RP 🎲 One Road Lies Ahead

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

(Note: This is a private RP between myself and @WatcherWraith . Please feel free to read it here and discuss it in the separate discussion thread.)

Another day, another mess in the House of Fëanáro. And, as usual, it was Maitimo's job to do something about it.

His brothers making messes grew increasingly common as they grew older and more capable of causing damage, and as more and more little brothers were added to the family. Now, there were seven brothers in total, with most of them being the age most susceptible to destructive boredom, and the youngest being toddlers. A perfect combination, really.

Most of the time, Maitimo could deal with the messes easily enough. The last time Moryo had spilled a cup of diluted wine onto a burgundy velvet cushion, Maitimo hadn't completely gotten the stain out, but the color blended in well enough with the deep red fabric that no one noticed the remaining stain. Then there was the time when Kano had cut off a lock of Tyelko's silver hair as revenge for his ruining the tuning of his favorite harp. Tyelko had thrown the greatest temper tantrum known in all Arda, wailing and screaming and threatening to either cut off the rest of his own hair, or Kano's, or both. But Maitimo had put an end to that by teaching Tyelko a braid which concealed the unsightly shortened lock, and not even Oromë noticed when he next took Tyelko out on a hunt. Messes were Maitimo's expertise at that point, not by choice, but by necessity.

But this one... he had no idea if, or how, he could fix it.

He found himself staring at a statue of Fëanáro, one of the two statues positioned at either side of the great staircase of their House. Nerdanel had made this statue of him, and one of herself, to decorate and guard the mighty marble staircase, carpeted in tapestry. Fëanáro had held a jewel in his right hand. And now... his forearm was reduced to a stump, and his hand with the jewel lay cracked and crumbling on the floor. Tyelko and Curvo stood at the foot of the staircase, both pale, wide-eyed and mortified. Tyelko's arms were, not at all suspiciously, folded behind his back.

"How did you two manage this?" Maitimo cried, trying, not all that successfully, to stifle his rising stress. "Ammë's marble is one of the toughest substances in the land! And neither of you can even reach the hands of these statues." After all, these statues in particular were on an enormous scale, with the disembodied hand of Fëanáro being bigger than Curvo's head.

As the guilty ones shuffled in place and dropped their gazes to the floor, Maitimo pressed, in a lower and more threatening voice, "Tell me before I make you. What did you two do?"

Curvo sighed and, with a resigned look at Tyelko, told him, "I guess you'd better show him. You have my permission."

Tyelko hesitated, but he always listened to Curvo, despite the latter being much younger and smaller than him. But eventually, Tyelko revealed what he had been holding behind his back: a rather large slingshot and a hefty rock to go with it.

Maitimo groaned audibly. He could picture it now: Curvo must have invented this thing and suckered Tyelko with his bodily strength into trying it out, with neither having the common sense to consider the environment in which they were testing the instrument.

"Don't blame me. It was all Curvo's idea," Tyelko said frantically, voicing Maitimo's thoughts. "He made this with Atar's help, and he isn't quite strong enough to get a really good shot with it, you know--"

"It's not my fault you have terrible aim!" Curvo retorted.

"My aim is fine! What do you think I do with Oromë all day? I just forgot the hand of the statue reached out that far--"

Maitimo cut him off mid-sentence. "Did it not occur to either of you to try out your toy somewhere, oh, I don't know, outside?"

This silenced both of them, and after a moment, Curvo muttered softly, "That... would have been logical."

Maitimo sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead, shoving aside a frizzy auburn lock which was falling out of his tied back hairstyle. Now what? He had no way of fixing this, and his sleep-deprived mind was slow to give him any decent ideas. The only person who might know how to repair the statue, if it could be done at all, was Nerdanel herself. And though her anger was much more slowly awakened than that of her husband, she did have emotions too. And no one had ever damaged one of her statues before, so Maitimo had no way of knowing how she would react.

But unbeknownst to him, he wouldn't wait long to find out.

A pair of footsteps sounded down the glistening tiled floor, and Tyelko and Curvo grew a shade paler, if that was somehow possible. And Maitimo turned to face none other than Nerdanel herself.

 

[WatcherWraith]

With one glance, she took in the whole scene. The hand and the jewel it gripped, all cracked and crumbling, crumbs of stone sprinkled about where it had fallen. The two guilty-faced children and their older brother, in whose countenance despair was written plain as day. The slingshot and stone, held in Tyelko's shaking hands. Curvo's set jaw and fixed gaze.

Nerdanel had spent weeks on these statues. In fact, they had been finished just days ago. And now, after all her work...."Who is responsible for this?" She demanded, keeping her voice as smooth as she could. "Who was involved?" It did not surprise her when both Curvo and Tyelko pointed at each other. She turned to her eldest. "Tell me."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Both Curvo and Tyelko stared with enormous eyes at Maitimo, who guiltily averted his gaze. Yes, he was about to tattle on them, and they might begrudge him for a while because of that, but what else could he do? Nerdanel seemed to be able to tell pretty well what was going on anyway. He only hoped he would manage to win back Curvo and Tyelko's affection later with an interesting rock and a treat, respectively.

He shook himself out of these thoughts. What was he thinking? These two had brought their judgment upon themselves with their reckless behavior, and they both should have known better.

"They both had a hand in it," he said as calmly and diplomatically as he could muster. "Curvo convinced Tyelko to help him test out his new slingshot, and Tyelko was the one who actually shot it and hit the statue. Neither of them thought to take the activity outside, as they ought have."

He tentatively watched Nerdanel's expression, grateful that she didn't seem outwardly angry, but he figured her anger could have very well been suppressed. And then what if she was upset with him for failing to stop the disaster in time? But the problem was, he couldn't be everywhere at once. He had just been trying to study a minute ago, while allowing the twins to play in his room... hopefully they were still there.

 

[WatcherWraith]

"Thank you, Maitimo. Your honesty saves all of us much time and wasted breath." Nerdanel made sure to give her son a gracious smile, the best she could call up while she was seething inside, and then she turned to the two younger boys.

Curvo. Always the curious one. And Tyelko, excitable and eager to please. And now they've destroyed something precious. They knew better. But Nerdanel refused to get angry with them just yet. No discipline, however well deserved, did any good without the child understanding the importance and meaning behind it. So instead of towering above her small sons, Nerdanel walked over to the stairs and sat down. "Come here, both of you."

Tyelko rushed to obey, standing before her in an instant, his hands behind his back again, a scared look lingering in his eyes. But he did not tremble, and stood straight, his gaze meeting his mother's frankly. Curvo, while slower, also obeyed without hesitation. He walked forward, hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground as if contemplating his misdeed. Nerdanel judged he was thinking over how to avoid it in future, or perhaps how to improve his slingshot...it wasn't easy to tell.

With a snap of her fingers, she regained Curvo's attention. "Look at me. Tell me what you've done, in your own words. One at a time."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Tyelko and Curvo glanced up at Maitimo with a pleading look in their eyes again, as though silently begging him not to let them be subjected to their mother's questioning. But he shook his head at them, subtly but firmly.

"You start," Tyelko whispered at Curvo. "You're the one who got us into this."

"You start," Curvo retorted. "You're the older of us."

Maitimo's gaze hardened, and he opened his mouth to rebuke them for continuing to argue, but Tyelko seemed to yield to both Maitimo's stare and Curvo's argument. "Fine," he blurted. "Curvo gave me this slingshot and asked me to test it out for him. You can ask him about that part. So, I agreed to do it, and..." To Maitimo's great surprise, Tyelko's pale blue eyes welled up with tears. "I forgot the hand of the statue stretched out that far! I didn't do it on purpose!"

Maitimo had never once in his life managed to pull a proper apology out of Tyelko's mouth, but he had settled enough of these disputes in his life that he recognized the way Tyelko apologized in his own way, even if he refused to say the words "I'm sorry." This appeared to be one of those times.

Curvo then went on to explain in detail how Fëanáro had assisted him in the construction of the slingshot, and how he thought Tyelko would be the ideal person to test it based on his greater strength. Maitimo rubbed his dark-circled eyes, trying to focus on Curvo's detailed descriptions, but his sleep-deprived mind wandered elsewhere. What were the Ambarussar getting up to in his room? What if they had found his inkwell and spilled it all over his essay? Would he have to restart it, recalling it from memory to the best of his ability? It wouldn't be nearly as good as the first time, especially since he was so tired. And he was already far behind schedule in finishing it. He glanced anxiously up the staircase, straining to hear any sounds of the twins' activity. If Curvo didn't stop talking soon, he might have to find some way to excuse himself out of the conversation.

His mind returned to the present just in time to hear Curvo finish. "I wish my creation had not caused the destruction of yours," he concluded with a solemn nod, with far more seriousness than an Elfling of his age would have normally had. "I'd be very upset if someone ruined one of my works."

Again, though the words "I'm sorry" were missing, this was still a sincere form of apology from Curufinwë.

Maitimo glanced at Nerdanel for her reaction, hoping she would accept these explanations and either dismiss the children or continue to resolve the matter herself, so Maitimo could go up and stop whatever destruction the twins might have been wreaking in his room.

 

[WatcherWraith]

Tyelko was not normally one to cry, Nerdanel knew. It proved his sincerity to her. Brief thoughts concerning the punishment for his misdeed flitted by in her mind, but she did not settle on one. Then Curvo began to speak.

"I had some ideas for perfecting the slingshot from my initial construction, but my skill was lacking. I had to find Father, and he helped me strengthen the band, here and here." Holding out his hand for the tool, Curvo received it from his brother and began to explain, pointing at its relevant pieces. "The range was too small, and the tension too weak. I wanted it to be actually serviceable for more than mere play, you see."

Nerdanel looked over the slingshot. "And your father helped you?" She asked, prompting him on.

Curvo nodded. "It turned out I needed to rebuild the weapon completely, and I had not the necessary materials. Father was pleased to aid me." A little pride crept into his voice as he spoke, and his eyes narrowed with satisfaction. Despite the current situation, his mother's heart warmed to see this instance of her son's close bond with Fëanáro. Many of the elf lord's children found him a little intimidating and hard to talk to, except for Curvo.

However here her son seemed to realize he was straying a little from the point. He gave himself a little shake and continued. "In any case, once the slingshot was completed, we found my strength was insufficient to wield it. But Father told me this was a problem I must solve on my own, and so I set about doing so. Tyelko was the obvious solution, being stronger than I and eager to test out a ranged weapon."

As Curvo talked, Nerdanel glanced at Maitimo. He was rubbing his eyes slowly, and repetitively, a troubled frown creasing his forehead. Sharpening her gaze a moment, she looked closer. Dark circles under his eyes, and his movements and posture were sluggish. She thought a moment. Makalaurë would be in the library, most likely, far away from this scene, and from his brothers, incidentally. He was not much given to helping care for his siblings, preferring his studies and music practice. Nerdanel pursued her lips disapprovingly. That kind of behavior had been unchecked for too long, clearly. Maitimo glanced up the stairs, eyes distant and strained.

"I wish my creation had not caused the destruction of yours." Curvo said with quiet finality. "I'd be very upset if someone ruined one of my works." His nod at the end must have been copied from his father. Fëanáro did the exact same thing every time he finished an important statement.

Maitimo blinked and seemed to rouse himself. Nerdanel saw the half-worried glance he gave her, and knew she would have to wrap this up quickly. If she was any judge, he was concerned over the rest of his siblings and their doings. So she stood up and, taking Curvo and Tyelko's hands, led them to the broken statue. "Look well at the injury you have done my labor, children. Look well, and know you have caused me to have to refashion this hand of your father's. It shall take me much time, and since your carelessness was the cause of this, I shall require you to repay me in time of your own." Turning to face them, she placed a hand on each of their heads, ignoring Curvo's grimace and Tyelko's attempts to see around her arm. "You shall both assist me in this endeavor, in equal measures. No shirking or putting off duty, do you understand? I want you both in my statuary in an hour's time with willing hands and hearts ready to repay the wrong done to me, as well as to your father."

She dismissed them, and then spoke to Maitimo. "Find the twins and bring them to me. Once you have, fetch Makalaurë as well, and then you may go to your room to work in peace until I call for you."

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Maitimo's bond with his mother was strong, and he could read her well. Now that his mind was focused on the present once again, he could feel the strain and hurt coming through in her eyes and voice, even though she was clearly trying to keep calm and levelheaded for the sake of the children. Perhaps he understood this feeling so well because it was one he experienced himself almost every day.

He found her judgment to be fair. If Tyelko and Curvo had both played a part in damaging the statue, it only made sense that they should help in its repair. Perhaps this would teach them about the amount of work their mother poured into her craft, and they'd be more careful in the future. He didn't miss how they both scurried out of the room at their earliest opportunity, though, avoiding both his and Nerdanel's gaze.

When Nerdanel dismissed Maitimo to find the twins, he nodded gratefully and hurried up the stairs, hoping he would find the twins behaving themselves and find some relief to his anxiety.

And he found the opposite.

He entered his room to find the twins pouring water on his desk, apparently because of the ink spilled all over the wood and the parchments.

Now, the parchments were not completely covered in ink. Some of Maitimo's precise Tengwar calligraphy remained visible... or it did, anyway, until the water caused all the remaining ink to run and blur together.

They both glanced up when he entered, and, seeing the horrified look on his face, burst into tears.

"We're sorry, Nelyo," Pityo sobbed. "We had an accident, and we were trying to clean it up!"

"We thought washing it would help," Telvo added, earnest through his tears.

Much like how Nerdanel must have kept her rage carefully under a lid, Maitimo bit his lip and did the same thing. He couldn't get too harsh in his anger with them, since they were only Elflings and didn't know any better. But at the same time... they had just destroyed several hours of work. Fëanáro expected to see Maitimo's essay that very evening, and he wasn't sure if he could have finished his conclusion in time, let alone rewrite everything he had come up with so far. Maybe if he got Atar to agree to see the essay tomorrow instead, Maitimo could finish it if he stayed up half the night, but just thinking about that made his head spin.

Unable to manage a civil word to the twins, he clenched his jaw and led them by their hands downstairs, where thankfully, Nerdanel remained, gazing thoughtfully at her damaged statue.

"Ammë," Maitimo said, struggling to keep his voice even, "the twins, they... they ruined my essay."

He swallowed hard and fought back tears. Unlike Curvo and Tyelko and the discipline Nerdanel had chosen for them, the Ambarussar couldn't exactly restore Maitimo's academic labors.

 

[WatcherWraith]

A loving mother's heart is easily moved by her children's sorrows, even one so studiously cautious as Nerdanel's. The mere sound of Maitimo's tremulous voice, the bitterness and the fear she heard, the downcast eyes hiding tears she knew were being held back by a will as strong as her own...she looked at the twins. Pitya and Telvo, barely out of babyhood, barely capable of comprehending danger and yet they could comprehend guilt. The boys were staring up at her with expression of shock and dismay, still processing what they'd done. It all made her heart ache for each of them.

She decided to address her eldest's troubles first. "I will speak to your father. You need not worry about the essay tonight. When you have fetched Makalaurë, go find someplace for your heart to rest. You need it." Looking down at the twins, she spoke to them next. "You two...have ruined a great struggle. Much of your brother's strength and much of his time went into those papers. What were you thinking, playing with ink so near them?"

Hurriedly both children sought to clarify the situation. "Mama!" Telvo cried, and then Pitya joined in. "We didn't touch the ink, promise!" Telvo interjected, "Timo's feather pens are so soft! He takes good care of them, Mama. We just wanted to touch them, see how they felt. And we wanted to make words just like him!" Then Pitya interrupted. "We tried to use the ink like he does, and it got everywhere so fast! We're sorry! We tried to clean it up so quickly, but..." he sniffled, and Telvo finished his sentence. "But everything got so wet, Mama. It all got so, so wet." And as one, the twins broke out sobbing.

Nerdanel steeled herself. Of all her children, these two tugged on her heartstrings the most. Their sensitive hearts and unique method of speaking certainly didn't help. Still, recompense must be made. Maitimo could not leave without knowing he was being looked after too. Abandoning her earlier idea of standing over the boys, Nerdanel knelt beside them and put a hand to each of their little faces. "I hear your sorrow and your regret." She told them. "But Maitimo cannot make again what has been destroyed. So you two are going to do two things: first you will go back upstairs and under the supervision of a servant you will learn to clean your mess correctly. Second, you will come with me to your father and tell him why Maitimo's essay will not be delivered tonight."

Though she could not see Maitimo, she had a feeling he would be rather alarmed for his brothers with regards to this second clause of the punishment. Fëanáro's late moods had made him not only unapproachable to his youngest boys, but intimidating to the older ones. But this was why it was a punishment. It had to be unpleasant and it had to be borne. Still...she pressed a kiss to Pitya and Telvo's foreheads. "I will be right there with you, alright? After that, you two will go find Makalaurë and tell him to play with you. He will this time, okay?" The twins nodded slowly. They held out their hands and Nerdanel took them. She looked up at Maitimo. "Tell your brother to meet me here, and not to dawdle or get distracted, yes?" Then she stood up and began to lead the twins away.

The talk with Fëanáro would be difficult, or so she anticipated. Perhaps he'd be busy with some project and would have more patience than usual, his mind more concerned with the complexities of his work than with the accidents of the children. Sadness crept into her thoughts at this, for Fëanáro had been growing so distant recently. She had to drag him back into his family's lives, if she made them all sit down and talk in the forge itself. Or maybe...a new thought began to take shape in her heart. It held hope, and the sadness inside her began to fade.

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Well, Maitimo certainly wouldn't want to be in the twins' place right about now, especially not since they were so little. Attempting to talk to Fëanáro about anything even slightly controversial always made Maitimo's breath lock up in his throat. But then again, the twins might not have understood the nuances of navigating a difficult conversation with the passionate and temperamental Fëanáro, nor did they have the years of unpleasant conversations and arguments like Maitimo did. However, they were still old enough to sense anger and feel fear. Despite Maitimo's continuing hurt and anger towards the twins, which did not abate even with their heartfelt apologies, it still made him shift uncomfortably to think of them potentially incurring their Atar's wrath.

But Nerdanel reassured them that she would be with them. This made Maitimo relax a little. Fëanáro wouldn't get too angry with Nerdanel around... hopefully.

Still, Maitimo was glad to not have to take part in that conversation. In some ways he was like to Fëanáro, but in most ways, he was the opposite. Fëanáro dealt with the emotions of others as though with a sledgehammer, while Maitimo dealt with them as though with a needle and scalpel. His own heart was easily hurt by any perceived disappointment or anger from his father.

He didn't have any thoughtful or helpful words to offer now, so when Nerdanel told him to go fetch Makalaurë, Maitimo obeyed with a silent nod, still swallowing back tears.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment in his heart when he found Makalaurë perched in a nook in the library, gazing distantly out the window, while writing something. Poetry, most likely, given the short and uniform lines of his script. While you've been here daydreaming and lost in your own little world, I've been left to deal with two disasters at once?

"Kanafinwë," Maitimo said with a touch of coldness in his voice. Laurë jumped, startled to hear his favorite brother's voice uncharacteristically calling him by his full father-name.

"Is something wrong, brother?" he asked in his usual sweet, melodious voice.

Instead of directly answering the question, since Maitimo wasn't sure he could contain his stress and anger, he simply said, "Ammë is asking for you. She is by the grand staircase with Tyelko, Curvo and the twins."

Laurë nodded, his brow furrowed and his gaze puzzled. He was perhaps closer with Maitimo than anyone else, and he could clearly read that his brother was barely managing to keep himself together. Laurë also clearly sensed the anger directed towards him, though he didn't understand it, and he was afraid to ask. So he simply nodded, put away his parchments, and hurried towards Nerdanel and the others.

He gaped in horror at the sight of Fëanáro's statue with its hand broken off. Given the tears all around from the children, it wasn't hard for Laurë to deduce the source of Maitimo's stress. But why in all Arda Maitimo seemed mad at Makalaurë about it, he hadn't the slightest clue.

"Maitimo said you were asking for me, Ammë?" he asked.

Meanwhile, after Laurë left, Maitimo stood alone in the library, wondering what he should do. Nerdanel had told him he could go rest, but where? Just looking at all the books and parchments in the library made his head spin and his vision blur. And he couldn't go back to his room without using the grand staircase, and he'd have to interact with everyone again, which he did not feel he had the capacity to do. Besides, his room was hardly a private space anyway. It was his brothers' habit to barge in without knocking whenever they needed something, and normally, Maitimo was happy to respond.

His eyes fell on the window, out of which Makalaurë had been gazing. This overlooked the garden. Yes... this seemed satisfactory. Perhaps the fresh air and light of the Trees would revive Maitimo's fëa more than sleep would in any other place.

Back when he had more free time, he used to love helping Nerdanel tend this garden. He loved to help her figure out where to place the orchids and irises to meet their particular lighting and moisture needs, and he often used his bodily strength to help her haul great rocks or statues to their proper places. Sometimes Fëanáro and the other brothers would join in and help if they were in the mood to, or if Nerdanel specifically requested their help, but it was mostly her labor and Maitimo's.

The place was as perfectly beautiful as always, but now, it was mostly tended by servants.

Maitimo crossed a stone bridge carved with intricate columns, arching over a pond filled with moss and water lilies. And he soon came to a great fountain, designed together by Nerdanel and Fëanáro, bubbling and gurgling as water flowed over its multiple tiers. He sat with his back against a nearby willow tree, at first intending to just relax and let his mind wander wherever it wished. But the golden light of Laurelin shining warmly on him, and the rhythmic flowing of the water, soon became too enticing for his exhausted body and mind to resist, and he fell into a relaxing slumber.

 

[WatcherWraith]

Nerdanel had some time before her second-oldest son arrived to contemplate what she would say to him. She had a number of things to consider, too. The twins must be brought to their father quickly, before their childish memories let the recollection of their misdeed drift from their minds, Tyelko and Curvo would be meeting her in the statuary in an hour to fix what they had done, and she...she had something to discuss with her husband. Something she hoped would help their whole family.

But how would she rebuke Makalaurë for his negligence? Nerdanel was painfully aware how much blame she shared in Maitimo's situation. Her focus on trying to reach Fëanor had left other matters in the far back of her mind. And Maitimo had seemed so capable and willing...but she had not checked up on him and how he was doing. So how much right did she have to scold her son, who bore less responsibility than she did to watch out for the other children?

And then Makalaurë came round the corner. He gaped at the statue's broken limb, then at the children. It took him a second to collect himself. "Maitimo said you were asking for me, Ammë?"

"Yes. You will be taking charge of watching over the children in Maitimo's stead. He has been doing it too long and he's worn out. I must see Fëanor about several matters and then I will explain things in more detail, so I ask you to have patience." Taking the twins by the hands, Nerdanel started down the hall towards Fëanor's forge, where she'd seen him last. "And Laurë? I know you love your brothers, but it is hard to see when you do not help them as you would wish to be helped. See to it you correct yourself and understand wherein lies your error." The hypocrisy of her words stung, but Nerdanel marched on. She could rebuke herself, but it was her duty to rebuke and discipline her children, and so she soothed her conscience as she kept walking.

The twins were sniffling and whimpering with leftover grief over their actions. Knowing how her husband preferred brevity and directness, Nerdanel took the time to plan out how she wanted the conversation to go, from her end at least. "We're just going to tell your father what happened to Maitimo's work and how it wasn't his fault, alright?"

Telvo nodded. "It wasn't Timo's fault." And Pitya sniffed. "It was ours." They both began to sob afresh.

Nerdanel stopped and knelt in front of them. "Atar's not going to be angry with you. You were trying to learn from your brother. He's going to be a little irritated because so much work is lost, but he is not going to be angry. Okay? Come on. After you see him, go ask Laurë for something nice to eat. I'll need to talk with Fëanor a little more by myself." She was uncertain if this meant she was merely repeating her error with Maitimo by allowing Makalaurë to watch the children alone, but for the time, it couldn't be helped.

They reached the forge door. Inside, they could hear slow, repetitive blows of metal on metal. Fëanor was at work. Oddly, now the twins were here, they no longer seemed so scared. They took in deep breaths, both at the same time, and without waiting for their mother, they raised their hands and knocked simultaneously. "Atarinyar!" They called as one. "We want to see you!"

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Fëanáro was hard at work crafting a frame for a stained-glass window. This required careful concentration and constant checking against his measurements and calculations. After all, the frame had to fit perfectly in the window, and the curvature of the arch had to be just so. The slightest deviation in angle would ruin the entire thing. And so he worked slowly, methodically, making sure what he had so far was absolutely perfect before he moved on. It would save more time in the long run than redoing all his work.

The noise of the twins knocking wouldn't have been audible over the roaring noise of the forge, save for the noisy metal of which he had crafted that door. He designed it that way on purpose after Nerdanel had once complained to him how if anyone wanted to reach him, they had to yell until their voices were hoarse and knock until their knuckles were bruised. And so, the door reverberated the sound, and Fëanáro was so startled, he jumped and nearly dropped his hammer.

His initial feeling was one of irritation for being disturbed in the middle of such focused work. But he recognized the voices of the twins, the youngest ones; it was hard to be irritated with such small Elflings who so strongly resembled their mother.

Besides, how long had he been in here? He glanced at his clock, faithfully ticking away the hours and minutes-- not that he ever paid attention to it. He didn't note the time when he first came in here, nor did he even remember if the Treelight was silver or gold. But based on the aching of his arms and shoulders, and the bleary stinging of his eyes, he figured it was probably time for a break. Oh, and his stomach was growling too, now that he thought about it. A weary body couldn't do good quality work. The problem was, he tended to get so engrossed in his work that he rarely noticed his body's signals that it was time to rest or eat.

Shaking the thoughts aside, he placed the hot partially-formed frame in a vat of cool water, and closed the vent feeding air to his coal fire. Then he turned a few knobs and shifted a few weights in a pulley system, and the great doors of the forge rolled open.

He nodded to the twins as they rushed towards him, though it made him a little nervous whenever young Elflings ran around in his forge full of hard, sharp and hot objects. Curufinwë was the only one he had never worried about when visiting the forge as a young Elfling. Fëanáro walked closer to them so hopefully they wouldn't be tempted to get too close to the forge. But he didn't really want them to hug him, mainly since he was covered in ash and sweat.

Behind them, he spotted Nerdanel. Whatever was going on here, Nerdanel had clearly deemed it important enough to be worth interrupting his work, which was a rare move from her these days.

When was the last time Fëanáro had spoken with his wife or youngest children? With some guilt, he realized he didn't have an answer for that either.

"What brings the three of you here?" Fëanáro asked.

He meant the question as a perfectly neutral request for information. But if Maitimo were there, he would have interpreted it as accusatory and defensive.

 

[WatcherWraith]

Nerdanel bowed her head in greeting to her husband. "Pitya and Telvo have a confession to make." She looked meaningfully at the two children.

The twins looked at each other, their clasped hands trembling slightly. Telvo peeked up at his father. "Promise you won't be mad?"

Without waiting for an answer, Pitya screwed his eyes shut and shouted, "We messed up Timo's 'ssay! It's too wet and all the ink has run away to the floor!" Telvo joined him. "We didn't mean to, Papa, but we wanted to make the letters like Timo does!" Pitya now jumped back in, opening one eye as he did so. "He makes so, so many letters, Papa, and we thought we could too." And then Telvo added, "Please don't be mad with Timo, Papa. He was cleaning up Curvo's and Tyelko's mess and couldn't see us."

Nerdanel's wince was strong enough she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from showing it. She had planned to fix the statue without Fëanor's knowledge. Child messes were one thing, but her husband had always shown a jealous protectiveness of his wife's handiwork, and if he found out the children had broken one of her statues, she had no idea what his response would be. But perhaps he would simply brush over Telvo's words as referencing something irrelevant. She spoke now, hoping to further direct attention away from the accident. "I told Maitimo he did not have to worry about fixing the essay, as it is totally ruined. The twins and a servant were to clean up the mess once we had told you what happened." And perhaps that would really be the end of it.

Now all Nerdanel had to consider was how to broach the subjects she wished to Fëanor. Matters concerning Makalaurë's watching the children, her idea from earlier for the benefit of her family, and her hopes for Fëanor and the children in general. She ran over and over the words she wanted to use, the appeals she could make Fëanor would be most likely to approve of or understand, the decisions she would be asking him to abide by. And all the while she thought, she watched his face for his response to the confession of the twins.

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

A grim expression came to Fëanáro's face as he listened to the twins. Though he couldn't place much blame on small Elflings for acting like small Elflings, he immediately understood Nelyo's plight. A written essay was no less a work of art, and no less unique, than any of the things Fëanáro crafted here in his forge. No two things he made, even if they were made using the same materials and same measurements, ever came out exactly alike. No, to ask Nelyo to remake his essay when it had been destroyed by another would be unjust and impossible.

And yet, he also wished his children to be able to adapt under unfortunate circumstances, and not make excuses for laziness. The solution, therefore, must deliver justice to Nelyo yet still hold him accountable for his work. A tricky dilemma, because the twins couldn't help Nelyo make something new, which would have been the fairest course of action.

He imagined he were a client who had asked Nelyo to conduct some research for him, and Nelyo had come and presented him with his bad news.

"Tell Nelyo he may provide me a brief summary of his findings rather than the polished essay," he said to Nerdanel. "All I care about is the information, not the form of it."

In his mind, he was being generous. The client was receiving less than he had paid for in this hypothetical scenario. In real life, a client might not be so generous, but at the same time, Elflings wouldn't have been the source of the destruction in real life either. They would have had to repay the damages in real life, but practically, they were too young to do any sort of meaningful work to make up for the damage. Thus, Fëanáro made his next decision.

"Come. I will teach you a lesson," he said, beckoning for the twins to follow him. They obeyed, though a bit nervously, as he took them past his tables cluttered with sharp tools and the forge still roaring with heat. In the back stood three window frames, much like the one he was working on just now. These would all go to a particular section of the House, and they had to be as close to identical as possible. The stained-glass art within them would depict different pictures, but the frames all had to look uniform. Each had a narrow arch at the top and three long panes within it, and the framing was subtly decorated with delicate twists and scrolls.

"What do you notice about these?"

The twins leaned in a little closer, squinting and frowning as they studied the pieces.

"They're tall," Pityo piped up. "Taller than Nelyo, even!"

"They're pretty," Telvo added. "They have little curls on them."

"Yes, children, but what else? Look closely. Are they exactly the same?"

Pityo nodded at first, but Telvo shook his head. "This one in the middle has smaller curls than the rest."

Fëanáro nodded in approval. "Indeed. Anything else?"

"This one is made of thicker ropes!" Pityo pointed at the twists of one of the panes, which of course was not literally made of rope, but the twisted framing was indeed of a thicker width than the others.

"Very true," Fëanáro said. "And there are many other small differences. See, no one can create the exact same thing twice. This is a good thing; it is what makes art unique. Nelyo's essay is also a work of art. It is not made from metal or stone or paints, but rather with words from his mind. And when you destroyed his essay, it is as though you took this--" he picked up a large sledgehammer-- "and hit that middle frame with it, and now the one with the smaller scrolls is gone."

The twins burst into tears once more. Fëanáro sighed, put down the hammer, and knelt down before them.

"You cannot do anything to fix it. All you can do is tell your brother you are sorry, and be much more careful around his things from now on. Do you understand?"

Both the twins nodded emphatically. "Yes, Atya!"

Fëanáro nodded in satisfaction, and as Nerdanel guided them towards the exit, he studied her. Something else had been bothering him about all this, but he couldn't quite figure out what.

Then he realized: there were two things, actually.

He came beside Nerdanel and quietly said, "Why did Nelyo not come to me himself to bring this to my attention? And did I hear something about Turco and Curvo having made messes as well?"

 

[WatcherWraith]

Nerdanel closed her eyes briefly. Her first inclination was to think of some way to brush off what had happened; and then it was as though her senses broadened. The warmth of the forge, the closeness of her husband's body, the sound of his low, inquisitive voice. What am I doing? He's  my Fëanáro. Before she could rethink her choice, Nerdanel let the twins go out the door, telling them to go find a servant to help them clean up Timo's room. Then she turned around to Fëanor and closed the forge door.

"Our two most independant children have been working their usual mischief. They were testing out a slingshot, the one Curvo said he worked with you on, and managed to not hit their target. A statue's hand is easily repaired, and I have required their assistance as reparation for their misdeed." She sighed, thinking of her other children. "As for Nelyo...this mishap occurred during our investigation into Turco and Curvo. Maitimo was very upset, however hard he tried not to show it. You know how he is. I decided the twins would tell you as part of their lesson," she squared her shoulders, "and I also came with a suggestion regarding our eldest. He needs some help."

Whether Fëanor listened to her or not, this decision to speak plainly lifted much worry from Nerdanel's heart. She had been so concerned with planning, she had forgotten what it was like to collaborate with her husband. To be fair, he was always working on something...Nerdanel put these thoughts away. She was here now. Whatever he said, she could wrangle with it easier in person.

 

[Maedhros_Nelyafinwë]

Fëanáro's expression darkened as Nerdanel described the accident of Turco and Curvo. He expected something like this from Turco with his rambunctious energy and tendency to act without thinking, but it was quite a surprising disappointment to hear from Curvo. Normally he was the one most like to Fëanáro, and Fëanáro couldn't imagine using one of his creations to destroy the work of another, even if by accident.

And his wife's work, no less! If those two had any real concept of how many hours Nerdanel put into every statue, the way her arms and back ached after hammering away for hours, the way she put a very piece of her own fëa into her creations... they would have never taken something as unpredictable as a slingshot within a league of one of her statues.

"The judgment you have chosen for them is fair," he said, "though, I think, perhaps a little too fair to them and not fair enough for yourself. You may say a hand of a statue is easily mended. But there will always be a scar at the joint, and it will never be the same again. Therefore, I will take Curvo's slingshot away for a time, and I will take Turco's practice bow away from him as well, until they both prove to me they can be more responsible with such things. These are weapons, after all, and tools; not toys."

Additionally, he wasn't satisfied by Nerdanel's answer regarding Nelyo. "You know how he is" was such a vague statement. Yes, Fëanáro did know how his eldest was: brilliant and responsible, but at the same time, often sensitive and moody and indirect. Fëanáro rarely knew the reason why Nelyo would often become shy and avoidant, when normally he was so friendly and outgoing, or why out of nowhere he sometimes seemed on the brink of tears. There was clearly something Nerdanel knew, but wasn't telling Fëanáro, about why Nelyo did not come to his father directly. He had inherited his trait of indirectness from her, clearly.

But thankfully, Nerdanel gave him an opportunity to probe deeper. "Nelyo needs help in what way?" he asked.

 

[WatcherWraith]

Nerdanel took a deep breath. Her hand shifted to rest on her favorite hammer, which she kept in her belt. A tension slowly grew in her arms and collarbone, the same she faced every time she picked up granite or diorite. The hardest stones in the world to work with, she always told herself, and yet she had set herself the task of fashioning them into something lovely.

"Fëanáro," she said, unconsciously settling her body where she stood, grounding her feet and keeping her knees slightly bent. "Our son is overwhelmed with responsibility. And we are to blame for that. In addition to the homework he is assigned, he looks after his siblings every day, with very little help from anyone. Then, he is expected to handle less important visitors and guests, to keep up with the smaller matter of politics, and to maintain his own growth towards becoming the head of the household someday. And while he does all this, what do you and I do? I can count on one hand the amount of times we have personally looked after our children in the last year."

How much would Fëanor hear as an accusation? Would he react defensively? Would he advance in aggression, pointing out flaws in their son? Nerdanel's fingers drummed on the head of her hammer.

"Our distance from our own family is hurting them. And there is much to say on this matter, but for now I have an offer to make: Nelyo needs a break from so many differing responsibilities. Let us help him focus on himself rather than everyone else. I will take him out of the house, on a trip around Valinor, to see the realities of the world he is growing into, and will one day influence in the courts of law. If, as seems his bent, politics is to be Maitimo's career, then it is fitting he should be exposed to every side of it. In the meantime, husband," this was the hard part, and Nerdanel's focus sharpened as she came to her secondary, but vital, point, "I ask you to ensure we do not make the same mistake with Makalaurë as we did with Maitimo. Looking after his brothers is a responibility his dreamy mind is not ready for, nor prepared to take on. Help him, and involve yourself with the other children as neither of us did before. Bring them into the forge, if you cannot escape the desires of your mind, but help look after them. Our children..." Nerdanel finally allowed her eyes to fall from Fëanor's face, "our children are growing too distant from you. I want them to know and love their father, not fear him."