"We drove our son away."

"I'd pretty much blame that squarely on the Valar."

"We clearly failed to communicate with them well, yes."

"Or something."

"Take care of my son, please. He's our whole world."

"I'll do my very best."

And a similar conversation with Finwë follows and afterwards Fëanáro is sullen and scoots off to the corner to read.

The Quendi just recently founded a kingdom and had a lot of thought on the laws and so forth, but the needs of this society will probably be very different. Rúmil shares their process and results anyway.

T'Mir gives herself a crash course in Federation law for another perspective and they proceed to mishmash.

It's interesting and productive and the time zips by while they make plans for Materia contact.

(And Bella thinks Fëanáro should call his parents every day, or at least every sleep cycle.)

He does. The conversations are usually very short, but he does call.

Good. Is he feeling okay about the whole thing? Inquiring minds want to know.

He feels like he should miss his parents but he doesn't but he is worried they'll stop loving him.

"I don't think they'll stop loving you. I don't really miss mine either, honestly."

"But you're a grownup."

"...so?"

"It's normal for grownups not to have parents, or not to miss them, or only to see them once a century."

"I'd ideally like to see mine more than once a century. I like them fine. They just don't interact much with the life I'm trying to have and I'm not sad about that, I just plan to evacuate them so I can look out for them in a way I couldn't in Materia."

"My parents won't be evacuated, I don't think."

"Yeah, probably not. But they're also not slated to die in the next ten to forty years, so it's different in that way."

His eyes widen. "I forgot that! We have to get anti-aging in ten years, then!"

"Yep. It's on the list."

"But it might be hard - might be divine magic, right?"