#Everyone else traded theirs out for sword with better designs - like cross guards

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Fëanáro made Ringil.

It was the last gift he ever gave to Aracáno. (Not the only one, because he'd been coerced by Finwë into offering begetting day presents.)

He had never wanted Aracáno dead, per se. Even at his most deranged, when he heard his father bemoan "Of course it was only a matter of time before I was killed because of you" and his mother's sobs echoed in his skull like his screams in a cave, but even at that point, Fëanáro didn't desire the idiot's death as much as he wished Aracáno would get out of his way.

But before then, when Moringoþo's whispers had yet to infiltrate his thoughts, Fëanáro wrought Ringil. It wasn't his first attempt at a sword. It was single edged with intricate engravings in the blade. It was perfectly balanced for quick redirection, able to be used in one hand or two depending on the need. He named it Ringil - Cold.

(My approximation of how Ringil looks. Sorry I don't have more pixels. 😔)

People whispered about how Fëanáro was preparing to fight his half-brother, but how his pride would not let him strike an unarmed man. No one considered it came from a place of genuine concern.

Even centuries after its maker's death, Aracáno used Ringil. Even as it's design grew more and more outdated, he preferred his brother's work.

He died with Ringil in hand. Þorondor saved it. It passed to Turgon, then Idril, then sailed back West to await its master's return.

(I used Aracáno here because I believe Fëanáro used that name exclusively for Nolofinwë - it distances Nolo from their father. Náro didn't care to do that with Arafinwë, who spent most of his time in Alqualondë with his in-laws and was more Olwë's son than Finwë's. He had little to fear from Arafinwë.)