Be more cruel, Love, and so be kind. by Agelast

Epilogue

Everything had been orchestrated so carefully, between Maitimo, Nolofinwë, and himself, that when Carnistir began to speak, everyone else fell silent, astonished at this sudden breach of etiquette. Findekáno looked astonished, Turukáno looked merely enraged. On the other side, Makalaurë covered his face with his hands and even Tyelkormo looked vaguely uncomfortable. Curufinwë’s face was carefully blank.

Beside Findaráto, Artanis was perfectly still, though her eyes blazed. Angaráto was shaking with fury. His younger brother turned to him and hissed, “Why are you silent? How can you let this insult to our family stand?”

“Do not do anything without my permission,” Findaráto said firmly. His brothers looked outraged, but Artanis caught his eye and gave him a small nod.

Maitimo pulled Carnistir away, still speaking -- but not before the latter swept the papers off the table. They fluttered up like clapping hands for a moment before fluttering down to the ground. Findaráto got up from his seat, and followed them out.

He could help perhaps, he could do something.

“Go back to your seat,” Maitimo said, his right arm out to ward him off. Findaráto stopped in his tracks. He realized that it was the first time he had seen his cousin Russandol’s right hand since his return -- or at least what was left of it.

Carnistir pushed against his brother and caught sight of Findaráto. “You! You!” His face crumpled, and became mottled and dark-red. Even with Maitimo restraining him, he came forward.

Findaráto ignored Maitimo’s restraining arm and said, “Do you have anything more to say to me?”

Carnistir bared his teeth into a faint approximation of smile. “Well, no. I’ve done my speaking for today. But wait, ” his grey eyes flicked over Findaráto’s shoulders. “I see that Amarië did not come with you. Did she sicken of you so soon?”

His head snapped back from the blow of Findaráto’s slap. He laughed. “You can do better than that! Where’s your anger, Findaráto? Or have you become so neut-”

“That’s enough. Go back and see that no one’s set anything on fire again, will you, Findaráto? There’s a good fellow,” Maitimo said, marching a struggling Carnistir out the door.

There are some things you cannot ever get back, some things you can never come back from, Findaráto thought, as he watched them go. Amarië had said that, when they had seen each other last, all the sly humor drained from her face. Then she had followed him out and said it was all a lie, everything, and in between their kisses, she had said, come back anyway.

He turned back to the council room. He felt very weary, for he saw the task in front of him was a long one, and complicated more by the day’s work. But he had grown used to putting things back together again, as broken as they were, and remained.