Feanor did not know what to think. Just a couple of days ago he had been completely secure in his knowledge of who he was. Yet, within a couple of minutes his entire world had collapsed into a pile of smoking rubble. It was not a comforting thought. He glanced up when Sara stepped into the shop, slightly more somber than she had been the day before.

She ran a hand through her hair, and if Feanor had not grown so accustomed to her aggressive personality, he might have thought she was nervous about something. "I don't really know how to say this . . . ."

"Then don't." A lazy smile spread across his face.

She sputtered indignantly. "Just listen for once, will you, Feanor?"

He flicked a black strand of hair from in front of his eyes and regarded her curiously. He asked himself many questions in the span of seconds before she spoke again. Had she found another job? Was she leaving? Would these playful banters come to an end?

She took a deep breath. "You have to destroy Morgoth."

"Who?"

"Your mortal enemy - Melkor!"

He sighed. "What are you talking about, Sara?"

"He's going to kill you if you don't kill him!"

"I don't even know who this is . . . much less why he would want to kill me."

"You stand between him and world dominion!" She nearly screamed into his bewildered face.

"Are you unwell?"

Feanor could see the temper flare in her eyes. "No!" She pushed him aside and hopped up onto the desk. "You have to remember Morgoth! He was the one who took your Silmarils!"

"Sara, are we back on that again? I told you, it's complete foolishness!"

"But it's true!"

"How do you know?"

Sara grabbed the pen that lay next to her, praying she was right, and hurled it at him with all of her strength. He caught it with ease. "No human could have done that."

He ground his teeth. "I am human, Sara. I'm sorry to disappoint." He saw the wheels turning in her mind, trying to find a way to prove her point. Although nothing prepared him for her next words. Even though her intent was obvious, they stung a deep place in him that he had chosen to ignore.

"If it wasn't for you, Finwe might have lived."

He stood up so quickly and so violently, that it caused Sara to jump backwards. "I did nothing."

"What about Miriel? You cannot lay guiltless on her death!"

"I do not care."

"Yes you do!"

"Shut up, Sara!"

"You killed –." He swung so quickly, that she did not have time to move. The back of his hand contacted with her mouth hard enough that she soon felt the warm metallic taste of her own blood. She watched as he yanked up his coat and stormed out of the door, not looking back. Sara whimpered and slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. She bit her lip as she tried to hold back her tears, but it did nothing. She buried her head in her arms and wept.

Feanor slammed the door of his apartment closed with a fury that bordered on madness. How could she have pinpointed something that he had not been able to figure out for years? It angered him, and frightened him. The names, Finwe and Miriel, were like figments of a dream. He felt the guilt, anger, and sadness tied to them both, but could not place their faces in any event in his life. He did not know them, but yet he did.

He threw himself onto the sofa, breathing heavily to control the rage that was pouring through his veins – a rage he could not place or understand. It had not been the first time that Sara had prodded him, but he never harmed her. He drew the malicious hand to his chest; he could still feel the sting from when he had lashed out at her. He grabbed the pillow that sat next to him, and flung it across the room.

He jumped slightly when the phone next to him trilled shrilly. Growling to himself, he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Are you done having your temper tantrum?"

"Wha–?"

"Feanor, I've known you for years – answer the question."

He debated slamming the phone back into its receiver, but instead mumbled beneath his breath, "Yes."

"Good." Kallie growled, "Because you are going to get your vile arse down to this shop right now."

"Why?" He asked suspiciously.

Her voice was cold enough to freeze his blood. "Because you owe Sara an apology." For once, he did not argue.