They burned the bodies.

They burned their dead, they burned the husk that had once contained Ungoliant, and then they burnt her webs for good measure.

"She is not truly dead," Feanor said, "but she will not return quickly either." He looked unsatisfied with this, but there was nothing else to be done.

Elrond turned to Earendil. His throat was tight. "There is a road not far from here that leads to the sea. I suppose we must part ways here."

Earendil hesitated. "I can stay," he said. "I don't imagine the Valar will get any more or less furious if I linger a few decades." His eyes searched Elrond's face. "I will not abandon you," he promised quietly.

"You are needed across the sea," Elrond reminded him. Again, he didn't say. "I am not so selfish."

"Feanor can - "

"They will listen better to you." He struggled to smile. "I sense a change coming in the world. I do not think it will be long as they count things in the west before I sail. I would like to be able to see all of you when I come, not sail with you only to learn you have been condemned till the unmaking of the world in your absence."

"If you're sure," Earendil said, the offer still hanging between them.

"I am sure," Elrond said firmly, "Atar."

It was the first time he could remember calling his father by that title to his face. Judging by Earendil's wide eyes, the significance was not lost on him.

Ada still was, and would always be, Maglor, but Elrond had spent far too long with far too little family to mind a careful juggling of titles so that he could claim more now.

Earendil embraced him fiercely. "I will see you again. You will be foremost in your mother and my's thoughts, even if we do have to wait until Arda Remade."

Feanor made his way over. His eyes were still shining with that dangerous light. "If it comes to that, we'll find another way to break out of Mandos."

Elrond didn't doubt him.

It was a slower voyage back and a grimmer one. Earendil was pretty sure that both of their minds were on their absent sons.

He didn't know what Feanor was planning to say. He didn't particularly care so long as it worked.

When they finally arrived, there were Maiar waiting for them. "The Valar demand your presence."

"Good," Feanor growled. He leaped off the ship and stalked forward.

Earendil was close behind. The docks were not vacant this time, as they had been the last time he had come from Middle Earth. Wide eyed Teleri watched them go, eyes locked first and foremost on Feanor and on the glowing Silmaril in his hand.

Technically, Earendil supposed the Maiar were escorting them.

With the fey light Feanor was exuding and the heat Earendil felt rising from his own skin, he wasn't sure it looked that way.

For the second time, Earendil found himself in the Ring of Doom. The first time, he had knelt. This time, he stood legs apart, arms crossed, jaw clenched, ready for a fight, as futile as it was.

He did not kneel. To his surprise, Feanor did.

It being Feanor, it looked less like submission, and more like a challenge.

His burning eyes swept over the Valar. His right hand held the Silmaril aloft. "Once, long ago, you asked me for these. I refused you, for I had no desire to be slain by the breaking of treasures that would not have needed to be sacrificed had your vigilance been greater. Had I known then what I know now - "

"You would have surrendered them?" Manwe suggested.

"I would have suggested you make the Sun and the Moon, as I also would have known that my decision was pointless," Feanor said. "And I would have done a great many other things, but none of those are the point now. It is too late to renew the trees, yet it would be appear that you still value you them, for you traded an army for one once."

"We accepted the penitence of the Noldor," Mandos corrected.

"Once someone holding a Silmaril approached you with it, yes."

"We're not giving you an army," Aule said. Under any other circumstances, Earendil would have sworn there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"We don't want an army," Earendil said.

"We want all those who participated in the escape pardoned and returned to life."

"Considering their numbers, their skill in warcraft, and their fanatical loyalty to you, it would seem that you do, indeed, want an army," Manwe said wryly.

"If you choose to think of it as such, all the better," Feanor said. "You have a precedent for granting armies in exchange for Silmarils, as we have already established, and I know how important precedent is to you."

"An army in exchange for a Silmaril and penitence," Varda pointed out. "You do not seem penitent, Feanaro."

"I regret the slaying of kin at Alqualonde. I regret the Oath. I regret that I failed my sons. I do not regret breaking out of the Halls of Mandos, particularly as I could not have done so without their lord's help. I do not regret sailing east again, especially as we could not have travelled so fast without Ulmo's help. I do not regret fighting Ungoliant because after what you forced me to watch of your last major military effort in Middle Earth, I do not think the people in it could survive more of your help, and yet your rampaging kin was once again posed to decimate it."

The Valar looked at each other.

Finally, Mandos sighed. "Little pity I said you would find, and it was not pity for you that opened my doors but the knowledge that it was worth the risk if indeed the threat could be quickly contained. And although the doom I laid upon you constrained me from giving you direct aid in this matter, yet I am glad it succeeded and that you have made some effort towards redemption."

"But how far does it go?" Manwe asked. "Deceived we have been before. If I told you that we intended to break the Silmaril rather than risk its light again, would you offer it to us still?"

"If you break the Silmaril, then truly I shall be trapped in Mandos's halls until Arda be remade, yet I would accept it gladly if all the rest were pardoned and released," Feanor said quietly.

"Even if those released include some that you did not intend?" Mandos inquired. "Not all who dwell in the halls of the kinslayers are loyal to you. Your eldest freed one in particular, a son of the half-brother who you resented so fiercely."

"Fingon," Feanor said in disbelief. Earendil couldn't quite hear what he said next, but he was pretty sure it was, "Of course he did." Louder he said, "Though it included my brother himself."

Manwe turned to Earendil. "And you, mariner? What say of you of this?"

"I say that I have now fought Ungoliant twice, and that both my wife and I have died doing so, and that my son nearly did. My son," Earendil added pointedly, "who has fought against Morgoth, and Sauron, and Ungoliant, and if any more of your family goes rogue, will presumably fight against them too. He had been hurt enough and was hurt more still when I had to leave him to return here. He deserves to meet his mother again when he chooses to sail, and since it pleases him to also see some among Feanor's family, I say that he deserves to see them too. For my part, I'll sail the star again if you want me to and give it up if you don't, but if I'm sailing it, I'd prefer if you don't lock Feanor up again and that you at least let his sons out. I imagine he'll complain about it ceaselessly if you don't, and the voyage is hard and dangerous enough without him shouting in my head the whole way."

All eyes turned to Feanor.

"They are, after all, my Silmarils," he said with a shrug that failed to be at all apologetic. "My spirit is bound up in them."

Manwe sighed. Earendil wondered if they had actually managed to give one of the Valar a headache. "We are not your enemies," he said tiredly. "Long have we wished to find some way to mend some of what went awry. Perhaps here is a chance to do so. All in favor of agreeing to the proposed plan?"

One by one, hands arose.

A star had reappeared in the sky.

Belladonna Took happened across Elrond looking wistfully up at it.

"Do you think that's him?" she asked hesitantly.

"I hope so, but I shall not know until I cross into the Undying Lands." Elrond shook his head. "They never got to meet Arwen."

"Maybe he can accidentally-on-purpose knock it over the side so that he can come visit again," Belladonna suggested.

That startled a laugh out of him. "I doubt that would be looked kindly upon. It shall just have to wait until Arwen sails to meet them." Even as he said it though, a shade of uncertain melancholy crossed his face.

"They'll be there," Belladonna said firmly, "I'm sure of it. And when you see them, I would greatly appreciate it if you would thank that Feanor fellow for the fine mushrooms he gave me before he left. I thanked him once already, but that was before I ate them, and they were far too delicious not to deserve another thanks."

The melancholy disappeared and Elrond laughed again. "I most certainly will. I am sure he will be delighted to hear it."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I ought to be off to bed. I think it is time I called this adventure completed, and if I am heading home in the morning, then I shall need my rest."

"Then you too are leaving me! I hope you shall return sometime."

"I shall certainly try, although if Bungo works up his nerve to propose I may not have time. I shall never forget your hospitality, though, nor your generous gift of mushrooms!" And with another bright smile, she was hurrying off to bed.

Elrond watched her go, clinging to the cheer she had left in her wake.

Earendil watched, somewhat stunned, as the Feanorian supporters continued to pour of the halls. Elwing watched with wide eyes beside him.

"Well, Tirion will certainly be shaken up," he finally said.

"Yes, I imagine Finarfin won't be entirely pleased," Feanor admitted. "We probably should have released one of his children for the riot as a bribe."

"Give Uncle more credit," Maedhros protested. "I am sure he will be glad to see Fingon, at least."

"I am glad to see all of you, actually," a mild voice said from behind them. Earendil jumped and had to stop himself from going for his sword. "And as it's old griefs and brotherly loyalty keeping my remaining children inside, a better bribe would have been to bring some news of my daughter from Middle Earth."

"I have some, actually, if you are willing to hear it," Maglor offered, turning cautiously as though expecting to be hit.

The High King's face split into a smile. "Then I am even more glad to see you!" he said cheerfully. He eyed the long line of emerging Noldor. "This lot will be a load of paperwork."

Feanor eyed his suspiciously. "You seem oddly happy about that."

"Well, it won't be my paperwork will it, oh, oldest of Finwe's sons?"

Feanor, it was widely known, had wanted the crown. Apparently, having actually possessed it had changed his mind somewhat, because he countered that with, "Yes, and I was succeeded by Maedhros."

Maedrhos looked alarmed. "I abdicated in favor of Uncle Fingolfin."

"Yes, but he's not out yet," Finarfin said. "So if Feanor is choosing to abdicate in favor of you, that makes it your paperwork."

"Uncle was succeeded by Fingon, not me," Maedhros said desperately.

Fingon started sputtering. "You can't just rescue me from Mandos and then expect me to starting kinging immediately!"

Kinging, Maglor mouthed.

Maedhros looked at him incredulously.

" . . . None of us expected you to pick up where you'd left off immediately after Thangorodrim," Fingon said weakly. "We gave you time to recover."

"You gave me time to sleep off the drugs the healers gave me," Maedhros said flatly. "It's you or Maglor."

"I haven't held a pen for a literal Age," Maglor protested, backing away. "If you give it to me, I'll just abdicate in favor of Celegorm, and no one wants that."

"Including me," Celegorm said. "I spent the whole time you were regent terrified something was going to happen to you, and then I'd be responsible for that whole mess. I'm not doing that again. I'd give it to Caranthir."

"No," several people said, including Caranthir.

Curufin shook his head too. "If Father's not taking the crown, I don't imagine he'll be spending much time in Tirion, and I plan to stick with him. If Tyelpe wants it … ?"

Celebrimbor shook his head. "Once was enough."

The Ambarussa slowly realized all eyes were on them. "He's older," they both said immediately, pointing to the other.

"So now we're back to Fingon," Maglor concluded.

"Or," Fingon tried hopefully, "or, we could start petitioning for my father to be returned from Mandos."

"I've been petitioning," Finarfin said glumly. "Since the moment he died."

"But now that Uncle Feanor's back, we've got a much stronger argument," Fingon insisted.

"True," Finarfin said, brightening.

"In the meantime, that still leaves the paperwork," Earendil pointed out with the safety of someone who knew that whoever it fell to, it wouldn't be him.

"You could divide it up evenly," Elwing suggested.

"Can't," Finarfin said glumly. "A lot of it needs the king's signature."

"Oh, that's easy," Caranthir said with a shrug. "We'll just forge it. What?" he added defensively. "Like none of you ever forged a note from one of our uncles. It wasn't like Father was ever going to go check that what was in it was right."

Most of his brothers shifted uncomfortably. So did Fingon.

"We are not going to stoop to that," Finarfin said firmly. He eyed the still growing line of Noldor. "Yet."

(There is a very large crowd of family waiting for Elrond when his boat finally comes to the Undying Lands. Very large, very excited, and very eager to see him.

There will be grief later in the evening when they learn that one of Elrond's children would never sail, but right now, there is nothing but bright bubbling joy and a large press of people all eager to embrace him and the others who have come.

Somewhere in the press, someone shoves something hard and heavy onto his head. Elrond reaches up and touches metal.

"Fingolfin said he'd done his duty," someone is explaining, "and Turgon's rather gone off the idea too, not to mention Finrod, and Aegnor and Angrod are still in Mandos, and Gil-Galad's been determinedly dodging everyone's questions about clarifying his exact place in the line of succession, and Earendil's busy, and then someone pointed out that you hadn't gotten a turn yet - "

It is, Elrond realizes with dawning horror, a crown.

If he did not love these people quite so much, he would be very tempted to make a break for the boat.)