The Bearer of Light by Dawn Felagund

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Fanwork Notes

This story was written for the 2012 Back to Middle-earth Month BINGO challenge. I'm only kind of playing--as the keeper of the BINGO numbers, I'm not eligible to win, and I don't really have time to write most days anyway. This story just kind of tackled me out of the clear blue sky while I was stamping other people's BINGO cards and noticing how certain prompts seemed to work together remarkably well. This story is only a few hours old as of my posting it and is much rawer than I generally prefer to share.

The prompts I used are as follows:

art supplies (O65): metal
book title (O65): A Thousand Splendid Suns
deep thoughts (B7): love
first lines (O65): "The towers of Tirion aspired above the morning mist, austere towers of steel and cement and limestone, sturdy as cliffs and delicate as silver rods."
caroling (B7): tidings of comfort and joy
love (O65): a father's love
song lyrics (B7): Now the light is slowly beckoning you to the shore.
TVTropes (O65): overshadowed by awesome

Fanwork Information

Summary:

Fëanor has been summoned from exile by the Valar to attend a feast on Taniquetil and with the expectation that he bring the Silmarils. His refusal to bring the Silmarils reveals the growing madness of his House and the forebodes disastrous events to come.

Major Characters: Fëanor, Sons of Fëanor, Valar

Major Relationships:

Artwork Type: No artwork type listed

Genre: General

Challenges: B2MeM 2012

Rating: Teens

Warnings: Mature Themes, Violence (Mild)
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 2, 679
Posted on 10 March 2012 Updated on 10 March 2012

This fanwork is complete.

Table of Contents

The Bearer of Light

Comments

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This is very dramatic, very eerie! There are so many things here worth looking at again, the moment when he passes Tirion, his memory of Irmo's involvement in the death of Miriel... But soppily sentimental as I am I can't get over that scene in front of the treasury in Formenos. Poor Tyelkormo! Poor Carnistir! Poor Nelyo! And poor deluded Feanor...

This is definitely one of those stories (coming from my Felakverse, as it does) where so many as-yet-unwritten (or, in the case of the barely-begun AMC prequel, as-yet-unpublished) stories play into it. As I gave it a hasty revision, I felt like there were so many places to expand it, yet this story didn't seem the appropriate moment for that.

The treasury scene was one of the strongest in my mind when I wrote the story. A question that fascinates me (and is only rarely dealt with in Silmfic, at least that I've seen) is how Feanor's sons would have felt about the Silmarils.

Thank you for reading, Himring, and for leaving a comment. :)

Thank you, GG! :) This was one of those stories that almost seemed to write itself; it had to be written. (I had plans for a very productive morning that never manifested thanks to this story! Well, I did get my assigned bingo cards stamped, at least ... ;) I was going for the impression that Carnistir let go deliberately; I'm glad you picked up on that! :D Thanks again for reading and commenting.

Bloody hell Dawn, now you have me all wondering about the bond between Celegorm and Nerdanel, the influence of the trees on the elves and what happens if they live under the stars. But Fëanor is just barely holding it together and I am holding my breath because we all know what will happen in Formenos next...

Yes, I was almost tempted to claim the "death of a loved one" prompt, since we know where this leads! :) But since I didn't even mention Finwe but dealt more in Feanor's relationship with his sons, then I didn't think I'd earned it. One of the questions that is endlessly fascinating to me (as evidenced by the number of times it weasels its way into my stories!) is the influence of light and Light-with-a-capital-L on the Elves. And, from a literary perspective, its function as a symbol. (I've started an essay on this. Maybe once I survive this first year of teacherhood ... :)

Thank you for reading, Rhapsy, and for so kindly making a page for me! :D *hugs*

Indeed, I realized after I posted this that, to those familiar with AMC, it would be quite the drastic change. The time between AMC and the Darkening mostly exists in my head canon at this point. Probably the only story to really show the disintegration of the family after their exile is By the Light of Roses, which belongs to a totally different verse. The sequels to AMC will lead here, if Life[tm] ever settles down enough for me to write them!

Thank you for reading and commenting, Indy! :)

Lovely, which is a strange but perfectly apt word to use to describe this gorgeous piece. Beautifully written, though it may seem rough to you, with a Feanor who has his clear sense of what is right and what is owed him and yet that clear and powerful sense nonetheless warps his view of almost everything else.

 

I'd imagine the sons' views on the Silmarils are quite interesting to say the least.

 

Poor Carnister. 

Thanks for reading and commenting, Lilith! :) He is definitely crossing the line at this point between one who has a clear sense of his own potential (and has been mistreated/misunderstood as a result) and one who's well ... going a little over the top. :) Not without reason, perhaps, but still going there nonetheless! I'm glad this came through in the story. Thanks again! :)

 

 

This section is incandescently lovely and evocative. It made me catch my breath just now. Loving him, fearing for him, and my heartbreaking for him as well. It speaks of love and caring for others here and throughout as a memory that is no longer really touchable for him.

Once, he'd climbed a tree, too high even for his comfort, to get at the eggs in a nest of hawks. Nerdanel stood below, wide-eyed, watching, heavy with their first child, with Nelyo. Somewhere, he'd heard that eggs preserved the health of women with child, and that slip of information--the source of which he could not even recall--and his unspeakable love for the red-haired daughter of a blacksmith had provoked the daring act he contemplated. Then as now, deliberately, he unfolded each finger from where it clutched the branch. The bark left stinging imprints, reminders of a fear that he dared not feel. His feet draped the branches. Gently, his body arched straight, as though he grew as a limb from the tree itself. He was conscious of how he must look to Nerdanel below. He imagined her clutched hands relaxing. His heartbeat slowed.

Then, as now, he'd been returning from the North to Valinor.

The whole next part about his growing madness and his withdrawal from separated from the Silmarils reminds me of addiction; that along with the lessening of the effect of the Light of the Trees upon him, is reminscent of the malevolent quality of the One Ring upon people. The entire thrust of the story is intense and very dark. One feels like the Silmarils are the protagonist and Feanor is being acted upon. He really feels to me at this point like he is completely out-of-control. Mad as a hatter.

But he does not seem to  be the only delusional one around. The Valar don't seem to be able to truly read him at all despite the interview and the some superfically insightful comments of Irmo, they do not appear to really comprehend his degree of his loss of competence. 

Then there is this:

There was an audible intake of breath from the people waiting within, as though they expected some sharp pain to assail them from the shadows and wished to bear it in silence. Eyes straining in the candlelight sought the first relief of light from the Silmarils.


The effect of the Silmarils has made all of them a little mad.

This is strong stuff and the story is magnificient. I am not sure I am completely following you in every aspect of your reasoning. No wonder I could not write a decent review in the middle of March Madness last year. I will definitely come back to this and read it a few more times before I feel like I have completely understood everything you are asserting here. I cannot believe I let so many months pass without coming back to it.


An incredible piece of work (sorry- I find myself gushing every time I comment on your work) You get that complete sense of dichotomy, complexity of relationships and obsession so that even as he recognises the truth, Feanor cannot quite move away from what he has created solely and of light, to see what he has in his family which he loves more than his own life but less than his own creations. The way you have written this is utterly beleivable, compelling and has its own deep truth.

Thank you, Ziggy--you have made this writer's morning! :) (Unfortunately, this writer will be doing a lot of writing today but not of the ficcish variety, but it's a great way to start the day all the same!) I am rather fond of this story myself; it was about the best I could do this time last year (probably still is since the aforementioned schoolish writing means no time to practice anything else), so I'm glad you enjoyed it as well. My Feanor truly believes that he has tied up a piece of himself within the Silmarils ... and maybe he has. So I think he views the Silmarils as a closer extension of himself; his sons are, of course, also extensions of himself in a way but clearly no longer interdependent. Feanor is fascinating to explore for precisely these reasons: It is hard to reconcile a character so obsessed with objects who commands such love and loyalty from those closest to him. It's a delicate balance, and I'm glad it worked here. :)

Thank you so much! :D It is kind of scary, isn't it? I don't know why writing madness has such appeal to me (it does, obviously! :) except that it touches a line very dangerous to cross, a sort of safe way of playing with something fearful.

I'm glad you connected with this story. It was really fun to write and one that I'm still happy with, more than a year later.

This is a wonderfully crafted piece worthy of Feanor- I have not thought before about how he must have felt, but I have thought how his sons would have felt- I love your Carnistir, poor, weeping, tortured soul. And that imagery of the feathers is perfect.

Thank you, Ziggy! The reactions of the Feanarions to the Silmarils is something I've thought about a lot, although I think this is the first time I've written it. I'm glad you liked the story and appreciate that you took the time to leave a comment too! :)

(P.S.--For some reason, this comment posted three times, so I've removed the other two, just so you know. Thanks again!)

Brilliant and tragic - the hubris and the lure of the Silmarils already deep in his heart, as you say, even supplanting the sons for whom he would have given his life. Thsi is what I have been looking for- something to explain why he left htem on the shore and went straight for Morgoth only to be slain.

I've always taken Feanor at his word when he says that he has put himself into his Silmarils and will die if they are destroyed. Something I've always found interesting in the Silm fandom is how few people take him literally when he says this: They think it is figurative or that he is being melodramatic. But the Silmarils have become, in a lot of ways, almost like his sons: born of him but also more closely bound to him. With Finwe's murder, the Silmarils achieve an extra symbolic dimension for Feanor beyond what they already possessed. This interpretation underlies how I see Feanor's reactions to any threat to and the eventual theft of the Silmarils. To me, it explains a lot of what appears to be irrational, psychopathological behavior.

Thanks so much for reading and your thoughtful comments! :)