The Dead Butterfly
A/N: As both of us love Tolkien and all of his associated works, what better way to release our frustra—ahem, creative sides, than to write a story about the Amazing Adventures of the Seven Fëanorions? Enjoy!
Update 06.30.18:
Ping: WE'RE BACK, BITCHES
Mike: LANGUAGE.
P: But yes, we're in fact alive. Or...I mean, we did finish college, so that statement is actually a bit tenuous.
M: Ever a ray of sunshine, you are.
P: *sunshines at Mike* Anyway, at this time IT'S ALIIIIIVE again!
M: *sings* And when you're dying I'll still be alive...
P: *sticks him into a potato* We're starting by going back through the chapters and re-uploading (Redoomed included), but you can expect somewhat-normal updates starting in the next month.
M: Nothing like a little redecorating to spruce up regrettable decisions. Or even old writing that was worded terribly.
P: Yeah what the f was that about pausing and taking a moment at the same time dear god old me
M: That's why we're going back and redecorating, Ping. I swear, you'll love the wallpaper I've picked out for Episode 4.
P: Ooh is it, is it batik?
M: ...That was a metaphor, but sure. If you want batik we can get batik.
P: Hella. We hope you enjoy the edits and the new interior decorations, and please look forward to the upcoming new chapters!
M: Hella? What the frick-frack-paddy-whack does that mean?
P: :)
M: Harrumph.
"It's definitely broken."
The young fëa glanced nervously up at his blond brother, who glowered, the expression looking highly out of place on his normally light-hearted face.
"You call that broken, Caranthir? That's the understatement of the Age! You"—the brother sputtered and instead turned to the elf behind them—"Curufin, you know I enjoy your fun, but I think this is a bit too much!"
"See if I give a damn," the sallow-faced elf smirked, tossing the words over his shoulder as he sauntered off.
"You had better give one!" the hunter bellowed after him. "For Eru's sake—"
Somewhere deep in the rubble, a few heads surfaced, hacking out dust. Even for disembodied fëar...getting crushed by a palace was still pretty painful. They paused, gasping for breath, heads resting at uncomfortable angles on the surrounding scree. Then the redheaded fëa scowled up at the distant ex-floor.
"How many bets on those three?" he asked grimly.
"I have given you the refuge of my halls," the Doomsman said in his deep, echoing whisper. "I and my wife have given you sanctuary and peace—respite from your days of living burden—and this is how you thank the both of us?"
Around them, the Halls of Mandos were...no longer halls. The Vala had spent just enough thought to piece the throne room together before he'd spun on his heel and taken a newly-formed seat to reprimand the seven elves kneeling before him.
"Our sincerest apologies, my lord." Maedhros spoke, his eyes downcast. "My brothers were not in their right minds when this occurred."
"And your simple apologies will repair these halls, will help heal the other damaged fëar?"
"No, my lord."
Mandos sighed heavily and leaned back, liquid cowl shadowing his brow. His pale eyes gazed at all seven of them at once, disapproving stare boring into each of them. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. It never was.
"Too long have I dealt with you Fëanorions and your pranks." The Doomsman's bloodless lips curled into the faintest hint of a snarl. "Millennia have I spent cleaning up after you and your father, only to do so yet again within a century of the latest incident."
Snickers could be heard from three of the brothers, although none of the fëar present dared confirm the culprits. It wasn't as if they had to; they all knew who the three were, as it seemed that Celegorm had brushed off his momentary sobriety. The remainder kept their bowed heads and respectful silence before the Vala.
"I have spoken with my brother, and he is in agreement with me," the Lord of Mandos continued after a long pause. "The seven of you are a waste of space and time here in my halls—"
"My lord!" Maedhros interjected, appalled.
"—not to mention a source of chaos in my otherwise peaceful home," the Vala continued, raising his hand for the elder Fëanorion to be silent, "but that is beside the point."
His pale eyes appraised them, the Halls pulsing with each whispered echo. "We have come to the decision that you would be of more use to Arda in Middle Earth, as opposed to here...where you seem to do nothing aside from disrupting my household."
"My lord!" the redheaded fëa repeated. The seven brothers stared up at the Doomsman, realizing his implication. Again the Vala raised his hand, and his voice softened.
"You were all great warriors once, sons of Fëanor... Had your oaths not bound you to your father's senseless bloodshed, you could have done much good."
A sneer, and the brothers turned their shocked gazes to their sallow-faced sibling.
"Our father's oath was ours to take." Curufin laughed bitterly. "We, the filial sons of the Age, the good that we did was we followed our father to his, and our, last. And you"—he pointed a thin, accusatory finger at the Doomsman—"you repaid our love with nothing but sorrow!"
"You are blinded, Curufin son of Fëanor." The Vala's bass voice rose above a whisper for the first time, and the newly-raised walls trembled at each word he pronounced. The Halls, dark as they already were, dimmed to almost nothingness; only the pale fires of Námo's eyes blazed.
"For the rest of you," he rumbled, "this will be my first and final blessing. For you, Curufin—you who so blindly follow—this shall be your cure, so that you may rid yourself of the poison you have spun."
The seven brothers staggered as the Halls began to fade, the liquid wind of the Doomsman's robes enveloping them in darkness.
"Henceforth thou shalt renounce memory of thy father's oath, and be bound not by it," his voice boomed out around them. "Thou shalt remember the sins of thine pasts but not why they are so. Only when thou hast wholly atoned for thine sins shalt the knowledge of thine oaths return, and may you see then the true folly of Fëanor."
Above them the twin fires loomed, then disappeared. All was silent.