps, tonight- tomorrow? Make preparations now. We will leave when you are all readied."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

"Nothing..." Maitimo says, but his voice trails off as he realizes something. If he leaves before the smiths finish their work, they could sabotage it in his absence. He could ask them to stop working when they leave, but how would he know that they would honor that command and not tamper with his things while he's gone?

And yet he feels he can't change his mind suddenly and ask his parents to delay the trip, or that will draw attention to what he's trying to do.

An anxious look comes to his face, which belies his words.

~~

Turgon and Aredhel both agree to this, and obediently leave to pack their things.

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

Nerdanel looks closer at him, a bit of concern becoming evident on her face. "Love? What is it?"

~~

Fingon also leaves to do the same, although a bit reluctantly.

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

"There's some... things... I was hoping will be finished by then," Maitimo says quickly, realizing his face might be betraying his thoughts. He's never been good at hiding his emotions. "It should be fine, though." He tries to smile at her again.

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

"Love," Nerdanel starts. "The brothers are locked away, and we discovered that Findekano never actually tried to hurt you. Forgive me if this is a little too blunt for you, but you are safe. Please, please don't terrify yourself." She comes close to him. "Please, Maitimo... Understand that you do not need to be frightened."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

"How do you know that?" Maitimo blurts out before he can think too carefully about what he's saying. "The attacks of the brothers came out of nowhere, and even now I don't understand their motive... how can we be sure of anything?"

"You cannot," Fëanor says gravely, "and you are wise to arm yourself. I am only glad that you have finally learned this lesson. All those around us may have hidden treachery. It is something you must always be mindful of, even if you think someone is trustworthy... they may have secret malice and violence in their hearts."

 

[Áramandë Amaniel]

I turn to Fëanor, and I speak in stern tones - not commanding, yet firm and serious:

"Mayhap it be wise that we wait a little while until their works are fully completed, before we leave. Maitimo's safety is important. We must be sure that he is well-protected at all times."

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

"Feanaro," Nerdanel says sternly. "Please. Do not fill our poor child's mind with your lies. You may be wary about everyone in this world and I understand that you have reasons, and that your heart has erected walls for itself, but many are not and do not live in this guarded way, and I do not think it is healthy to live in, especially for a mere boy." She sighs, stepping forward. "You are terrifying him. Please, please stop."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

"Lies?" Fëanor's eyes narrow, and his face flushes with anger. How can Nerdanel oppose him now, at a time like this? "Tell me, where is the lie in what I said? Did his brothers not betray him suddenly, violently and without any clear warning? I am only trying to protect our son, Nerdanel! What if something like this were to happen again, perhaps not from the brothers, but from someone else? It would be unwise for him to ever be unarmed again, so I will not stand for it."

He adds, "I am in agreement with Fëanoriel. I see the sense in delaying our trip until this armor and sword is finished. It should only be another day or so."

Maitimo silently watches all this, amazed that Fëanor seems to be more on his side than Nerdanel is, for once. Nerdanel means well, but she doesn't seem to understand. Maitimo can clearly see now that there is evil in the world and for whatever reason, it has frequently been pitted against him, and he must be prepared in the future if he wishes to survive. Fëanor is right-- treachery could come not just from the brothers, but from just about anywhere.

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

Nerdanel steps back, genuinely shocked by the ire of Feanor being directed at her so swiftly. He's not wrong that Maitimo could be in danger, but she just wishes that Maitimo never changes his previous outlook on life. It was her favorite thing to see. How he would run and go on hikes and live a free and joyous life. The other brothers were concerned in protection, guarding themselves, but Maitimo would help her in the garden, or assist with cooking in the kitchen, or baking. He was so gentle. He was so sweet. She didn't want to lose that, and it felt like that side of him was quickly slipping away.

"My love..." She says, looking intently just a few feet off from Feanor. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes, even know though she felt she was right. "I'm not saying it's wrong to be armed. I understand that part of it, I do..." She pauses, her voice falling to a whisper. "But please, do not scare him. Do not fill his head with the thoughts that everyone is out to get him, and that he cannot have any peace while he was about. Do not make him distrust his kin."

She sighs. "Look what happened with you and your brother. All of this built up distrust, and now you cannot even speak with him in a kind way. You can't even look at him without thinking about everything in your life that has happened, and harboring and directing so much resentment and anger, and fear... Please," She walks over to Maitimo, stepping behind him and looping her arms around his neck, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Don't put our son through that..."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Fëanor might have softened at the words of Nerdanel until she mentions Fingolfin, and he stiffens at that. He genuinely doesn't think he has acted wrongly in his conflicts with his half-brother-- he realizes he made an inaccurate judgment about Findekano, but he believes he has good reason to be suspicious of Nolofinwë himself, and that Nolofinwë was wrong to lie to him about the whereabouts of Fëanoriel and Nelyo.

But Maitimo speaks up before Fëanor can say anything. "Mother... don't worry about that. It is not Father who has led me to be more suspicious of danger than I used to be, but the brothers and the deeds they did. I fear danger, it's true, but that is not because of the words of Father, but because of... what has happened."

He can read the worry that lingers in her eyes, though, and tries to reassure her. "I'm not afraid of everyone. There are those I still deeply trust."

He doesn't mention, though, that neither she nor Fëanor are completely on that short list. Not that he thinks they mean him harm, but rather that they have failed to handle the danger properly and in fact have increased his suffering, if unintentionally. Perhaps Ancalirë and the Nolofinwians are the only people left that Maitimo has complete trust in-- but even then, they are not capable of protecting him from all harm, which is why he is determined to be constantly armed, more skilled at fighting, and more vigilant.

It is ironic that he's trying to reassure Nerdanel that his own thoughts are not as dark as they really are, when he's the one who's forced to live with them.

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

Nerdanel sighs, looking down at Maitimo. His words are sharp, and they cut her to the core. Indeed, a lot has happened to their son, and they might have been able to prevent it, had they not acted in such an untrusting way. They couldn't believe that the four brothers would do something so dark, but the fact that they had, now scarred and weighed upon the entire family.

"Okay, love." She mutters, gazing into his eyes. "But you have to promise me that if things get too serious, and you become too untrusting, you'll tell me. I don't want you to live with thoughts like that." Her voice lowers to a whisper, but it is still audible enough. "Your father let those thoughts take over his mind, and they've never let go. He's still guarding himself, even though he has power and we live in a near perfect realm."

She looks to Feanor, and nods. "Have every smith work on this." She says, and a guard nearby hears her. "And if that is not fast enough, I know a craftsman better than any other..." She glances at Feanor, a sparkle in her eye. "We should be able to leave, and just as planned."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Maitimo nods and says to Nerdanel, "I will." But inwardly, he knows he isn't telling her the full extent of everything he's thinking and worrying about, or that he has felt so strange lately, numb and not at all like his old self, and is struggling to understand who he is now. It is somewhat an ironic thing that she asks for, since if he goes to a place that is too dark and untrusting, why would he tell anyone about it? But he hates to worry her, and hopes to act more normally in her presence until he somehow gets all this figured out.

Then he approaches Fëanor, realizing Nerdanel's point about him being the best smith here. "Father... would you do me a favor? Will you inspect their work?" He's been watching it closely, but doesn't have much of an idea of what he's looking for.

"Of course," says Fëanor, walking over and examining the work of the smiths. The sword is at least assembled by now, and cooled, and its blade is being refined and sharpened. Fëanor takes it and gives it a swing before nodding in approval and handing it to Maitimo.

"This should suit you well," he says, watching as Maitimo gives it a swing also, though he struggles a little, since his right shoulder and arm are still weak and stiff. "The balance is very good, and it's a good length for you. However, I can make it even better."

He sets the sword down on an anvil and takes a hammer, and begins making tiny adjustments to it. Crafting has always been a soothing distraction to Fëanor whenever the woes and worries of life grow great.

 

[Áramandë Amaniel]

I gaze at Fëanor in awe and inspiration, watching him make these subtle adjustments. I look at him, gazing intently, and I speak:

"One day, I'd like to be able to learn these things as well...such subtle craft...and yet mayhap I already have, though more still I have yet to learn, leastways from yourself, I should think. Far more."

I give him a small smile, tapping the pendant of Runyaril, my Silmaril, to prove my point.​

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

Nerdanel smiles, a gleam in her eyes as she looks at the fascination that both her children seem to have with crafting. "Your father and I have crafted for many years," She glances at Feanaro. "And nothing would gladden us further than for you to take on such as we have."

She finds herself excited at the thought that both of her children may one day be fine at crafting and working with their hands. To her, it is the most valuable thing that they can pass onto their children.

Her gaze meets Maitimo. "But remember, love..." Her voice is soft. "Clay and metal must be soft, so we can form them," a whisper, "And hearts likewise, must be soft."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

"Perhaps I shall teach you," Fëanor says to his daughter, smiling at the passionate gleam in her eyes. "We could work on some sort of a pedestal or display on which you could display your Silmarils, alongside my own. But this would be trivial in comparison to actually having crafted the gem itself."

Maitimo tries to smile at Nerdanel and accept her words, but in his heart, he doesn't fully accept it. Being soft and trusting was what led him to nearly getting killed three times by his brothers, and he doesn't intend to let his guard down again.

"Perhaps you are right," he says mildly, "but at the same time, there are those who see a soft heart as something to be crushed and utterly destroyed."

He regrets the words immediately, as they are exposing his true feelings which he doesn't expect Nerdanel to understand or approve of, but he just can't keep it inside.

 

[Áramandë Amaniel]

I nod passionately at Fëanor.

"Ai, indeed we could, and that would make a marvelous display!"

I then glance to Maitimo as he speaks, and I come beside him, embracing him.

"Indeed that may also be so, Maitimo...indeed it may be so."

I lean in closer, and whisper in his ear:

"And that is why we must both be careful of all that may transpire from this day henceforth."

 

[Elbereth Vala Varda]

Nerdanel beams. "Three crafters, then!" She looks at Feanor and Feanoriel and smiles with pride. They are both so strong and great, and she is honored to be a part of both of their lives. Then, she turns to Maitimo, worried in secret that he may be feeling excluded.

"My love," She says smiling. "My beautiful son, you must understand that e'en though it may be crushed, still it must allow itself to be softened and fragile. Is metal not at the mercy of it's smith? Or clay not at the bidding of the crafter? It takes trust. And you must trust us, those who have been chosen to form you, as we will protect you and form you, just as a crafter may with his piece."