Feanor's Wrath: 1. Feanor's Wrath

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1. Feanor's Wrath

Dark tears I weep,
Dark tears in shadows.

I cradle my father in trembling arms,
Bitter tears slipping down my face;
My father is dead, my father, my father!
Eru, hear my cries--why did this happen?
My father lies dead in a pool of blood,
His eyes staring ever to the heavens.
My hands are covered with his crimson blood.

I feel my chest convulsing in sobs:
His form is so stiff, so cold, so empty!
My teardrops wend paths down his pale cheeks,
Clear streaks amid rusty death.
My father, my father, my father is dead!

The darkness is a thing, a being, a beast
Weighing upon my shoulders like a demon.
How did this happen, how did it come to this?
I could have saved him, my spirit
Could have conquered this winter,
Had I known the ineffable approached.
My very soul was flame, was it not?
I could have driven the Dark Enemy back.
I should have been here.

This single, crystalline thought pervades all.
Curse Manwë and his summons, curse the Darkness!
Curse their festivals and lights, the facade
Of beauty and power; a rage unlike any
Ever known overcomes me--
It courses through heart and blood,
My very veins are aflame in the heat of it;
My hands feel hot on my father's face.

Then he is ice and I am fire,
And a piece of him lives within me still.
'Let it be so,' my dark voice growls,
'For such is how the world will end.'

In one swift motion I leave him in peace
And mount my horse--I can feel my sons' eyes
Boring through me, and tears on Maedhros' cheeks.
But this is not a time for tears and trepidation:
Now is the time for war.

We ride across plains darkened in shadow,
Like a horde of demons riding to their doom;
The tattoo of hoof beats thunders in the air.
A storm we shall bring upon these 'Blessed Lands,'
And let slip the hounds of chaos.
For he has taken them from me, wrested
From my grasp the few things of beauty
Left in this world; he will mete pain
For pain, and nightmare for nightmare,
Shadow for shadow, and undying hate for hate.

The mountains loom, crawling ever closer,
And the gates of Tirion gleam in the starlight.
A laugh rises from my chest and into the umbrae,
Chilling my sons and their men to the core;
Pitiful fools, the Valar themselves,
They shall see what it is to be strong.

The gates are opened, and I urge my horse through.
It feels good to go swiftly, for it feels as though
I may wake and find this all a dream in the night.
But I know it cannot be true:
My hatred burns too hot within me.

I reach my father's halls
--But now they are mine--
And mount the stairs two at a time;
I see a crowd has gathered below,
And I am pleased at the fright in their eyes.
Halfway to the top, I turn to face them:
Aye, there will be dread born this night.

'Why, O people of Noldor,
Why are you frightened? Can it be
For all you boast of greatness
You have not the hearts when it summons?'
A murmur ripples through the crowd.
'Then you are indeed akin to the Valar themselves,
Who lay pining in fear and darkness,
Unable even to guard their own realm!
This night my father was slain in his halls:
The halls Manwë himself put forth in doom!
Was this foresight, o Noldor? Was this wisdom?'

Maedhros steps forth,
'Father, none could have foreseen...'

'And this night, by the same hand
The Silmarils were raped from their casing!
The greatest of our creations stained
With the blood of a king and the darkness
Of the Valar themselves! Surely this deed
Is merit enough to stir even the stones
To cry out in rage, and yet you stand there,
Frozen in your fear? Such are not my people:
My kin would never suffer such things
To pass without tears of ire!"

Maedhros is silent now: not in shame,
But understanding. He knows my words
Are true. The crowd swells in number
As elves hear tell of my coming;
In the distance I see my half-brothers
Emerge, startled at my presence.
Aye, their hearts hold little love for me,
But for my father I know they would die.

'Why, O people of Noldor,
Why should we serve the jealous Valar
Who cannot keep us, nor even their own realm
Secure from the enemy? And though he be
Now their foe, are they and he not of one kin?'

My voice rises in passion,
Clear and strong in the torchlit
Courtyard bathed in night.
'Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it
Otherwise, I would not dwell in the land
Of the kin of my father's slayer
And the thief of my treasure!'

My words move them, my words
And my soul--it enflames them
As surely as it does me.
'Yet I am not the only valiant
In this valiant people. And have ye not
Also lost your king? And what else
Have ye not lost, here between
The mountains and the sea?'

'Here once was light, that Valar begrudged
Middle Earth, but now darkness levels all.
Shall we mourn deedless forever, a shadow folk,
Mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the
Thankless sea? Or shall we return home!"
I suddenly saw myself, a wraith soaring through flame--
A longing for crystal waters and tower forests
In the Middle Lands consumes me, and feuls my fire
And sadness, mingling love with hate.
'Or shall we return home? In Cuivienen
Sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars,
And wide lands lay about where free people might walk.
There they lie still and await us, who in our folly
Forsook them! Come away! Let cowards keep this city!'

Another murmuring passes, louder this time:
A longing has awoken in their souls as well.
My half-brothers begin moving forward into the crowd,
Moving towards me.

'Fair shall the end be, though long and hard
Shall be the road! Say farewell to cowardice!
But say farewell also to ease! Say farewell to
The weak! Say farewell to your treasure!
More still shall we make!

'But we shall retrieve the unremakeable.
Journey light: but bring with you your swords!
For we will go further than Oromë,
Enduring longer than Tulkas,

We will never turn back from pursuit
After Morgoth to the ends of the earth!

Fire surges through me, I fell it pulsating in my chest
And flaring from my words. The people see and agree.
My bastard born brothers are almost through to me,
'But when we have conquered and regained the Silmarils,
Then we and we alone shall be lord of the unsullied Light,
And masters of the bliss and beauty of Arda.

I think of my father and the blood on my hands.
I draw my sword and raised it high, red light flickering off it.
Raging fire overcomes me,

'I do now swear, be he friend or foe or foul creature of Morgoth,
Be he mortal dark that in afterdays on earth shall dwell,
Shall no law, nor love, nor league of gods, nor might nor mercy
Nor moveless fate defend him forever from the fierce vengeance
Of Fëanor, whoso seize, or steal, or finding keep the fair
Enchanted globes of crystal, whose glory dies not,
the Silmarils! I have sworn forever!
I call Manwë, Varda, and Mount Taniquetil as witness.
I do challenge the Everlasting Dark consume me if I keep it not!'

I look on my kin and smile; there is nothing they can do now,
Nothing anyone can do. Truth cannot be changed by victory.

But Melkor's head will be mine.

General Note:

Parts of Fëanor's speech are taken from the Silmarillion; the Oath itself is taken from History of Middle Earth. All other dialogue is my own elaboration.

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.

Story Information

Author: pitya

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Work in Progress

Era: Time of the Trees

Genre: Poetry

Rating: General

Last Updated: 03/19/09

Original Post: 06/27/04

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