(no subject)

[second_time_around]

Fëanor: *the next morning, decides to go see Finrod, and bring him the sheath for the new sword*
Finrod: *in his rooms, cleaning his wound; glad to finally be bathed and mostly rested*
Fëanor: *makes his way to the palace and to Finrod's rooms, intimidating many elves in the process; knocks*
Finrod: *calls* Come in!
Fëanor: *walks in, closing the door behind him* Finderáto?



Finrod: *intrigued* Here. *in his living room*
Fëanor: *follows the sound of his voice; aha!* Nephew.
Finrod: Uncle Fëanáro. What brings you here? *curious; re-bandaging his arm*
Fëanor: I wanted to check how you were. *comes to sit near him* And give you this. *holds out the sheath for the sword*
Finrod: Oh. *smiles a bit* Thank you. That will be useful to have.
Fëanor: Yes, you don't want the sword without a sheath. *smiles* I hope it served you well.
Finrod: Well enough. ...Thank you.
Fëanor: You're welcome. I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you sooner. *frowns* Before you were taken.
Finrod: *ties off the bandage and shrugs* I doubt it would have made much difference...
Fëanor: *looks at his arm* How is your wound?
Finrod: Ugly, but it will heal in time.
Fëanor: Were the healers satisfactory?
Finrod: *amused at that* Quite. Nothing unexpected.
Fëanor: Good. And you ... you feel well now?
Finrod: Yes, much better.
Fëanor: Good. Good. *glad to hear it; his brother would be relieved*
Finrod: I won't mind another night's sleep though. I trust you are fine as well?
Fëanor: Oh yes, I am very well. I had a good night's sleep and no injuries.
Finrod: *nods* That is good...
Fëanor: *claps Finrod's shoulder* I'm glad you're well. I just wanted to see for myself.
Finrod: Why did you come to rescue me? *still baffled by that*
Fëanor: Turukáno asked me to. And... *trails off*
Finrod: And?
Fëanor: *looks away* And... well. I think ... *not sure how to say this* Well. You ARE family. And your father.... though he is not here... I would owe my brother that much, after everything.... to make sure you are safe.
Finrod: *honestly astounded; cannot remember a moment in his whole life that Feanor has looked away; nor been so...apologetic?* Ohh....
Fëanor: *really, still getting used to this apology and shame thing, but it does get surprising results* Yes... *as well, is actually sincere - misses his brothers, despite the struggles of their relationship, his life feels strangely lopsided without them to balance against; well, now that he is sane(ish)*
Finrod: Well, I...appreciate that... *really, this is very interesting*
Fëanor: *nods; still for all the good it does, sincerity and apologizing, still very awkward*
Finrod: I suppose in a way I've got you to thank anyway, for the metalcraft.
Fëanor: Oh? *interested* How so?
Finrod: *slight shrug* I knew the bands would have to have been joined somewhere.
Fëanor: *nods, pleased* Yes! Very good.
Finrod: *well, had to escape somehow*
Fëanor: Better not to wait for rescue.
Finrod: That was my thought.
Fëanor: Well. I am very glad it all worked out. *stands* I'll leave you to rest.
Finrod: *stands too* Thank you for the sword...
Fëanor: Your welcome. I hope you don't need to use it again soon.
Finrod: So do I.
Fëanor: Be well... *departs*

I think I'll go look at that altar room in the sewers again.