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It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and Maglor sat in the garden with his harp, playing a melody that had been in his head all day, occasionally turning to his scroll to write the notes down. So focused was his attention that he didn't notice when Maedhros approached him, startling at his touch.

"Are you busy, brother?"

Maglor rolled his eyes. "No, I'm just sitting here plucking strings idly for the aesthetic."

Maedhros grabbed Maglor's arm and dragged him to his feet. "Good," he said, completely missing the sarcasm. "I have to come clean to our father - you know what about - and I need you to go with me for moral support."

Maglor took a deep breath, and nodded.

Solemnly they approached Fëanor, who was in a meeting, and dismissed his subjects for a short break, sensing his sons would not have interrupted if it were not important.

Maedhros stepped forward. "Adar, there's something I have to tell you."

Fëanor folded his arms. "Out with it."

Maedhros looked down. "I'm -"

"Nelyo no," Maglor hissed, the warning too late.

"I'm having sex with Fingon." Maedhros looked up, his face burning.

Fëanor was silent, considering his response. But Maglor had been through this too many times, knowing what was about to come. "Hells, here we go," he muttered.

At last Fëanor spoke. "Greetings, having sex with Fingon. I'm Adar."