Happy New Year! To celebrate here is an early update.

At long last the lights mixed again. And Maitimo thought of the surprise that would be on his brothers' face when they saw him here. The thought helped to cheer him slightly, and he did what he did best: namely shoving any emotions behind impregnable mental walls. He knew that Makalaurë would do the same. After all, having some fun with their brothers may help them heal. Then he let his eyes glaze over, feigning sleep.

True to his name, it was not five minutes after the lights began to mix, casting the world in solar hues of silver and gold, when Tyelkormo woke up. He didn't roll over though, he just stayed on his side, facing the forest, and thinking of the day. Today Ambarussa hoped to track down the wild boar and bring it back for dinner. But Tyelkormo thought he might delay them a little bit. He loved the wild, that was true, but if he were perfectly honest with himself, he was never that keen on hunting.

At that thought, he lazily rolled over onto his other side to stare straight into Makalaurë's glazed eyes not six inches away from his own. Much to his horror, he let loose a startled yelp that was curiously high pitched.

The elf responsible for his undignified exclamation blinked and smiled at him. "Got you, Turko."

Tyelkormo got on his feet, warily glancing at his two eldest brothers lying between him and twins. They were most definitely not supposed to be here. How did they even find them? Makalaurë and Maitimo weren't exactly the most wilderness inclined, and he knew their tracking skills needed work. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and sighed in exasperation.

"How did you get here? Why did I not hear you? And what in Valinor are you two doing here?"

Makalaurë rolled onto his back and smiled up at his flustered brother, "We rode here. You sleep like the dead. And Maitimo and I decided we wanted to spend some quality time with our younger brothers."

Just then Telvo awoke, saw Maitimo's tall form, startled, rolled around, and head butted Pityo in the process. Pityo promptly punched his twin in the stomach.

"Gah, if your going to punch someone, punch Nelyo," Telufinwë groaned.

"Nelyo's here?"

"I'm here, sleepy head." At that name Pityafinwë got up and lunged for the eldest. Maitimo rolled out of the way, and jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry Pityo, but you couldn't catch a sloth with speed like that."

"Lucky for me you are far slower than any slowth, especially in the morning," Pityo taunted, and Maitimo quickly ran to the cover of the trees as the older twin gave chase. He sprinted to the first sturdy branch, grabbing it with both hands before pulling his body over it. Within seconds he was a good ten feet off the ground.

"You're lucky you are so tall, brother," Pityo called up from the ground. Maitimo laughed as he reclined back on the branch, copper hair shifting with his movement.

"Sure, blame your incompetence on your stunted form."

The others laughed as other redhead fumed. "He wins," Makalaurë noted placing a hand on Pityafinwë's shoulder.

"Why are you two even here?"

Makalaurë clutched his chest. "You wound me brother. We just wanted to spend some time with you."

"Yeah right," Tyelkormo replied. "If you want to make yourself useful, help me saddle up the horses."

Within an hour, all the gear was packed and the four horses ready to go. They rode in relative silence when Telvo noticed the cluster of spears Maitimo had on his back. "No bow?" he asked gesturing to the spears.

Maitimo almost winced but managed to laugh it off, "No, I decided to try something new today."

"You'll never be able to hit anything with a spear. I don't really believe they are that effective as long distance weapons, regardless of what your lore says," Tyelkormo noted, turning his head slightly to give his brother a teasing grin.

"You see brother, that is where you are wrong. And you'll know it when I am the one who brings down the boar," Maitimo replied in his honest, straightforward way.

"I bet you a bottle of fine wine that you are wrong."

"Your loss," the eldest shrugged. They fell into silence again, Tyelkormo taking the lead, with Huan trotting faithfully by his side. The twins came next, followed by the two reborn brothers who were falling slightly behind.

Maitimo watched as a blue jay landed on one of the nearby branches and chirped at Turko, who inclined his head as if he were listening. Turko's grey horse snorted then and their brother laughed softly, his voice clear and untainted by the rage that had consumed him in Beleriand. "The animals still love him," he whispered.

Makalaurë gave a half smile, "Yes, they do," he replied remembering when the birds and beasts of the land would no longer approach his blonde brother. That was when Tyelkormo had broken completely, and unable to bear it any longer, he had given in to anger and rage. Makalaurë tried to imagine if the Oath had likewise taken his voice, and he shuddered at the thought. Something told him he did not want to know. Suddenly he heard a slight rustle in the leaves right before Huan barked, alerting the rest.

Without pausing to think, Makalaurë notched an arrow, bent his bow, and fired with practiced speed. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Maitimo throw a spear, his reaction also almost instantaneous. Tyelkormo and the twins for their part were slower to react stopping to look around first. Suddenly there was a squeal, and Huan took off with his tail wagging behind him. They came upon the boar they had been tracking, dead with an arrow in its flank and a spear in its chest. Huan sat beside it, panting happily.

Tyelkormo and Ambarussa turned slowly to stare at their two brothers in wonder and no small amount of shock. These two were among the worst hunters of the House of Finwë. Makalaurë just smiled innocently, and Maitimo held their stare with one of his own. "I believe, lord brother, you owe me a bottle of fine wine," he said at last.

"Hold on there," Tyelkormo said, dismounting and walking towards the boar to inspect. "How do we know it wasn't Makalaurë's arrow that killed it?"

"Because it was Makalaurë's arrow."

At that insult the dark haired singer elbowed Maitimo solidly in the ribs. Maitimo groan and put a protective arm at his side, "What, it's true! You're a minstrel who spends all his time outdoors singing."

Tyelkormo grinned and shook his head in wonder, "And you spend all your time reading lore. Have you ever even thrown a spear before? I say, you just got lucky."

"I have been remarkably lucky as of late, haven't I? Maybe fate has finally decided to be kind to me. It would be a first." Turko raised an eyebrow, but didn't inquire any further.

It was late that evening when the group returned from the hunt and gave the boar to the kitchens to prepare for tomorrow's dinner. His brothers all retired to their rooms while Tyelkormo finished putting his tack away. He walked up to his own chambers and sat heavily on the bed, Huan plodding beside him. "Tall-brother and brother-with-voice seem different?" Huan asked in the language of the hounds. Tyelkormo looked at his hound's blue eyes.

"Well they seem overly cheery. Maybe Sermë and Kano got together?"

Huan quirked his head. "No sadder. More sad." Huan disagreed. "Cried brother-with-voice did at night. And shut his eyes to the stars, tall-brother did. They pretend."

"What do you mean Kano cried? And Nelyo loves the stars." Telykormo stated, taken aback.

"And more dangerous too. Much more dangerous. Saw the boar exactly when I did. How?" The last word sounding like a low howl, as the wolfhound looked at his master expectantly.

Tyelkormo sighed, "I don't know, Huan. Maybe if you are worried, I will check on them tonight. But first I would like a bath and to wash my hair. I am afraid there is dirt all over it," he frowned fiddling one of his braids.

Maglor was at the moment also enjoying a hot bath, the likes of which he had not had in ages. His leaned his head back against the ornate tub and sighed. It had been three days since had held that burning Simril. Three days since the nightmare had ended. Not long at all, but still those five centuries were beginning to fade ever so slightly as he settled into the normalcy of life in Tirion. Maybe laughter truly was the best medicine.

He had to be more careful though. He wasn't exactly known as a hunter, and he feared Turko was now slightly suspicious, not that he could ever guess the truth. Maitimo should also be more cautious about doing everything with his left hand. Had Ambarussa or Turko seen him throw that spear with his left, there would have been serious questions along with the teasing. But why bother hiding the truth from them anyway? Were they protecting them? Surely telling his family that they were all kinslayers would not be the kindest thing to do. Maybe they were protecting themselves? No, Maglor reasoned, he had no desire to protect his heart any longer, it deserved every punishment. Or was he simply afraid that his plight would be laughed at when the others did not believe? Yes that was it. Makalaurë could handle their wrath and anger, the name calling and the hateful looks, but he did not think he could handle blank stares and laughter telling him that he spoke only jest. For those years were real. His decision to leave Maedhros to thralldom in Angband had been real, the dragon fire that he faced in the north had been real, Doriath, Sirion, all of it had been real.

He closed his eyes as the familiar pain returned in force, and he saw young Elrond come up to him and ask for a song. In a soft, quiet voice Maglor compiled, and he sang quietly as the water caressed his chest and played with his hair.

Maitimo had also considered a bath, but decided that he couldn't trust himself with the silence and solitude. He had yet to visit his father, and he knew that he would have to face Fëanáro at some point if he were to stop history from repeating, which he was bound and determined to do. He pulled his long hair back with a bronze clasp and shrugged on an older blue shirt and blacks pants, not wanting to ruin his nice riding gear in the dirt and grime of the his father's smithy. He glanced at his right hand again and smiled. It had yet to get old. He would never again take for granted what it was like having two hands.

He walked out into the peaceful night, following the narrow road to the clearing with the forge where his father spent most of days. He hesitated at the heavy door. Ever since Angband, he hated forges as they drudged up dark memories. But at last he opened it and walked into the stifling heat, though Maitimo thought, it really wasn't bad at all compared to the pits of Angband or even some of the Dwarven smithies he had visited. He approached his father, who at the moment seemed so different from the High King who had lead the Noldor into exile. Here he was just Fëanor, absorbed in his passion for making things and inventing, his lean body bent over what appeared to be a necklace.

"Greetings father, we have returned from our hunt." Fëanáro stood up and glanced at his eldest.

"Just in time! Look at the necklace that I have made forEldalótë." Maitimo looked at the piece made out of white sapphire and emerald; it was indeed very beautiful. He was about to compliment his father, when Fëanáro sped off. Too much energy Maitimo sighed, shaking his head. While he waited for his father to return, he glanced around the smithy, noting the organized chaos of the place. He smiled, it was good to be home. Fëanáro then returned with an engraved box and a smile that at once seemed too big.

A terrible sense of foreboding at once befell Maitimo, and he cursed himself for not realizing exactly when he and Makalaurë ended up in Valinor. He had thought that they had still had a while yet. "...my most prized creation, a work of my hands that I shall never again achieve" his father was saying, but Maitimo could barely hear him over the audible pounding of his heart, "...working for months….hallowed…light of….want it to be a surprise." And then Fëanáro opened the box to reveal three gems of unparalleled light and beauty laying on red velvet, an eight-pointed star embroidered in silver on the lid of the box.

Blackness enfolded Maitimo's vision and he fell to one knee as images unnumbered bombarded him. The swearing of the Oath, the burning of the ships, those three gems encased in fell Morgoth's crown as the orcs held him fast, hacking off his long hair before handing it to the Dark Lord, auburn tresses alight in the splendor of those very jewels. He saw Tyelkormo bleeding out in Doriath, arrow upon arrow embedded in his fair brother's back. There was his own hand, blistering just three days ago as he held one of those selfsame gems.

Fëanáro looked down at his son in shock. "Nelyaf…" he began, but he was cut off when Maitimo looked up at him, fire in his silver eyes.

"You know not what torment those jewels will bring. Destroy them. Cast them into the sea. Give them to the Valar. Just get them away from my house and family," his son's voice was strong and commanding, tinted with pain and anger. Fëanáro was disconcerted, for Maitimo was at heart a gentle soul, rarely did he raise his voice, and never did he speak in such low, dangerous wrathful tones. It reminded him of the Valar.

"The Valar have gotten to you, my son. They use you as a mouthpiece. You do not understand what you say, for they are not your words. They are the words of jealous Manwë or Oromë or another of the Valar. For they cannot believe that an elf has created something to rival their very works."

Maitimo stood up, and stared at his father, anger still burning in his eyes. "I know exactly what I speak of, father, and don't you dare tell me otherwise." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the forge.

Tyelkormo walked quietly down the halls, dressed in only a light robe along with sleeping clothes. He hair was damp and down, slicked back out of his face. He would really rather be in bed right now, but Huan was restless. His hound kept on insisting that something was grievously wrong with his two oldest brothers. But those two had always been a bit strange, had they not? He had tried telling Huan that, but the wolfhound would not listen. At last, Tyelkormo agreed to check on his brothers, if only so that Huan would sleep, and he could enjoy a peaceful night in his own bed after camping the previous two nights.

Suddenly he saw Maitimo all but storm into Makalaurë's room at the other end of the hallway. He only got a brief glimpse, but he looked disheveled and furious. Curiosity creeped upon Turko, and he crept down towards the door that Maitimo had just gone through and slammed behind him.

"He has done it!" Maitimo's angry voice came easily through the wall. Tyelkormo cringed. It was not at all easy to make Maitimo angry. He normally took everything in stride and always forgave everyone, even when they least deserved it. There was a long pause and then he heard Makalaurë's hesitant voice.

"You are going to have to be a bit more specific," he heard Makalaurë say pointedly.

"Father has crafted the Silmarils."

"What are you doing?" a different voice asked from directly behind him. Tyelkormo looked up from where he was crouching beside the door to see Curufinwë looking at him quizzingly.

"Oh just a little eavesdropping. Nelyo stomped into Kano's room, and I was curious to see what had befallen the two of them. But it seems as if our brother's rage is directed towards Dad."

Curvo raised an eyebrow and gestured for his brother to move aside so that he could listen in also. However, their two older brothers were now speaking in low tones, indiscernible through the thick palace walls. Tyelkormo sighed and leaned back on the balls of his feet. "Apparently Maitimo is furious because father has created the Silmarils? Whatever those may be."

Curufinwë looked confused but nodded. "Yes, he completed them just the other day. They are three jewels of unmatched beauty. They shine like molten starlight, and father says they contain the divine light of the trees. Indeed, I was filled with wonder and awe when I first laid eyes on them. How Nelyo could feel anger is beyond me. Why would he scorn something so majestic, so clearly inspired, and made by our own father no less? Perhaps you misheard."

"No, I heard clearly. Huan believes something is wrong with our two brothers. He claimed Kano cried the other night."

Curufinwë just stared at his brother. "I am not Eru. I do not have the answers. Maybe we are simply reading too much into it. Go to bed, before they catch you listening at the door," Curufinwë said as he gently tapped his brothers shoulder as he stood up and made his way to his own chambers. Tyelkormo watched him go and was about to follow, when he decided against it. He stood up and knocked on the door in front of him.

"Come in," Makalaurë's voice answered after a few moments. He walked in and stared at his brother's ashen face. Makalaurë was wearing nothing but a towel, clearly just coming from a bath. His hair was soaked, and his skin was ashen. Worse, he was pacing. Maitimo for his part was lying on Makalaurë's bed, his red hair splayed out behind him as he stared into space. Tyelkormo took a minute to take in the scene. Maitimo and Makalaurë were normally the most dignified of his brothers, and seeing them so obviously unhinged would have been comical if it weren't slightly frightening.

"Is everything alright?" he finally asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, Turko. Go to bed," Maitimo's voice came from the bed.

Tyelkormo inclined his head. "In case you have forgotten, I am not an elfling that can ordered off the bed. Furthermore, elf princes do not pace," he said, with a pointed looked at Kano. "They especially do not pace with sopping wet hair, wearing only a towel. Everything is clearly not alright."

Makalaurë sighed and stopped his restless pacing to stare out the window. Maitimo finally spoke up. "I am worried about father."

"Why, because he made three beautiful jewels? Curvo told me about them," he replied when Makalaurë gave him a look. "You should be proud that he can create gems as precious as those of even Aulë."

"It is pride that I am worried about." When Tyelkormo just looked at him in confusion. Maitimo sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "I had a vision of sorts," he continued. "In them father's pride became so great, and he loved those gems so greatly that he was willing to destroy this family in order to keep them in his possession."

"I don't believe that." Tyelkormo retorted at once. "Father would never. He loves us all greatly. Something is messing with your head, Nelyo. I suggest you snap out of it before you make a mistake that you regret," with that Turko turned on his heel and walked out.

See? I don't end with cliffhangers...yet. Review!