The Choosing

Camp Fëanorioni; Southern Shores of Lake Mithrim.


The brothers were sitting around a table. Maglor was turning the tuning pegs of his harp and everybody else was waiting for him to finally speak, except for Celegorm since he was happy enough sitting under the table having a conversation with Huan. Curufin was biting his nail, not saying anything, and Caranthir appeared to be sleeping. For some reason Maglor was so stressed that he turned the peg so hard the E-string broke. The Ambarussa glanced at each other. Maglor sighed. Then, in lack of anything else to do, he snatched a piece of paper from his pocket, slammed on the table and announced:

"Nolofinwë wants to meet us, and will be coming here."

Even Caranthir woke up.

"And Nelyo's not here," Curufin muttered grumpily.
"Even if he was, we would still have lots of things to explain," Maglor replied. "In case you remember the Araman-incident..." His brothers nodded.
"When will they come?" Celegorm asked, peeking up from beneath the table.
"Did I say 'they'?"
"Is he going to meet us alone?"

Yeah, no, I guess so," Maglor shrugged and rolled his eyes, glared at his younger brothers and started looking for a spare E-string in his pockets.

"You've got all kinds of stuff in your pockets, don't you..?" Amrod wondered out loud, and Maglor glared at him again.  Maglor hadn't been cheerful since the arrival to Middle-Earth. Amras poked at his twin with his elbow somewhat reproachingly, and got a friendly bruise in his side in return.

As the youngest Fëanorion was clutching his stomach on the floor, Curufin clapped his hands and took the role of the leader, as he always did.
"So, are we going to meet them, or keep arguing?" he asked his kinsmen.
"Well, I, at least, don't want to meet them," the fourth son of Fëanor burst out. "Not at least the Finarfinions."
"You, Caranthir -- don't -- want to -- meet anybody," Amras replied as he crawled up from the floor, and was almost punched back to the ground.

"I feel it would be better to meet them now rather than later," Maglor mumbled as he was once again tuning his harp to calm down. "Maybe we can redress our deeds and amend the choices father made."
Amrod nodded: "That's sensible. If we meet them at once, it'll seem more friendly."
"In fact, that's clever..." Amras said. "Shouldn't we be happy that they take the first step to fixing the relationship, and we are spared from that embarrassing experience? I mean, they have a reason to hate us..."
"See, that's the strange thing, Amras," Caranthir insisted. "Why do they want to meet us if they hate us? The whole plot seems suspicious."
"Uncle wouldn't bear a grudge for such a long time..." somebody said hopefully and was met by incredulous looks. "What do you mean? He always tried to become friends again with father back when we lived in Formenos." There were nods again.

"Maybe Fingolfin is smart enough to become our ally, so that they wouldn't have to fight against Morgoth alone," Celegorm theorized, remembering how he himself had driven away Orcs back North. "I mean, we have won the enemy once already, in Dagor-Nuin-Giliath."
"Speak for yourself, Celegorm the Orc-defeater," Curufin said. "Let's ask father and Russandol what they think about that!"
"What do you think about this all, then?" the Orc-defeater asked.
"Decide for yourself once in a while, Tyelko," Maglor suggested, "instead of always asking for others' advice."
"Fine!" Tyelko ran up irritatedly, once again proving his amilessë true. "I want to meet them."
"You miss our cousins?" Caranthir asked.
"Are you suggesting something?" came the reply, and Curufin cleared his throat pointedly before the Fair one would yet again get in a fight with the Red-Faced one; the latter tending to be - when angry - much more sharp-tongued that Celegorm, although he did not possess the other's skills in debating, (and, anyway, neither would ever have admitted themselves wrong - something Fëanor was proud of, but was never beneficial in practise).

"I don't mind whether we meet them or not, but if we are to do it, then, Eru be my witness, we will do it proud and our heads held high, and not abashed and apologetic for our deeds," Curufinwë said á la his namesake. "Or do you doubt our father's choices??" he went on defiantly, glaring at his brothers. Nobody said anything, but Amrod had something on his mind again:
"Are we to stand proud revealing how out father was killed and Maedhros taken too far for even Manwë, the Most Highest King, to rescue? We won't gain their pity even if they would miss Maitimo as much as we do.

"I am sure they do, but this is all your fault," Carnistir exclaimed pointing at those who had voted aye for the meeting, i.e. the majority of his brothers. "If you really insist on meeting them, you are going to have to clear up the mess by yourselves."

"We'll do it for you, too, Moryo," the oldest one of the accused replied calmly as he finally managed to play an immaculate e minor accord, and proceeded to playing his favourite passage from the Noldolantë.

(Would you stop playing that song? It's depressing me."
"I know. It's supposed to.")

"If the majority of us are in favour of meeting our cousins, then --" Amras said.
"Five in favour, two against, to be exact," Celegorm added.
"Five? Are you including Nelyo?" Curufin raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
"No, but Huan. He's on my side," came the content reply. The eyebrows rose even further. Huan barked happily, and Curufin wished he would have studied the tongues of animals, too.
"-- then are we going to send a reply, and say we want to meet them as well.?" Amrod went on, raining his voice in order to be heard despite his brothers' arguing.
"Yes, as soon as possible," Maglor said.

Caranthir muttered to himself, but everybody was used to that and no one cared.
Maglor found a pen and some parchment in his pocket. The brothers -- those that had voted aye -- gathered around the table to plan an appropriate letter (not too rude, but not too humble, either). Curufin stood up, and went outside to get some fresh air and stare in wonder at the golden fruit of Laurelin hanging in the sky (still a fairly new sight for the Elves), and Caranthir slunk from his chair underneath the table, where he met Huan. He got back up, (remembering how Celegorm had said Huan voted against him), and left the room and, possibly, went to have a nap somewhere else.

But Maglor, Celegorm and the Ambarussa finished writing the letter, in their kindness and decency, they signed it for Curvo and Moryo, too, and then sent it to the other side of Lake Mithrim, where it was read by their uncle.

He read it partly serious and partly half-amused, and he even read it for his children, nephews, nieces and grandchildren. Why half-amused? Because the more people there are writing a letter and whose suggestions have to be taken into account, the more incoherent the result will be. And also because the Fëanorioni have a funny tendency to cram the th-tengwa ("thúle"), wherever Fingolfin would naturally have put a normal 'silmë'. But the most important thing was that the intent from the Fëanorions got through: "We are pleaþed to agree to meet You; aþ þoon aþ it fitþ You, if poþþible."
But what happened when the groupþ finally met each other... that iþ a wholly another tale.

-the end-