Fëanor, The World's Worst Son-In-Law by Uvatha the Horseman

Not A Good Person

By noon, the noise and commotion in the small house had risen beyond what someone who prefers peace and quiet could stand. The moment the table was cleared after the noonday meal, Mahtan escaped to the Forge. It wasn't just an escape, Mahtan wanted to ask Aulë if his grandsons could come over to see the Forge.

But when he arrived, the cavernous space was empty. The fires had been banked down and the tools hung neatly on their racks. It appeared that Aulë's servants hadn't yet returned from the midday break.

Mahtan followed the short gravel path to the three-story stone building and rapped on a side door. A servant he didn't know answered his knock. "You can find my master in the great hall." He pointed Mahtan towards a narrow hallway leading to the back of the house.

Mahtan had never lived in the Mansion and didn't know his way around inside. He followed the servant's directions and hoped for the best. At the end of the hallway, a door stood ajar. Light poured through it, and the murmur of conversation. Inside, a vaulted ceiling soared above the flagstone floor, and panels of ancient wood glowed in the light from clerestory windows.

A long wooden table filled the hall. At least twenty of the Holy Ones sat around it. Mahtan knew many of them from the Forge, but there were a number who were strangers to him. And at Aulë's right hand, a place had been set for someone who wasn't there.

Mahtan pushed the door open further. The wood scraped against the slates, and everyone looked up at once. Mahtan cringed in embarrassment.

"Excuse me, Lord Aulë, I didn't realize you were still at table." Mahtan cringed and backed away with as little sound as possible.

Cheeks burning, Mahtan went back to the Forge and found some small chores to keep himself occupied. Curumo was the first to return after the midday meal. "I imagine you've never seen the dining hall so crowded," he said.

"I've never seen the great hall at all. I've only been inside the Mansion a couple of times." Mahtan realized he had no idea how many spirits had come with Aulë from the Void, or how many of them lived under his roof at the moment.

"It's not usually so packed, except during the holidays. Lots of people come home for the Festival every year, some from across the sea," said Curumo.

"Why was there an empty place at the table?" Mahtan asked.

"That's for Mairon."

Mahtan didn't know what to say. "How did he die?" he asked, finally.

"Oh, he's not dead. He left to fight in the war. Aulë hopes he'll give it up and come home someday."

"He's fighting the enemy?" asked Mahtan.

"He is the enemy. He's fighting on the other side," said Curumo.

"But Aulë treats him like a hero." Mahtan struggled to understand.

Curumo leaned against a workbench while he considered his words. "Sometimes when a person is greatly admired, those who care about him overlook the fact that he's not a good person."

Aulë came back to the Forge later in the afternoon. Mahtan had a chance to speak with him bringing the boys to the Forge. Aulë offered to conduct the tour himself, and volunteered to help each of them to make something by himself.

At the last minute, it occurred to Mahtan that Aulë might want to see Fëanor again. "My son-in-law is visiting for the week of the Festival. You haven't seen him since he moved away, years ago. Shall I include him on the tour tomorrow?"

"No, that's alright," said Aulë.

Something's going on here, but Mahtan didn't know what it was.