They vanish into a cloud of blue light and black smoke.

Fuck.

This is considerably worse than the worst-case scenario she was expecting. Thanos is more powerful than Melkor was at his greatest, but until now he was alone and not interested in doing further harm. And, for all his power, his mind will be no match for Sauron with the Ring.

She puts Frodo on Taniquetil, then sits down on her throne, head in her hands.

Frodo is repeating a phrase over and over again to himself in a language Tony doesn't understand. In the Westron of the Third Age, he's saying, "I saw him. I saw him with my waking eyes."

Tony has no idea what just happened, but he knows it's extremely bad.

Tony receives a transmission from the Vision-body they had prepared for Fëanor.

"Hey, Tony. It's Fëanor. I'm alive again. Meet me in the square of Tirion. Bring the Silmaril."

There is obviously not much more Tony can do here, so he flies from Taniquetil to the square where Robot-Fëanor is waiting, and hands him the Silmaril.

Fëanor presses it into the nanites that make up his chest, completing the set of three. Then he announces to the whole city in a loud voice:

"Behold! I, Curufinwë Fëanáro, the only true-born son of Finwë Noldóran, before Eru Illúvatar and all the Powers, and before all the people of the Noldor, in full and legitimate possession of the three Silmarils which were stolen ere the rising of the Sun, do now hold my Oath fulfilled."

That was the easy part. Now for the test—

"Never again to do violence to any of the Children of Illúvatar over their possession, unless they be used for evil, by the name of Illúvatar, I hereby swear."

He braces for the crippling agony that he expects to come from having sworn contradictory oaths.

It never comes.

Fëanor turns to the west, in the general direction of the Halls of Mandos, and screams, at the top of his artificial voice:

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!"

Far away in Lórien, six elves wake up.