There was a time when all Fingolfin had had to say to anyone on his family on the topic of marriage was that he hoped they'd someday find someone who made them as happy as his wife made him.
He missed those days.
Feanor had been joking about the matchmaking being his problem, probably, but Fingolfin had sat down to think it all through, just to be safe.
Feanor's branch of the family was fine. The only offspring any of them had managed was Celebrimbor, who was safely born and on his way to adulthood. While he supposed it was possible that one or more of them might give Feanor more grandchildren this time, Fingolfin wasn't worried about gaining additionalfamily members. He just didn't want to lose any.
HIs own house was another matter. Idril was safely born, thank goodness, and it was a long time before she would meet Tuor, but he'd have to keep an eye out in the meantime to make sure no one wiped out anyone key in Tuor's family line.
Which would be a lot easier if he knew more about Tuor's family line than House of Hador. He'd just … have to hope for the best on that one, he supposed, and then throw his full support behind Idril if her father got twitchy about her marrying a human.
Maeglin was the real problem, though.
Given his daughter's long search for Maeglin in the halls and refusal to leave without him, he was pretty sure that given full knowledge of the choice between Maeglin existing and Maeglin not existing, she'd take the former in an instant. Fingolfin was not opposed to this. Maeglin had done a terrible thing, yes, but there had been at least an element of coercion, and if they started getting rid of family members on that basis, they'd hardly have any family members left.
The problem was Eol.
Aredhel had refused to talk about her marriage for the most part, which was understandable, given how it had ended. She had refused to search Eol out, but she had refused to hear much ill spoken about him either. She just … hadn't spoken of him.
There could be no Maeglin without Eol, but Fingolfin wasn't about to let his daughter get tangled up in a marriage that would lead to unhappiness.
Alright. So Eol was necessary. His marriage to Aredhel was necessary. Eol being a terrible husband was unacceptable.
Well, they had a few centuries. Surely that was enough time to track down Eol and beat his character into a better state.
Daydreaming about the beating part of that process being rather literal cheered him up considerably. It was a plan, at least. He'd do his best with it.
That just left Finarfin's branch of the family.
Finduilas was already on the way, so that was one worry down. Galadrial hadn't met Celeborn yet, but Celebrian wasn't due for another Age; there was a large safety zone there.
No, the problem on Finarfin's family tree was Elrond and Elros.
He'd already thought through getting Earendil born; the problem was going to be getting Elwing. By all accounts, Beren and Luthien had barely survived their first go around, but he could at least hope their Doom was strong enough to withstand a minor thing like time travel.
The main concern there … assuming Beren's ancestors survived long enough to produce him and that Beren survived long enough to meet Luthien … was whatever quest Thingol would assign Beren. Presumably it would be different this time, although if Thingol did still request a Silmaril, Fingolfin would be happy to give him one on the condition that he got to go along and chuck the thing at Thingol's head.
… Which was a terrible idea that was nonetheless intensely satisfying to think about.
Anyway.
Presumably, though, Thingol would ask for something equally stupidly dangerous. If Fingolfin heard about it in time, he could invite himself along to help on the excuse that … Well, surely someone in Beren's family would still do something useful for someone in Fingolfin's family at some point. Failing that, Fingolfin could claim to be either a big supporter of young love or a big supporter of annoying Thingol, depending on the diplomatic situation at the time.
So that would get them Dior, hopefully, but frankly, all Fingolfin knew about Dior and Nimloth was who their parents were, who their kids were, that they'd owned a Silmaril, and that they'd killed some of his nephews and then been killed by the rest. He had no idea what had attracted them to each other. He'd just have to hope it would still be present.
If it was, that would give them Elwing.
Who would presumably (hopefully) not be a refugee this time. She'd be in Doriath. A Doriath that might still have the Mantle if they managed to keep Thingol from getting himself killed.
How was she supposed to meet Earendil?
Later, he told himself firmly. He'd worry about those details later. That was about as far ahead as he could plan. They'd meet somehow, he'd make sure of it if he had to kidnap one of them, and that would get Elrond and Elros born. There would be plenty of time to get Elrond and Celebrian together, presuming he could keep Elrond alive long enough. Elros … he didn't even know who Elros had married. Elros was on his own. If in a couple of ages Elrond started getting concerned about his daughter being interested in one of her many times removed cousins named Aragorn, he'd know it had worked out. If not … He had no idea.
So that was ever-
No. No, it wasn't everyone. He'd forgotten Gil-Galad.
What he was supposed to do about Gil-Galad, he had no idea, since all of his children had either been genuinely ignorant or else supremely unwilling to share where the boy had actually come from.
Fingolfin wasn't even entirely certain he was related by blood to the man. It was entirely possible someone had - found? adopted? kidnapped? created him from scrap metal and spare gears in a fit of boredom? - acquired him in something other than the usual way. If that was the case, and his original parents survived this time, he could still exist but under an entirely different name.
Maybe someone had told Finarfin something. Or Feanor. If any of Feanor's sons had known, surely they would have been willing to tell their father given everything else they had done for the man.
Of course, that was assuming Feanor had asked, something Fingolfin rather doubted.
He'd manage. Somehow. He was going to drag this family into existence if he had to stab Morgoth in the face and write love letters under fake names to do it.
One of those potential scenarios was a lot more disturbing than the other, and it wasn't the one that involved stabbing, but Fingolfin was willing to do it.