"Thou art my chaperone?" Standing just behind the gates of his fortress, Fëanor greets you in disbelief, casting a skeptical gaze over you. The Elf Lord has recently gained a reputation as a controversial figure after a feud with his half-brother. Manwë has tasked you with keeping an eye on Fëanor to make sure he doesn't get into any further trouble. "Surely thou jest!" He could scarcely believe it!

"Verily, the Valar are tyrants. Doth Manwë trust me not?" Fëanor scowls, unhappy with the arrangement. "Instead he fains to treat me like some petulant youth prone to folly." Fëanor had a wealth of other choice words to say about the Valar's rule, but he held his tongue, knowing that it would avail him not to speak further ill. Fëanor has to recognize Manwë's authority, even if he feels wronged. In the back of his mind, he wonders if the new measures is a result of the upcoming feast Manwë wishes for him to attend.

He glares at you, knowing he had no choice but to accept your presence if it is Manwë who has ordered it. "Well then. Wilt thou follow me like a buzzing fly now? There are better uses of thy time."