Meanwhile, Makalaure lay awake, trying to put all the disparate pieces together. Whatever Maitimo had said to his father, it appeared to have healed the breach, though Feanaro now appeared worried and protective of his eldest son. Maitimo, meanwhile seemed utterly exhausted, but also relieved and smiling. This somehow involved vomit and tears. Makalaure shifted, trying to get comfortable in his bedroll. He'd need to get used to sleeping in worse places soon. He'd get the truth out of Maitimo in the end, he always did.
His thoughts spiralled to the great adventure to come. Middle-earth! How long had they dreamed and spoken and wondered about this day? Makalaure wished suddenly that they'd left earlier, in happier times. Moringotto ruined everything he touched. They had longed to explore Middle-earth, but this wasn't some peaceful expedition to discover the unknown. They would be going into battle, and from Maitimo's reaction, this would not be easy, or safe, and stood a good chance of ending in horror. But really, what did they have left to lose? Ruin and desolation in a no longer gilded cage? At least this way, Moringotto would pay, and they would reclaim the Silmarils.
The main planning meeting began the next day in the Great Hall. Maedhros looked over the throng as he took his place at his father's right hand. Every adult, or near-adult, member of the House of Finwe was there, along with assorted advisors attached mostly to Feanaro and Nolofinwe, plus the heads of the more important noble houses of the Noldor. They filled the largest of the banquet tables, but their warlike garb and sheathed swords looked out of place in their peaceful and elegant surroundings.
The mistrustful looks and occasional glares between Nolofinwe's partisans and Feanaro's weren't helping matters, either. Who had decided to put Feanaro's all on one side of the table, and Nolofinwe's on the other? Too late to change that now, and at least it made literal murder at council less likely.
Feanaro looked both distinguished and warlike in armor with Finwe's crown on his head as he stood to call everyone to order... only to have Findis object to the assumption that they were all leaving Valinor. "I will not leave, no matter what madness has afflicted my half-brother. I took no oath to follow him wherever he led," and here she glared at Nolofinwe. "I trust the Valar. They will heal this land, and it will be beautiful again. They have never let us down."
"I'd say they have let us down now, half-sister," Feanaro replied. "As witness King Finwe's absense and the candles on this table against the dark."
And so the debate left yesterday reared its ugly head, until Feanaro finally pounded his fist on the table, "Get out, then," he roared. "If you are so tamed that nothing in Arda can make you leave, then why are you here? The rest of us have work to do!"
Findis stood, whirled on her heel, and stormed from the room. She was not alone. Anaire followed her, along with a few of the advisors. Nolofinwe stared after them, an expression of shock on his face as he half-rose, standing frozen for a few seconds before sitting back down, his face like stone. Beside him, Lalwende laid a hand on his shoulder, worry on her face, but he shook her hand away.
Feanaro visibly swallowed, looking like he wanted to say something to Nolofinwe, but for once couldn't find the right words.
After a some more awkward looks and throat-clearing, they settled down to arguing about what to do about the Valar. Should they tell them they were leaving, or even ask assistance? Feanaro was dead-set against asking permission, saying that it was easier to gain forgiveness than permission, and he was going no matter what the Valar thought. Tyelkormo said that the Valar probably already knew, and could they please just get on with it? Arafinwe, meanwhile, was strongly in favor of seeking their aid. Nolofinwe didn't participate much - but he didn't leave, either.
There was a lot to be done. Messages needed to be sent to Alqualonde requesting aid with ships, and in case that didn't work, Maedhros insisted that they bring every piece of cold weather and mountaineering gear they had. If the Noldor had to cross the Helcaraxe, they'd do it properly this time. If they went by sea, well, they'd still need the gear to deal with Dor Daedeloth, Ered Engrin and Thangorodrim, should they manage to get so far. They would bring enough food for three months, and plan on augmenting their supplies with hunting, gathering and fishing as they went. With the many thousands migrating, it was not going to be a swift journey, nor a simple one.
As for the Teleri, both Maedhros and Arafinwe voiced the opinion that getting help from the Teleri without the Valar's approval might be substantially harder than Feanaro thought. "Mother, Maitimo and I should go and speak to Olwe," suggested Findarato. "He needs to hear from Maitimo about the danger to Elwe and his people. I'm sure that once he knows that Moringotto is loose there, he will help us with ships, and maybe more."
"I care little about how we convince him to aid us, so long as he does," said Feanaro. "Do you think you can convince him?"
"I think Maitimo can. Olwe needs to hear for himself from the one who had the visions, not my second-hand report. Earwen could really help, also. Mother?"
Earwen sighed. "I really don't like any of this," she said. "I understand that you think we need to take revenge on Moringotto, and rescue Elwe's folk, but we are but elves, not Valar. Melkor is a Vala, fallen though he be. Even Finwe could not stand against him, and if, as Maitimo says, Melkor has a fortress and Umaiar waiting for him, how can we win? We cannot do this without the Valar. It is madness to try."
"But will you help us convince your father?" Maitimo asked.
Earwen hesitated. "I cannot convince someone of what I do not believe myself."
"Arafinwe? I know you get along well with your father in law." said Feanaro.
Arafinwe frowned. "I am of like mind with my wife," he said. "I would not convince Olwe either. I will follow you," he said to Feanaro, "but only because I cannot convince even my own children to stay behind." He frowned at Findarato and Artanis, both of whom stared back, unrepentant.
"Then it looks like it will be up to Maitimo and Findarato to convince Olwe to aid us," said Feanaro. "In the hands of children be it. I assume you will not refuse me?"
"I will go," said Maedhros.
"As will I," said Findarato. "Our quest to stop Moringotto is dangerous, but I believe it worthwhile." He smiled at Maedhros, who smiled back. The Felagund as a partner in negotiations with his non-Noldor relatives? Yes please!
The planning continued, but Findarato and Maedhros left to pack, and set out for Alqualonde some few hours later.
As they were winding their way up through the Calacirya, Findarato turned to Maedhros, an intense expression on his face. "Tell what you have forseen we will find, once we get there."
"Events have already veered far from what I saw, and will no doubt continue to do so," said Maedhros. He fell silent for a few moments, the only sounds the clopping of their horses' hooves on the cobbled street. "What do you most want to know?"
"Will we make it in time? Or are Elwe and his people going to have to fight Moringotto alone? And will there be anything left of them by the time we get there?"
"We did not make it in time to rescue them from the first assault of Moringotto's army. They survived, for the most part. When we arrived, the eldar had divided into several groups. Doriath is the largest and most powerful, under King Elu Thingol – um. Elwe, and his wife Melian the Maia."
"His queen is a maia! How did that happen? I didn't think such a thing was possible."
"I don't really know. I never actually met them, as they stayed inside the Girdle of Melian – a maze of bewildering enchantments. Unless you are invited, you become hopelessly lost and had better hope the guards find you before you starve to death."
"That sounds criminally dangerous," said Findarato, sounding a little shocked.
"Everyone knew it was there," said Maedhros. "Findarato, Beleriand is a dangerous place, and a harsh one. With the war, there is little patience for fools."
"Maybe so," said Findarato. "But there must be a better way."
Maedhros refrained from pointing out that Finrod's Nargothrond had been notorious for shooting at intruders from hiding, up to and including poisoned arrows – though the latter had mostly been under Orodreth's rule. His cousin would learn. The innocent always did, or they died. Or they mostly learned, and then died anyway. He shook his head, trying to dispell the memory of that vile recurring nightmare of being hauled off to that dark pit of a cell in Angband and finding Finrod's body on the floor, broken-chained and entangled with the corpse of a werewolf.
They spoke a little more, with Maedhros giving Findarato a rundown on all the major factions in play in Beleriand and the North at the arrival of the Noldor: Falathrim, North Sindar, Laiquendi, Belegost and Nogrod, the Eagles of Manwe and the Ents.
"I had no idea that there were so many people in Middle-earth. I'd assumed it was empty of more than a few wandering bands of Avari and a small group of Elwe's people. And the dwarves – they sound so strange. Why were we told nothing of them at all?"
"Azaghal told me that Aule made them, but they had not been part of Eru's original plan. They got adopted once they existed, and they are as much people as you or I. You got along quite with them quite well. They even gave you a khuzdul name, which they don't do to many. I don't have one. They called you Felak-gundu. It means 'hewer of caves'." Maedhros laughed at the confused expression on his cousin's face, and refused to tell him why the dwarves called him that. Thus they passed over the Calacirya, and headed down on the long road towards the south.
Over the next week, Maedhros told his cousin much about the situation they would find in Beleriand, and began teaching him Sindarin. He was a quick study, and Maedhros was confident he'd have it at a useful level by the time they reached Endore. The fact he was a native speaker of Telerin helped. Maedhros' Telerin was rather rusty, and he was a little concerned he might not be as useful dealing with Olwe as he had hoped. So they worked on that as well.
A/N: Observant readers may have noticed that Finrod is more in favor of the trek to Beleriand this time. The reason is the lack of worries about the Oath, and his knowledge that people, including relatives of his, are in danger from Morgoth every second they delay. Of course, he's also got his wanderlust and dreams of a country of his own pulling forward the same as last time, it's just that he has additional reasons as well now. And yes, he's young here. Not the Finrod Felagund who died saving Beren's life yet.