Epilogue

0.

The underlying notion to this tale was: To understand the ending, we must understand the beginning;

Corollary: We shall only really understand the beginning when we understand the end. The place where the loop shall attach to when it finally closes.

The thread of fate was too massive not to send waves back into the past; No one in the perimeter of Formenos would have felt quite at ease when the fateful day came.

There were guards posted on the walls long before there were thieves in Valinor; But even when the thieves finally arrived, the guards availed nothing.

Lady Arqueniel – not yet Tincfael – had not yet learned through the reality of conflict to place pragmatism over reckless vanity; They looked to her to be one and the same. This was when she still preferred to carry a weapon out of vanity, and it was vanity that led her to captain the guard of the silver hours by herself, in an ornate cuirass designed more for bragging rights than protection – though she much liked the ideas of independence and rebellion, she had privately suspected that the watch was not strictly necessary for the moment with the chiefest of their enemies far away in Tirion; She had volunteered to lead it nonetheless, both to spite their rivals and the Valar, and to display her loyalty in hopes of further reward; She had ceremoniously saluted the High Prince when he left, and proudly spoken some customary words about guarding the vault with her life.

When given the excuse, she would end up striking with precious little provocation, but as it stood, she did not know what to expect of a real fight… and she had lived beneath the light all the days of her life, until that day of doom when she came to be aware of the distant golden shimmer glowing ever so slightly dimmer, withdrawing ever so subtly from the southwestern half of the sky.

At first, she thought that it was only ever her imagination, a question of growing accustomed to the high north, though she had shared the princes' exile for many years now.

She was not the first to pause and observe the golden patch of sky with squinted, narrow eyes, but she might have been one of the first to actually say it: "Oh my stars, the light is going out!"

There had been much posturing back in Tirion, much tough-talk and sable-rattling, and she had ever been first in line – but she had spat her scorn at something tangible, like Nolofinwe and his supporters, not some ominous diffuse darkness.

In that moment, neither she nor her guard of like-minded ruffians could make good on any of their cocky words – it was one of the older guardsmen, a veteran of the great journey, who was the first to gather them all together and suggest that someone really ought to fetch the king.

As their de-factor superior and the law-daughter of their sworn leader, that task fell to Arqueniel, but when she ran down the stairs from the lookout posts on the walls, she was merely doing as she was told, and her first thought was not for the king, but to know where her son was.

How convenient then that they were both found in the same place, already gathered in the great hall with many of the knights and the rest of the royal house, not that there were many of them remaining in these walls: The High Prince had gone, his sons had gone, and thus the inhabitants of Formenos were left with old king, the scarcely grown young prince Telperinquar, and the princesses, the chiefest of which had been the daughter of a mere bookstore owner and as such unprepared for leadership – not that her more blue-blooded counterpart from the House of Topazes appeared much more composed.

Though present in the hall, Princess Almariel (not yet Marilwende) looked to have reached her breaking point in all her finery, panicked enough that she was holding on to Luthina, who in turn was trying her best to support and comfort her, so as to keep control of at least one aspect of this unprecedented situation.

Under any other circumstance, Arqueniel would have considered this her time to shine; But looking back, she would see the memory of herself stumbling in disgracefully, stammering fiercely about the darkness and then making a dash forward to seize her son into her arms as soon as her task was technically fulfilled.

Telperinquar himself was, even then, made of the same marvelous stuff as his father and grandfather and stood resolute where he was in serious conversation with the king, acknowledging his mother only by a private shifting of his arm, though his grip on her hand was by no means light.

For the most part, it was chiefly the older warriors who had kept their heads; many of those who had still known the lands in the east and sympathized with their cause for that very reason.

The thick walls and splendorous adornments glimmered ominously in the fading light which had already failed to the point that the blue fire of the artificial lights had nearly become the room's chief illumination, shining on the room and its occupants in unfamiliar angles; Once, the copious illumination was thought an unnecessary flourish born of capricious vanity; Now, it was the only reason that any of them could see as far as their own hands; And still many of them could barely see the room, trapped under the dark that was more than dark and facing absolute uncertainty; Many were aware that the world they had known all their long, ageless lives was about to be swallowed up by infinite darkness.

Of the ones who had made it to the halls, Princess Almariel was probably the most hysterical; She kept and kept repeating the same senseless words with the same desperate urgency. Despite her best efforts, Luthina could not calm her, and her unfocused ramblings did absolutely nothing to set anyone at ease. Arqueniel, for her part, really wished she'd just stop.

"You don't understand! They're coming here! She's coming here, and he's coming here, and they're coming right for us!"

"I'm sure all will be fine," was all Luthina could respond, less because she believed it, but more for the sake of having a reply at all: "Carnistir and the others must be here any moment, right, sire?"

The king regarded them gravelly, looking first to them, and then to Arqueniel and Telperinquar, who were still standing right before him. It took her much of an effort not to tremble, but at last she tried her best to force out the words, trying to channel the nervous energy behind her trepidation into bluster: "We are awaiting your orders! Shall I ready the guard?"

In the end, all the effort she expended to feign bravado went to waste; For of course the old king would see right through it, and put a hand on her shoulder in a paternal fashion, reserving the other for her son. "Don't be ashamed of your wish to go on living in safety; I lead your forebears here in the hope that you would never need to know such fear; Alas, our wishes do not always come true."

He then cast a glance at Almariel, probably well aware of the seers in her family seeing as he would have worked with them in the assembly of the lords, and certainly aware of what a rough vision would look like in an untrained individual, seeing as he had raised several children with much greater gifts than hers.

"And you're certain that whatever is coming is truly moving toward Formenos? It's not just our general direction?"

Almariel frantically shook her head. "They're coming here."

The king appeared to have suspected this already.

"What of Carnistir and the others?"

"They won't get here in time!"

"Wait. What are you saying?" Arqueniel interjected. "Why in the world would they come towards us if they can see that coming?"

That was not a question that the king needed an answer for; His concern was elsewhere:

"And the festival-"

"Don't make me look any further! I can't- I don't want to see any more. I can feel them coming. All their malice… calling for us… if they notice me-"

"Oh, keep it together! Just tell us! What do you see!"

But the king still had enough of his wits about him to realize that Almariel must have met her limit; She had no training to begin with, if she had seen anything at all, it would be because of the overwhelming weight of the doom that was drawing its noose tighter and tighter around their necks, it's crushing weight looming so close above their heads that just about all of them must have sensed in their own way. He'd been suspecting something like this ever since the Dark Vala's unannounced visit, and gestured for Arqueniel to quiet down:

"It's enough." he said to her, and then turned to the distraught princess:

"I understand. You've done all you can. Please, don't strain yourself any further. Lusina. Why don't you get Almariel something to drink? She must be exhausted."

Grateful to be able to do anything helpful at all, the wife of Maglor complied swiftly and quietly. If there was any thought she wished to voice, she couldn't bring herself to voice it; She led her law-sister out of the room, unaware that this was the last she would hear from the king.

He, however, seemed to have come to a realization in this instant, one that was not wholly without its relief.

He exhaled deeply.

"I'm just glad that Feanaro and the boys are not here. I know some of you might not like to hear me say that, but thank the Valar for that! Praise be unto Manwe to whom all birds are dear!"

At last, the king turned back to the third princess and her son.

"Sire-"

"Lady Arqueniel Nornien from the house of the Ledger. I am placing all my trust in you. I know my son esteems you greatly, so I will trust his judgment in this, and appoint you to lead the people in my stead. Take your son with you, and get ready to evacuate the fortress."

Never once before the darkening would she have thought that she would quibble if she were bestowed with such a honor; Now, her hands were tightly gripping the fabric of her only son's robes.
"But- sire, if they're after what's in our vault, they'll-"

"Yes. Which is why you ought to leave them here. Of course, I don't mean to leave my son's cherished masterpieces unprotected; I shall stay behind to guard the vault; I will endeavor as best as I can to buy you time. I trust that you know of some nearby crevice from your wanderings with my grandsons?"

"Yes but-"

She was painfully aware of the sudden sense of relief that flooded the bubbling emotional stew in her ribcage; Perhaps her later reckless acts in Alqualonde would be her way of convincing herself that it was never there.

But for now, all she could feel was immense gratitude; The most she'd ever felt in the centuries of her life.

"I- Thank you, sire… Telperinquar, let us go."

"No. I'm staying!"

It was then that the young man extricated himself from his mother's grip; To begin with, he had not quite clung to her the way a small child might; No one could have been wholly undaunted in such a moment, but he had been waiting not for salvation or relief, but for a course of action.

"I'm going with you! I am a prince of the Noldor, and I am not going to run. Before he left, father told me to take care of things here, and I mean to keep my word!"

"Telperinquar. Be serious!"

"I am being serious. Don't worry mother, just gather everyone together and get ready to leave-"

"As if you even know what you're saying!"

Arqueniel would later conclude that she would have wasted much time continuing the fruitless argument, but even then she was exceedingly glad when she saw the king taking the matter into his own hands, grasping the eager boy's own and looking him straight in the eyes.

He was a sensible man and a convincing speaker, and it was clear from his serious manner that he had not intention to take some half-grown boy along to his doom.

But he knew full well what his choice would entail and took the chance to take a nice, long look at his descendant; The boy's features were already beginning to lose the softness of youth and the king knew better than to dismiss the fierce determination in his eyes as mere youthful folly.

So, he tried to choose his words well:

"Your father said that so you would be aware of your duties, and so that you would not feel helpless or unimportant, and I'm glad to see that he was successful in that; But your duties would best be served if you helped your mother with ensuring the safety of our people and watched over them in my stead until your father and your uncles return."

Telperinquar was a reasonable boy and he certainly understood the reasoning here, especially when it was laid our before him with a certain implied trust, but still he did not feel free to make that decision in good conscience:
"But I promised. And father says that one must always keep word. Even grandfather says that. All the time."

The king sighed deeply. No doubt he must have felt like he was being made to face the comeuppance for his every misstep in these last hours.

"I'm not surprised that he says that. That is probably because I broke my wedding vows long ago. Twice now, I suppose. There are more ways than one to be disloyal. It's not that I didn't want to keep them, or that I did not mean them at the time. But things happen that you cannot change or foresee. Sometimes you can't keep your promises, no matter how much you meant them at the time. Please understand that. If you remember only one thing about me, remember this."

"Why wouldn't I remember you? We come to see you all the time."

That is when the royal composure finally cracked; As Finwe did not wish for his young descendant to see his tears, he moved quickly to take him into his arms.

"You're so much like your father. And your grandfather. And then in some ways, you are so very, very much your own person. I'm sure you'll go on to do great things... So please, do me a favor and guide everyone from this place."

Telperinquar was a bright youth; By now, he could surely have not missed the gravity of the situation.

"I-"

"It's alright. You don't have to promise."

It was then that someone arrived with the king's sword and armor.

After he stood up to receive him, he exchanged one last nod of acknowledgment with the Lady Arqueniel; She was honestly rather grateful to him, and her later enthusiasm about all the talk of revenge would be more than just lip-service; But at the time, none of that kept her from being very eager to be gone.

Experienced as he was, he did not even need to raise his voice to command the entire room's attention; If anyone noticed the droplets glittering at the corners of his eyes, they kept it to themselves out of respect.

"I ask that you all go with the lady and young Telperinquar."

She did not need to be told twice; and immediately began pointing around the room with her finger, barking out orders to ensure a departure in an orderly fashion; She also made sure to keep a close eye on her son, but he would not have needed the further supervision, having solemnly accepted the king's request, offering to offer his mothers with small errands here and there, though she was reluctant to let him out of her sight for too long, and big him only to fetch Luthina and Almariel, and to return immediately in their company.

He brought them as requested; By then, Luthina had managed to calm down Almariel and they were now quite resolute in refusing to be worried over and doing their part in organizing the departure.

Arqueniel proceeded to order them around as well.

The departure thus became a swift, orderly and pragmatic affair; She was by no means glad to leave all the treasure to Melkor, but she ensured that they would grab all the necessary gear that wound up enabling their further travels.

It was hard to tell what the king was thinking; Perhaps he had notions of settling old scores, little as he could hope to succeed. Maybe he wished that he could have seen his other children again, but he must have been aware that his presence here was the result of his choices; For all the misfortune he'd faced, he could not say that he not also been shown great favor.

He thought it better if they did not tell him where they would be hiding.

I.

It was not until well into the next age that the halls were rebuilt, complete with the once superfluous lights; they proved surprisingly neat to have in a world that experienced regular night-time.

By then it was commonly recommended that curious visitors ought to see the renewed walls at night, though many of those who had lived through the years of the trees preferred to approach the site only in daylight, as if the night were too much of a reminder even with the silvery gleam of Isil to light the way.

There was one such pair of visitors towards the early years of the third age, though they might have had a rather different reason for avoiding the night.

It was a rather disparate pair that approached the same walls that Melkor himself had once rent asunder; both wrapped in hooded cloaks, but cutting rather different silhouettes all the more, for one of the travelers was arrayed in all white from the tip of her cloak to the wintry dress she wore beneath all down to her all-white riding boots, a long-limbed woman of tall, strong built and very fair skin, all in white save for the tufts of dark hair spilling out of her hood; by contrast, her companion was somewhat shorter, dressed in simple work clothes, and all in black save for whatever strips of his pale face were left visible by his hood, and he had cause to hide it well. What little could be seen suggested a young face, though whether it was one that had not yet had the chance to grow old, or one that was interrupted at some early stage, it was hard to say.

The woman spoke for them when they got to the gates; The young man followed her like a nebulous shadow. Her sudden, unannounced arrival prompted questions of course, but whatever she told the guard persuaded her quite quickly to let them pass. One took a startled step backwards when he caught a glimpse of her face, whispering to his fellows;

One way or another, it just so happened that she was not disturbed at any point of her passage through the complex, along with the silent companion who always followed close by.

It helped that she walked with firm, eager steps and a clear sense of purpose, doubting little that she was supposed to be there and very certain as to what she was looking for.

She paused only when she came to the monument in the courtyard, taking a quick moment to clap her hands together and briefly pay her respect, though her companion could only observe.

Mindful of his presence, she did not linger overmuch and encourage him to follow her further inside, until they neared the hall where the king and his knights had once held their last counsel.

Of course, neither of the two would have seen this place in those days;

She would not have been allowed, though she did not stride upon the mosaic tiles with any sort of triumph or old resentment, hardly more than the odd moment of ages-old curiosity finally sated. Her companion, in turn, had not yet been born, though he was aware that the events here must have influenced his life more than he could be aware.

If things had been otherwise, he might not even have come to be at all, and he was well aware that many would count that a blessing.

They walked hand in hand when they finally reached the jeweled thrones, bearing upon them a quite different set of people than they had at their inception. Since she never came here back in the day, the lady in white could only speculate which seat had been Maitimo's and which one was Finwe's – but she was pretty sure, just from taking one look at it, that Telperinquar was currently sitting on the one that Feanaro must have chosen for himself.

Last time she had seen him, he was a rather sweet young man; Now, he was most definitely mature, somewhat imposing to look at, and doing a rather good job at filling that chair, flanked to the right by his aunt and at his left, by his mother.

The newly arrived traveler had of course got to know them quite well through her friendship with their husbands, but they were greatly changed now in ways both obvious and subtle, and in some ways, not at all.

Middle-Earth seemed to have cured Arqueniel of the greater part of her vanity; She lounged quite casually in her chair, wearing simple work-clothes, as if she'd only just been interrupted, or had decided to invite herself to this audience as soon as she had heard of them. Almariel – or Marilwende, as she now called herself – sat there in great finery and a hair-net studded with jewels, looking quite pleased to see her, much like she would have in the past, but it was hard to picture her old self as being the first to speak: "Irisse! You're back from Mandos! I've been wondering when you would come! Your brothers didn't seem worried so I figured that you'd told them what you were up to, but it was a bit confusing that you were taking so long. I hadn't heard that you'd done anything particularly bad, so..."

"I couldn't leave without him." declared the lady in white, patting her taciturn companion on the shoulder. "Or I suppose, I could have, but I didn't want to."

"You mean, that is..." Even Arqueniel preferred to leave that unsaid, but it was clear that all three grasped what was implied.

"I was hoping to introduce you back in Himlad, but I decided to hurry up and cross the border… but you remember me telling you about your cousin Telperinquar, do you?"

"It's alright, Aunt Irisse...we are acquainted."

"That's one way to put it." snapped Arqueniel. "No offense, Irisse, but I'm pretty sure that this brat of yours burned down a city with my son still in it."

"Well then maybe he shouldn't have taken the chief artificer post after I'd spent years working toward it!"

"Excuse me?! You were what, 150? I was simply more experienced at the time. Next you'd be expecting Turukano to make you guildmaster instead of Rog."

"What I expect is that I wouldn't have spent all day digging up those bloody diamonds only for you to show up out of nowhere and become everybody's darling when you started making them from scratch!"

"I was nobody's darling. Come on! Unlike you, Turukano didn't trust me as far as he could throw me. You know full well that I only got the post because Itarille vouched for me!"

"And what's up with that, anyways? You were awfully friendly with her for my liking!"

"Please! We've known each other since we were children!"

"Will you cut it out! Lomion! Tyelpe! No arguing. Didn't we talk about this? You're worse than father and uncle Feanaro!"

Since Irisse was one of the very few people who were universally beloved by every side in this family, her exclamation actually succeeded in calming down the discord.

Her son seemed to have only shut his mouth for the love of her, but Telperinquar was feeling more tempted to run his palm through his face than he had for many thousand of years.

At last, it was Marilwende who again took it upon herself to get the awkward part out of the way: "So… are you just dropping by to say hello, or is there a particular reason for your visit?"

"I would also like to know this." said Arqueniel.

"Well, I've been speaking to Lord Namo about Lomion's release, and one of the conditions for him to get out within the millennium was that has to keep his distance from Itarille. Which means that he's not allowed in Tirion. And I don't think he'd be too welcome in Eressea, either. So I was hoping that you might be able to help us find him a place to stay."

Having sat back down, the lord of Formenos regarded the sable-clad figure down below. He seemed very much unchanged from their time in Gondolin, so much so that he almost felt himself shifted back into those days just from the sight.

It was not just that he physically looked the same – that much would have been a given for any of the Eldar – but in his posture and body language, which still very much suggested a malcontent youth; One might suppose that he had not had the chance to live more, to gain more experience instead of merely ruminating on processing the old; A boy interrupted, still green, except that there had still somehow been the time for his sorrow to grow ancient and for his deeds to go down in infamy.

Itarille had warned him straight away to stay away, but that had not discouraged Telperinquar as he was then. "So he has got to be a scoundrel, just 'cause his father's a scoundrel?" That was something he was not inclined to believe then, even if it was for somewhat self-serving reasons; And he'd even thought that he might have found a kindred spirit and made some attempt to befriend the severe, taciturn miner, hoping that they might defy their forefathers' destinies and have a merry time spilling all of their fathers' prized trade secrets to spite their memory; and whatever might have been the matter with his father, Telperinquar couldn't help but be at least a little jealous of one who who would be descended from such a noble, heroic lineage as Nolofinwe's.

But Maeglin of the House of the Mole had never throw away the strange sword he'd brought with him, and certainly didn't allow any stranger to examine it closely, nor would he think of disclosing how its substance was fashioned, and he saw little more than a rival in the overeager newcomer who fled to the city after the great battle and did not show any sign that he was the slightest bit bothered by the prospect that he might never be allowed to leave.

When Maeglin had put down his industrious labor to go on an uncharacteristic spree of drinking and merrymaking that seemed at odds with his usually spartan and severe work ethic, Telperinquar had found himself mildly concerned and voiced that thought to Itarille; When she asked him to make a child-sized coat of mail for her son every single year and instructed him sternly to keep quiet about it, he'd complied; But he did not suspect Maeglin in the slightest and was absolutely blindsided by his betrayal – and it wouldn't be the last time.

Even so, that all had taken place long, long ago – he was a much different person now, compared to then, or even compared with his time in Eregion.

He would now be quite capable of viewing the whole matter from a much more detached point of view. He would no longer see it as reflecting on himself if some son of a scoundrel turned out to be a scoundrel as well, but at the same time, he'd come to learn a thing or two about temptation and suffering, and was able to regard the tragedies of Beleriand from something of a distance after he had been reunited with many of the ones involved on this side of the veil.

And in any case, he never had any quarrel with Irisse herself, whom he had always been fond of; If anything, he should be looking to resolve this for her sake.

Thus, he pondered the matter thoughtfully, tenting his fingers as he considered it, and adressed his next question chiefly to her: "The name he used back in Gondolin was 'Maeglin', wasn't it? That sounds Sindarin. Is he a Sinda?"

"Well not exactly. Probably a little bit, since his father claimed that he's related to their king somehow – he didn't really talk much about his past. But the Sindarin King did grant him some land, so it's probably true that he had some sort of Telerin ancestor somewhere down the line. But for the most part he seems to have been one of the Tatyar – of the ones that grandfather never convinced. He was even a metalworker! I think he came to Doriath before the sun and moon, but it seems like he didn't really like it there, so he left..."

"A troublemaker then." reasoned Arqueniel. "Serial troublemaker, if you suppose there's a reason why even the other Avari refused to put up with him. Or who knows, maybe he just got wind that his cousin in the west rules a bountiful realm with a well-stocked treasury. Probably a scoundrel."

"I'd call him a free spirit. That's what we had in common, at least before our falling out..." she trailed off there, showing some cracks in what so far had resembled her usual demeanor – it was clear that there was much more there that she wasn't saying; But even Arqueniel had enough decency not to go poking around in that wound; So she adressed her next comment purely to her son: "Well if you want my opinion, that still sounds like a scoundrel to me. Takes one to know one. I've told you once before. And over there is scoundrel junior. Don't tell me that he didn't suddenly lose all interest in fleeing to Himlad once you mentioned that your brother is stinking rich with just one single girl for an heir, while Celegorm had just a spartan wartime outpost and the whole lot of us right there with him! Or maybe he'd guessed from your stories that the pair of us would be to shrewd to outwit."

Maeglin said nothing;

His mother forced herself to give up a few terse, heavy words about that which she did not feel like sharing: "We thought we'd be safe in Gondolin; Or at least, that we wouldn't be followed."

"That was then. Water under the bridge; Land under the sea. But I hope that you're not expecting us to believe that he's all changed just because the Valar turned him loose. Us, of all people. They've been known to miscalculate before, as you no doubt remember."

There was a bit of awkward silence which Marilwende then hastened to diffuse: "Perhaps we might find some band of Tatyarin Avari to put him with? There is a good number of those in Valinor these days." Arqueniel, for her part, found that thought amusing: "I'd wager some of them would be willing to take him in just to spite us."

That is when silent youth finally revealed himself, stepping forward in a swift, abrupt motion, lifting up his bowed head so that his dark hood and raven hair fell away far enough to reveal his eyes, and at last, he spoke, his voice still youthful in coloration, but oozing with old, hard disdain: "Out of the question! I'd rather die all over again."

Ironically, he looked quite a bit like his mother, despite his somewhat slighter build. Usually hidden behind his mop of ebon hair, he had her family's fine features, and, it would seem, perhaps some ghost of its famed valor, for he looked straight into Telperinquar's blazing gaze without flinching away in the slightest. He could not say that he wasn't intrigued.

"Might I ask why?"

"He wants to live with our people-" Irisse interjected, perhaps to soften the blow she knew was coming, but her son was for once in the mood to make himself very clear:

"Because the jerk that begat me would rather put a spear through the both of us than allow it, and I don't feel like giving him the satisfaction of doing as he likes."

"In any case, except from what he's got from Grandma Indis and possibly some cousin of King Thingol's, he's very nearly full-blooded, so I thought I'd come to you. Besides, I spoke to your father and Tyelkormo in the halls, and they said I could try bringing him here. There are many here who already have a somewhat… unusual reputations, so, he wouldn't stand out as much… and it's not like he wouldn't earn his keep. He's a pretty good metallurgist – he'd fit right in with all the craftsmen. Besides, he always wanted to study new techniques to improve his skills – that's part of the reason why we made for Gondolin. And he could do this here. So would you please consider it? Your father already said yes-"

"Then he must be out of his mind!"

"Mother, enough." Rising up himself, he gestured for her to sit down, which she complied with, reluctantly, throwing herself back into her chair without doing much to hide her displeasure.

Then, he began descending from the dais, addressing the petitioners below. "Aunt Irisse. The current head of our house is me, not my father. The Decision is mine, unless uncle Makalaure were to appear from beyond the sea."

"I know that, and believe me, so does your father. I just thought we would ask you, because you're the child of an old friend."

"It's not you that mother is concerned about."

He drew a deep, tired breath once he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, looking right path her at her somewhat petulant second shadow. "You. Take that thing off of your head. And look at me."

When he showed no inclination to comply, his mother deemed it wise to try some encouragement that was certainly firm but by no means hard or cold: "Do it, Lomion."

With clear reluctance and some moments of hesitation interspersed at many steps of the way, the infamous traitor of Gondolin gripped the edge of his hood with his large, long, pale hands and pulled down to reveal his messy nest of pitch black hair, as well as a proper look at his face.

Who could say if he'd ever put any stock in his mother's suggestion, but be that as it may, he seemed determined to at the very least go down with dignity, and not be unduly daunted by a man who, at this point, didn't have that many years on him in terms of mere existence.

There was almost something about this that one could respect, even when faced with the worst scoundrel ever produced by any civilization of the Elder Children.

Even after finding himself in a place he had only known from legend, he didn't stand his ground half bad.

Not like the three of them were on the most solid of grounds to be appraising someone as if presented on a platter. It's not as if he didn't know what that felt like, even if the expectation of it probably outstripped the reality.

So at last, Telperinquar was the first to break the staring contest.

"Sauron got you, didn't he?"

Maeglin, of course, made no answer, but there was no need of that anymore; It was probably his means of breaking even when winning was not an option.

"You are fortunate enough to be speaking to someone who actually understands what that means."

Sensing already where this was going, Arqueniel insisted on protesting: "I don't remember you cracking."

"Not entirely. But I was deceived, and I did reveal where the lesser rings were – sure, I rationalized that this would distract him from the greater ones, I told myself that he would probably find them and use them anyways since he had a part in their making, that he would have found them anyway – but maybe not. Those I considered allies did come to harm, and who knows how many innocents that I never knew might still be involved in wiping up that mess. I'm not sure I could say why I resisted – or that I can't understand why one would give in. We shall put you to work posthaste, and if anyone should have… objections, they can take it up with me. "

"Alright. Alright! It's your fortress! But I hope our dear kinsman realizes that I will be watching his dealings very, very closely, and that I'm not quite as magnanimous as you."

Irisse chose to hear only the first few words: "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! You don't know how much this means to us! Oh I knew I could always count on you!"

"Don't thank us yet," mumbled Arqueniel, but she could not come across all that convincing if Marilwende had already gathered up her skirts to come hastening down the stairs, likely intending to show their distant relative around the fortress and the adjacent settlements.

"Oh, just so you know, Turukano might come to visit – not right now, possibly not for a couple of decades, but when he's ready..."

Arqueniel tried her best to stifle a laugh. "Your brother Turukano. Here in Formenos! Now I've heard it all!"

"That won't be a problem, will it?"

Marilwende and Telperinquar exchanged a few questioning looks. "I assure you that it won't be. I have no interest in reviving any old feuds."

Overruled by far, even Arqueniel but not help but acquiesce and begin tho accept that they were now apparently about to leave the great hall to go through assorted pleasantries. "Fine. But make sure to rein him in!"

Later perhaps they would find the time to discreetly petition Irisse for news of their husbands.

II.

At the end of the Third Age, last of the original exiles were finally expected to come home, and back on the western shores, Lusina had no small amount of curiosity about the stories they might have to tell, for the crooked world down below seemed ever stranger in every new set of stories.

Once in a while, there might still have been the deep sting of heartache when she thought of one particular person who had not returned yet and was unlikely to do so anytime soon, but she'd been hoping in vain for so long that she'd grown somewhat numb to the inevitable sense of disappointment; Her days were not spent waiting, but in working, preparing, appreciating -

Memory itself might be a talent and part of the function she was meant to have in the world, but the skill to actually tell the tales, to spin them, present them, and to tell them at the right place at the right time to the right audience, now that was an art that she meant to have honed to perfection until the day of the second music should come. Not that she was longing for the end of the world, when she had much to do, much to learn and still so much to practice; But she hoped that she would at least have some comfort to look forward to when the time was over, much like Ents and Entwives hoped to cross paths at the end these days.

Lusina was not expecting anything in particular when she heard the delicate sounds of the wind chime which she'd hung next to the door – at most she would be glad to help yet another visitor check out just the right book, and maybe, if she was very lucky, someone would have come by to discuss the latest of her own works; She approached the vicinity of the entrance with a short list in her mind, having narrowed down the possible visitors based on their usual habits and tendencies – but even when her expectations came to nice at the sight of an unknown, fresh face, she was not yet especially perturbed – It had been known that a new wave of new arrivals from middle earth was being anticipated now that yet another age of the world was drawing to a close; If anything, a new customer with new stories and new thoughts ought to have been a cause for delight, which already brought a particular spring to her step. It was pretty common for new arrivals to rush in here as soon as they made landfall to finally get a taste of the vast stores of knowledge that were said to be available beyond the sea. Knowing from her own experience how difficult it could be even for one already acquainted with the uttermost west, she'd be glad if she could do her part to help someone adjust. "Welcome to the Great Royal Library of Tol Eressea! What can I help you with?"

The newcomer has a somewhat solemn, dignified look to him, even beyond what is usual for the late arrivals of these days, but many who cross the sea these days tend to have seen and experienced much; He appears Sindarin in looks and dress, but his long, fine hair is dark as evening and he's wearing a few tasteful, elegant ornaments; but of course many such children had been born in Hithlum, Eglarest or Lindon, including King Gil-Galad himself; There was a shadow of treelight in his face, such as was usual in people who were only a few generations removed from someone who had witnessed the ancient light in the flesh, but he could not have beheld it himself.

Lusina did not suspect anything outside of business as usual until the stranger spoke, not with the careful, accented Quenya of one who had only studied it as part of their schooling, but with the ease and fluency of a person who was brought up speaking it:

"Greetings, Madam. You must excuse me, for I am here on an errand of a somewhat personal nature. It has come to my awareness that one Lusina Tale-Weaver is said to work here at times. I would like to know when I might speak with her."

A fan perhaps? Though he seemed too solemn to be here for matters of leisure, and in any case his dress and bearing suggested that he must have been a respected person of high rank, a renowed scholar or perhaps a lord, at least back in Ennore.

Even so, she was still unguarded, as one could only be after many centuries of peace; She simply smile and disclosed the truth straight away, though she might not have, if she had been aware straight away of just who she was speaking to: "You're speaking to her right now. It's my pleasure. Now, might I know to whom I owe it?"

It would turn out that he was Elrond of Imladris, born of the last scions of Beleriand's most bountiful realms. She stood frozen as soon as the words suffused the air, thrown right back into the tainted past she had long struggled to move past, for had she not had a hand in the demise of at least one of them?

It was not surprising then, that he should be so skilled with their language; It had been said that Earendil mastered in all the many tongues of the diverse refugees in whose midst he grew up, and that this skill served him greatly on his journeys.

Perhaps it was foolish to expect that she would ever be done paying the price, for would the victims of her blades not remember her deeds forever? At least some of them must know that she was here – it couldn't be too hard to find out about the former wife of a prince; If they had ever heard where she was, perhaps they were avoiding this place because of her – but this one, at least, seemed to have chosen to confront her – Turukano's descendant indeed.

There was no honest argument she could contrive according to which she wouldn't owe it to him to stand here and take whatever words he had for here; They would just were words, and if they stung like hot irons, it would only be because of the truth of her deeds.

There was no mistaking it or getting around it, either; Had she recognized him, she might have pointed him to some other library staff who did not have a hand in the demise of his grandparents and no affiliation with his kidnappers; But he had come asking for her by name.

In her mind, she couldn't help but hear Maitimo's warnings concerning contact with the enemy: Stand straight, shoulders together, brace yourself, be strong now – he had once endured absolute loss of control by taking absolute control of himself, and this could not remotely compare to his ordeal.

The sons and daughters of Tirion were known to be many things, but not cravens;

So stand she did.

"So you were the wife of Maglor Feanorion? The Lady of Himring?"

If she had been less overtaken by this sudden accounting of debt, she might have noticed that his tone was not especially hostile; but if she had, she would have known to take it for deliberate restraint and mercy born from wisdom.

"I deny nothing. Everything you heard, I did, and everything you have to say, I will listen to, o son of Elwing."

"Great was the realm of Doriath, long its reign, vast its riches and rich its culture and regrettable its end; Great was the honor, and heavy the burden, to be carrying on its legacy. Great also was the splendor of Gondolin, where my sire was raised in his childhood-"

"I have no doubt that he must have been overjoyed to hear of your return; You had not seen him since the war of wrath, am I right?"

Her voice was moved with empathy and regret, and yet she feared that she had already been to presumptuous – Elrond, however, was not yet done saying what it was he had come to say. He spoke in a calm and measured manner – no doubt that he had pondered time and time again what he might say if this occasion should ever present itself: "That is true – and great were his accomplishments also, and blessed was he among men and elves. I have always striven to live up to such legacies, and long have I looked forward to speaking to him when I set foot on the mainland. But when I think back to my youth, his is not the first face that comes to mind. I met him as a general in the war of wrath; There I came to know him as a very noble, respectable man. It is with great pride that I have fought beneath his banner and tried to honor my parent's great sacrifice in each of my choices. But it was not them who put me to bed, who sang to me in the night or taught me my letters."

"It is to my greatest shame that you were robbed of that."

"Not as much as you think – My father once told me that he thought it fortunate that he was unaware of our survival – if he had not been, it would have made his choice that much harder, and it was the one he needed to make for our own good; and I've come to understand the meaning of his words very well since I became a parent myself; And he in turn was much comforted to learn that my brother and I had not been as deprived as we could have been -

As I said, it was not my father who put me to bed or taught me my letters, but there was another who did. Maglor Feanorion did not simply spare my life – He took me in and raised me as his own.

Of course, he was much tormented by the specter of his deeds, we were always on the run, and the specter of our first meeting hung between us; He could never be my father, and I cannot say that he was a good guardian, but he was the one I had, and he gave me all that he could. I learned much from him, and from his brother as well – of leadership, of beauty, about fate, about the complexity of this world, and how even the best of intentions could be driven to awful ends; and of noble deeds, kindness and mercy blossoming even in the darkest of places. I cannot say that I would be who I am today if our paths had never crossed; I cannot say if I could have withstood the hard tests that I faced in my time. It is not that I have any illusions about their deeds, but strange as it may seem, I would say that there was love between us, and my brother and I did not look back at them without fondness. At last, we parted ways to enlist in the war, and we had not had news of them for many years when we heard of their final act – my brother and I were much shocked to hear of it, for we had been meaning to visit them and tell them of our deeds during the war, and of the Valar's pardon."

The more he spoke, the more silent she became, frozen in place with nary a gasp, completely and utterly defeated, the look of surprise drawn onto her face like a beautiful painting.

The words hurt deep, for his account awakened much old fondness just by how much it sounded like the cherished husband and honorary brother that she had known -

but most of all, the aesthete in her was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it – the tender little light of self-purification that genuinely wanted to shine, but couldn't conquer the depth of their personal darkness.

It was so beautiful she could cry; She wished much that she could have known this earlier, and at the same time she was glad that she didn't, and that this news only found its way to her when she would have moved on from the bitterness that would have resented him for at last becoming a father without making a mother out of her in turn; She was not at all surprised that it was he who had taken the two lost children under his wing; He always had this tender, nurturing streak to him which she had loved. His brother might not have had much of that left in him by the end, but no doubt he must have seen it as his duty to atone for having allowed for their uncles to come to harm under his watch.

She became aware, too, of the very oddness of this encounter, to be meeting for the first time the mature, world-wearied son of someone who had been her husband.

"So of course I did wonder once or twice about what sort of person he might have been married to. He did not speak much of you, but when he did, he was always full of regret. When we parted ways, he gave us a letter to deliver into your keeping, but you had sailed before we could find it. I cannot give it to you, for it has sunk to the floor of the seas with the bones of my brother. But I have the words graven in my memory, and I could recite it, if you wish -"

And then he produced – that harp, that self-same metal harp, and it all became far too much for her to bear.

"I retrieved this from the flames myself when we were driven from the gap- I don't know if you knew this but- It was his most favorite one, made for him by his own father when both the golden tree and the silver were in flower- " her failing voice forced her to halt and wipe the tear-stains from her face.

"Believe me, it is not something that he would part with lightly."

IV.

But one of the hardest people for Lusina to face, more than anyone she had known from her previous life, or any victim of the kinslayings, turned out to be Nerdanel.

Simple guilt was one thing, as was expecting loathing, but it was another to make any move within a complex constellation of simmering feelings and possible reason; There was a certain natural respect for her strong, discerning personality that had been there in the beginning, from before she'd had the need to steel herself to survive the grind wheels of Beleriand, and the genuine admiration that had come with time, and appreciated more in her absence; There was,also, uniquely, some perception of a double betrayal between them, the knowledge that they had parted on bad terms after rejecting her wisdom, laced with the regret that had followed, but also the certainty that she could not possibly be indifferent to the suffering of her sons; The ugly disputes surrounding their parting had done much to reveal the capacity for spite beneath her layers of patience, so who was to say that some part of her would not resent the princesses for abandoning their sons? Even if she probably had the wisdom to understand that they had chosen their own fates, how was Lusina to that she wasn't inwardly wondering if any of the former princesses couldn't have done something different, and how could she blame her for it, when she'd have such a hard time letting go of that thought herself?

Yet underneath it all slept the awareness that though she had been wiser in her choices, her mother-in-law might understand her feelings almost better than anyone else.

The matter was somewhat different for Marilwende; In her case, one could think that her in-laws might even feel responsible for what had befallen her, though she was never shy of owning her part of the blame; For Arqueniel, in turn, it was simply a matter of getting over her wounded pride and being ready to stomach the I-told-you-so; But she was far less concerned to make her stance pleasing to Feanaro or Curufinwe-the-Younger if neither of them was present. Sure, it might have been a much different matter if she'd arrived red-handed from her betrayal of Felagund and so minded as to laught about it, but her long stay in Ennore had humbled her considerably - Her first catch-up session with her mother-in-law had soon devolved into a vicious round of venting over the course of which the complaints took on an inexplicable tinge of fondness despite still extant disagreements on principle here and there. Nerdanel could live with disagreements so long as they stayed civilized and privately, it was not Arqueniel whom she considered the least repentant; She had always been a keen observer of people, so she would realize that beneath Marilwende's soft, pliant demeanor and gracious manner, she was probably the one whose convictions had changed the least.

But Lusina in particular long remained reluctant to speak to her. It was often thought by many that knew them both that someone really ought to persuade them to talk to each other - 'Someone' turned out to be Elrond, who had wasted no time at all to take on the role of all the 'somebody ought to's in this branch of the family (since Maitimo was presumably - hopefully! - taking a nice long rest from that duty in the halls of Mandos), and presumably anywhere else where he'd be welcome - One might hope that Arafinwe and his children would have the palace covered, but it was not hard to imagine that he had also become the designated voice of reason in New-Doriath. He seemed to make a very conscious choice of it - much of that was attributed to his father Earendil, who had chosen to forsake all he'd ever known for the sake of the world, and renounced his own wishes for his wife, but while Lusina would not presume to doubt that Earendil would have brought him up much the same way if he'd had the chance to do it, she was rather inclined to see the influence of those two men who had deliberately chosen the most dangerous territories and renounced power for the sake of peace;

At least, it was that perception of resemblance that made it hard to refuse the advice.

It was a rather bowed and decidedly penitent Lusina who visited Nerdanel at the house of her father; she wanted almost to slip back into the role of the dreamy, shy girl she'd once been, but the evident presence fire-forged field commander from Beleriand was impossible to ignore, seeing as it was her deeds that had necessitated the guilt.

At first, the sculptress received her with no indication of displeasure, civil and patient as ever. She answered the door still in her work apron, coated with white dust, and invited her to tea - for a while, they spoke mostly of the developments in their respective artistic pursuits, giving no indication that either of them had ever been a princess, but it was evident that both had kept an eye on the other's work; Lusina had come to many of Nerdanel's exhibits in the last millennia, acting the part of an unrelated spectator concealed beneath one of her old travel hoods left from the phase of seclusion that had followed her return to Valinor; Nerdanel proved to have distinctive opinions about the Tale-Weaver's latest works. They both had good reasons to keep busy.

But from the subject of art, one might easily stray towards music, and from there, the progression was obvious, and too compelling to be avoided; Lusina herself broached the subject, the former rebel in her bones having grown tired of enduring the shame, summoning old courage to end the piteous tiptoe dance:

"You were right. I ought to have turned back a long, long time before I did; But I was foolish and blinded as well, and perhaps even vain - I found it hard to let go of somebody so special."

"Special! Bah! Put that out of your head!" At last, the sculptress' true feelings were revealed, and though there was bitterness there, it was not exactly allocated where her honorary daughter might have put it: "Forget about 'the greatest of the Eldar' - You don't know how much I wish that no one had told him any of those things that went to his head! He was never any of that to me - He was just someone I met on my travels. I didn't even know he was the crown prince until after I got him that blasted apprenticeship with my father; And I was fool enough to feel sorry for him. To think that it was only right that he should wish for me to know him first without his name and the tale that goes with it. I thought he was my friend who understood me, and then, in the end, he turned out to be just another conceited, close-minded fool just like everyone else!

Of course it was flattering, to think that I alone was discerning enough to understand him, that I had been wise enough to put in the work. It was nice, to fancy myself the only one he listens to, to be one of the tiny handful of people that he trusted, the one thing in this world that he doesn't hate - I should have known that he would turn around and suspect me just like he did with everybody else. He let me down. But still what drives me up the walls is that he stopped listening to me! Tell me, did it ever occur to him just why you and the others were ready to follow him into exile up to some cold, dark forsaken place? 'Cause I much doubt that it was because you were all just waiting to stab him in the back. Did he think that his father would get to just waltz back into the palace like nothing happened when it was all over? Cause I think not even the king thought that. How much more could he possibly want? But of course he would never be satisfied. He to take them all with him, every single one of them! Untold years I bore them, I nursed them, I cared for them, I kept supporting them in all their endeavors even once they were adults, and now my arms are empty, and I shall never see them again. He couldn't so much as leave me one - and the worst is that they followed him. All of them! I'd been holding out some hope for Maitimo and Ambarussa, but not even them! Not. Even. Them. And if they so insist on emulating every single one of their father's questionable life choices, then you were only right to leave them to their fate! You need not apologize for that to anyone, least of all to me!"

But the daughter of Mahtan was a sensible woman in the end, and she knew the sudden heat of her anger for what it was; And never could she have been hard-nosed, vindictive or prideful enough to reduce her own children to merely their crimes; The more the pent-up rage was spent, the more other things began to shine through, and the more her voice took up a soft quality that few had come to hear.

"And now everyone runs their mouth about them. As if they know anything at all about them. The accursed kinslayers. The Half-Orcs. 'The infamous sons of Feanor.'" the actually enuncianted the often cited epithet in Sindarin there, pressing them through a bitter, sardonic smirk. "I wish that, just once, they could have chosen to be the sons of Nerdanel."

It was then that Lusina did something that the girl that first met Makalaure at the ball could not possibly have done. Every ounce of courage and conviction that she gained shine through from her words like the light from within a sacred jewel:

"But Nerdanel - they did. Many times, though you were not there to see it. They all chose to keep the names that you had given them, except for Curufinwe - and he was trying so hard not to miss you that I can only conclude that he he might have felt your absence the hardest of them all. Both Makalaure and I used to think of Maitimo as someone quite unshakeable, but even he didn't always know what to do... and whenever that happened, he would ask what you would have chosen, or how you would have counselled him, how you might have dispelled the stife - I myself often asked myself that question as I tried my hardest to fill your place as best I could. In times of hardship, Makalaure tried to be there for his brothers as you would have done; And of course, you never stopped being an influence on his artistic vision, either... or mine. Of course, none of us could really fill the hole you had left...- "

"Say no more, daughter of mine."

That day, they parted ways with an embrace, and resolved to meet again, to witness a modern stageplay interpretation of of an old ballad, originally penned by none other than the infamous Prince Makalaure. It was expected to be a controversial performance set to leave very few feather's unruffled - it was not anything that should be missed by any consummate lover of stories, or even a great visionary in the field of innovative art; Even so, neither of them had been meaning to attend, and would have been hard-pressed to attain seats at the last minute if they had not known the son-in-law of the high king's daughter, who had booked several seats as soon as the play was first announced;

By the very nature of the event and the way in which it had been publicised, its organizers could only be pleasantly surprised to hear of their unexpected attendance - even so, given their previous track records, most of them expected that they would decline to be seated with the royal family. But that was not so - Both mother and wife arrived in plain sight, without disguise, arm in arm, and ready and primsed to parttake in the discourse. They even brought with them yet another unexpected guest, one that no one was quite sure where to seat, or how to even adress; The current queen was most certainly lady Earwen, and 'queen mother' would have commonly referred to a tall, golden-haired woman who now lived on the holy mountain.

The High King, however, had at this point lived through so many twists, turns and upheavals that his already considerable patience had become as unshakeable as the encircling mountains themselves, and simply greeted her with an unflappable smile."Well met! Shall we have the loremasters devise a new word to describe our relation, or should I just address you as my stepmother, since you are still technically married to my father? Have you any news of him, or perhaps of my youngest son?"

After the performance, dowager queen Therinde disappeared back to whence she came, and all the talk her appearance had sparked would be eclipsed by a new scandal as soon as the very next month: As it so happened, Princess Itarille was out of town that month, gone to see her son in the tower he shared with his wife, and in her stead, Princess Irisse had brought with her a certain man, stuffed into jeweled blue and silver robes that he barely filled, his mess of sable hair not quite tamed by the aggressive array of ornament she had put on him, decked out with her father's sigils all over, though the ornate hairstyle prevented his bangs from doing their usual part in concealing the tattoo on the left side of his face, a rite of passage he was made to endure when his father first deigned to dignify him with a name - and for all that she might be determined to keep a brave face and no more inclined to grudges than her eldest brother, it was known far and wide that Princess Irisse did not ever intend to take back her treacherous husband if he ever were to return, nor even if all the waters of the world were to freeze solid all at once.

This had required various explicit permits and prior warnings, lest anyone should run off screaming when confronted with their nightmares of days past. He had no opinion on the performance, found the theater much too cramped, and was not too keen to repeat the experience, but he proved that he could do it, and that his mother need not hide him in the attic for the remainder of eternity. He sat with some of his relatives and even consented to indulge in the old family tradition of very awkward handshakes with his cousin Gil-Galad.

V.

In order for everyone to agree, the meeting could not be held at Formenos, not in Tirion, nor anywhere else that would have been held as much too charged for any of the parties present.

In a display of her famed wisdom, it was Nerdanel who suggested a picturesque stretch of beach known to her from the travels of her youth, and that was where they all gathered.

Even so, Lusina did not think that she would ever get used to seeing Miriel walking around beneath the sunlight, a patch of white in the colorful world of the living, even beneath the shelter of a pale-colored sunhat, like an image stepped out from the pages of the past; She must have thought the same herself, for she rarely left the halls of Vaire, but this, of course, was a very special occasion.

Though it might not have meant much to the other women, it was not without sorrow that the master sculptress regarded the scenery, watching the azure waves breaking themselves on the pristine sands:

"It would be exactly ten-thousand years today. It's not very far off from where I first met his father. It was something of a stormy day, and I was eager to get back to the city, but that never stopped him. He was looking for the seashells that would be washed up here by the waves, trying to sort them according to their kindreds, and especially looking for any that had any kind of error or quirk that was never intended for by the plans of Lady Yavanna, altogether new kinds brought forth by the changefulness of the world. It was one of those passing obsessions of his – these are rare here of course, but he hoped that the storms would wash up some from distant shores..."

"I can see why he might have been interested in that, " mused the erstwhile queen, thoughtfully eyeing the shallows.

"He was so absorbed in that work that I had a hard time getting his attention at first – I was surprised to see anyone out here at all, especially out in this tempest – at times I had thought that I was just about the only one who knew to appreciate this distant places, and he, of course, had thought the same. Then, just a little later – ten thousand years ago to the day – we happened to come across this place once again, not long after Maitimo was born. I don't suppose either of us should have been surprised when our next son turned out to be a poet."

Irisse giggled at that – she had adamantly refused to be dissuaded from attending this event. "I remember how uncle Feanaro used to boast that the world would have been a much fairer place if Makalaure had been around for the making of the great music."

"He never did know when to shut up." fumed Nerdanel, though the passage of time had long since softened her bitterness to mere embarrassment. But though her mother-in-law had been often in agree with her ever since they actually had the opportunity to meet, her view differed just this once:

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that at least some of the Valar agree – at least the ones I've spoken to. It's something that they particularly look forward to concerning the second music."

Not far from them, Lusina was gazing out at the horizon -

Beyond the beach itself, the deep turquoise of the ocean could be seen to extend somewhat further, melding at last with the blue of the sky, where in between the glimmering stars, the curve of a pale blue sphere could be glimpsed.

"Is that even something that could happen anymore? For anything from down there to wash up here? If I took a message in a bottle and threw it in the sea, could it arrive in Ennore?"

"Probably not." judged Nerdanel. "It would probably be just like the outer sea."

"Why? What's there?" asked Irisse, perking up in curiosity.

Nerdanel could not help but recall but the days when she and some of her brothers and cousins would come rushing to ask her sons countless questions about their latest journey.

"Nothing much – but as you get further from the shore, the water becomes thinner and thinner, more akin to the shell of the outer air that surrounds us, and beyond a certain post, it won't carry any boats, and certainly no swimmers."

"Then I suppose I must thank you for convincing my son to tie a rope around his waist before he went to try knocking on the walls of the world."

It was only after no one joined in with her snickering that Irisse realized that the two had been referring an actual event. "Wait, that actually happened?"

"I'm afraid so. I was actually there." Lusina confirmed, still gazing out into the blue with a certain sense of bittersweetness. "Didn't Curvo or Tyekormo ever mention it you?"

"I thought the two of them were just pulling my leg with some ridiculous story!"

It was just about then that Marilwende came to inform them that everything was ready for the festivities – it was her who had insisted on being the one to bring the sunshade, the picknick blanket and other decorations from her hold in Formenos, though it seemed like it was Arqueniel who had mostly been calling the shots about how everything was to be assembled and readied for the feast.

The men had taken responsibility for the refreshments according to traditional Noldorin decorum – the house of Feanor was always somewhat old-fashioned after all – and were presumed to be engaged in it still, though their role in the proceedings should not be underestimated. Indeed, Elrond had been the chief organizer of this encounter - Lusina was only moderately surprised to discover that he was already acquainted with next to everyone – He would have known Telperinquar from their time as Gil-Galad's vassals of course, but it turned out that Arqueniel had served under him long after and that he had even joined the slim ranks of the people she respected. He had sought out Nerdanel of his own accord and probably spent long hours speaking of whatever fine nuances and philosophies exceptionally wise people are wont to converse – and perhaps, of what it was to be parted from one's children with no end in sight.

He even knew Marilwende, who had quite simply approached him some time in Arafinwe's palace not long after his inofficial admission into their branch of the family, or what remained of it. Apparently, she had asked him to instruct her in use of the sight at some point, having figured that it was not too late to learn while the life of Arda lasted – but it was Lusina herself who had thought of fetching Miriel; Her presence had taken some getting used to, but fortunately, they happened to have all the time in the world.

Finally, Irisse had got wind of what they were planning (perhaps through a certain taciturn miner), and simply invited herself.

"Say, Arqueniel, are you sure that Tyelpe and the others can handle the cake? I'd be worried that his kitchen skills have not seen much practice ever since he got to be a lord in his own right."

"Impossible. His father and I made very sure to drill some self-sufficiency into him; and I'd wager that Elrond should have had much the same experience with Makalaure. If I were you, I would worry more about your brother. He promised to bring cake, but you two would have had the palace servants at your beck and call the whole time… can he even be trusted with an oven?"

"Oh come on, you wound us!"

Marilwende giggled. "I'm sure Findekano will be alright…"

Irisse might have responded something more to this if she had not been distracted by the long-awaited arrival of her brother, who was carrying a cake nearly as spectacular as his taste in hair decorations and wasted no time to present it with his broad trademark smile: "Surpriiise!"

It was hard to say what old incident long before any of their births Miriel might have been reminded of, but she found his enthusiasm somewhat amusing.

Nerdanel, meanwhile, was much more interested in the tray which Telperinquar had brought with him: "Do I smell father's lemon tarts?"

"Not quite. I came up with a few adjustments to the recipe during my time in Eregion. I'd bring these to the guild-house sometimes if I had everyone working overtime. I might have been in charge, but I've always found it important to foster a sense of cooperation..."

It was not only out of maternal pride that Arqueniel chose to vouch for him: "They're better than Curufinwe used to make them, and that's saying something!"

Irisse's response suggested that this was an exciting prospect, but she was soon distracted by what Elrond had brought with him: "But what might this be?"

"I don't suppose any of you would be familiar with this. This was fairly popular in the Mannish kingdom of Arnor in the early third age. My guests were usually quite fond of it."

In a company such as this one, this would inevitably yield numerous follow-up questions; Much conversation was had, both in warm reminiscence of bygone days and in discussion of each person's current pursuits. One could easily have come away with the impression that this Prince Makalaure had done a great many other things in his long time besides commit numerous infamous crimes and meet a tragic, unfortunate fate.

Lusina had of course sat down with everyone else, but perhaps out of some old habit, she spent the first few moments staying quietly at the sidelines. It was only after everyone was settled and conversation on the verge of dying down that she volunteered her ponderings:

"I wonder if they're also all together right now, having a celebration of their own..."

Marilwende, who happened to be sitting next to her, thought a little on this before responding no less quietly: "I'm actually not sure. Time passes differently there; And there is certainly no cake in the halls of Mandos. But I can't imagine that they don't think of him just as often as we do – more, probably, since we have things to do."

"It's just Makalaure who is all by himself, alone with all his regrets, for what little they counted for... The last time we spoke, I did little but curse his name, and now we don't even have the same ocean connecting us."

"Perhaps not.." Marilwende admitted, placing one supportive hand on her law-sister's shoulders. "But you know, I don't think that his repentance counted for nothing. He might not be here with us, but, he's getting to spend his days where he can feel the wind in his hair and the sun on his skin… that's something at least, isn't it?"

~The End~

…

The challenge I set for myself for the epilogue is that I wanted to lead this towards an uplifting or at least hopeful conclusion without doing something obvious like having Maglor arrive in Valinor or having Feanor & the others released from Mandos.

Maybe not a "happy" ending per se, but at least a "life goes on" ending – hence the decision to end it with a casual family-reunion type scene.

IDK how Maeglin ended up in here, he just showed up; It made for a logical counterpoint to how the revelations about Aredhel's misadventures feature in Act III, also it seemed fitting as a contrast to have one chick who is distinctly *not* planning on Taking Him Back (Sorry Eol. Should've done less stabbing)

In hindsight, I'm mad that it never occurred to me to have some familiar faces make a cameo appearance during the sack of Doriath, perhaps Oropher and Babby Thranduil, seeing as they ended up so defined by the downfall of Doriath and how their familiar faces would've added an extra gut punch – But the Doriath chapters were already done when I thought of it and I couldn't fit it in a sensible manner.

I also wanted to have a flashback scene in which Feanor dispenses well-meaning but totally counterproductive life advice to one of his sons (probably Curufin), but I couldn't fit it in.

I would also like to add that I like Thingol and consider him an interesting gray figure in his own right, this story just happens to be from the PoV of his enemies XD (After all he did, for example, send some aid to Brethil contrary to what our protagonists suppose in Act IV)

If I learned one thing from making my way through 'Unfinished Tales' and "the history of middle earth", it's that I should definitely finish all my wips and generally bring more of my ideas to completion. So I'm very glad proud this thing is finished with a bow on top. Now onto the other wips...

O professor most esteemed, why didst thou not finish thine fair scribbles?

Mr. Tolkien was definitely self aware of this since he explicitly gave "brilliant, but never finished anything" to Feanor as an explicit character flaw. It's easy to picture Feanor like Euler, DaVinci or Gauss, who invented everything 100 years early but only published a fraction, but I personally HC that Feanor's research notes read *exactly like the HoME*s, complete with endless amendations, footnotes and a tendency to peter out before the most interesting part. Kinda makes me consider a ff where his sons spend the entire siege of angband wrangling his research notes into some publishable form, and having it focus on the relationship between Maedhros and Curufin...