We are a courageous people. I think they will follow us. And I think my father will agree, now.

Yeah. Pretty hard to disagree, really. It's not precisely safe, but I don't want safety at the cost of leaving everyone in Endorë to die, or feeling so helpless.

And worst case, we're right back here.

... No, worst case, Melkor captures and tortures us to insanity. But that doesn't mean it's not worth doing.

We won't go unprepared.

Yeah. I just want everyone to understand the stakes. I'd like for us to be better than the Valar, you know? Instead of lying by omission like they do.

Everyone knows as much as we do about what the Enemy is capable of.

Yes, but, hm. I worry of complacency. We've lived in Valinor for so long that it's hard to really comprehend how terrible Melkor is, how much we stand to lose. Even with the deaths of the Trees, even with all we know. I don't think our family will fall into that trap, but I don't think everyone can avoid it so easily. And I don't mind reminding people of the stakes to avoid it.

If you like. I think they will go on all the same.

Probably. I'm likely being overly touchy, but there are worse ways to be overly touchy than overcompensating for the Valar's. Valarness.

Yes. Distractedly.

I'm going to return to trying to keep the panic to a minimum, maybe try to get information about what Melkor actually did. Let me know if I can help with any of your projects. Good skill, uncle.

Likewise.

The news comes a few days later; it's hard to count, without the Trees.

Then through the throng came the sons of Fëanor, flying from the North, and they bore new tidings of evil. Maitimo spoke for them. ‘Blood and darkness!’ he cried. 'Finwe the king is slain, and the Silmarils are gone!’

Then Fëanáro fell upon his face and lay as one dead, until the full tale was told.

 'My lord,’ said Maitimo to Manwe, 'it was the day of festival, but the king was heavy with grief at the departure of my father, a foreboding was on him. He would not go from the house. We were irked by the idleness and silence of the day, and we went riding towards the Green Hills. Our faces were northward, but suddenly we were aware that all was growing dim. The Light was failing. In dread we turned and rode back in haste, seeing great shadows rise up before us. But even as we drew near to Formenos the darkness came upon us; and in the midst was a blackness like a cloud that enveloped the house of Feanor.

'We heard the sound of great blows struck. Out of the cloud we saw a sudden flame of fire. And then there was one piercing cry. But when we urged on our horses they reared and cast us to the ground, and they fled away wild. We lay upon our faces without strength; for suddenly the cloud came on, and for a while we were blind. But it passed us by and moved away north at great speed. Melkor was there, we do not doubt. But not he alone! Some other power was with him, some huge evil: even as it passed it robbed us of all wit and will.

Darkness and blood! When we could move again we came to the house. There we found the king slain at the door. His head was crushed as with a great mace of iron. We found no others: all had fled, and he had stood alone, defiant. That is plain; for his sword lay beside him, twisted and untempered as if by lightning-stroke. All the house was broken and ravaged. Naught is left. The treasuries are empty. The chamber of iron is torn apart. The Silmarils are taken!’

Then suddenly Fëanor rose, and lifting up his hand before Manwë he cursed Melkor, naming him Morgoth, the Black Foe of the world.And he cursed also the summons of Manwe and the hour in which he came to Taniquetil, thinking in the madness of his grief that had he been at Formenos, his strength would have availed more than to be slain also, as Morgoth had purposed. Then with a cry he ran from the Ring of Doom and fled into the night, distraught; for his father was dearer to him than the Light of Valinor or the peerless works of his hands: and who among sons, of Elves or of Men, have held their fathers of greater worth?

 

After him Maitimo and his brethren went in haste, dismayed, for they had not known that he was present when Maitimo spoke; and now they feared that he might slay himself.  

- (Morgoth's Ring)

Calassúrë has a brief moment of indecision. On one hand, yes absolutely, go after Fëanáro to make sure he doesn't do anything rash, right now, everyone, go. On the other hand - if everyone goes then there's no chance that the Valar might be convinced to take some fucking responsibility at any degree of speed.

Maitimo, she sends, an edge of panic to the tone of her thoughts, how desperately do you need me to come with you - maybe I can get the Valar to have a shred of fucking responsibility but I won't try it if it could cost your father's life -

No, try that - we'll find him  -

Okay. I love you. I wish you the greatest of skill and haste, cousin.

Her uncle's probably still in range of osanwë, so she sends, Uncle, I love you, I'm so sorry, I'm going to try to get them to take responsibility and help because how dare they try to abdicate it after - she doesn't say it. I love you, she repeats instead, because that seems like the absolute best thing she could possibly say to him right now.

She takes a steadying breath, attempting to swallow her own fear to speak. It's one thing to realize that, logically, someone needs to try to get the Valar to see reason, and it's another to stand utterly, painfully alone and condemn the king of the gods for inaction.

"My lord Manwë," she calls, the strength and clarity of her voice almost entirely the product of years of practice singing, "on my family's behalf, I beg of you all possible haste in action. The death of the Trees and their Light is among the greatest of evils, but Melkor could not steal and twist them to his own malevolent purposes. He has proven to be devious and inventive, can we but stand by while he prepares his latest machination? You yourselves wanted my uncle's great creations - dare you imagine what Melkor could do with them now that he has them? The longer he is left alone the more powerful he becomes!"

The Valar stand frozen around the corpses of the Trees, motionless and unreadable.

Anger proves to be a passable remedy for the cold pit of fear in her stomach. Her hands are barely even shaking, now. How dare they not even acknowledge her or anyone else. They have a responsibility to everyone under their care, and they aren't living up to it.

She raises her voice. "Our king is dead and all Light in Valinor either stolen or forever extinguished. I do not ask that you do not grieve their losses, but we will suffer greater tragedies if we lose ourselves to grief! If you cannot act, speak! You once promised that Valinor was a place under your protection, did that promise's binding die with the Trees? Are we not your charges? Did you not swear to protect us from harm? The harm of ignorance is a subtle, insidious one, but it will nonetheless tear us asunder if we let it. While you stand silent, Melkor may exploit the confusion and torment your silence dooms the Eldar to!"

"Have patience," Manwë says after a moment. "Our grief is far greater than yours, and we are considering how best to preserve good in the world."

Oh, holy shit, she actually got him to say something.

"I do not challenge the depth of your grief, my lord, nor try to compare mine to yours. Nor do I ask you to charge thoughtlessly in the opposition of Melkor. But deliberating too long on the best method for preserving the good in the world while it is extinguished is detrimental to the purpose itself. Every second spent in deliberation is another second Melkor could use to breed more orcs, or twist the Silmarils to his purposes, or torture our still unaware kin in Endorë. Do not spend them heedlessly on grief, even a grief greater than I can comprehend. We will have time to grieve after Melkor is returned to his prison."

"The return of Melkor to his prison cannot be achieved by any means, and certainly not by hasty and thoughtless pursuit. Urgency will lead only to grave mistakes of judgment."

"Thoughtless urgency, certainly, but in times of crisis, some measure of urgency is required if anything good is to be done at all! Even if Melkor cannot be returned to his prison, can a new one not be made? Even if one cannot be made, surely you could offer some measure of safety to our kin in Endorë? They are at his mercy! Even if he cannot ever be imprisoned again, should we not try to reclaim the Silmarils from him, so that his evil could be as contained as is possible?"

"These are the questions that we are considering, and that we are now interrupted from considering in order to dissuade you from rash and thoughtless conduct. We will now return to considering them."

Oh, fuck you.

"While you consider," she hisses, "can you not send trusted Maiar to aid the people of Endorë, to learn of Melkor's power base and offer counsel in how best to fight him?"