I felt really strongly about it. I wanted it so badly I felt like I was going to burst. 

Wow. I don't think I feel that strongly about anything except -

You can wish for resurrections but we've got a more efficient way - or will, once the peal finds us -

Yeah, I know, that's why I don't think it's the best idea, but it's still sorta—the only thing—I feel strongly about.

That's probably because it just happened? And you need time to start feeling normal again?

Maybe.

There are also happiness songs. If you want. I didn't give them to the PRT because they're kinda mind control.

I don't wanna be happy. My mom died, I should be sad, I wanna be sad that my mom died.

That makes sense. Elves sing for the dead, six days straight.

- can you sing?

Yeah. Want me to?

Yeah.

So he starts singing. He sings for all of the dead people. All of the dead people in New York, all of the dead people in general because humans are mortal and keep on dying. He keeps singing. He will sing for six days. It seems appropriate. It's kind of soothing.

Well now the waterworks have started for real.

And they are, in fact, still in a cafeteria, even though James has refrained from telling Fëanáro he should eat in favor of letting him and Sadde have a conversation. And he'd been about to interrupt them after seeing what was going on with Sadde but—

"What's that?" wonders Oliver, in a whisper, as the whole cafeteria falls into a hush to hear the Elf sing.

"Mourning," he says simply.

He folds up his wings and sits down and sings for all the dead people.

People eventually resume eating, even though a few of them have had to be excused because crying fits don't mesh very well with that activity.

You should eat, James sends, as gently as he can, after it's become clear Fëanáro doesn't seem to be planning on stopping singing soon.

I can make food in my stomach. Doesn't interfere with singing.

That makes sense. This is—beautiful -

It's how Elves mourn and you don't have any other Elves around. 

We don't. What brought this on now...? he asks, already knowing the answer.

Sadde thought it'd help. 

He looks at her—