Chapter Text
In the darkness, Kanofinwe had returned to Formenos.
No one was entirely certain how he had done it, or indeed why, but that was what the rumors were saying. He had turned back when his uncle had, but he had not gone with him to Tirion. Instead, he had returned to Formenos.
All the reports said he had barred the windows and doors, not even allowing entrance to Nerdanel when she had sought out her one remaining son. She had told Mahtan of her visit, that she had seen signs of life in the desolate buildings, but there had been no way in. An enchantment had lain over the property, which seemed to deter all but the most determined from reaching the gates. But even those who reached the halls themselves could find no way in.
‘It was as though the doors had melted into their frames,’ she had said to her father. ‘I cannot say if they truly did or if it was an illusion crafted by his song.’ Either way, she had turned back, content in knowing he lived and reported to her father all that she had seen.
Mahtan, in turn, had carried her words to Aulë before he and Nerdanel had gone to Tirion, to offer what help they could to the remaining Noldor.
The smith was not entirely certain what his thoughts on the matter were. He mourned the Noldor, yes, but there was nothing he could have done for them. They had free will by the will of a higher power, he could not take that from them. But he had tried, when they had found Finwe, to reason with Feanor and his sons, as much as he could.
But in the end, they had ignored his words.
Maglor had seemed the most attentive to his words when he had said that the Noldor need not stand alone. Surely Manwe would not allow such an affront, Melkor would be dealt with in time.
“In time,” Feanor had scoffed. “When would that be, wise one?” Only Feanor could call someone wise and make it an insult.
For a moment he had thought the minstrel would say something, anything to protest his father’s words, but Maedhros had stepped forward, placing his hand on Maglor’s shoulder, and he had remained silent.
But something had turned him back, and Maglor had fled from the destruction of Alqualonde back to the place where he had been exiled with his family for all those years.
Perhaps he did not understand that the exile was over. No one had the time nor energy to enforce it, not with the destruction of the Trees and the flight of the Noldor. No one would have stopped him from returning to Tirion or even the halls of Mahtan.
But Aulë suspected he was far more clever than that.
No, if Maglor had returned to Formenos it was of his own volition and not because of a long-forgotten exile.
Then why? Why remain behind and yet alone?
His wife did not share his curiosity. When pressed on the subject, she had given him a pitying look and whispered, "He is not Mairon."
But there were other matters to attend to, other things that needed to be taken care of, and all thoughts of Kanofinwe Feanorian soon slipped to the back of his mind.