I will. And I'll tell you when I'm done what I've got.

The debate at the forums the next day gets heated. There is some shoving. The day after that both sides come armed. 

Of fucking course.

What are the two sides, exactly?

People who want to leave Valinor, consisting of people who want to stop their homeland from being overrun by Men, people who want to rule over the Men and make them behave better, and people who wanted to leave before Men were even on the table. And people who want to stay, consisting of people who consider themselves loyalists of the King, people who hate one of the 'leave' groups, and people loyal to the Valar.

Oh, god, Elves getting Valinorean conservatism on her infant species. Augh.

Okay that emotional reaction had time to get back to the actual immediate problems.

The actual immediate problem, Maitimo says, after shutting down the city and closing the forums and declaring a curfew, is that actual use of power is super rare in Tirion and might escalate the situation, though it seems better than not doing it. The King's holding a public audience tomorrow to try to talk things through with both sides.

I hope that turns out to be a good idea.

You attending?

Unless you think my presence would be particularly inflammatory or something.

I don't. I think we should all go, it'll give it more credibility if the King does manage to settle things.

"All" meaning...

The whole family.

I'm going to assume you've considered the implications of Tyelcormo's mile-wide protective streak when it comes to my sister and the fact that people were carrying weapons.

The whole family except Tyelcormo and his wife.

That sounds much safer.

We will insist they were intended to come and then got distracted by each other. Everyone knows what newlyweds are like.

It's so plausible!

The talk is going to be held in Nolme, a glorious glass-and-steel auditorium in the new wing of the palace. They get there early. Everyone's busy.

Imliss is doing a very good job of not displaying the entirely reasonable nerves she's experiencing.

The crowd is, in fact, filing onto sides. Maitimo points out his cousins on the other side. Maitimo's uncle Nolofinwe descends from the crowd to go speak to the King. Maitimo frowns. Nolofinwe and the King are dressed almost exactly alike.

Is that normal?

No. No it is not. And it's provocative - it says that the remaining-in-Valinor side is the King's side, when he's been trying not to take one...

Augh.

Voices rise in excited chatter. The King and his son speak. Maitimo's frowning and straining to hear them.

And then the room goes silent. Fëanáro is standing at the top of the stairs. He is in armor, elegant but unmistakably not ceremonial. He is carrying a sword. The disconcerting energy that always hovered around him makes him suddenly menacing.

Nolofinwe hasn’t stopped talking. He’s raised his voice, if anything. In the sudden silence of Fëanáro’s entrance it echoes loud and clear. “King and father,” he says, “wilt thou not restrain the pride of our brother, Curufinwë, who is called the Spirit of Fire, all too truly? By what right does he speak for all our people, as if he were King?” 

Maitimo hisses under his breath. Nolofinwe takes the King's hand. “It was you who long ago spoke before the Quendi, bidding us accept the summons of the Valar to Aman. It was you who led the Noldor upon the long road through the perils of Middle-earth to the light of Eldamar. If you do not now repent of it, you still have two sons who honor your words.”

A thousand people inhale at once. Maitimo is utterly still. 

And Fëanáro draws his sword.

Hey, Tyelcormo?