II. (Daurin)
"You are fortunate that that bastard was in a hurry when he got to you. Even the dark one's hammer would have been kinder that the gloomweaver's poison."
"Then it was you who left that mark on that creature?"
Sitting up from an altar, the newly departed smirked bitterly at the pair that had come to greet him. "As chance would have it, I was carrying that tool that I was gifted by Mahtan at the wedding of your son. Not his own work, but his master's. Still, to think that you had got here before me, that you stood and faced him on your own – I was wrong about you, Finwe. I thought you'd grown soft and complacent in the gardens of the Valar, but it appears that you were still the man who married my sister."
"Daurin, I-"
"Fool!" declared the silvery shade that had followed close behind the erstwhile king, an echo of her arms brought to her hips in displeasure, though her anger was fed on grief and frustration as well. "Foolish, foolish brother of mine! At least my husband here has the excuse that he was making a distraction so that the people might flee from the fortress, but how about you? What did you hope to accomplish by throwing away your life in such a way? Did it not occur to you that our son might be in need of your guidance?"
"He listens to you!" the erstwhile king appended in exasperation, anxious for the events that must now be unfolding without his intervention.
But his brother-in-law begged to differ.
"As if! I lost that privilege long ago. He didn't like the things I had to say about his Lord Father. Would that he never listened to me at all… This was what little I could do to put this right."
By gentle means or firm ones, his pair of visitors would surely have reassured him of the contrary, which is why he stopped them before they could go that far.
"It was I. I told your son of those rumors."
"How could you…! How could you even believe for a moment that Nolofinwe is even capable of such a thing!"
But the king's rage was short-lived. If he were to begin to begrudge people's faults, he would have had to curse his own impotence first, mindful of what little he had accomplished to quell the unrest even when he had flesh and bone to act.
The king considered his lot with sobering awareness.
"...Nolofinwe. I had not seen him in years, and now I must hope that I shall never see him again."
"...is that?"
"...the son of Indis, yes."
Miriel sighed deeply. "And what, dear brother of mine, could have convinced you to participate in some ridiculous intrigue against the son of my best friend?"
"...I suppose now that it must have been Melkor."
"And did it occur to you that you were supposed to be the adult in the room?"
The brother of Miriel had no response to this but another sigh.
They all felt like sighing.
All three must have been painfully aware that neither had much of a right to be wrathful at the others. They had more urgent concerns which were now beyond their reach to resolve.
All their hands were tied.