Fëanáro is very quiet on the carriage ride home. His hands lie placidly in his lap, and he stares at the floor. But one looking into his face has the sense that much passes unheard behind his eyes, for they are as bright as the swarms of sparkles thrown from the sea at Laurelin’s zenith.
There is much to do, he thinks. He compiles lists of items that will need to be taken and those that are best left behind; he places the horses that will not make the journey with suitable guardians until his return; he drafts in his mind letters to his neighbors, asking them to keep his land in exchange for what they can use from his gardens; he finagles a way to ship his current commissions from Formenos to their proper recipients in Tirion.
He does not think of his family, least of all, her.
His father has already sworn to follow Fëanáro; he lingers in Tirion only to settle the transfer of duties between him and Nolofinwë. (Fëanáro refuses to think on this, that at this very moment Nolofinwë wears their father’s crown and uses their father’s power. Fëanáro refuses to think those fateful words: You have brought it upon yourself. For he was not the one who spoke openly of taking Fëanáro’s rights as their father’s heir. Yet Nolofinwë goes unpunished. Fëanáro refuses to think of this.)
Finwë made his pleas to Manwë that Fëanáro be granted mercy. “Allow me to resolve this issue between my sons,” he begged, but Manwë dismissed him and ordered Fëanáro to a twelve-year exile beyond the bounds of Tirion, even as Finwë remained on his knees in the manner of a beaten slave, hands clasped and prayers unheard.
Fëanáro does not think of the words he will use to explain his fate to his family--his sons, his wife, his sons’ wives--much less the words he will use to ask them to come with him. Ask? Nay, beg. Fëanáro will humble himself before his family as he would not before the Valar.
But he does not draft the words that he will use. He makes lists and plans and designs a lock to place upon the door of his forge, lest his jealous brother plunder what meager treasures he will leave behind.
He does not think of Nerdanel and the possibility that she will not follow.
For he loves her, and she loves him: the possibility cannot exist that they should become estranged.