Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue!
Fëanor and his sons (all except Maglor who wasn't dead) sat, if such a word may be used to describe the actions of disembodied fëar, in the tapestry room of Vairë in Mandos's Halls. They assembled from time to time to see what Curufin's son Celebrimbor was doing. When they last saw him he was the ruler of a land called Eregion in the foothills of the Misty Mountains and was doing remarkably well for a descendent of Fëanor. This week (or perhaps month, or year, or even century) he was in his forge, apparently making rings.
Fëanor sniffed as he watched. "I wouldn't make a ring like that. It's very shoddy workmanship. Surely you taught him better than that Kurvo?"
"I didn't teach him at all," Curufin replied, "I disowned him, or rather he disowned me."
"Oh yes, I remember. Something to do with one of your cousins, wasn't it?" said Fëanor.
"Artaher," Celegorm snapped. Orodreth was not his favourite elf. "Can we please not talk about that incident? Besides, he was only our half first cousin once removed."
Amrod and Amras were peering at a tall figure which was standing next to Celebrimbor. "He looks familiar," said Amrod.
"We've seen him somewhere before," said Amras.
"It's Sauron," Maedhros stated flatly.
"Are you sure?" asked Caranthir, "I thought he was pardoned and sent back to Aulë."
"He was pardoned, but it looks like he's gone back to his old ways, and since I'm the one who spent twenty-five years in Angband, I think I'm qualified to recognise Sauron when I see him." Maedhros glared at Caranthir. "Don't you dare say you forgot about that!"
Caranthir grinned apologetically as he turned back to the tapestry, just in time to see a new image appear, of Sauron with his sword drawn and Celebrimbor's head no longer attached to his body. Before the seven fëar even had a chance to react to the murder, they were joined by an eighth soul.
"Welcome to Mandos," said Fëanor cheerfully, "I didn't think I'd get a chance to meet my only grandson again so soon."