This story is a translation of my fanfic written originally in Polish. It is compatibile with "One star less", but can be read separately.
The sentence
Thick silence fell once Maglor sent Morgoth's emissaries away, promising that they would get their answer, but first he needed to talk with his brothers. His voice didn't stutter, not even once, and the Enemy's servants could nothing but obey and leave. None of his younger brothers had said a word when the emissaries expressed Morgoth's demands; one single order kept even Caranthir quiet.
The sons of Feanor stood silent for a while, not meeting each other's eyes, thinking about the news they got. Curufin was the first to say out loud what they were all thinking.
"Those demands are impossible to fulfil."
And yet, once voiced, the thought met with resistance. Amras, until now playing with his sleeve, raised his head abruptly.
"How dare you?!"
"Have you not heard?" Curufin seemed to have been waiting for an excuse to explode and Amras with his wounded look was just provoking an argument.
It's strange, noticed Maglor, when he was watching his younger brothers. Strange that it was Curufin confronting Amras, Curufin, who kept quiet distance since the burning of the ships, a distance understandable for the eldest brothers, unnoticed by the youngest, who still blamed only their father for his twin's death. Strange that Amras broke from his apathy and Caranthir remained silent.
Celegorm was the only one unable to stand unmoved, his long, nervous steps and the soft rustle of his clothes were driving Maglor crazy, so he would gladly make him stop and sit down.
"We have all heard them." Caranthir aided his youngest brother. "The Enemy has Maitimo. He imprisoned an emissary, he broke all the rules, that filthy, vile liar. He wanted to negotiate," he spat out in anger. His fingers tightened around goblet he must have forgotten he was keeping. The scarlet wine sparkled through the thin crystal when the liquid swayed inside.
"And he demands that we break the Oath," retorted Curufin. "We can't, we won't negotiate with Enemy. Do you want to lose our heritage and curse as all till the end of this world?"
And again it was Amras who reacted first, with the energy Maglor hadn't seen lately.
"I care not neither for father, nor for his cursed heritage! It's about Maitimo!"
Curufin swirled around and slapped him.
The silence fell in the tent, the air was thick; even Celegorm stopped pacing. None of Feanor's sons made a move when Amras got up from the ground in astonishment. No one moved, not even Curufin, who froze, as if not believing what he had done. It was Amras who looked at his brothers with watery eyes.
"We are talking about Maitimo, who, unlike father, is still alive. It's about Maitimo," he repeated again quietly, not so convinced anymore. The Oath burdened them all, Amras' certainty started to break under the grim silence of his elder brothers.
"We don't know that."
Even now, Maglor's voice didn't shake. It was his heart that twisted shortly time after time, when the he looked at his youngest brother and saw shock and grief in his eyes, but more importantly, betrayal. None of Feanor's sons said a word, so Maglor continued.
"We don't know if Maitimo is alive, or if he was slain like all the rest," he spoke calmly, taking his gaze from one brother to another, avoiding only Amras, who was shaking. "We have no proof that the Enemy isn't just fooling us," Maglor chose his words carefully, watched the reactions. He was waiting for explosion.
"We have no proof that Nelyo is dead," Celegorm pointed out, finally joining the discussion. "But we cannot believe Morgoth. Hoping he would keep his word would be foolish."
"You are not serious," groaned Amras. "You can't possibly consider..." his voice broke.
"We cannot give up the Silmarils, that's for sure," answered Maglor before Curufin tried to say anything. There was a spark of hope in Amras' eyes, a hope that there was another solution, and Maglor hated himself for what he was about to say. "We cannot attack Angband, you all know what happened to father."
"You really intend to abandon him," whispered Amras in disbelief, as if he was still hoping that maybe Maglor would not negotiate with the Enemy, but at least he would plan to set their brother free.
"I will not curse us all," stated Maglor, putting in those words all the strength he could gather, though his heart wished nothing more but to agree with his youngest brother. "And I will not let any of you lead an attack that has no chances of being successful."
"So that is your loyalty to your brother?" Amras tried one more time, but Maglor saw in his resigned gaze that he already gave up.
"Ambarussa, that's enough." There was steel in Maglor's voice. "Don't think I wouldn't want to free Maitimo, but that is impossible. I have my duties towards the Noldor and I will not send them to certain death."
Maglor's voice left no room for argument. Amras made a muffled sound. His face went pale at the sound of his name, only the mark on his cheek remained red. Maglor didn't mean to be cruel, he spoke out of habit, using the name Amras couldn't stand since the death of his twin. But surely enough, that guaranteed silence from his part; Amras stuttered, his eyes went blank. Maglor couldn't stand to look at him, so instead he set his gaze on Celegorm.
"What do you think?"
"There is nothing to discuss," Celegorm pointed out grimly. "Just make decision, Kanafinwe, and send those emissaries away before I lose my patience."
"Curufinwe?"
Curufin just nodded. Maglor then turned to Caranthir, whose silent fury made him wonder what to expect.
"Morinfinwe?"
"It is you who leads us now," Caranthir's voice was full of venom and disgust towards his brother, towards himself, towards his words. "I will not disobey you." The goblet thrown at Maglor's feet broke into thousand pieces, the wine splashed around. Caranthir turned around on his heel and left the tent.
"Don't ask," hissed Amras, when the gaze of the eldest brother finally fell on him. "Don't even dare," he repeated and left after Caranthir.
"There will be no negotiations. We will not pact with the Enemy," said Maglor. His voice, ever so mighty, was dead. He looked at the two remained brothers. "Give the orders, get everybody ready to go. We are going back to the lake. We leave as soon as we can."
Celegorm and Curufin exchanged weary glances and while the younger of the brothers remained unmoved, the elder came closer to Maglor; the broken glass crunched under his shoes. Celegorm placed his hand on Maglor's arm in a silent gesture of comfort and that was something Maglor couldn't stand.
"Go," he said. "I will deal with the emissaries."
Celegorm and Curufin left their eldest brother alone; none of them saw how badly Maglor's hands shook when he wrote a response.