Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work.
Chapter 4: Tirion
The sons of Fëanor were not impressed with their father's demonstration of 'gunpowder'. It was noisy, dirty and inelegant. Celegorm's usually blond hair was now black at the edges from the explosion. He knew he should have realised that something was going on as soon as he noticed his father's missing eyebrows.
"Fëanor!" boomed an excessively loud voice next to Celegorm's left ear, and a moment later Oromë, his favourite Vala before the Darkening of Valinor, appeared.
"Good day Oromë," he said "how are you?"
"What, what?" said Oromë, looking round in surprise. "Oh, it's you," he growled. Oromë had still not forgiven Celegorm for getting Huan killed in Middle-earth. "Where's your father?"
"Right there," said Celegorm, pointing at Fëanor who was no more than three feet away.
Oromë peered at Fëanor, then turned back to Celegorm. "That is not Fëanáro," he objected, "Fëanáro has pale skin."
"He got a bit dirty," said Celegorm.
Oromë looked at Fëanor even more closely, eye to eye, and this was enough to make Fëanor finally acknowledge the Vala's presence. "What do you want now?" he snapped.
"He sounds like Fëanáro," said Oromë, still addressing Celegorm.
Caranthir picked up a bowl of water and quickly emptied it over Fëanor's head before any of his brothers could stop him. They often ruined his clever plans. "Now will you believe that he is Fëanáro?" he asked.
"He is closer to the right colour now," said Oromë.
"You really must learn to control your temper Morifinwë," said Fëanor, sounding disturbingly calm. "I understand that you are upset, but there is no need for such childish pranks. You are more than old enough to discuss your problems rationally." Caranthir looked suspiciously at his father, anticipating an outburst, but Fëanor had turned his attention to Oromë. "Did you realise that your left shoulder is about half an inch higher than your right?" he queried, "It makes your profile look most peculiar."
"What, what?" cried Oromë, completely forgetting why he was in Fëanor's workshop. He vanished, presumably to look for a mirror.
While Fëanor still sat grinning happily at the blackened part of his workbench, Maedhros took advantage of his father's distracted state, and signalled for his brothers to leave the room. They reassembled in Maglor's harp room, where the giant harp he had left behind thirteen thousand years before still sat, looking much the same as it always had. Once they were all sprawled on the floor - except Maglor, who sat in the only chair, next to the harp - Maedhros opened the discussion. "Something is wrong with Father," he said, "he must be working on more than just gunpowder."
"I agree," said Curufin, "Father only stays that calm when he has his mind on a major project. Do you remember when he was working on the Silmarils?"
"I do not believe I could forget," said Maglor, "I broke all the best crockery that Mother made before she left when I tripped over Tyelkormo's dog, and all Father said was 'Never mind my boy, it was getting a bit old and faded.' I was terrified for ages that he was going to break my harp in retribution." Maglor patted his harp lovingly.
"Wasn't that when you nearly married Írissë, Turko?" asked Amrod.
Celegorm shuddered, "No," he said, "that was while Father was making the Elessar." He decided to change the subject, as he did not like to be reminded of either of his two failed romances. What Aredhel had seen in the Dark Elf was quite beyond him, and he did not want to contemplate why Lúthien had married that peculiar mortal. "I always wondered what happened to the Elessar. Were you wearing it when you jumped into that fiery chasm, Nelyo?"
"I gave it to Findekáno," said Maedhros, "but he does not have it now. He told me Artanis took it when he died and she gave it to her mortal grandson-in-law. I think Findekáno muttered something about grave-robbing, but I didn't quite catch what he said."
"Why would Artanis do that?" asked Amras.
"How could I know?" said Maedhros, "I believe Artanis went slightly mad in Middle-earth. Findaráto said she fell in love with a dwarf, gave it some of her hair and persuaded the Valar to let it into Valinor."
"I heard the same story from Telperinquar," said Curufin, "although I didn't believe him. I thought he was trying to be rude about Artanis because she married that Teleporno fellow instead of him, but if Findaráto told you, it must be true." He was still very fond of his son, even though Celebrimbor had disowned him during the First Age. Celebrimbor's own coup in Eregion had made him much more sympathetic towards his father, and his stay in the Halls of Mandos had allowed them to achieve a tolerable understanding. Curufin was glad they were back on speaking terms.
Celegorm chuckled, "Findaráto was always hopeless at lying."
"We were supposed to be talking about why Father did not shout at me for throwing water over his face," said Caranthir.
"No we were not," objected Curufin, "we were trying to work out what Father is really doing, although I think we should let him get on with it. Whatever it is, it cannot be worse than the Silmarils."
"How much do you want to bet on that?" asked Maglor, "I saw many worse things in Middle-earth before I died, and those were created by Men, not the greatest Noldo who ever lived."
"Did you tell Father about them as well as the gunpowder?" said Maedhros.
"Yes, but I didn't think he would ever get out of Mandos," said Maglor, looking very apologetic.
"It's too late now, I suppose," said Maedhros, "we shall have to find a way to distract Father."
"We could tell him that Manwë has the Silmaril," suggested Amrod.
"No," said Maedhros, "we should save that for a last resort. I don't want to participate in a second rebellion if I can avoid it."
"Chicken," said Caranthir. Maedhros scowled at him.
"Perhaps we could ask Mother to speak with Father." said Amras, "She used to be able to influence him; maybe she still can."
"We will not speak to the woman who was our father's wife," said Curufin angrily, "she is a foul traitor."
"Don't be ridiculous, Kurvo," said Maglor, "all that was more than thirteen thousand years ago. It's time for you to move on. You could start by not picking fights with people who use your mother-name. You might even call me 'Makalaurë'; you know I have always preferred it."
"I refuse to use the names given to us by that woman, and if any of you try to get her to speak with Father, I shall kill you."
"Ha!" said Caranthir, "I'd like to see you try!"
"But I would not," said Maedhros firmly, "in our previous lives we did not kill any blood relations and we will not start now. However, Kurvo is right. Mother would only antagonise Father; she always did, as far back as I can remember, so it would be a very bad idea for her to find out what Father is doing. It would only make him more determined, like when she told him it was impossible to capture the light of the Two Trees."
"Good point," said Celegorm, feeling remarkably pleased that he had, so far, kept his temper during the discussion. "I don't understand why Father married Mother in the first place. They were always arguing, even while they were still living together."
"Are you suggesting that there is something wrong with arguing with your spouse?" demanded Caranthir. Due to being thwarted in three potential fights already he was rather on edge.
"Only if it happens all the time," said Celegorm, "and you can't tell me that you were always arguing with your wife, Moryo, because you weren't. She did exactly as you told her until we swore the Oath. Even then she would have gone to Middle-earth with you if you hadn't told her that helping Father get the Silmarils back was more important to you than she was."
"I did not say that!" cried Caranthir.
"Yes you did," said Maedhros, "we were all there to hear you. You were rather rude to your poor wife, but at least you weren't as bad as Kurvo."
"You would have done exactly the same," protested Curufin, "if your wife had called you..."
"I dare say I would, if I had a wife." Maedhros quickly interrupted, not wanting to hear the epithets Curufin's wife had used again - the first time, thirteen millennia earlier, had been bad enough.
"Mother liked fighting with Father," said Maglor, "she told me so once. It was when Father stopped arguing and shut himself away in his workshop with the Silmarils that she couldn't stand him anymore." He plucked one of the strings of his harp to emphasize his point, but it broke, narrowly missing Amras's eye and scratching Amrod's arm.
Amrod winced, but chose to refrain from vengeance against the offending instrument because Maglor was already looking furious. "I told you the strings would be brittle after all this time," he said, rapidly moving back out of range of any further attack.
"I think we should get Telperinquar to talk to Father," said Maedhros, "he was always fond of him."
"I'm sure that my son would be happy to," said Curufin, "but Father has vowed that he will not see Telperinquar because of the Incident with the Rings. It is dreadfully unfair, because you accidentally associated with a Dark Lord too, Nelyo, and Father doesn't seem to mind that."
"The circumstances were entirely different," said Maedhros, "I was Moringotto's prisoner, not his friend, and I certainly didn't make any Rings of Power for him."
"Yes, but Telperinquar didn't know it was Gorthû," said Curufin.
"You could try telling Father that," said Maedhros.
"I already did," said Curufin gloomily, "but Father just said that he wouldn't believe that any of his kin could fail to recognise Gorthû on sight, let alone take several centuries to work it out."
"What about Elrond?" asked Celegorm.
"What about him?" said Amras, "what does he have to do with Father?"
"Makalaurë adopted him, so technically he is Father's grandchild too," said Celegorm, "and I don't think that Father has an opinion about him yet."
"That isn't a bad idea, Turko," said Maedhros, "a new grandchild might be just the thing to distract Father. Where does Elrond live?"
"On Tol Eressëa," replied Maglor.
"Excellent," said Maedhros, "we shall set out at once."
