10. We Seven Sons of Fëanor Are
We seven sons of Fëanor are,
Chasing sil’mrils scattered afar,
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Nothing our oath shall bar.
O, gems of wonder, gems so bright
Last remains of Trees’ great light
Oath that holds us, gives no solace
The Silmarils bind us tight.
Holy jewels that nothing can stain;
Craft by Fëanor with lore arcane;
Light forever, ceasing never,
For these our grandfather slain.
A madness gripped our hasty good-bye;
From Valinor flew, to Morgoth defy;
Oaths were saying, Lindar slaying,
In swan ships we East did fly.
The ships burn now, a bitter perfume
Wafting through the Middle-earth gloom;
Flaming, fighting, bleeding, dying,
Our father went to his doom.
Now we are left to hunt for this prize,
The dwindling sons whom all do despise,
Blood that stains us, can’t restrain us
The Sil’mrils are our demise.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.