Love, Not Wisdom (Drabbles about Men) by Elrond's Library  

In Defense of Feanor (Maedhros & Fingolfin & Finwe)

prompt: silence, thunder, guilt, secrets

Russandol stared out his window, lost in thought. Rain beat a steady beat on the glass; thunder cracked in the distance. Tirion spread out below him, a silent city, still and tense. His grandfather and uncle were waiting for an answer, but he had none he could give them. Secrets were to be kept close; guilt buried under the pressure of loyalty and love. It was best, he knew, if they did not know what exactly his father was making, or how much. How the paranoia ran deep, infectious.

“He does nothing that will harm you, haru. Nor you, Nolofinwë.”