I must apologize to all those who want a cameo appearance from Feanor himself. He will, I am very sorry to say, not be appearing, amusing though it might be. I do intend, however, to write some sort of epilogue to this story, and I promise that he will make at least a brief appearance then.

I still own nothing that is Tolkien's, much as I'd like just a snifter of his genius.

……………………………………….

Jayne had listened with some interest to the conversation concerning the other descendants of Finwe, silent apart from the occasional interruption in order to allay confusion. She was watching Maedhros and Caranthir when she suddenly heard a clatter from the far corner. All heads, including hers, turned towards it.

They saw an open cupboard door with the back end of a son of Feanor poking out of it.

"Turko?" said Maedhros, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Celegorm emerged, a little red in the face and a cobweb in his hair, clutching an armful of copies of 'My First Reader'. Jayne did not like that book, and watched with some satisfaction as the Noldo dumped his burden unceremoniously on the floor next to the box of poster paints.

"I am looking for the Silmarils," he said, with the air of one stating the blindingly obvious.

Maedhros raised the other eyebrow.

"Turko, let us open our minds to a new concept, and look at this logically, shall we?" he said sweetly, or as sweetly as someone so clearly fed up can. "These things glow. That cupboard was not sealed, you could easily have seen whether there was anything glowing in there."

"They could have been in a box," asserted Celegorm stubbornly, turning to return to his search.

"Turkafinwë!" Maedhros' voice rose almost to a shout. Celegorm spun round, stumbling to land with his back against the wall. Jayne also took a few steps back. Maedhros still bore his sword and she always kept in mind that this was a kinslayer that she was dealing with. "Have you any idea what happens to anything that touches a hallowed Silmaril?" asked Maedhros, more quietly now. "Any idea at all?"

Celegorm blinked. Jayne bit her lip and the teacher asked, "What?"

"This." Maedhros raised his hand, palm out. The palm and fingers were covered with scars.

The teacher screamed. "Goodness! Whatever happened? Did you see a doctor about that? And your only hand too!" She darted over to look, but visibly shrank away with revulsion. "What happened?"

"That," said Jayne softly in her ear, coming up behind her and pulling her firmly away. "Is what happens when someone not entitled to one touches a Silmaril."

She had turned her back on the sons of Feanor, but spun round again when she heard Curufin shout after her.

" 'Not entitled to one'?" he echoed, " 'Not entitled'? Presumptuous mortal! They were the work of our father and they are ours!"

Jayne took an angry step forwards. She didn't like Curufin. "Tell that to the ones among you that tried to handle them!" she yelled back. "You were entitled to your father's peerless jewels, but lost your right to them with your many and pitiless deeds! The Kinslaying of Alqualondë; the death of Dior in Doriath; the attack on the Havens at the Mouth of Sirion! Need I say more?"

She had seen a sort of shudder pass across the faces of Maedhros and Maglor as she listed the kinslayings, and even as she drew breath she knew that she had gone too far. All this time carefully negotiating, and she had thrown it away with one stupid outburst. She clenched her teeth as she saw Curufin, eyes narrowed in anger, reaching for his sword.

Then Maedhros' hand landed on his shoulder.

"Á tyelë, toron," he said softly, continuing to speak to his brother in Quenya as Jayne turned to the teacher.

"What was all that about?" she asked softly, shooting a wary look at the Feanorians.

"Long story," answered Jayne. "What does the word 'kinslaying' mean to you?"

"That they've been killing their families."

"In the case of Curufin, yes, but it was accidental. He and his father nearly burned Amrod alive. I'll tell you later."

"Why haven't they been arrested?"

"They're dead." Jayne smiled. "The pain of holding a Silmaril drove Maedhros to commit suicide."

"So why are they still looking for them?" the teacher's voice rose high and shrill.

"We swore an oath," said Maedhros, looking hard at her, having finished lecturing Curufin.

Behind his back, Curufin was continuing the ransacking of the cupboards, while Celegorm had decided to start hunting in the waste paper bin. Pointedly ignoring the scuffling and rustling from behind him, Maedhros continued to address the teacher, parents and awe-stricken class. A couple of boys in the corner were whispering to one another about finding out if they could get cool scars like Maedhros had, but the rest were listening, wide-eyed and –eared.

"We have to keep searching for the Silmarils until all three are back in our possession. We swore, and if we do not keep our oath then the Everlasting Darkness awaits us."

"Whose idea was that, anyway?" asked Caranthir, turning back to the rest of the room from renewed inspection of the Guinea pig.

"Father's," answered Maedhros.

"But who said we all had to swear too? Look what trouble it's caused! Why did we do it?"

"Father." A small smile twitched the corners of Maglor's mouth as he spoke. The one word seemed fit, in his eyes, to answer all questions.

"We could have told him no," said Curufin, emerging from the back of the cupboard, whence he had just unearthed several hideous paintings.

"You might have got away with that," snapped Caranthir. "You were always his favorite."

Curufin smirked.

"Does this mean," said a small boy, "That daddy isn't always right?"

"Yes!" said the sons of Feanor, while the teacher let out a whimpering noise and shot an apologizing look at the various fathers who were now glaring at her for letting the children get that idea. However, she could not deny it without condoning the things that Feanor had got his sons to do through the oath.

"Especially," said Amrod softly, looking hard at Curufin, "When he's going round…"

"Burning boats," continued Amras.

"Without checking…"

"If there's anyone inside!"

"Right, Kurvo?" finished Amrod.

"Telvo, I apologized enough times, didn't I? It was nothing personal!" cried Curufin.

Sara's mother was back. "He burned a boat with his brother still inside?"

"Well, he helped his father to do so."

"I'm calling the police." She took out her phone and started to dial 911. Jayne snatched it.

"Don't call the police! How many times?"

"Miss Ashwood…"

"Doctor."

"Doctor Ashwood, then. These men are clearly criminally insane!"

"And dead." Jayne smirked. "I'll give you this back later." She turned away, still holding the phone. "After all," she added over her shoulder, "They're not as crazy as Túrin. None of them has married his sister."

"Married his what?"

Jayne ignored this and returned her attention to the sons of Feanor. Maedhros was extracting Celegorm from the waste paper bin, and instructing Amrod and Amras to go and deal with Curufin, who had just reached the back of the first shelf and was preparing to move on to the second. Realizing the distraction of his eldest brother, Caranthir had returned to his inspection of the guinea pig. Jayne watched rather nervously as he opened the door to the cage and stuck a hand in.

She needed to think of a distraction, for either the children or Caranthir.

Fortunately, his brothers decided to provide one.

"I am not daddy's pet!"

"No, no, he only named you after himself."

"Well…" Curufin paused. "That was him."

"And it was him that hung around in the forge all day, every day, as soon as he was big enough?" asked Maglor, raising an eyebrow. He put on a silly, childish voice. " 'Oh, Atar, that's wonderful. Oh, Atar, will you teach me how?'"

"Wouldn't surprise me," reasoned Celegorm, standing by his partner in mischief making.

"They need counseling," said the teacher in Jayne's ear.

Jayne sighed. "Yes, Feanor's family is among the most dysfunctional in Middle Earth or the Blessed Realms, but no, they do not need counseling!" She paused for a moment, then added, "They're past that stage."

A yell of anger made them look over, and they saw that Caranthir had just withdrawn his hand from the cage and was nursing a bleeding finger.

"Moryo?"

"The little spawn of Morgoth! It bit me!"

"Fuzzy isn't a spawn!" cried one of the children, "He's a guinea pig!"

"Doesn't look much like a pig to me." Caranthir stuck his hand in again. Fuzzy sniffed him.

Maedhros rolled his eyes. "If we've all quite finished making fools of ourselves," he said coolly to the others, "Shall we go? It's clear that we won't find our Silmarils here." On the word 'our' he shot Jayne a glance. She looked back just as hard and a small smile of grudging respect touched the corners of his lips. "I don't believe I've asked your name, mortal."

"Jayne Ashwood. I know yours already, Maedhros Feanorion."

He bowed his head a little, ignoring the fact that, behind him, Celegorm was pointedly tapping his foot.

"Can we take the creature with us?" Caranthir asked suddenly. He had extracted Fuzzy from his cage and was now holding him, surprisingly gently.

"You want to take that?" said Maedhros suspiciously, "Why?"

"It's cute."

There was a pause.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Of course I am! Why?"

"You have never, in Valinor, Middle Earth, the Halls of Mandos, or back here in Middle Earth, over the course of two – count them: two – lives, never, ever referred to anything as cute. Never."

Caranthir looked rebellious.

"Can he take Fuzzy?" whispered Jayne.

"But Fuzzy's the class guinea pig!" protested the teacher.

"I think they might be about to leave. I'll get the class a new guinea pig."

The teacher considered it, then she turned to the class and asked, "Well, class, shall we let Caranthir take Fuzzy with him?"

There was silence.

"It would be a very nice thing to do. He's never had a pet."

At last, there was a grudging chorus of "All right."

"Thank you," said Jayne, and meant it with all her heart. "Yes, Caranthir, you may take the guinea pig."

Caranthir grinned wolfishly and perched Fuzzy on his shoulder, keeping a hand on him to stop him jumping down. Jayne comforted herself with the knowledge that the Noldo seemed quite fond of Fuzzy, and it wasn't as though life could get much worse than being a class pet. Maedhros nodded to the occupants of the classroom, and then he and his brothers left, their voices echoing down the corridor, then fading away.

"Are they gone?" asked the teacher, a little faintly.

Jayne went to the door and stuck her head out, looking both ways. She frowned. It was a long, bare corridor, but there was no sign of seven first age elf-lords. Nowhere.

"Yes…" she murmured. "They're… gone."

……………………………………………

And that, as far as the main story goes, is that. I do plan to write an epilogue, if it is wanted, and I apologize for the long time it took to get this uploaded.

Incidentally, 'Á tyelë, toron' should mean, 'Stop, brother.' But my knowledge of Quenya is almost non-existent, so corrections would be gladly received.