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Finarfin was the one who found his father, but only because he noticed the boots peeking out from under a table and went to see who was hiding. He had expected Caranthir or perhaps the Ambarussa, and he knelt to put his hand on the boot. “Who is this, hiding under this lovely banquet table?”
“Go away.”
Well. He had not expected that voice. Looking around to be certain no one was watching, he crawled under the table cloth and settled in. “Having a bit of trouble?”
“I said go away.”
“Yes, I heard.” Wrapping his arms around his bent legs, Finarfin studied the man facing him. “But this is family gathering and while I understand that our family can be overwhelming at times-“
“Finarfin,” sighed the man. “What do you want?”
From above them they heard, “Oh, shut it, Fëanáro. You have no idea what Beleriand was like seeing that you got there, burned the ships and then went up in flames.”
“You know, Fingolfin, they told me that I was the difficult one in Mandos, but here I am trying to speak with you and all you want to do is insult me.”
“I don’t want-“
“Uncles.” The regal tone had to be Artanis. “Makalaurë is going to play and you will not want to miss it.”
The silence was long…and longer…and right as Finarfin made to crawl out and assist his daughter, the look of ‘oh ****’ clear on his face, a hand held him in place and the man shook his head.
“Yes, I do want to hear him play again,” Fingolfin said finally. “It has been too long since….”
“Too long indeed.”
“You are in agreement,” Artanis said and the smile Finarfin could not see was clear to him in her voice. “Bring some refreshment, gentlemen. I suspect the concert will be long.”
Finarfin opened his mouth to speak but another voice above the two men under the table spoke. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? He is there, see?”
“Brother, you can see over everyone…well, save Turukáno, but I cannot.”
“There. See now? With his wife and his son. Great stars, the last time I saw Ereinion he was just a baby and look at him now!”
“They look happy.”
“Yes. I expect them to have another child now that they are both healed and reunited.”
“Maedhros….” Curufin’s voice shook for a moment. “Will you…will you go with me to speak to Celebrimbor? I see him but…. What if he refuses me?”
Finarfin looked at the man seated with him and lofted a golden brow. His nephew was usually so proud.
Perhaps that Halls had changed him?
“He will not, Atarinke. Come, let’s go greet him and remember that you messed up plenty but so did he, all right? Both of you just need to get past your egos.”
“Perhaps we can work on something together.”
“Let’s not rush things, brother.”
“We all made mistakes.”
Finarfin recognized Turukáno.
“Yes, but you paid for them and Námo released you so….”
That was Idril. Finarfin adored his niece.
“Buck up and stop wallowing, Atar.”
“Wallowing?”
“It’s a mannish expression and I’m fond of it. It means knock it off.”
“Ah. Perhaps I should go say hello to Tuor?”
“And Eärendil and his wife, yes. Come on, Atar.”
Not everyone had come, of course.
“Atar.” Finarfin took his father’s hand and met the sad gaze. “Miriel wanted you to be happy. She willingly took your place in the Halls…which, frankly is fine by me seeing that you did the same for a very long time and I hope some day you two will stop this revolving door thing, but ….”
“Your mother is not here.”
“Is that why you’re hiding here?”
“Everyone else is here, even Fëanáro and Nerdanel, and no one expected her to forgive him and yet she did and….”
“Atar.” Finarfin felt old. Older even than his father. “As the man who led the remaining Noldor through the Darkening here in Aman, as the man who reconciled with the Falmari and believe me that was not an easy task, as the man who faced the Valar….” Great wisdom dwelt in Finarfin’s gaze as well as compassion and the understanding of one who has lived through dark times and come through to win peace and joy again. “You need to stop hiding under this table. Join your family again, Atar! We have longed to have you with us and now you are. I am sorry Ammë is not here as well. She is going to miss all of the joy and laughter and yes, perhaps some arguments but Atar. None of us has come through the fires unscathed. We are all of us wiser, and I hope, able to get along.” He squeezed his father’s hand. “Now, come on. You won’t want to miss Makalaurë's concert, will you?”
He saw it in those eyes, that he could hear it from there, but Finarfin waited, a look of expectation on his face. Of hope and love.
“Your brothers will never stop arguing.”
“Artanis knows how to handle them.” Finarfin grinned. “And you must meet Elrond and his wife. They’re very good at diffusing difficult situations.” He back out from under the table and held out his hand. “Come, Atar. Back to the light. Back to family, all of it, good and difficult. This is life and you must rejoin those of us who have longed to see you here under the stars and sky again.”
Finwë crawled out and took his youngest son’s hand, blinking at the bright light. He stood and looked around, seeing his sons and their sons and daughters and their sons and daughters. Smiling, some laughing. He saw Makalaurë, too thin, too tired looking, but smiling at his twin brothers. So many others. Aredhel and her son.
SO many who loved him.
“Welcome home, Atar.” Finarfin winked. “Welcome back to the family.”