Fëanor's Dream by WeStandVictorious

Chapter 1

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Fëanor's Dream

The sun was just setting over the hidden city of Gondolin when Nólion, a young palace guard propped his spear up against the citadel wall at the end of another day. Nólion, removing his heavy helmet and carefully laying his shield on the floor next to the spear, swung himself up beside the wall to watch the sunset. Nólion was always here, by the wall, whenever the sun was setting, no one knew how or even why, but when the light began to fade and the traders started to pack up their stalls, you could pretty much guarantee he'd be there. When the sun had sunk behind the mountains he collected his gear and set off home. Walking through the streets of Gondolin at the end of the day was always something Nólion deeply enjoyed. He loved the warm lights in the houses and the quiet chatter of the youth gathered by one of the many fountains in Gondolin. The thing he loved most, though, was the young woman who was always waiting for him at the end of the day. Lalómë, Nólion' betrothed, would sit next to a tree in a secluded park every day and wait for him. Nólion loved the sunset and the mountains and the palace, but he loved Lalómë best of all.

*A while ago, quite far away*

Fëanor ran through the streets, hot tears stinging his eyes. He could hear Finarfin, his half-brother yelling, "Stop! Fëanor! I didn't mean to!" But Fëanor kept running, away from the city, away from the brothers that he hated, and the father who he mistrusted. As he ran, he thought about today, how horrible it had been, and as he stumbled through the gates leading into the forest he started to regret some of the things he had said. All this running had made him tired, though, and he collapsed by a tree to rest. After a little while, he set off in what he hoped was the general direction of home, but after half an hour of endless forest he realised he was lost. Not knowing which way to go, he kept on in the same direction, reasoning that this way was as good as any, and after a few minutes of more walking he burst through an opening in the trees. He expected to see the path to the gate into the city, and just maybe, Finarfin sitting next to it, waiting for him to come back. What he did see was, to his surprise, a small clearing with a well in the middle. Fëanor was tired and he gratefully drew some water from the well. Drinking his fill, threw himself down beside the well, and though he didn't mean to, soon fell asleep...

*Back in Gondolin*

Lalómë looked up from her book to see Nólion, her betrothed, enter the park and smile the special smile that was only for her. She stood and he greeted her, as always, by kissing her hand. They sat down under the tree and he asked her how her day had been.

"Much the same as yesterday," she replied with a smile, "Changing beds, attending to the Princess Idril at dinner, though I did get to talk briefly with my friend, Netyalírë, who works in the kitchens, how was your day?"

"I'm glad, you get along with her very well," he said, with a smile that matched hers.

"My day went well, thank you, same as yesterday, but you know that's how I like it." She grinned, she had long grown used to Nólion's ways, it wasn't that he despised change or needed a pattern for every day, but he was deeply satisfied with the way things were. Though he loved to watch the sunset from the palace walls, he never seemed to worry about the mountains he had never climbed, or the meadows that lay beyond them that he had never seen or even the sea that he had never done much more than think about. She had once supposed it was strange for such a young man to have found such satisfaction, but nowadays it served to give her a sense of security that she had come to appreciate.  Soon, however, Lalómë was startled out of her reverie when all of a sudden there was a loud splash from the fountain and a young boy dressed in strange old-fashioned clothes surfaced. The young couple stood up, surprised, as the child hauled himself over the side and lay on the grass panting.

"Who are you, child, and where did you come from?" asked Nólion, quickly regaining his usual calm demeanour.

"My name is Fëanor, son of Finwe," said the young elf, evidently trying to maintain his composure and not look like a little child, "Where am I, and where did the forest go?"

Lalómë stood shocked as the boy announced himself as Fëanor, how could this youngster be the hated creator of the Silmarils? She felt Nólion stiffen at her side, but to her surprise he smoothly replied.

"It's pleasant to meet you, Fëanor, my name is Nólion and this is my betrothed, Lalómë, this is the city of Gondolin."

Suddenly, Lalómë spun Nólion so her lips were against his ear and their backs were to Fëanor, "What do we do, Nólion, you know who he is!" she whispered.

"We will be kind to him, my love, no matter who he grows up to be, he is just a child now," he whispered back.

She nodded, and turned round to see Fëanor gazing at them curiously, "Hello Fëanor, do you know how you came to be here?" she asked.

He shook his head and Lalómë saw that he was shaking from the cold of the fountain.

"Forgive me," she replied," I see that you are cold, we'll go to my house and get you warmed up and then we'll talk."

The boy hung back though, and replied, "How do I know to trust you?"

Nólion approached the boy and smiled warmly, "I give you my word."

Fëanor looked surprised at this respect and even smiled a little, so without further ado, they set off into the city.

Their walk through Gondolin was quick, to avoid suspicion and also because Fëanor, despite wearing Nólion' cloak, was very cold. They were glad to arrive at Lalómë's home, Fëanor collapsed on a chair and Lalómë lit the fire, while Nólion walked to his house to collect some spare cloaks for Fëanor to wear while his own clothes dried. He arrived back to find Lalómë and Fëanor sitting by the fire munching the crunchy biscuits that were Lalómë's special recipe. After removing his cloak, he sat beside Lalómë and before he could ask Fëanor any questions the boy blurted out,

"Where did the forest go, why was I suddenly here?"

"Calm down," Nólion replied with a smile," I don't know these things, but maybe if you tell me what you were doing before it happened we can have some idea."

Fëanor nodded and launched into his tale, "Fingolfin and Finarfin, my half-brothers, and I were playing catch with a ball that Father made us, and suddenly Finarfin lost the ball by throwing it so far overhead that it got caught in a tree,"

Here he faltered, reluctant to go on, but Lalómë smiled at him gently and he continued "and I got mad at him and we had an argument, I said some things I shouldn't have said and he got mad and said some bad things too." Here he looked regretful and guilty but went on, "I ran into the forest, got lost, and stumbled upon a clearing with a well in the middle, so I had a drink, and I think I fell asleep." Lalómë looked at Fëanor and was shocked to find that there were silent tears running down his cheeks. "I thought I hated them," Fëanor admitted, "But I don't, there are times I dislike them, but they're my brothers."

Just then, Fëanor looked up in shock, "I feel strange," he said, "I'm… fading?" He looked at his strangely transparent hand and then at Lalómë and Nólion.

"I think you're going home, Fëanor," Nólion replied gently, "Goodbye"

"Farewell, young friend," Lalómë smiled, And just like that, Fëanor smiled and disappeared.

*Back in the forest*

Fëanor stood up and yawned, he remembered having an amazing dream, but for every step away from the well he took he started to forget a little. By the time he had found the gate, which strangely enough was only a few minutes’ walk from the clearing; he only remembered having met two elves, a male and female. That, and the fact that he had forgiven Finarfin and no longer wanted to run away.

The End

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

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