InsaneJournal

"Sons of Fëanor, the stars shine not upon this hour of our meeting."
Who: Feanorian Family feast of terror Reunion!

What: See above. It ends in tears. Gosh, totally outcast much? a.k.a. - shit hit the fan, dude.

When: Present-ish!

Where: GuestRooms, Minas Tirith.

Notes: PG-ish?/(semi)Complete (need follow up with Maitimo and Amrod and Nerdanel I thinks, maybe in comment threading? Also fixed a few lines that were missing!).



The Ambarussa were excited. Nerdanel was in the city! Or she might be, but Ambarussa knew that he had to find out. There was no one else that it could be. Red hair was extremely rare, even among men and she was the only woman that Ambarussa knew as having red hair. He grabbed Umbarto's hand and ran as fast as he could through the city looking for his brothers.

Umbarto raced with him, parting the crowd with both their height and their exuberance. He could hear the strains of music coming from the market, and pulled them both around a corner towards it; it was obviously not a human player, and he had no doubt about who it was.

Up in the market, there was some decidedly dreary harping going on. Forging gold? No, more like forging rain clouds over a desolate wasteland, with fire and ash and rotting nothingness. But thanks for the coins. Please step around the corner and feel free to slit your wrists or whatever measure of offing yourself seems best. Maglor is not singing, and he is very much alone right now.

Maedhros was practicing, or attempting to practice in an empty ring. It was a good thing no one was there with him because, really? It was very frustrating getting used to the new artifical hand strapped to his stump and he was clumsy, thrown off balance and a bit frustrated by now. He was determined to make it work so that he had something to show Findekano later on but for now...Not so much with that. Maybe he should give up and go looking for that present he wanted to get his cousin. Something pretty and golden to go in his hair.

Ambarussa skidded around the corner and sighted Maglor immediately. "Makalaure!" he exclaimed, obviously excited about something. "Mother's here! In the city. Come with us."

Erchirion was choosing a horse to ride to Rohan. But, he belongs not in this specific tale. Curufinwë Fëanáro, though, was making friends with a blacksmith on the second circle, using nothing but handsigns and charming smiles, and showing the man how to forge an armor that wouldn't make the wearer wish he were slain just for the privilege to take it off.

"And now, dumbass, you simply FOLD IT, not add another plate on top, yes...?" said the Noldo in Quenya, but got the message through quite clearly by taking a piece of paper and folding it.

"At least, we think it is her- but few enough women have red hair, and if the rest of the family is here-" Umbarto could barely contain his excitement. "She may be with father!"

Well that stopped the dread harping cold, and Maglor's fingers were frozen on the strings. He turned his head and his eyes were wide in disbelief. So much disbelief that he was struck silent for a moment. Longer. This was cause for celebration! Well, that was, until the father part of this conversation set in, and then it was back to rain clouds and desolation. He sighed, woefully.

"I will put my harp away in the inn room, give me but a moment," Maglor said, standing slowly. "And will meet you back here." Not for Feanor, but so he could see Nerdanel. He headed off with the harp hugged TIGHTLY against his chest.

Ambarussa watched Maglor get up and then turned to Umbarto with a wild look in his eyes. He was excited beyond belief and he took off running in the opposite direction to find Celegorm.

Maedhros took the moment to head down into Minas Tirith's business section where he hoped that he could find a way to trade for something nice for Fingon. He was not sure what he could now exactly but...something, he decided, would work well.

Hopefully he did not choke on said piece of bread, as Umbarto had no qualms about throwing his arms around his brother's shoulders the second he saw him. "Tyelkormo! Guess what!" Sometimes, it was obvious the twins were definitely still children at heart.

Ambarussa followed suit with Umbarto, but instead of jumping on top of his hugged Celegorm around the chest. "Tyelkormo!" he said in unison with his twin. "We have good news!"

Fëanor was not the first thing that came to mind when some one said "patience". It was not long before the puny, clumsy mortal drove him completely insane with his stubborn refusal to learn simple techniques, and the Noldo dropped his tools and sighed. "You go on from here," he said, "I have better things to do like... Uh.... Sit on a wall and cut myself before helping you out again." Good thing the man with the hammer didn't understand Quenya. He just smiled at this super-talented elf that appeared out of seemingly nowhere and totally made him number 1 blacksmith in Tirith to the day. He gave Fëanor a dagger he had created, which the elf happily accepted before leaving the smithy and heading back towards his inn room.

There was a man selling dubious meat products stuck on sticks, but this time it was grilled pieces of something resembling boot leather with a strange stinky sauce that vaguely smelled of stinky vinegar feet. He's also wearing a very large...hat. Its a new disguise. Huzzah!

Maedhros neatly avoided a sausage on a stick dealer, dodged a dirty look from a woman in the uniform the city guards wore and slipped toward a particularly stall to consider various ornaments and circlets. Now...lets see...He didn't want to go too ornamental but on the other hand, too plain wasn't right for a 'so we love each other' present either. Hmm..

Celegorm jumped slightly and swallowed the chunk of bread without much chewing. Ow. Once he felt as though the bread was no longer LODGED anywhere, Celegorm eyed the Ambarussa. "And what is this good news?"

Ambarussa squeezed Celegorm tightly with a very wide grin on his face. "Mother is here!" he exclaimed. "We are going to go see her, and you must come! We must find Maitimo, get Makalaure and go!"

"She is probably in the upper city, from what Ambarussa found out. Come, leave your shopping for later." And allow your brother to steal a bit of that bread, which he does without shame.

"Nerdanel?" the Noldo asked as he entered their inn room.

"That one!" Maedhros started to say, then realized the poor vendor had no idea what he was saying and vent with pointing and smiling. And then...there was the matter of payment somehow. Bartering with no language between them. That was going to be fun. But worth it for the delicately tooled circlet with leaves he'd found. Now then...what exactly did he have or could he do... Finally, through a combination of miming and holding up fingers to indicate numbers and such, he was actually hired as a guard for said booth for longer than just paying off the cost of the trinket. Huh. Weird. But he'd take it.

Maglor had already explained to Daeron the woe he was about to walk into, in as few a words as possible. "Nerdanel is here, going to see her, will stab Feanor if he tries anything." He had dropped his harp, and dragged himself back out of the inn and toward the market. What he's going to stab him with? We'll never know. He seems unarmed.

Nerdanel had awoken shortly after Feanor left for the day and instead of following him like she desired to do she decided to work on her sculpture as one of the only things that calmed her. She was sculpting her children from memory, and they looked lifelike. "Feanor?" she asked, turning around in her chair and smiling at her husband.

A smile brightened his features upon seeing her, but it quickly faded when he realized she is alone. "None have come...?" he asked slowly, looking around, as if expecting Curufin to suddenly jump at him from the closet or Celegorm to come out from under the bed and yell "surprise!"

Nerdanel's smile faltered as well and she shook her head. "No," she said sadly. "None have come, but I hold faith that they will come still."

Was it possible that the Maia lied? Has too much Leaf somehow deformed his cognitive process? Three days already had the flags been fluttering in the city... They could not have possibly missed them. Fëanor approached Nerdanel's desk, softly running his fingers over a sculpture of Maedhros. "...We should not lose hope," he said, forcing optimism into his voice. For her sake, and theirs, if not for his.

"Mother is here?" Celegorm grinned. "That is reason for celebration. It is good that I have perchased wine, even if it is somewhat inferior to what she would be used to." It would be good to see her. But he wondered if she knew of all that Makalaure said that they had done. That would be painful for her, if she did.

Stuck somewhere between hope and hopelessness, Maglor finally reached Celegorm and Ambarussa, and nodded that he was ready to go. "We need to tell Maitimo," he said simply, eyeing that wine bottle for a moment, and maybe...just maybe...he's imaging that there's a good sharp and pointy thing to stab Feanor with, should things go...insane or awry. Yes, pot calling the kettle black with the INSANE thing, perhaps.

Ambarussa finally let go of Celegorm's chest so that he could jump up with excitement. "Where is he?" the redhead asked and then immediately started scanning the marketplace for him.

Maedhros made his way out of the shop's stall and kept on heading down the street, glancing around as he did, trying to avoid the looks of the guard.

Umbarto tilted his head to the side; it was easy to pick Quenya out from amongst the rough speech of the round ears, and he could swear he heard some being spoken elsewhere. "I believe I hear him." He hopped up unto his twin's back to get a little bit of height, not that they needed more than they had. "- over there!"

Ambarussa finally let go of Celegorm's chest so that he could jump up with excitement. "Where is he?" the redhead asked and then immediately started scanning the marketplace for him.

Maedhros made his way out of the shop's stall and kept on heading down the street, glancing around as he did, trying to avoid the looks of the guard.

Umbarto tilted his head to the side; it was easy to pick Quenya out from amongst the rough speech of the round ears, and he could swear he heard some being spoken elsewhere. "I believe I hear him." He hopped up unto his twin's back to get a little bit of height, not that they needed more than they had. "- over there!"

Maglor just pointed back toward the Pansy Ass Inn, because that's where he imagined Maedhros would be. He's not the most coherent...oh right...now he's pointing at Maedhros, who's right there. How convenient. Sigh.

All grouped together for Doom and Giggles.

Ambarussa didn't wait for Umbarto to get off of his back before he took off running towards Maitimo, but luckily for Umbarto he held onto his brother so he would not fall. "Maitimo!" he exclaimed.

"...Are you pointing at me?" Maedhros asked his brother, then he glanced around and...Oh. "ALL of you are here then. Is this some sort of new game we are playing...Oh this." He nodded at the wooden hand. "Findekano had this made for me. Wooden." he explained, showing off the straps before being covered in Ambarussa. "Ambarussa!"

"Maitimo, Maitimo- we think mother is here. Ambarussa has heard of a woman with hair like ours in the city." It was easier to hug his taller brother this way, even if Ambarussa's head was kind of in the way. "We were gathering you all to go find her!"

Maglor stopped pointing, like it was an effort right now even to lift that finger and keep it directed toward anyone or anything else. It wasn't seeing their mother that had him worried at all...he was looking forward to that...but by the stare he was giving Maedhros, pretty plain to see what (or who) he's more worried about running into.

That's ok because Ambarussa was hugging Maitimo as well and having his head smushed against Maitimo was a-okay with him.

"She is?" That changed things from when it was Feanor alone, certainly. Maedhros smiled at the thought of that. "Well, if Mother is there, then maybe it won't be so bad with Father.." he hedged, hoping it was true.

"She is!" Ambarussa said excitedly. "We must follow the flags in the city to find her," because Ambarussa couldn't wait another second to be with his mother again. He had really missed her. "Let us go!"

No use putting off the inevitable, though Maglor didn't look like he was in quite the hurry that the twins were. "There are better trackers amongst you than me," he said softly. "Perhaps you should lead the way, Ambarussa, or Tyelkormo." Or all three of them. He was going to be the caboose in this train of trepidation. Choo choo.

"That would be a good idea." Maedhros nodded at Maglor, deciding he himself was also going to hang back by his brother's side to make sure he was okay through this.

Umbarto let Maitimo go, and then, as an afterthought, jumped off his twin's back. He started through the crowd, after looking up to ascertain the location of the flags. He had no qualms about leading this search, not dreading the success as some of his brothers did.

Celegorm ate another bite of bread, making sure to chew it this time. The only thing that was missing from this gathering was Curufin. Caranthir would likely be cranky if he were there.

Maglor looked over at Maedhros as they started to follow, with a small, tight-lipped smile. He did appreciate that he wasn't alone at a moment like this. And yes, Caranthir would have been profoundly cranky. Curufin probably would've been just as excited as the twins, to see Feanor though.

Ambarussa was practically skipping he was so happy and he didn't really seem to notice that a few of his brothers were not as happy. As far as he was concerned? Nerdanel was there and they were going to see her. Simple as that!

"Well. Here we go." Maedhros muttered in a low tone to Maglor. "What did we do when we were younger? Cross our fingers that things worked out? Shall we try that now?"

"Our fingers will just rot and fall off if we even tried at a time like this," whispered Maglor, keeping his woeful gaze fixated on Celegorm's back.

Fëanor stared at Nerdanel's scultpures for a long while. So real...! He knew then that he was done for the day, that he could no longer do metalwork or study that horrible Westron, that he could think of nothing save the wrecking anticipation that gnawed at his heart and mind. He pulled a chair and turned it to face the door, sitting down as though he were on his Father's throne, expecting an audience. And he stared. He stared at that simple door as if Salvation herself would come through it any second now.

Ambarussa continued through the streets of the city, climbing through the circles until finally they reached the final flag just outside of the Steward's guest houses. Ambarussa looked back at his brothers and then went inside to find a door that had been emblazoned with the flag. "This is it," he said and knocked on the door.

Maglor hugged himself with both arms folded tightly over him, looking every ounce the street performer with his old robes on, just...elvishly woe prettier, one supposes. He waited.

Umbarto reacted with impatience; the stress of being in this strange land and the hints of an even stranger past were stressful to him. "Is anyone present?" he called, thinking to try the door. Privacy was of little concern to him at the moment.

"Nnnh..." Maglor had been holding his breath but let out that high pitched noise at the twins barging in....just like they used to do.

Ambarussa was of same mind as his twin and growing impatient opened the door which had been unlocked. He caught the sight of his father sitting in a chair and his mother standing there behind him. "Ada! Amil!" he exclaimed and bounded into the room.

There might have well have been springs on the bottom of Umbarto's feet; he was across the room and seconds, arms wrapped tightly around his mother. His father would have to wait for second pickings, and, in any case, Nerdanel tended to take embraces better.

Maedhros stood there uncertainly, giving Maglor a sort of pasted on, sickly smile as he clenched the fingers of his left hand a little. Well...here it came.

Nerdanel could hardly believe her eyes. If she did not know any better she would think that this was some sort of trickery, but there were her twins hugging her tightly as she remembered so clearly from ages before. "Ambarussa," she whispered as she clung onto them, tears forming behind her eyes.

Maglor was still outside the doorway, staring at them both like he was seeing ghosts or figments of his imagination. He finally managed a small smile for their mother, and was sticking very close by Maedhros.

Fëanor's gaze went past the twins, however. It pierced the doorway from across the room. Maedhros... And Maglor... Is that Celegorm outside, as well? But..... "Is Curufin not with you?" .......... Way to go, loving dad.

Maglor's look could have frozen the Helcaraxe, twice over.

Celegorm entered the room and bowed to his father. "We have not yet seen him, if he is...returned." Which pained him to think about, his favorite brother not returning.

"And Moryo neither." Maedhros answered the question, reaching out quickly and squeezng Maglor's hand. Well, no more than he had expected.

Nerdanel ran her fingers over the twin's hair, but her attention was caught by the rest of her sons (or a portion of them anyway) standing just outside the door and Feanor making a comment about Curuifin. "Sons, come inside!" she exclaimed, unable to remove the twins from hugging her just yet.

There were still tears in her eyes and she could hardly control herself from crying. She had never thought she would see her sons again.

Not that he thought anyone in the room was worried about Caranthir's return but..Maedhros pointed it out anyway. Well besides Nerdanel anyway.

Maglor seemed to remember himself then at the feel of his hand being squeezed, the icy glare ceased to be, and he nodded like he was all right now. Poor Moryo, hot head that he might be....even Maglor missed his presence at a time like this. It didn't seem right that those two weren't here also. Maglor also hesitated entering, staring at Maitimo that he should go first. He was older.

Maedhros didn't want to do it either but...you know..guilt and all, Maglor was going to owe him later, he decided as he stepped into the room and went to hug his mother and slowly nod at Feanor.

Nerdanel returned Maedhros' hug and pressed a kiss against his head in a very motherly gesture. "Maitimo," she said, unable to find words more than that through the tears.

Fëanor's features darkened for but an instant. Not all, then... Does it mean that Curufin and Caranthir had done the worst? That they are still being punished? This troubled him, but he banished those thoughts from his mind for the moment. He placed his hand on Celegorm's shoulder, looking at his features. "Welcome," he said, then turned to Maedhros. "... Maedhros, does the eldest have no words for his father?"

Ambarussa, on the other hand, was not about to let go of Amil and gladly remained smushed against her
.
And like a shadow, there goes Maglor, following close behind. He almost nodded to Feanor, and then...he's giving mom a very big, teary-eyed hug, because it has been forever, and he'd lost hope of ever seeing her again. And yes, fine, he's hugging onto both twins too.

Celegorm joined the giant hug. Since it seemed like the thing to do.

Nerdanel was overwhelmed with happiness at the group hug and made sure that each of them had many kisses on the head. Just like Maglor, she too had not thought she would ever see any of them again.

Umbarto does not mind the dog pile at all, though after a long moment he squeezes out and went to stand by his father, putting a hand on his arm. Feanor might not be his favorite, but he was still his father and a steady rock in his mind, and he was glad to see him amongst this chaos.

Maedhros joined in the family hug and tried to think of something he might say to Feanor who...seemed normal at least now, or well, normal enough anyway. He decided he could forgive the Curufin comment for now since that was the case and gave his father a small smile instead. "I can hardly think of any, no."

There were dangerous undercurrents here, the son of Finwë quickly perceived. All his sons were looking at him as if his ears had suddenly turned round and another set of teeth was growing from his neck. Nerdanel received no such treatment, and he quickly understood what was going on here. He wrapped a hand around Amras's shoulder, pulling him closer. Maedhros's smile and words were answered with an iron-hard stare, and foreboding silence.

"Sit down, all of you," he suddenly said, his tone authorative and commanding, just the way it had been back in Valinor.

"Our sons, Feanor!" Nerdanel cried. "They have come to us at last," for she noticed the tension in the room as well and sought to cut it with kindness. She squeezed her sons one last time and then let go and bent down to inspect each of them to make sure they were whole and had no injuries.

Sure, tears were running down his face and he probably looked like a wretched mess right now, but Maglor smiled for Nerdanel to let her know he was happy and all right, and was about to scrub at his face with a sleeve...when he was back to giving that somewhat icy glower at his ada.

"Feanor," Nerdanel reprimanded, her brows knit together at his tone.

Umbarto was relieved, freely embracing him. All the warnings seemed to lessen in importance, though he was quick to pull away at the authoritative tone.

After standing there for nearly a full minute like that was enough or a rebellion on his part, Maglor finally sat down and DID scrub that sleeve over his face to dry any tears.

Ambarussa smiled for his mother as she turned him around and seemed pleased that he was all there, but when Nerdanel came to Maedhros she noticed that something was not quite right about his hand. "Maitimo," she whispered, her gaze alarmed.

Ambarussa decided it best to sit down too and did so next to Maglor. He hadn't even had a chance to hug his Ada!

Fëanor stared at her as if she were on a boat, slowly diminishing into the ocean's mists right before his eyes. Pain was in his gaze, and he did not answer her. But he too looked at Maedhros's hand when she noticed it.

"It...I woke here with it missing." Maedhros explained, at a loss for a better explanation than that. "I've no idea how...It's not so bad, really." Only it came out as kind of a lie because, even with the new limb there, he was still apalled by the condition himself and what it meant.

Celegorm fidgitted slightly as he watched his mother notice Maitimo's lack of hand. And also he noticed that his father noticed, so he gave his father's shoulder a gentle but masculine squeeze.

Fëanor's brow furrowed. The punishments continue. No one returns clean. Mandos, turns out, is not without a sense of vengeance. "... We will take care of it," he said automatically, although how - he did not know. He motioned for Celegorm to sit down as well.

Nerdanel's gaze turned from Maitimo's fake hand to her husband's face still looking alarmed, as if to ask him what had happened even though she knew that he did not know. She looked at him for only a moment before returning her attention to Maitimo and giving him another hug before sending him to sit with his brothers.

The Noldo pressed his fingers to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. Opening them, he looked at Nerdanel, his gaze saying quite plainly - 'I did not prepare for this'. He took her hand in his, the warmth of her touch becoming the anchor to hold him in place through this terrible tidal wave of sorrows and anger that was imminently crashing upon him.

Maglor was sitting in tight-lipped silence, not incrimating Fingon's involvement in any loss of hands, anywhere, and not offering up much of anything with his expression. At least it wasn't an icy glower. He reached over to fuss with one of the twins unruly hair.

No, not an icy glower, because he was watching them hold hands, and Maglor's gaze softened a little bit, before he looked away.

Umbarto leaned into Maglor's touch from where he sat beside him and his twin, though his eyes were trained on his parents. He felt very young again, waiting for them to decide on the next course of action.

Fëanor turned to look at his sons. Flashes in his mind's eye sent him back through the ages - Maglor there, playing a the first harp his father constructed for him. And Maedhros, asking for a rope and permission to sleep at Fingolfin's house tonight. Celegorm playing with Huan... Amrod, practicing with a bow.. Amras painting his face with the colors of the forest...

"Sons of Fëanor, the stars shine not upon this hour of our meeting," he said at last. "What grievance do each of you hold with me? Tell me now, for there can be no barriers between us."

Maglor looked as though he was faced with a mountain that was dropping out of the sky and about to land directly on top of him. He blinked once, twice, and then looked ready to bolt.

Maedhros glanced at Maglor and smirked the teeniest bit. NOW he was laying it all out on him. Hah! Brotherly love at its finest.

Maglor had a look that could only be described thusly: Oh shit.

Ambarussa still did not have all of the details of what had befallen them. No one cared to share any of it with the twins, and he certainly didn't know that Feanor had burnt his twin alive. Because if he did? Feanor would get an ear full.

"How can I hold you to that which I do not remember?" Ambarussa asked.

"...they know nothing," said Maglor in a raw whisper, that held nothing of a commanding voice...other than maybe it commanded others to crane their necks to hear what he was saying.

Fëanor looked at him like 'EXACTLY!', but said nothing. He sat down as well, waiting for them all to start talking.

Umbarto blinked for a moment, looking to his twin. Despite what they had heard, he had no real grievance with his father. "I simply wish to know about this past that is being kept from us." He was simply confused, between all of the people who were trying to protect he and his twin, and he wanted to be able to put the pieces together.

That had Maglor wincing. Thanks Umbarto. Eyedart. And there he goes, trying to cover his face with his hair, and looking like he's thinking over what to say first, and what won't make things worse eventually, if said.

"...atar, a moment please, outside..." Maglor cautiously said, wanting to spare the rest of them from having to hear anything...though he was sure there was going to be some hangers on and stragglers. Sigh. He began to stand up, wringing both hands together out of nervous habit.

Fëanor stood. "So be it," he said, almost defiantly. HE was not going to cower before their wrath. Not him. He looked at the rest of his sons, "Does Maglor go alone, or have you things to say as well?"

Celegorm stood, curious as to what all Makalaure knew. "I have nothing to say, atar, but I too, am curious to know more of what Makalaure claims is the truth of what happened.

Umbarto stood up as well, though he looked at them all as if he expected to be scolded and told to wait with his mother.

Maglor cast a fleeting glance back at Feanor as he headed for the door. And thanks, Tyelkormo for the CLAIMING PART. Maglor was wincing and wincing even more as he opened the door and hit it against his bowed head. He muttered a fine curse word, and headed out the door, not waiting for the rest of them. Rubbing the head now, ouch.

Celegorm shrugged. He had yet to see undeniable proof.

Fëanor rolled his eyes. He feared THIS? It seemed ridiculous to him now. This is peanuts. This is Maglor's harpstrings snapping. All that was required was a skilled touch, and the problems are fixed. He followed them out, closing the door behind them and moving to stand directly before Maglor, looking into his eyes with a darting gaze, as if to say - 'do your worst, for I shall do mine!'

Umbarto followed along, trying to be quiet so he would not be sent away. He looked between Maglor and Feanor, and then quickly decided that hovering close to Celegorm was the best course of action.

Maglor's wasn't sure if he wanted it to be something worse, since could things GET any worse? He cast a look at his brothers and then stared at Feanor's face for a moment, before asking in a hushed tone, "What is it that you remember? Or have you been told what you did do, as of yet?" He was trying to tell himself what he had told Daeron, over and over again: its hard to blame someone who can't remember everything.

Yes, right now, that's Maglor's mantra. He's trying to stick to it.

"I remember having seven sons that were proud to bear the name of their father and grandfather, I remember all of Tirion cheering at the performance of one such son as he played a harp in the Square," Fëanor said, laying the foundations for what was to be his winning argument, in case his sons were still angry with him. "I remember creating the Silmarils, yes... Beyond that, nothing. Not before waking up in this land. YES! I know what I did, before you ask! I know what has come to pass. Perhaps I do not remember firsthand, as you do... But I know. And I know another thing," Fëanor said then, looking at Celegorm. "It is past, and is no more."

Celegorm looked back at his father and then at Makalaure. "And for my part, I do not even remember these...Slimarils having been made..." Which was strange, considering he'd apparently sworn an oath abaout them at one time.

"They have been made, rest assured," Fëanor said, a small smile there at the fond memory. "And aye, they were magnificent..."

"First-hand," said Maglor, and there was just the slightest hint of ice in his voice, before he shook his head a little bit, and held up his hands to show his father that, yes, just barely, there's marks on the palms of his hands even to this day, squint and you can see them! Thanks elvish healing for not leaving him a burn victim with a fetish for wearing gloves constantly. "Some things are not past, and there are others here who would remember what you have done, so it is perhaps better to humble one's self and one's temper. For what use is there in stones that would not be held by bloodied hands."

Fëanor's temper grew hot, and so did his voice. "And what use is there in mourning! And what use in dwelling on that which is no more! Have I not been punished, Maglor? Have I not DIED, as you yourself claim, by the swords of the foulest demons? Has the House of Fëanor, and you with it, not suffered retribution enough for our deeds? Have your brothers not lost loved ones, and seen their kingdoms fall before being slain themselves? Have we not all waited all this time in the Halls of Mandos, apart from the world which we loved? Have you yourself not wandered all these years, re-living the immortal anguishes of Morgoth's aftermath?"

Fëanor stopped then, trying to quiet his temper which had grown hot as a furnace. He placed a hand on Maglor's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. His voice was quiet then, "Let those who curse my name, curse it still," he whispered, "I have suffered enough, but more over - I have learned from the past. Will you blame your father for the things he does not remember, and yet regrets them even so?"

Before he'd dropped his hands back to his sides, Maglor's fingers had begun to tremble, and seemed like useless things that could never strike a note off the string of a harp, much less move in unison with one another. He was silent, even when that hand was placed upon his shoulder, and almost looked ashamed.

Almost. He chewed on his lower lip a moment, and then glanced at Tyelkormo and Umbarto. Leaning in so that his lips were close by Feanor's ear, he began to whisper, and told everything. From the twin who was burned in the boat, to burning to ashes at death, to how each of them died, and what happened to Maedhros and if not for Fingon, he would be dead out of his own indecision as to what to do, all the way to the theft of the last two Silmarils. Then he looked Feanor in the eyes and said much more clearly, "Do not repeat the past, then. And I will forgive you. If you do repeat it, I will not let you take them away from me again."

Maglor then smiled in a manner that was almost ghastly to behold, and backed away one step, and was silent once more.

Fëanor's eyes squinted slightly as Maglor recounted the deeds in his ear. It was luck, for him, that Artanis had told him all of this before, or else he would have been stunned into shock and grief, and no longer be able to press the argument. But that was not the case, and his resolution was just as strong when he looked at Maglor. "And yet, the Oath had been fulfilled, and Morgoth defeated, and all payments to the Powers had been made. And after all is said and done, my son, we stand here again. Is it against me, therefore, that you bear grievance - or yourself? No matter! As I said, past is past, and there is reason for us being given a second opportunity!"

"Have you learned nothing?" Maglor asked in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice. "Do you not hear the way you sound, when you speak? A second opportunity at what, precisely? You do not realize the harm that can be done, if we do not watch ourselves, and if we do not try to prevent the past from darkening our footsteps as we tread across these lands, again."

"The past will never be in the past, Feanor. It is your shadow which follows you," finished Maglor, with a slow shaking of his head, and he looked saddened and ashamed.

Fëanor moved closer to Celegorm and Amras then, taking their hands in each of his. He looked at them before turning back to Maglor. "Arda is once again in need of the mightiest of all Noldor. We are all here to make right our past wrongs, to prove our worth in craft and skill, and not only in war. But also, let us not forget that it is US who have set in motion the fall of Morgoth! And yet, this is not a time for war for the House of Fëanor. Great times are before us, and we've all a part in them - a critical part, of this I am certain... We must be united, Maglor. Not in seperation does the power of the Noldor lie, though each of you is mighty even if alone he stands. Not backwards does our people gaze, but ever forward, and you will be wise to do the same."

"I will not," said Maglor, folding both arms over himself in a defensive posture that closed him off from the rest of them. "It is the past that makes us each what we are, and teaches us to learn from our mistakes, not to set our eyes forward and discard lessons we should heed or take necessary precautions against."

He shuffled off to one side even further, but was keeping his eyes on Tyelkormo and Umbarto, to see what they were going to do.

Umbarto wanted to cry out in frustration as he looked between them. The majority of the conversation was lost to him, and he wanted to beg them to share their knowledge. The way they were speaking frightened him, as he still did not fully understand the implications of war or what he and his brothers had done.

Celegorm squeezed his father's hand. He would do what he could to move this world forward, for he could tell it had much need of innovation. And it was hard to keep from glaring at Makalaure every now and then. This was all still confusing, and he did not like being made to feel as if loyalty to his father was a Bad Thing.

This was too daring for Fëanor, and once again the spirit of fire did erupt. His hands were clutching Maglor's robes in an instant, pressing him violently against the wall. His features were fixed with a rage not unlike that which he felt at the death of his father, back in that terrible day, and the words he screamed in Maglor's face were for all of Minas Tirith to hear.

"I HAVE KILLED MY OWN SON!! DO YOU CALL YOUR FATHER A FOOL?? THINK YOU, TRULY, I WOULD DO THIS AGAIN?!"

"I call you a fool, for the truth of the matter," said Maglor under his breath, with a wince of pain at both meeting the wall and being yelled at, "is that not a one of us deserves to be here. And I only hope you would not, but I can see that your pride is the same as it was in the early days, and that...is what terrifies me, beyond all else."

His hands pawed ineffectually at Feanor's hands, trying to loosen the grip on his robes, tattered and old faded things that those were. Let it be noted though that Maglor is NOT meeting his father's eyes, but rather averted his gaze downward.

Umbarto cried out in surprise, shocked at the rage from his father and the gall of his brother. He leapt forward and gripped Feanor's arm, trying to get his attention. "- Atar, please, stop- do not be angry with him." Normally he would not have the bravery to attempt this, but he had seen how hurt Maglor had been, the madness in his eyes when the Ambarussa found him. He did not want to see that magnified.

Fëanor threw his son down in clear disgust, shoving Amras away as well. He looked at their family flag not far away, fluttering in the light breeze. "I have lost everything," he said, angry still, though not screaming. "Though I do not remember most of it, and for that I am grateful. But things lost, no point there is to mourn for them overly long. The Eldar have not been granted immortality to spend it in grief," he looked at Maglor then, disappointment blending with the fire of his eyes.

"If you choose to remain in the lands of grief, then I've no more to say to you, Maglor. Woes are not to be compared like trophies, but I, for one, wish to salvage whatever happiness this life gives me through my sons and wife. Go now from my sight, if all you intend to do is keep the old feuds alive."

Maglor looked at him as he made his way back onto his feet with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment in HIS eyes, and moved to help Umbarto. Unfortunately, Maglor had spent quite a lot of time in grief and regret, so that tainted his perspective in all things, during those times when he hadn't forgotten who he was, entirely. And those times were considered a blessing. He shook his head, as though answering that no woes were a trophy to him, but a burden to be borne.

"If that is your wish," he said softly, "then so be it."

"I wish it," Fëanor stated boldly. He thought not of Nerdanel and what she would say, nor of Maglor's brothers that might decide to join him, and eventually that he might lose them all again. It was the pride blinding him again, for he would allow none to point at his faults, save Nerdanel. And even she must do it very gently, if he was to listen.

Umbarto bit the inside of his lip as he accepted Maglor's assistance, though he knew his father would not be happy that clung to the minstrel's sleeve. He did not know which side he should be on, so instead he simply stood where he was, face pale. He had never imagined a day when his father would cast one of his sons out.

Celegorm clenched his hands at his side but stayed where he stood, watching. This was not his fight, not at the moment. If his brother chose to hold this unremembered past against their father, what was there to keep him from holding it against the rest of them, especially if Makalaure had held it against himself all these long years? Celegorm did not want to be held responsible for what he did not remember. Why could Makaluare not move forward? Why could he not look for a bright future for this land? He moved to stand beside Feanor, his facial expression similar, but less full of anger and more full of 'why are you being a jerk?'. "If this is the way you will treat those who wish to change, Makalaure, then I have no use for you either."

It wasn't so much holding things against them, but more fearfully wanting to prevent them all setting out on a path they couldn't turn back from, yet again. He cast an apologetic look at Celegorm, as though thoroughly chastised. Another look was for Umbarto, and he nodded once and only once, as though the twin knew where to find him, if he wished to. For a small while, at least. Then he silently started to make his way off, unsure of what Maitimo would do. But it was better to get out of Feanor's sight, if that's what Feanor wanted...so he wasn't further enraged by his presence. So that? Is what Maglor did.

Umbarto made an unhappy noise in his throat, looking at Feanor and Celegorm again, unable to watch Maglor's retreating back. He was shocked at the behavior of all three of them, but not brave enough to announce his displeasure with them.

But Fëanor was no liar, and indeed he had learned from the past. And this time, no oaths were taken, and he would not send any of his children without giving them the option to turn back. "If ever your heart softens, and your love for your father rekindles, Maglor Makalaurë," he called after him, "I shall welcome you still, for you are my son, even after all of Arda has gone dark twice over!"

Someone's not saying anything, and they're turning the corner and that's that. Mmhm.

Fëanor then turned to Amras. Poor Amras, caught in the middle of this mess. "Once have we lost you, your mother and I," he said to him, and his voice was so sincere one could think he bears the raw memory of those days. "For her sake, if not mine, send her not into that valley of grief again. Come home with us, Amras... Fear not for your brother. Wisdom will find him, one day."

Umbarto swallowed. "I fear for all of us." He looked down the street for a moment, before moving back to the house, meaning to find his twin and his mother. He promised nothing to Feanor, however, meaning to go find Maglor again, as soon as he spoke with them.

It was good enough, Fëanor reasoned. He looked at Celegorm by his side and nodded appreciatively. For those who knew him it was a sincere form of gratitude, no words spoken. "Truly, this is not the way I had wanted this meeting to end," he confessed to his son, "I had prayed day and night for your return... All of you. Not false were my words, even in my anger. I am made happy by the sight of you."

And with that, Fëanor patted Celegorm's back and turned from him, expecting no words in return. There will be time enough for words. He stepped back into the house... Now time to see what Maedhros and Amrod think.

Celegorm glanced once more where Makalaure had made his exit. His brother had been alone for ages. Apparently he was not so eager to change that as his brothers, father, and mother would have hoped. It was Makalaure's loss.