Spirit of Fire by Lotrfan

Chapter 1

He does not understand the words she murmurs to him but he feels warm and safe, gazing up into her dark grey eyes, the shining silver silk of her hair framing her pale face.

Chapter 2

Amil's smile is all for him as he climbs up onto her bed to burrow in her arms. He thinks she looks paler and her arms feel thinner to him. Those thoughts scatter away when she laughs and hugs him close. He can never hear enough of that laugh.

Chapter 3

The other mothers do not stay indoors. He sees them in the market, in the gardens, strolling in the light of the Trees, chasing their children in the street. Amil doesn't leave the palace. Perhaps she is just too precious to Ata for him to share her with anyone other than Fëanor.

Chapter 4

He realizes the servants do not notice him, when he curls up in the odd corner of the palace with a book, or settles in the branches of a tree to think. He overhears them speak of Amil. He wonders what the great hardship was that she went through that weakened her so much. He is horrified when he realizes they refer to his own birth.

Chapter 5

She knows he is troubled as she brushes the hair off his forehead so she can look into his eyes. He tries to look away but Amil strokes his cheek and whispers, "Look at me, Fëanaro." The love that shines in her eyes makes him momentarily doubt what he has heard but he can tell she is even weaker now than before and it is all his fault.

Chapter 6

His father brings him to the study, his face serious and distant. Fëanor feels a shiver of fear run through him as Ata tells him he is taking Amil away, to see if time in the Gardens of Lorien will give her back her strength.

Chapter 7

She hugs him to her, tighter than he can remember her ever hugging him before. He feels her kiss the top of his head and she whispers "I love you, Fëanaro. More than anything. Never forget that." He clings to her, unwilling to let her go, even when Ata's voice gets stern. Fëanor does not want her to leave him.

Chapter 8

Ata has come back alone and he does not leave his study. Fëanor eats alone, goes to the gardens alone, and reads in the library by himself. He asked about Amil the day Ata returned from Lorien but Ata only said "She rests," and would say no more.

Chapter 9

He sits on the horse in front of Ata. He would have tingled with excitement to be taken on a journey like this before, but now it is different. They go to see Amil, but Ata is not happy and Fëanor cannot enjoy the trip with the dread that is growing in him as they travel to Lorien's woods.

Chapter 10

Amil does not wake, not even when he calls her name and hugs her close. Her eyes are closed and he knows that is not right. Ata is speaking to Lorien nearby but Fëanor cannot hear what they say. All he wants is for Amil to open her eyes.

Chapter 11

There are books strewn across his floor, amidst the shards of his mirror and the shattered remnants of the small clay animals he had made for her while she was gone. They litter the floor as he looks for something, anything else that he can shatter, to take away the agony of his heart breaking. Amil is never coming back.

Chapter 12

He and Ata are inseparable. They wake together, they eat together, Fëanor sits in the window seat of the study while his father meets with guests, reads reports, and confers with his counselors. It can never replace Amil but he treasures every moment of Ata's time.

Chapter 13

He is not like the other children and he wants little to do with them. They do not have to say anything. He sees it in their eyes, how they look at him and then their eyes dart back to their own mothers. He is like no one else. Finwë awoke in Cuivienen and is Firstborn. Fëanor was born to Miriel and she is the only one on these shores who lives no more.

Chapter 14

He has a tutor now and a whole world has opened up to him. He reads, he writes, he learns to ride and how to shoot a bow. Long stretches of the day go by without seeing Ata, but his days and his mind are full—ideas, concepts, theories and plans. He feels like a cauldron bubbling over—he has so much to express.

Chapter 15

His room is cluttered with models, scrolls and books, piles of papers on his desk. He is working on a diagram for the mechanism of the new fountain Ata wants to build in the garden when his father knocks on his door and peeks into the room. He smiles at Fëanor, noting the untidy desk and the papers scattered about. "Fëanaro, don't forget dinner tonight. The Lady Indis dines with us." He nods at his father, for all appearances taken up with his drawing but his hand has frozen in place. Why is she here again?

Chapter 16

He is in the room in the East Wing of the palace, the one only he goes to anymore. His mother's tapestries hang on the walls and he is surrounded by the memory of her. He knows they are searching for him. He can hear them calling his name. The wedding is today. If Ata thought about it hard enough he would know exactly where to find Fëanor. But Ata does not come.

Chapter 17

He scowls as Finwë brings the baby towards him. He does not want to look at this child again. He has no brother. He wants no brother. Why do they keep forcing him to be with this child? Nolofinwë looks up at him with his grey eyes, so like Fëanor's own, then he reaches out to grab a lock of Fëanor's hair and smiles just for him. It is impossible to keep from smiling back.

Chapter 18

He wants to shout at this child to stop pestering him, to find a playmate his own age and leave him alone, so he can study. But he cannot, because Nolofinwë's question has intrigued him and a mind that sharp deserves a considered answer.

Chapter 19

The sight of the blond curls makes him grind his teeth. He has retreated to the farthest reaches of Finwë's gardens to escape his half-brothers but Arafinwë has spotted him again. He clenches his jaw, his eyes fixed on the book in front of him as the small voice asks once more "Fëanaro, will you tell me a story?"

Chapter 20

He is restless in the palace. He has surpassed the smiths of the city, the loremasters, the linguists and the artisans but he hungers for more knowledge. Aulë has noted his skill and when the offer comes to study with Mahtan, beloved student of Aulë, Fëanor knows he must go. There is nothing for him in Tirion, except his father, but Finwë's attention is focused on his new wife and children rather than the son of Miriel.

Chapter 21

He eats the evening meals with Mahtan and his family. It is his habit to sit next to Mahtan's daughter Nerdanel, nonchalantly moving into that chair night after night. His skin grows warm at the nearness of her, his breath catching when her leg accidentally brushes his under the table. He finds her dark eyes turning to him at times and his throat goes dry. Unsure if her smile is friendly or if she finds him amusing, he finds he doesn't care as long as she finds something about him to hold her interest.

Chapter 22

He watches her as she circles the large block of marble, stopping to study it, her head tilted to the side. Nerdanel does not notice him as he stands in the doorway; she is too focused on the stone before her. Her hair is gathered in a messy braid and she has smudges of dust on her face and tunic. He thinks he has never seen anything lovelier in his life.

Chapter 23

He is at home in the forge. He does not mind the heat, the sweat, the ache of his muscles at day's end. He has learned all he can from Mahtan but he is not ready to return to Tirion. Mahtan has taught him with skill and determination but it is Mahtan's daughter that keeps him here still.

Chapter 24

She is laboring in the forge. Mahtan is traveling but the work never stops so she has joined the apprentices to complete her father's tasks while he is gone. The others leave for the midday break but Fëanor stays, because Nerdanel does. She is strong but he can see the muscles twitch in her arm and her strokes become less sure. She is tiring. This is his chance. He moves close to her, curving himself around her back. "Let me," he says into her ear, as his hand covers her own on the hammer. His chest touches her back and their hands move together in the rhythm of the forge. His heart is beating faster but it is not from his labors. He feels her lean back into him and his blows slow down until he stops, laying the hammer down. She turns to look at him, tendrils of her sweat-soaked hair plastered to her face. The heat emanating from him as he takes her in his arms does not come from the blazing forge. Her lips are dry but they touch his with an intensity to match his own.

author note: couldn't keep this one under 100 words!

Chapter 25

They have left Mahtan's home, after telling him of their intention to marry. Fëanor takes Nerdanel to Alqualondë. She has never seen the sea. He smiles as he watches her chasing the waves, her tunic and leggings soaked and clinging to her skin. He thinks he has never seen her look as beautiful as she does now. He pulls her into his arms and down onto the sand, the sound of the waves around them and the light of the stars overhead. This is the night they bond with each other forever.

Chapter 26

He longs to have a child as much as she does yet he cannot admit that to her. He is so eager to be a father but he will not risk Nerdanel. She brings it up again, now that they are living with her family. It is only after he breaks down, holding her tightly clasped in his arms, that she finally hears the full story of Miriel. Her hands grip his as she looks into his eyes. They will do this together and they are strong enough.

Chapter 27

He wonders at her energy, heavy with their child as she is. He has watched her every day, looking for signs of fatigue, any dimming of the light in her eyes and he has found none. If anything Nerdanel glows brighter, in body and in mind. She gives him a smile as she catches sight of him in the doorway, putting down her chisel to come over and touch his face. He rests his hands on her belly, feeling the energy within and once again reaches out with his fëa to send his strength to their child.

Chapter 28

He returns to Tirion, in the company of his wife and infant child. The pure joy in his father's eyes at the sight of him brings tears to Fëanor's own eyes. He did not realize how much he missed Ata and how proud he is to introduce him to Nerdanel and to Nelyafinwë—third Finwë, but first grandchild. His father's embrace is his true homecoming.

Chapter 29

The small arms come around his neck and he inhales the clean scent of Nelyo, fresh from his bath. He wonders yet again how he is fortunate enough to have this brilliant soul be a part of his life, as he kisses the little head topped with Nerdanel's flame-colored hair.

Chapter 30

He stands unnoticed in the doorway, watching her work on the marble piece, Nelyo strapped to her back as her vision takes form beneath her strong hands. He catches his breath in gratitude that she has such strength after Nelyo's birth but he cannot repress the tendrils of guilt and regret as he thinks of Miriel.

Chapter 31

Fëanor is irritated Rumil's 7th treatise is not on the shelf. He stops the attendant and is directed to the long tables near the back of the library, where he is surprised to find Nolofinwë seated at Fëanor's favorite table. Books, scrolls and papers are scattered around him, inkstains dot his fingers and a smudge mars one cheek. He looks just as Fëanor did, when he was preparing for his own Mastery tests but Fëanor shakes his head to dismiss that thought. His half-brother is so engrossed in the scroll in front of him he does not look up until Fëanor sits next to him. Nolofinwë's eager smile fades as he realizes it is his half-brother; a forlorn and melancholy expression briefly crosses his face before he schools his features to a more distant look. Fëanor feels a pang of regret at the sight and speaks in a far gentler tone than he had intended when he asks the whereabouts of the text he seeks. He is surprised to find himself still seated at the table two hours later, engaged in a scintillating conversation with his half-brother that was completely unexpected.

Chapter 32

His young son Makalaurë sits by the fountain; his attention is focused on the birds. Within moments he is mimicking them, singing back a melody that resonates with the notes they just sang to him. This one is most definitely not fated for the forge. Fëanor is thankful that he has moved to singing. There was no escaping the strong lungs of this child when he was a crying infant and Fëanor is grateful he has grown beyond that now. Tyelko, for all his being named Strong Finwë, has never had the intensity or tenacity for crying that Makalaurë did. He fervently hopes the child that Nerdanel carries now takes after Nelyo or Tyelko in this rather than Makalaurë.

Chapter 33

He reaches to gently push the hair back from her face as she sleeps, the tiny bundle held in his arms now. He has known great fear this night. Moryo's birth was near disaster for Nerdanel and his son; he has spent hours on his knees at her bedside, reaching out to her fëa with his own to give her his strength, as the healers scrambled to keep mother and child alive. He will not speak of it to her tonight but he is content with four sons and she must be too.

Chapter 34

They have debated for months about another child. Nerdanel still holds out hope for a girl to join their four spirited sons. He has told her of his fear but she reassures him that she is stronger than before. He cannot argue with her again tonight—it tears a part of him inside when he does. He finally agrees but only if she will let him share his fire and strength with her from the beginning this time—he cannot go through the kind of terror he did when Moryo was born.

Chapter 35

This time he is the exhausted one, as Nerdanel holds their newest son in her arms; he sits slumped in the chair, barely able to keep his eyes open, arms dangling limply over the armrests. She glows, as she did with Nelyo, and he is grateful to see her look so well, so soon after the birth. "He is going to be just like you," she tells him, with a smile. "I feel it in him, his spirit is so familiar." Her look turns serious and she reaches out a hand to touch his own. "You gave too much of yourself this time, Fëanaro." He smiles, content in knowing his contribution to Curufinwë has kept her safe.

Chapter 36

He does not want to go to another family dinner at the palace. Nerdanel insists he must honor his father and maintain their closeness but he feels stifled at the table with Indis. His half-brothers continue to prove that they are far more intelligent than he would like to admit. He does not find a common interest in the musical skills of Arafinwë or the political discourse Nolofinwë revels in, but he must grudgingly admit they are the only conversationalists, other than Nerdanel, who capture his attention. He resents the fact that they do so.

Chapter 37

Fëanor leaves the forge, ravenous. He smiles at the sight of Nelyo seated in the grass-Moryo and Curvo snuggled on either side of him, Makalaurë across from them and Tyelko sprawled on his back nearby. He catches his eldest son's eye and Nelyo smiles his brilliant smile at him. The remnants of an outdoor meal litter the ground and he is grateful once more to his firstborn for looking after the little ones, while he and Nerdanel lose themselves to their creations.

Chapter 38

He and Nerdanel have always considered themselves artists but he knows that their finest achievements are the ones they have created together—their five brilliant sons. So that is why, despite his deep misgivings, he reluctantly agrees to create one more child with her. He never expected their final collaboration would result in twins, perfect mirror images of each other.

Chapter 39

He has been saddled once again with Nolofinwë's eldest son and daughter. Finwë seems to think the cousins must spend time with each other and what better way for them to do so than to spend their summers in Formenos with Fëanor's family? He chafes at the frustration of having to entertain not only his seven children, but these two extra ones as well. Once again, he is grateful for Nelyo.

Chapter 40

Fëanor does his best to avoid the council meetings that his father holds. He is never at ease with the overly formal court proceedings, the uncomfortable robes and even stiffer conversation. He speaks his mind and cannot tolerate the sycophants who weave tangled webs with their words or pour out pious pronouncements about the Valar. He has come today at Nerdanel's urging and already he regrets it, as he is beset by lords who spout irrelevant nonsense to him. He is vexed at how at ease Nolofinwë is and how he anticipates Ata's every question and request.

Chapter 41

He watches Nelyo laugh with Findekáno, heads close together, flame-colored and raven-dark. Their friendship is far closer than any Fëanor will ever have with Nolofinwë. Across the table Irisse laughs as Tyelko whispers in her ear, her arm resting on his as she leans into him. Findarato sits with Makalaurë, a harp in his hands. How did his children grow so close to his half-brothers' offspring? It is what Finwë has always wanted for them—the closeness that Fëanor has never had and will never have with his own half-brothers. He will not begrudge his children's camaraderie with their cousins but for a moment it makes him wonder what might have been until he shuts down that foolish thought with a grimace.

Chapter 42

The idea came to him from Artanis' hair, the blending of the gold of Laurelin and silver of Telperion so apparent in her tresses. Could that light be captured somehow in a jewel, created from the light of the Trees but able to sustain itself without waning? He has shut himself in the forge for months on end, diagramming, fabricating gems, experimenting. He thought to confine the light but it was only when he gave up on trapping it and allowed it to radiate unfettered that he found he had succeeded beyond his expectations. The Silmarils do not capture the light of the Trees; the light emanates from them with an intensity that matches their source.

Chapter 43

He watches his seven sons, packing the cart for the annual summer trip to Formenos; shouting, shoving, jostling and laughing with each other and he thinks again that nothing he has created, not even the Silmarils, can compare to the brilliance of these boys.

Chapter 44

The disgraced Vala makes Fëanor's skin crawl. He cannot bear to be near him, despite Manwë's pardon of him. Melkor chooses to stay near the Noldor, sharing their fascination with creation and invention. Fëanor finds the Vala's attentions disturbing. Since the creation of the Silmarils, Melkor visits Fëanor more frequently, trying to engage him to reveal his method for creation of the gems. Again today, he drifts into the forge uninvited. Fëanor focuses on his work, his one-word answers and intermittent non-committal growls sure signs that Melkor is not welcome.

Chapter 45

Melkor again forces his unwanted presence on Fëanor. The Vala leans against the doorway, silently observing him instruct the apprentices. Fëanor hates the way Melkor watches him, a hungry intensity in his eyes. When the apprentices leave for the mid-day meal Melkor tells him what he has heard of Nolofinwë and his supporters. Though no politician or statesman, Fëanor is the first son of Finwë and the rightful heir to the throne of the Noldor, no matter what his half-brother thinks or wants. He listens to Melkor's words, feels the anger flowing through him, his disgust at the Vala forgotten.

Chapter 46

He dismisses the apprentices. He refuses to answer Nerdanel's questions as to why. The Valar covet his Silmarils—has Melkor not told him so? By pushing Nolofinwë forward they think to exert control over Fëanor and threaten his inheritance. They seek to bend him to their will to take his Silmarils into their keeping, supplanting him with his half-brother. They are mistaken. He distrusts them and despite the confidences Melkor shares with him, he distrusts Melkor even more. He can see how he desires the Silmarils far more than the rest of the Valar. He takes only his sons in confidence and in secret they forge weapons of war—swords and armor, helms and spears. Melkor will not take him by surprise and neither will Nolofinwë.

Chapter 47

Fëanor argues constantly with Nerdanel. She will not agree with his assertion that the Valar lust after his Silmarils; instead she dares to tell him his love of his own creations has become unnatural and covetous. He then speaks of Nolofinwë, his greed for the power that is not his birthright. Fëanor is enraged by the pity he sees in Nerdanel's eyes.

"You would trust the words of a disgraced Vala over those of the brother who has looked up to you since childhood?"

The door crashes shut behind him as he storms back to the solitude of his forge yet again.

Chapter 48

His father has summoned him to this council but he does not expect to find his half-brother arrogant enough to confront the King about Fëanor himself. He comes upon them, in the hallway outside the council chambers and catches the words Nolofinwë speaks to his father.

'So it is, even as I guessed,' Fëanor thunders at Nolofinwë. 'My half-brother would be before me with my father, in this as in all other matters.' He turns on Nolofinwë, draws his sword, and cries: 'Get thee gone, and take thy due place!'

His sword point is at his half-brother's throat and he feels satisfaction at the sudden fear in Nolofinwë's eyes and the fleeting annoyance of a grudging respect, for his half-brother does not flinch, despite the trickle of blood flowing down his chest.

Fëanor's words from the chapter "Of the Silmarils" page 73, The Silmarillion.

Chapter 49

The Valar pronounce his exile and he sees the horror in his father's face. He feels both gratification and outrage when Finwë announces he will join him in exile, since the Valar are not moved by the Noldorin King's plea regarding Fëanor. Pride in Finwë's support battles his fury that Nolofinwë has succeeded—he will be King in all but name now. His face is rigid as his half-brother approaches him. "I release my brother," Nolofinwë says to Manwë, but his eyes stay fixed on Fëanor, who does not look at him nor respond to his words. This is for show. He turns without a word, to leave for Formenos.

Chapter End Notes

My sincerest thanks to nyx thranduillon, ziggy3 and cheekybeak for the ongoing support and continued encouragement to me for this story of mine.

Chapter 50

His sons pack the cart for the exile to Formenos, silent and withdrawn. Nerdanel stands in the doorway, eyes on Fëanor.

"Have you not packed?" he asks.

"I will not go with you," she replies.

They have met every obstacle, every joy, every sorrow together. How can she not come with him now?

"It is for twelve years, Nerdanel. Your place is with your family."

"My family is not exiled. You are. I will not go nor will I let my sons go."

"My sons made their own decision. They are loyal to me, something I expected from you as well."

"I will not go with you, Fëanor," Nerdanel walks back in the house, shutting the door behind her.

Chapter 51

He thinks of her every time he sees Nelyo or Ambarussa's hair. He has been five years in exile but still Nerdanel stays away. Late in the night, when his sons sleep, he goes into her studio, running his hands over her hammers and chisels, stroking the cool marble block she left half done years ago. He knows she writes to their sons but all his letters to her remain unanswered and the ache of her loss keeps him restless in the night.

Chapter 52

Word has come from Manwë that Fëanor is to present himself to the Valar at the festival. He intends to refuse the summons but Ata counsels him to go. Perhaps the Valar feel he has been punished enough and his exile may come to an earlier end. In deference to Finwë, Fëanor agrees to go but he travels alone, his father staying in Formenos with Fëanor's sons. He will not give the Valar the satisfaction of seeing the Silmarils again, so he leaves them in Formenos as well.

Chapter 53

Fëanor stands in front of Manwë, in his tunic and leggings. He will wear no festival finery, exile that he is. Nolofinwë approaches him, eyes fixed on Fëanor as they were the day they last stood here together. He takes Fëanor's hand and speaks. "Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart I will be. Thou shalt lead and I will follow." He holds his gaze steadily, then bows his head and Fëanor realizes he speaks the truth of his heart. He grips Nolofinwë's hand and gives his half-brother an honest smile and words said in a far gentler tone than his usual. "I hear thee. So be it." Perhaps he has misjudged and Melkor's words were poison meant to strike at the heart of the House of Finwë.

Chapter End Notes

Fingolfin' and Fëanor's words from chapter "Of the Darkening of Valinor" from The Silmarillion.

Chapter 54

He has embraced Nolofinwë, for perhaps the first time since his half-brother was a child, when the light falters and all swiftly grows dark. He steps back, his hand gripping Nolofinwë's as the unnatural darkness spreads and a cold dread comes over him. Nolofinwë squeezes his hand as voices around them rise in horror. The Trees are dead. The brothers exchange a look, hands still clasped, and move closer together in the spreading gloom.

Chapter 55

He cannot comprehend her words at first. Yavanna repeats her plea, reminding Fëanor that the Trees that gave light to his Simarils were her creation. She is unable to create such a gift again. His Silmarils can release the light of the Trees and bring them back to life. Despite knowing the jewels are safe in Formenos his mind rebels at the thought of their destruction, even if it can bring the light back and dispel the shadow. He has put his spirit into the work and doubts that even he can destroy them without destroying himself. At a loss for words for perhaps the first time in his life he struggles to convey his dilemma to the Valar but only Aulë intervenes, understanding and shared pain in his eyes as he looks at Fëanor.

Chapter 56

His words die away as he hears the frantic cries of his firstborn son calling his name. Nelyo comes into the circle, tears staining his tunic and running down his face. He stumbles, all grace gone from him, as he rushes to Fëanor. He grips his father's shoulders and speaks of Melkor's betrayal. Finwë lies dead by Melkor's hand and Fëanor's protest at breaking the Silmarils matters not. They too are gone, taken by Melkor, leaving death and destruction behind. He leans into Nelyo as the enormity of his loss assails him and he feels Nolofinwë's hand tightly grip his own again. He has someone who shares his loss, this time.

Chapter 57

He hears nothing of the lamentation around him, his grief deafening him in its immensity. Nelyo's arm around his waist barely holds him steady, as Fëanor sways on his feet, when Nolofinwë's strong arms unexpectedly come around him and his brother's voice breaks through the dull roar in his ears. He presses his forehead to Fëanor's and says "I am so sorry. I never knew it felt like this." Shared grief bonds them as nothing else before has.

the intermittent use of "brother" rather than "half-brother" here and in subsequent chapters is intentional to mirror the conflicting and shifting perceptions Fëanor has regarding his siblings. 

Chapter 58

Fëanor steps back from Nelyo and Nolofinwë's support, unable to hold the words in, blaming the Valar to their faces for the loss of his father. He is disgusted by their weakness, their succumbing to tears and lamentation when their brother, pardoned by Manwë himself, has wrought so much destruction. His fury at their inaction is only surpassed by his utter hatred of Melkor. He names him Morgoth in his wrath, Dark Enemy of the World. He turns away from the Valar, contempt at their utter inability to protect them all in this supposedly deathless land clear in his face. Nolofinwë follows him.

Chapter 59

The Noldor, grieving not only the loss of light but now their High-King as well, retreat to Tirion, seeing as the Valar do no more than weep at their losses. Fëanor burns with rage and bereavement, Nelyo clinging to him as they move to the central square of Tirion, where the Noldor gather by torchlight. Fëanor, gripped by sorrow and unmitigated rage, speaks his mind. He is High-King of the Noldor now and he will not waste his time grieving with the Valar. He seeks revenge for his loss, which is all their loss. The Noldor can no longer trust the Valar nor the safety of Valinor.

Chapter 60

The rest of his sons, arriving from Formenos, join him in the square. Surrounded by the stricken Noldor, Fëanor speaks of revenge and of the vast vistas of Middle Earth that await them across the Sea. His words reveal the betrayal of the Valar and encourage the Noldor to return to the lands of their origin. In the flickering torchlight he ends his speech with a mighty Oath that strikes fear in the hearts of many; but his sons do not hesitate to join him in this unbreakable vow. They will have their revenge on Morgoth. Let no one, neither Vala nor Maia nor Elda come between the House of Fëanor and the Silmarils, on pain of death. He swears this to Iluvatar and in his implacable rage damns them all to the Everlasting Dark, should they fail to gain them back.

Chapter 61

He has felt a deep kinship with Nolofinwë on this night and not only for their shared loss. That ends when Fëanor makes his Oath. Nolofinwë is still near him and Fëanor sees the doubt and growing outrage in his eyes, mirrored also in Arafinwë's, who stands next to his brother, as they hear the words Fëanor speaks. Let the cowards stay behind. He has no need of them and the blossoming understanding he felt for his half-brother once again turns to disdain. It is with shock that he hears Nolofinwë repeat his promise to follow Fëanor, wherever he may lead.

Chapter 62

Fëanor gathers his sons to him and spells out his plan to set out for Alqualondë. The ships can bear them to Middle Earth far quicker than the treacherous path across the Helcaraxë. He is so focused on his words he does not initially see Nerdanel, her arm gripping Nelyo's, her face pale and tight as she looks at Fëanor. He follows Ambarussa's distracted gaze and catches sight of her, his words trailing off as the hope that she has returned to him blossoms in his heart. But she has not come for him. She wants her sons and in this she is cruelly disappointed yet again, as once more they side with Fëanor and leave her in the square, alone.

Chapter 63

He sets out for Alqualondë, his sons and followers with him. Nelyo has spoken to Findekáno and Makalaurë brings word from Findárato: the hosts of Nolofinwë and Arafinwë, far larger but slower than his own, follow him.

Chapter 64

Fëanor cannot, despite his eloquence and passion, convince Olwë to give him ships. He invokes the age-long friendship of Olwë and Finwë but even that does not move the King of the Teleri. He brings Fëanor to a flaming rage when he dares compare his swan ships to Fëanor's Silmarils. Fëanor turns away, heading to the docks. He will ask no more. He will take what he is due. Once his men are on the large ships the Teleri cannot stop them. He has not anticipated their resistance to an armed host, nor has he realized how easily his armor-clad men drown in the harbor, as the Teleri arrows rain down on them.

Chapter 65

His sword is slick with blood and the sand he stands on is dark with it as well. They have gained the largest ships of the fleet but they have lost many men to the Teleri arrows and the deep waters of the harbor. Fëanor and his sons are surrounded as they battle on the shore. It is the unexpected arrival of Nolofinwë's host that overcomes the Teleri, as Findekáno and Nolofinwë come to Fëanor's aid, leading their men in the slaughter of the sea folk to safeguard the embattled Noldor. He sees Arafinwë attempt to intervene, shouting with his mighty voice to cease the senseless killing, he and his followers striving to come between the enraged Noldor and desperate Teleri but it is too late. The Noldor control the ships now that Nolofinwë has come and the Teleri retreat.

Chapter 66

As Fëanor oversees the manning of the ships and Nolofinwë the care of the dead and wounded, Arafinwë sets forth to broker a truce with the Teleri. But it is not to be. Fëanor hears a great voice as he stands on the deck of the largest swan ship and the Noldor host turns in shock as Mandos appears and speaks their Doom. They are outcast and the Valar have forsaken them.

Chapter 67

Fëanor looks at his youngest half-brother in disgust. Arafinwë has taken the Doom of Mandos to heart; he will forsake the journey to Middle Earth and the chance of vengeance for their father. Arafinwë will return to Tirion and grovel to the Valar. Fëanor is well rid of him and his followers but he is surprised that Arafinwë's children choose to stay with Nolofinwë's host and follow him across the sea.

Chapter 68

The ships are not as hale as he expected. Most are warped and others have splits in the wood that even the paint cannot hide. They are older than they look, rotting relics of the ships that brought them to these shores. Fëanor curses Olwë. His men have died for these ships and most of these vessels may not successfully make the voyage over the sea if his appraisal is correct. There are too many to bring across at once and he doubts the ships will survive a return voyage.

Chapter End Notes

many thanks to mangacrack for letting me borrow her idea that the ships are in poor condition and unsafe for a voyage of this magnitude. Her story King's Landing is well worth reading.

Chapter 69

Fëanor's ships are brimming with the wounded. Nolofinwë voices his concern at the first ships crossing being solely Feanor's followers, supplies and the injured, as they know not what they will find on the far shore. The uncertainty in his face touches Fëanor's heart but he cannot share his concerns with his brother. He must see how the ships fare on the sea crossing, before he determines if he can truly send them back for Nolofinwë's host. He will not divide his brother's followers and risk leaving them leaderless behind.

Chapter 70

The waters are rough and, as Fëanor feared, the aged Teleri ships are not all up to the sea passage. Some are taking on water, sinking dangerously low into the waves. He has lost more than one ship to Uinen's wrath when they finally reach the far shore.

Chapter 71

He orders them to make camp at Losgar. The wounded are brought ashore and the ships emptied, in expectation of their return to ferry Nolofinwë and his followers across. Fëanor inspects the ships. He believes perhaps one or two can successfully survive another voyage across but he doubts that even those can then safely make the return trip, laden as they will be with Nolofinwë's vast host. He cannot risk the lives of his men or those of his brother's that will attempt the crossing.

Chapter 72

Nelyo approaches him, volunteering to man a vessel to bring Findekáno's contingent over. Fëanor knows he breaks his son's heart as instead he orders all the ships to be burned. The look in Nelyo's eyes is its own punishment, as his son turns away from Fëanor, refusing to participate in or watch the final destruction of the Teleri fleet so many died to take. Fëanor looks across the sea, knowing Nolofinwë can see the inferno, and accepts that his brother will only see betrayal, not the chance for salvation and a safe return to Tirion that Fëanor gives him instead of a watery death.

Chapter 73

The darkness is as deep here as Valinor after the blighting of the Trees. Fëanor moves his host inland, to the shores of Lake Mithrim, under the light of the stars. There is beauty in this land, where the Elves first arose to see the night sky glittering above them.

Chapter 74

Fëanor is restless in this new land. He delegates the building of their camp to Nelyo and Moryo. Tyelko and the Ambarussa hunt for food in the forests around them, while Curvo sets up the forges of the Noldor. They will need more weapons to fight Morgoth's creatures. Makalaurë soothes the wounded with the glory of his voice. It is under the trees that line the lake that Fëanor first sees one of the Moriquendi.

Chapter 75

The Moriquendi fascinate Fëanor. He is the first to speak to them and the first to learn the basics of their language, his quick mind finding the common thread that links it to the Quenya of Valinor. Ever the scholar, his sons find him in his tent late at night, parchments covered with his writing scattered in front of him, his mind moving faster than his hands as he writes his new-found translations down.

Chapter 76

Their brief rest does not last. The Moriquendi bring Fëanor word of the hordes of Morgoth massing near the passes of the Mountains of Shadow. Fëanor rallies his host and with the light of Aman shining so brightly in their eyes the exiled Noldor stand against the ravaging Orcs and drive them back north.

Chapter 77

Fëanor revels in the destruction of Morgoth's Orcs, routing the last remnants of the Dark One's army. The Orcs retreat towards Angband and Fëanor, in his wrath and fury, gives chase. He will face Morgoth himself and have his revenge—for the murder of his father, the theft of the Silmarils and to fulfil his Oath. He races far ahead of his sons, his men around him, and nears the very gates of Angband itself. He laughs at the retreating Orcs, cutting them down as they run, his sword flashing in the starlight, his defiance of Morgoth ringing over the plain.

Chapter 78

Near the gates the ragged band of Orcs he has chased turn around to make one last desperate stand, in the shadow of the mighty fortress. Fëanor advances on them, heedless of the might of Angband ahead of him. He is not prepared for the Balrogs that issue from the gate and surround him, fiery whips beating at him from all sides, his men soon scattered and slain around him.

Chapter 79

His men are lost and Fëanor stands alone, his sword striving against the fiery demons Morgoth has sent to destroy him. He is bloody and burned but he battles on. His spirit drives him to fight but his arm does not swing as far or as strong as it did before. He fails to block the blow that Gothmog aims at him and he falls to one knee, his clothes in flames, but he still strikes out at the Balrog nearest him.

Chapter 80

On both knees now, Fëanor's sword blows have become defense only, not attack anymore. His skin is blackened and burned, his hair singed, his eyes streaming tears from the smoke. The horns of the Noldor sound and he recognizes the voices of his sons. The sons of Fëanor have finally caught up to him and they encircle their father's fallen form, driving the Balrogs back to the Gate in their fury.

Chapter 81

He rests on a makeshift litter, fashioned from Nelyo's cloak, as his sons race to carry him from the battlefield, before more forces are unleashed on them from Angband's gates. Each breath burns Fëanor's lungs and he feels his charred skin crack when he tries to move. He must make them stop; he must speak to his sons before his body fails him completely.

Chapter 82

Nelyo hears his hoarse gasp and bends down to him, gently brushing Fëanor's hair off his forehead with his hand. Fëanor grasps that hand and with all the strength he has left in him pulls Nelyo close. "Stop," he rasps at his firstborn. "Put me down, Nelyo, I must speak to you." Nelyo barks an order to his brothers and Fëanor is gently laid on the ground, his hand still clutching his eldest son's.

Chapter 83

Their pale faces circle him, these beloved sons of his. He gazes at each of their faces in turn before he speaks, but Fëanor knows he has little time. "I have only moments more with you, my sons. My spirit is strong but the body that houses it grows too weak to hold it anymore. You have my love, my brilliant boys." He shakes his head at their protests then he looks once more at each of them before his eyes go to the darkened peaks of Thangorodrim and he takes a final deep, burning breath. "I curse you Morgoth, to the Everlasting Dark. I keep my Oath for vengeance and my sons will keep it when I am gone." Nelyo's hand grips his tightly and he feels Nelyo's lips kiss his forehead as his sons together repeat their Oath.

Chapter 84

He can speak no more, his lungs burning as if a flame is caught inside him and his charred skin starts to smolder. Fëanor knows this is the end. The last thing he sees before his eyes close forever is Nelyo's hair. He reaches out one finger to brush it and whispers "Nerdanel," with his last breath.

Chapter End Notes

This was originally intended as the last chapter of Spirit of Fire. I wasn't expecting it to be this long when I started it. I was recently reading though it again in preparation for posting it to another site and I realized I wasn't quite finished with it. So i added an Epilogue-a bit of closure as well as impetus to perhaps tell the story that follows. 

Thank you for joining me on my exploration of Fëanor. I've grown to care for him quite a bit more then I did before writing this. I've got thoughts and ideas about his time in Mandos and his possible rebirth. But I think I will leave that for another story. . .

Again many thanks to the lovely nyx thranduillon, finfinfin1 and ziggy3 for all their encouragement and feedback on this and thanks to all who read and/or commented on it!

At first Fëanor was determined to deny the call of Mandos and stay put, houseless fëa though he was. He longed to watch over his sons, to somehow make them see he was misguided to put vengeance, even for a beloved father, above all else. He cursed his Oath now, visualizing his desperate words as a slowly tightening noose around his sons' necks.

But even in his defiance of the call he knew he could not reach his boys anymore-he was sundered from them, whether he lurked in the shadows here or in eternal isolation in Mandos' Halls. He had brought them to this Oath, let them swear their very souls away-the least he could do was accompany them to its bitter end.

Regret seared through his fëa. He would not be able to change the course of the Oath, not now, perhaps not ever. But he could intercede on his sons' behalf-he was still here, floating over the darkened plain, was he not? This was not the Everlasting Dark he thought he had condemned himself to, should he fail; perhaps, perhaps he could petition the Valar for leniency for his sons.

He felt the fire grow in him-he would succumb to the Everlasting Dark himself, if it would spare them. That was reason enough to heed the call, humble himself to Namo. For his sons.

But Fëanor could not deny that the possibility of seeing his parents again did not figure in his thoughts.

He took a last long look at those seven brilliant faces, bowed in unutterable grief now and then he turned West, to follow the fading call of Mandos. To make his way back. To put his own pride aside and make a case for his sons.