DISCLAIMER: Simply borrowing Tolkien's fantastic characters (Findekano and the Sons of Feanaro, as well as Morgoth). Some will be returned as corpses (ahemsorrynotsorryahem) but Namo can fix that. There are no OCs involved.

A/N: Hello. Thanks to those who read and etc.! After this section, there's one more. I'm not doing a Who's Who and What's What section this time because you should have them all down in your head by now. If you need it, just flip back to a previous chapter. In this section I've stuck in quotes from The Silmarillion or modified the sentences slightly. And there's a few bits from Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

TO THE BITTER END :: Pt. III - 1 [81 YEARS LATER]

Morimahtar watched as Moringotto finished speaking with a Balrog. Moringotto sat down on his throne and poured himself a cup of some dark-looking cordial.

"Want some?"

Morimahtar did not reply.

"The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. Two targets, level six. I want confirmed death as soon as possible."

"The last of the Silmaril chasers?" Morimahtar's muffled voice came from behind the mask that almost perpetually covered the lower half of his face.

Moringotto shot him an annoyed glance. I did not bid you to speak. "Yes."

Morimahtar nodded.

"Leave. Now."

Moringotto had given Morimahtar information on where his targets where and started off. He heard trumpets and hoofbeats approaching and climbed into a tree, hiding in the shadows. They didn't come too close, but as the huge host passed by, something stirred in Morimahtar. They weren't just elves, they were Vanyar. Some were Noldor, some were Men.

I must join them.

He frowned at his own thought. It didn't seem right.

I need to be hidden. I need to kill the Silmaril chasers.

Why?

Because the Dark Lord said so. Because that's the mission.

But I belong with them.

No, I don't. Those are the kind I kill.

Then what am I?

"Have you heard? Eonwe has defeated Morgoth!"

Maitimo stood up, brow furrowed. He was a little reluctant to believe this. "What?"

"Eonwe has defeated Morgoth," Makalaure repeated, entering Maitimo's tent.

"And what of the Silmarils?"

"In Eonwe's keeping, or so I've heard." Makalaure's face fell.

Maitimo looked into his brother's eyes. The Oath.

Makalaure's eyes were sad and tired. Don't… don't do it.

Maitimo shook his head and sat down to write a message. "We must do this. Eonwe must have the sense to give it to us. And it will all be over and done. No bloodshed."

In truth, Maitimo could hardly believe what he was saying.

What if he refuses? Then what? They have many on their side. We cannot fight them. It will only mean defeat. And we… we may well die. Remember Tyelkormo, Curufinwe, and Carnistir? The Ambarussa? Remember what happened to them? Remember what Namo said?

"Yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos."

But his father's voice was almost burned into his mind. "We have sworn, and not lightly. This oath we will keep. We are threatened with many evils, and treason not least; but one thing is not said: that we shall suffer from cowardice…"

"...From cravens or the fear of cravens," Maitimo murmured. "None shall be found in the House of Feanaro. None."

It wasn't long before Eonwe sent a messenger back.

"What did he say?" Makalaure asked as Maitimo read the letter.

"He says the right to the work of our father has now perished for our "many and merciless deeds, most of all because of the slaying of Dior and the assault upon the havens". He says the light of the Silmarils should go now into the West whence it came in the beginning, and that we must return to Valinor to abide the judgement of the Valar, by whose decree alone he would yield the Silmarils from his charge." Maitimo's face hardened.

Makalaure sighed. "The oath does not say that we cannot bide our time, and it may be that in Valinor all shall be forgiven and forgot, and we shall come into our own peace."

Maitimo shook his head. "If we return to Aman, the favour of the Valar would be withheld from us and our oath will still remain. Its fulfillment will be beyond all hope. Who can tell to what dreadful doom we shall come if we disobey the Powers in their own land, or purpose ever to bring war again into their holy realm?"

Makalaure was desperate. "If Manwe and Varda themselves deny the fulfilment of an oath to which we named them in witness, is it not made void?"

"But how shall our voices reach to Iluvatar beyond the Circles of the World? And by Iluvatar we swore in our madness, and called the Everlasting Darkness upon us, if we kept not our word. Who shall release us?"

"If none can release us, then indeed the Everlasting Darkness shall be our lot, whether we keep our oath or break it. But less evil shall we do in the breaking."

"Makalaure! You are a son of Feanaro."

"And sometimes I detest it," Makalaure murmured.

So do I. "But what can you do about it?"

"Maybe it would be better if we did submit."

"Are you a son of Feanaro?"

There was a fire burning somewhere in Maitimo's eyes. Wild. Intense. Bright.

Makalaure sighed, gaze slipping to the ground.

"When shall we start off?"

0o0o0o0o0o0

To Be Continued...