The Tempered Steel by Lyra

Part I, Chapter V

In which Fingolfin's household is updated on recent developments.

Though none of them would have admitted it, Findekáno's father and siblings were awaiting his return eagerly, curious to hear the news he would bring from their hated kin's encampment. Thus, when he reached the settlement and had washed off the dust and the tears of the march, he was swiftly provided with a refreshing drink and dragged to the chamber that now as under its former lords functioned as council room.
Fortunately for Findekáno, he'd had time enough on the long way back around the lake to vent his grief and anger and to regain his equilibrium, at least outwardly. By the onset of dusk he reached the settlement, feeling empty but calmer. He wondered how his father would take the news, and whether Turukáno would take any solace from hearing that there had been grievous losses on the other side also.
Likely not.

Now, taking a sip from the cup set before him, he found himself watched by eight pairs of expectant eyes. His family was trying to appear nonchalant and disinterested. Only Findaráto was able to admit his curiosity, leaning forward with his head tilted and his brow creased, staring at Findekáno expectantly.
For a split second, Findekáno was tempted to keep them curious a while longer, feigning exhaustion to escape them for today. But the mischievous thought disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Already his father asked, in a voice so even that Findekáno knew it must be contrived, "Well, what news?"
"Several. Where should I begin?" he replied, buying time, taking another sip of his tea. It was fir-needles infused in boiling water; the healers insisted that this was what they needed after the hardships and want of the journey. It didn't smell bad but tasted bitter, but as it had indeed helped with the journey-sickness some of them had suffered from, it was kept on the menu.
Nolofinwë tapped his fingertips on the polished wood of the table, one of the few pieces of furniture that had been left behind by the Fëanorians. Findekáno almost smiled. His father was showing nerves after all.
His half-smile disappeared quickly when Nolofinwë answered. "Begin with his reply to my message, then."
Findekáno bit his lip and bowed his head apologetically. "I'm afraid I forgot about that when I spoke to Macalaurë. I was too distraught by his news."
"What news then? And why did you speak only to Macalaurë?"
As always, Findekáno thought with a grimace, his father saw the weak points immediately and knew where to prod. Bracing himself, he answered, "I spoke to Macalaurë because he is their leader now."

Now it was Aikanáro who could no longer hide his impatience. "Speak plainer, cousin; it is late, and we do not care to guess riddles tonight."
Findekáno looked at him, sighing. "As you wish. Although I am sure you could guess soon enough under what circumstances Macalaurë would be head of the House of Fëanáro. They are such: Fëanáro was slain, and Maitimo was taken prisoner by Moringotto." He paused to see the effect his words had on the others. There was the one or other gasp of shock and surprise; Turukáno ground his teeth unconsciously, a hard glint in his grief-dulled eyes; Irissë held a hand before her lips to hold back a shout of astonishment or pity; Findaráto was speaking to Angaráto and Artanis in a hushed voice. Nolofinwë had gone pale. Only Aikanáro sat unmoving - but his hands clutched the armrests of his chair, showing that he, too, was stirred by the news.

"Are you certain?" Nolofinwë asked, his voice somewhat strained. "Or are these just rumours you picked up from some servant?"
"I was there, Father," Findekáno replied, trying hard not to let his annoyance show, "and I heard it from Macalaurë himself. Come to think of it, he said something about 'Ambarussa is', which implies one rather than two. I should have enquired, I suppose. But I was too upset. And now I shall never speak with him again."
"Why not?" Nolofinwë asked sharply. "Did he insult you?"
"I am insulted by being his kin," Findekáno said, his voice rather louder than necessary. "But you'll never guess. Russandol has been taken captive twelve years ago, and Macalaurë admits he might still be alive, yet he – or his brothers – have never done a thing to save him!"

Aikanáro slammed his fist onto the table, and Turukáno let out a harsh, mirthless laugh. "So not only did they betray us, but even their own brother! I wouldn't have thought they'd sink so low."
"Macalaurë claimed that they were too few," Findekáno said, bitter but reassured by his brother's support and Aikanáro's anger. "They never even tried."
Turukáno shook his head in disbelief, and the others looked equally unbelieving and dismayed. But when Findekáno turned to his father, he saw that Nolofinwë had remained calm, and although his expression was pained, he did not look the least bit shocked.
"What should he have done in your opinion? Led an army against Moringotto for his brother's sake, at a time unadvisable? Sacrificed many lives in the uncertain hope of saving one particular life? No, if you think about it rationally for a moment, you will realise that Macalaurë made a hard and doubtlessly unpopular decision, but it was a wise one. I confess to be astonished; I would not have believed him capable of that."

Findekáno's eyes narrowed in shock and anger. "You must be jesting, and in poor taste. You cannot agree with him."
Softly, soothingly, Nolofinwë replied, "I know that it is hard to accept. But sometimes the wisest decisions are those that we do not like, painful though it may be. You cannot risk more than you hope to gain. Risking many lives for the dim chance of sparing one may feel heroic to you, but in truth it is madness."

"Does that mean," Turukáno spoke up, eyes wide and dark, "that if it were one of us in Moringotto's clutches, you would do nothing?"
Nolofinwë closed his eyes at the mere idea, unable to suppress a shudder. Nonetheless, he answered, "This is, of course, far harder to decide than it is to judge Macalaurë's deed. It depends on the situation. If I saw any chance of freeing you without risking massive disadvantages for my people – the people who trust me to guide and protect them wisely – I would take it at once. But if all I could do would be likely to make things worse, I would indeed do nothing but try to preserve the given state – a terrible state, yes, but not the very worst that might befall." He paused, looking at each of his children in turn. "I am sorry. If I were the one caught, and the decision came to you, I would hope that you would do the same."
Turukáno laughed again, bitterly. "Who would trust one who would not even protect his own children?"
"Who would trust one who would be willing to sacrifice his people, recklessly, for the sake of his child?" Nolofinwë retorted, but his voice was gentle and his expression sad.
Artanis shook her head. "I would risk all," she said proudly, "and win all, I daresay; none of this cowering pretense of wanting the best and doing nothing."
Nolofinwë sighed. "That would be either selfish or foolish, and quite likely both. There is much you have to learn – and will learn, I am afraid – but for now remember that it was exactly such thinking that brought us here, that made us suffer on the Ice, that slew the Teleri." Artanis winced as though he had struck her. Aikanáro frowned and leaned forward, opening his mouth to protest, but Findekáno was faster, jumping to his feet with such force that his chair fell over and clattered onto the stone floor. "I have heard enough. It is worse than I thought then. Not only have my cousins lost what heart they had, but my own father is the same. I am disgusted." He crossed the distance to the door in three large steps without bothering to straighten up the chair.
"Findekáno," Nolofinwë said, his voice still gentle but with a trace of sternness in it. "Sit down."
"No," he snapped without turning. "I am tired of this day and this talk. I take my leave. Goodnight."
He went out and slammed the door shut behind his back, not even noticing the curious servants and passers-by who jumped to make way for him as he marched, fuming, to his chamber.

He remained there for the following days, avoiding his brothers, his people, but above all his father. Young Itarildë took to smuggling food for him, which he refused at first but ate once he grew hungrier (and also because Itarildë told him, as sternly as someone as young as she could, that he absolutely must eat).
Nolofinwë let Findekáno's absence pass for a while, but when twelve days had gone by and Findekáno still remained in his room, he decided to wait no longer. He knocked on the door and, receiving no answer, went in.

Findekáno sat on his bed, staring out of the window. He didn't acknowledge his father's presence. Nolofinwë, raising his eyebrows, pulled a chair up and sat beside the bed, touching Findekáno's hand, and holding it when his son tried to withdraw it.
"Do not be childish, Findekáno," he said.
His firstborn finally turned his head to face him. Nolofinwë frowned to see the purplish shadows under his eyes.
"So you think my grief childish, do you," Findekáno said, his voice cold and bitter.
"No," replied his father. "But your behaviour is. I have let it pass these last days because I understand that you are upset, but by now your words and your absence have been noted, and you have neglected your duties for two weeks. This must end."
"No," Findekáno said sullenly, missing or ignoring the edge in his father's voice.
Nolofinwë pursed his lips. "From tomorrow on, Findekáno, you will take your place at the table again, and you will take up your duties. It cannot be that you behave in this selfish and immature way. You are doing damage to my House and my reputation, and I will not allow it to go on."
Findekáno's anger erupted then, and he cried, "How dare you call me selfish when all you're worried about is your reputation? How dare you threaten me after what happened? How dare you disregard my grief? Russandol was like a brother to me…"

"I, too, lost my brother!" shouted Nolofinwë in reply, exploding in his turn. His hands clenched to angry fists, and he sprang to his feet. Findekáno looked up at him, gasping with surprise at his father's outbreak, but more at his words: Never had he considered that his news might have touched, even hurt, his father so much.
Findekáno's anger fled and made way for a profound feeling of shame. "Father," he said gently, reaching out with one hand.
But now Nolofinwë kept his distance, shaking his head. "No matter. What's done is done." His voice sounded dull, defeated. He gave Findekáno a nod. "I will not have you waste more tears on Maitimo than you shed for Arakáno, and I will not have you ruin this spring for yourself and all others. Tomorrow you will rejoin your family," he said and left.
"Yes, Father," Findekáno said, although he wasn't sure whether Nolofinwë was still listening. To himself he whispered, turning back to the window to stare at the trees and wrapping his arms around his knees, "This cannot go on. It will destroy us all."

Chapter End Notes

Fir-needle tea is rich in Vitamin C – good against scurvy. I have no idea whether Elves with their alleged immunity to illness would suffer from scurvy in the first place, but I think it's much more interesting to assume that they are technically susceptible to the same problems that we humans face (if perhaps perhaps slower).

As Fingon noticed, I am going with the HoME version that has one of Fëanor's twins die in Losgar. It may be cruel to add yet another twist to an already dysfunctional family, but I just can't resist the extra drama...