The Last Prince: Musings on Finarfin by avanti_90

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Chapter 1

The Last Prince: Musings on Finarfin


Back when I told people that my favorite character in all fiction was probably Finarfin from JRR Tolkien's Silmarillion, the reaction was: Finarfin? Why Finarfin?

Yes, no one denies Finarfin is nice – indeed, at first glance, stereotypical niceness is what the character seems to be all about - but in a legendarium teeming with exciting characters, his is one of the most minor of minor roles. He gets less than twenty sentences in the published Silmarillion.

And naturally, I have lots of 'favorite' characters. There are characters about whom I've written ridiculous amounts of angst-ridden fiction. There are tragic characters around whom I spend weeks constructing the most comforting universes I can imagine. But 'favorite' in the sense of a character I can’t help but idealize and admire - mine is surely Finarfin, and I agree that this calls for some explanation.

There is a favorite fairytale trope that everyone knows. It's been played with by everybody from Scheherazade to Isaac Asimov. It goes like this: Once upon a time there was an aging king who had three sons. The eldest was a great craftsman, praised by all the people for his skill. The second was the strongest, and was admired by everyone for his courage. Both of them were proud of their abilities, perhaps more than justly so, and each vied to outdo the other in everything.

The third and youngest son wasn't particularly great at any craft, or lore, or politics, or trial of strength. But he was pleasant and kind, and everybody liked him, even if they didn’t admire him. He liked to travel and make friends with all sorts of different people. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do this as much as he’d have liked, because he was constantly at home making peace between his older brothers.

We all know how this story goes. The three princes set off on an impossible quest. The elder two fail the quest because of their arrogance, often being turned to stone in the process. The youngest prince, because of his humility and strength of character, completes the quest, wins the hand of the princess, and politely requests the entity controlling the quest to restore his brothers to life. The three brothers then return to their father's castle, where the youngest son succeeds his father as king. Miraculously, everyone lives happily ever after, though presumably the third prince is a little happier than the rest. 

The morals are many and obvious: pride leads to a fall; humility and kindness are rewarded; the nice guy wins in the end.

On the surface, the story of the three brothers of the Silmarillion - Fëanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin - seems deliberately written to follow this fairytale pattern. Finarfin is very much the archetypal third prince; noble, peaceful and self-effacing by nature, he stays apart from the constant arguments and political intrigues of his brothers. He even marries a princess, though of course it's unlikely that either of his brothers wanted her.

Then the King is murdered by Morgoth, and despite repeated counsels by the Valar that the task is impossible, the three brothers and their followers set off on a quest to reach Middle-Earth and avenge their father's death. 

Fëanor reaches Middle-Earth first, but in a fit of arrogance, goes chasing after Morgoth straight away and is brutally killed. Next Fingolfin reaches Middle-Earth, where he fights Morgoth with all his skill and caution for hundreds of years. But eventually he, too, realizes that the quest is hopeless. He challenges Morgoth and is brutally killed.

It is the third prince - the prince who went unnoticed, who never made fiery speeches; the prince who asked for peace when everyone else demanded war - who ascends to the throne his brothers once fought over. And when the descendants of Fëanor and Fingolfin are about to be wiped out, it is the third prince who comes to Middle-Earth with an army to rescue them, defeats Morgoth, avenges King Finwë's death, and takes many of his brothers' people back to a peaceful country. 

Thus the quest is completed in the time-honored manner; poetic justice is done.

Except that it isn't.

Finarfin gets a total of sixteen sentences in the Silmarillion, and not a lot of detail in the HoME either. But even the small mentions that we get of his character – and two of his very important actions - are enough to illustrate a remarkable personality, and moreover, one that does not fit the archetype as well as it appears to. 

The construction of Finarfin's 'nice' personality, and its contrast with his brothers, begins with his first mention in the Silmarillion:

Fëanor was the mightiest in skill of word and of hand, more learned than his brothers... Fingolfin was the strongest, the most steadfast, and the most valiant. Finarfin was the fairest, and the most wise of heart;

This wise and gentle image of Finarfin is reinforced in The Tale of Galadriel and Celeborn, which further detaches Finarfin not only from his family but from the entire race of the Noldor:

He was of his mother's kind in mind and body, having the golden hair of the Vanyar, their noble and gentle temper, and their love of the Valar.

Finarfin was humble and respectful of other cultures, marrying into the Teleri and spending much time among them. But he was no pushover. It is common to read of Fingolfin and Finarfin grouped together, as if they were in some kind of alliance against Feanor, or as if Finarfin was constantly following at Fingolfin’s heels; but when a linguistic controversy divided the Noldor into two opposing camps, Finarfin sided with Fëanor on principle, though it certainly wouldn’t have pleased his full-brother.

Finarfin, however, loved the Vanyar (his mother's people) and the Teleri, and in his house p was used, Finarfin being moved by Feanor neither one way or the other but doing as he wished.
-The Shibboleth of Feanor

That Finarfin was able to stand up to his brothers - two powerful personalities by all accounts - and do as he thought best, suggests strength of will and principle. Still, his peace-loving nature must have been sorely tested when Melkor was released and started sowing discord among the Noldor, choosing his two elder brothers as prime targets. Here we find more intriguing hints:

High princes were Fëanor and Fingolfin, the elder sons of Finwë, honoured by all in Aman; but now they grew proud and jealous each of his rights and his possessions.

...whispers came to Fëanor that Fingolfin and his sons were plotting to usurp the leadership of Finwë and of the elder line of Fëanor, and to supplant them by the leave of the Valar...

But to Fingolfin and Finarfin it was said: 'Beware! Small love has the proud son of Míriel ever had for the children of Indis… It will not be long before he drives you forth from Túna!'

-The Silmarillion

Finarfin is noticeable by his absence for the first part of this. It suggests that he was not considered as 'high' as his brothers; he was not equally honored by the people. But when whispers started doing the rounds of Tirion, he did not grow proud and jealous. 

When Melkor was whispering in Fëanor’s ear, he did not claim that Finarfin was part of the plot to supplant him. Would this, perhaps, have been a little too unbelievable? 

Yet Melkor did whisper to Finarfin, and of the three sons of Finwë, only Finarfin had the wisdom to ignore him, as is seen again in The Tale of Galadriel and Celeborn:

As well as he could he kept aloof from the strife of his brothers and their estrangement from the Valar, and he often sought peace among the Teleri.

Finarfin was deliberately kept apart from the conflict, being presented neither on one side nor the other. Nevertheless, when Fëanor threatened Fingolfin at sword-point and the political divide among the Noldor exploded, Fingolfin’s response was to ‘seek Finarfin his brother’. Quite possibly it was to say: ‘You were right all along, this has gotten out of hand, I'm sorry.’ Perhaps Finarfin made an impact in this meeting, for in Fingolfin's next appearance, he publicly forgave his elder brother and made every attempt at peace. But by then the damage had been done. 

The story continues to the Darkening of Valinor and King Finwë’s death, whereupon we see Feanor exhorting the Noldor to go to Middle-Earth, and Fingolfin’s reaction:

Fingolfin and Turgon his son therefore spoke against Fëanor, and fierce words awoke, so that once again wrath came near to the edge of swords. But Finarfin spoke softly, as was his wont, and sought to calm the Noldor, persuading them to pause and ponder ere deeds were done that could not be undone.

The interesting thing here is that Finarfin did not urge people to stay, even though we later see that he was against leaving Tirion. He alone of the sons of Finwë did not seek to impose his opinions on the people. He only asked them to calm down and think rationally - and then to go ahead and do whatever they thought was right. 

This is the first defining moment of Finarfin's character: in a society standing on the threshold of war, he became the counselor instead of the commander, the advocate of reason instead of emotion.

Had the Noldor listened to Finarfin, their flight might have been very different, and their sufferings along the way much diminished. It's even possible that Finarfin and his family, using the bonds of kinship, might have persuaded Olwë to lend his swanships to the venture, and then how different might the history of the Age have been?

Finarfin's reasoned logic was not what anyone wanted to hear at the time, and emotion won the battle: Nay, let us be gone! And then, for the first time in the story, we see Finarfin's soothing, detached, principled self-confidence break down:

he [Fingolfin] marched against his wisdom, because Fingon his son so urged him, and because he would not be sundered from his people that were eager to go, nor leave them to the rash counsels of Fëanor... With Fingolfin went Finarfin also and for like reasons; but most loath was he to depart.
-The Silmarillion

In all the political strife of the Noldor he refused to be swayed by family or loyalty, carving out his own path, perhaps acting as an example to those few who wanted to avoid the increasingly inevitable break. Yet when both his brothers and all the children insisted on going, he shifted from his principles at last; he followed. 

Might it have been in his mind that if he remained, he would inevitably be sought after as a political leader for the remaining Noldor?

The story continues. While Finarfin lags behind the march to look back at Tirion, the Noldor and Teleri massacre each other for the ships at Alqualondë, the first slaying of elves by other elves, an event that must have been especially heartbreaking to Finarfin both because of his gentle nature and because of his kinship to both sides.

Finarfin would not have seen this until much later, and we shall never know how he reacted. Did Finarfin go to his surviving friends, his wife's people, or did he avoid the city? Did he see the devastation when he approached the harbor thinking to say goodbye to his father-in-law, or did he hear the news earlier?

All we know is that Finarfin continued on the march for a time, and met the hosts of his brothers at Araman. We do not know what he said to them, for soon after Mandos appeared to pronounce the Doom of the Noldor:

To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass... slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.
-The Silmarillion

And now Finarfin faced the second momentous choice of his life. To go on despite the Doom, or turn back?

Finarfin had by now seen death at Alqualondë. He had seen what the future would hold for all those who crossed. He had come this far for the sake of his family, but the same family had now become thieves and murderers; and all his children were determined to follow those thieves and murderers, to sail aboard the ships that elves had been killed for.

In hindsight, from a certain point of view, yes, the rebellion of the Noldor prevented Morgoth from taking over the whole of Middle-Earth and corrupting the entire race of Men. But from Finarfin’s perspective, at that instant, there was nothing to be gained by going on, except pride. And going on board those stolen ships would have been against all his principles - which he had, thus far, bent only once.

Finarfin's choice is momentous in the story because it symbolizes a greater choice; that of reason versus emotion, humility versus pride, principles versus people.

But in that hour Finarfin forsook the march, and turned back, being filled with grief, and with bitterness against the House of Fëanor, because of his kinship with Olwë of Alqualondë; and many of his people went with him, retracing their steps in sorrow… 

Of course, there are a lot of ways to view that choice. All agree that this is, one way or another, this character's defining moment. Fannish interpretations of Finarfin fall into three categories, and they all center around his motives for turning around at Araman.

The first is the hero interpretation: Finarfin made a painful, principled decision and returned to Valinor, where he alone bravely faced the Valar and took responsibility for his actions, and eventually grew into a great king of a great people. It was a long and hard road, but the third prince eventually succeeded and lived happily ever after.

The second and equally common is the cowardice interpretation: Finarfin was a coward, a wimp, perhaps even a traitor, one who turned his back on his family. Either way he was unfit to rule. The remaining Noldor decayed miserably at worst, or at best, remained a static society for thousands of years.

The third is the forgiving interpretation: It's cruel to call poor Finarfin a traitor, he was basically a nice elf, but simply weak. He was never fit to compare with his brothers or his dynamic children. He was made for the bliss of Aman, not the rigors of Middle-Earth. If he had come along on the march he’d probably have died on the ice, poor elf, it wasn’t his fault he was born into a family of heroes.

But when Finarfin turned around he was not going back to a life of ease and luxury, let alone bliss. First of all he faced the harsh judgment of the Valar, with no guarantee of a merciful outcome; and then he was set to rule over the remaining Noldor. 

Finrod [later Finarfin] himself returned and many of his people with him, and came at last once more unto Valinor and received the pardon of the Gods. But Aule their ancient friend smiled on them no more, and the Teleri were estranged.
- The Shaping of Middle-earth: The Earliest Annals of Valinor

Consider. His father has died. His people and his wife's people have fought and killed each other, an event unspeakably traumatic in a world where death and violence were previously practically unknown. His brothers, sister, nephews and niece and all his children have left him for certain death. His mother and other sister have gone away. His wife is very possibly furious with him.

The lights have gone out over the entire continent, and as far as anyone knows, they're never coming back. It's really hard to overstate the practical, logistical and emotional magnitude of that disaster. 

In that situation he becomes the king - of the remaining one-ninth or so* of his father's people, a large fraction of them probably women and children plunged into a crisis no one knows how to deal with. Their patron god turned away from them, no one wants to trade with them, and he has no training or inclination to do this job.

This seems to be a harder, longer more demanding quest than Fëanor's, though perhaps not Fingolfin's. In any event, it is absolutely ridiculous to imagine that he lives happily ever after. 

This is not a job for a coward. A cowardly king would spell disaster. And indeed, in earlier versions of the story disaster did happen:

…those few of the Noldoli that remained behind were named the Aulenosse or kindred of Aulë, or were taken into the other kindreds, and the Gnome-folk has no place or name remaining now in all Valinor.
-The book of lost tales VIII. The Making of the Sun and the Moon

Fortunately in the final version this scenario is only a sad what-if, for Finarfin evidently succeeded in his impossible task. Over five hundred years later, Earendil came to Valinor and found the city of Tirion still beautiful, still paved with the dust of diamonds. There were watchers set on the walls while the people went to festival with the Valar and Vanyar. 

Then Earendil made his plea, and the Valar and Eldar of Valinor declared war on Morgoth. We do not know what role, if any, Finarfin played in this discussion, but he brought his Noldor across the sea to fight for their sundered kin - aboard the ships of the Teleri, suggesting some reconciliation. The Noldor and the Vanyar together mustered an army powerful and well-equipped, capable of breaking mountains - a feat that hardly suggests a dogmatic society living in a Dark Age, as Valinor is sometimes portrayed.

And so having seen all the textual evidence, we return once more to Araman, to the choice that defines a character: to go, or to turn back?

Here is where the story turns, where J.R.R. Tolkien deviates from the fairytale, and where Finarfin's character moves from archetypal niceness to symbolic greatness. For Finarfin's test is not to take up the heroic quest with humility, but to refuse it.

He has to turn around and go home, to say: No, I want no part of this. This is stupid, this is arrogance, this is suicide. You may have your glorious defiance, your grand last stand; you may escape justice and reparation for the mass murder you committed; you may forge ahead and be the heroes of this book, but I will stand here, and say that there is no point getting everyone killed for nothing.

The Houses of Fëanor and Fingolfin were noted for the determination that carried them through centuries of war; yet there is also courage in admitting a mistake, taking responsibility for it, and going back to make amends. There is loyalty in following your loved ones to the jaws of death, but there is also loyalty in trying to save as many as possible from it, in listening to the gods who have cherished your civilization for millennia - and in facing squarely the remnants of the murder that has already been committed.

When all the evidence is seen, it is evident that this character is neither a weakling, nor a coward. Rather, the portrait painted in these few scattered sentences is that of an elf of compassion, of nobility, of reason and sense; one who is neither swayed by powerful emotions nor seeks to sway others, but tries to do the right thing for himself and his people.

And as the final evidence, I present the most intriguing of all the hints about Finarfin: his name.

The form Ingoldo may be noted: it is a form of Ñoldo with syllabic ň, and being in full and more dignified form is more or less equivalent to ‘the Ñoldo, one eminent in the kindred’. It was the mother-name of Arafinwë [Finarfin], and like the name Arakáno ‘high chieftain’ that Indis gave to Ñolofinwë [Fingolfin] was held to be ‘prophetic’.*
- The Peoples of Middle-Earth 

One can only imagine how jealous it must have made Fëanor, especially since it would have seemed undeserved; Finarfin was hardly a typical Noldo, preferring even the mode of speech of other kindreds to that of his own. So why was he prophesied to be the Noldo, if not for any trait in his early personality? 

This can only refer to the time when he would become in truth the Noldo, the foremost of that race. And this suggests that Tolkien himself intended Finarfin to be seen as neither a coward nor a failure, but perhaps as the greatest of them all: the one who turned around.

 

Chapter End Notes

*In an earlier version, Finarfin’s mother-name was Ingalaure. I am not entirely certain of the chronology of events (and would appreciate clarification), but I believe Tolkien later changed it, suggesting that he did this for a reason.

* It is often written that Finarfin was left to rule over one-tenth of the Noldor, but that’s probably not accurate. One-tenth of the Noldor refused to take the way. Add to that however many returned from Araman with Finarfin, and Finarfin might well have ruled over one-ninth or one-eighth of the original population.

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