Wasting your breath.

[forging_gold]

Maglor: *sends a note to Fëanor, to arrange to meet; at least he hopes*
Maglor: *not sure Feanor will agree*

Fëanor: *not sure either, after reading the note; asks one of his wolves* What do you think?

Wolf: *just gives him a baleful canine look*
Wolf: *chicken?*

Fëanor: *throws him some chicken while reading the note over and over*

---
Fëanor: *decides to call Maglor*

Maglor: Hello?

Fëanor: Hello. *still not clear on phone etiquette*

Maglor: Atar?

Fëanor: Yes. You sent me a note.

Maglor: I did. And...are you willing to meet?

( Turns out, he is. )

---
( And no, Maglor doesn't actually have some sinister ulterior motive. )

---

Well, that was futile.