Sons of Fire and Blood by Ar-Feiniel

Spirit of Fire and the Wise

Curufinwë Fëanáro - Fëanor
Nerdanel the Wise

The passage of time can change everything.

Bonus poem and belated end to Fëanorian Week 2017.

He would come often
To her father's house,
A gift in hand,
An imploring look.
"Teach me," he would plead,
Flickers of hope
Like flames in his stormy eyes.
Back then he was not too proud
To beg or bribe,
To follow her father
Like a lost puppy,
Shadowing his footsteps.
"Teach me your secrets
Learned from Aulë himself,
O Urundil."

He was young, back then,
His talents not full-wrought,
Yet already he brought worthy gifts
Of copper sculptures or
A hundred-sided gems,
Cupped in his outstretched hand.
He brought gifts for her as well:
Jewel-encruted goblets,
Copper necklaces,
Gold-embroided dresses
All made with his own hand.
"It was not hard,"
He would modestly boast.
"It did not take me long."

Though his pleas
Trickled smoothly off his tongue
Like molten silver,
At first she, like her father,
Refused his gifts.
"Too young," her father would say
Again and again,
Over and over,
But Fëanor was not deterred.
Fëanor could never be deterred.

With time he grew
In strength and stature,
A burning light was in his eyes.
His face was fair as summer's day,
His eloquence like dripping honey,
His dark hair smooth as velvet.
His creations waxed in majesty:
Glistening gems like
Sunlight rippled on ocean waves,
Seven Seeing Stones
Of perfect spheres,
Crowns and circlets that Finwë himself
Wore upon his head.
"Teach me," he begged again
And Mahtan said yes.

She too changed
With the caress of time.
Her copper hair fell in gentle waves,
Her body grew into a womanly form,
A queenly gaze was in her eyes
And her hands were rough
From years of endless sculpting,
Fruitless searching
For that elusive perfection.

They worked together
In her father's forge
Side by side, as equals.
He watched her careful fingers
Shape clay faces with a touch.
She watched his skillful hands
Hammer at blazing metal.
And then they both had completed
Their arduous projects,
They would wander in the hills
Or to the sea,
Or look up at the stars
In a tranquil forest clearing,
Companions of many journeys
In those Elder Days.

Then one day
He came to her father's house
A gift in hand,
An imploring look.
"Marry me," he pleaded,
A ring cupped in his outstretched hand
Blazing like white flames
Beneath the morning sun.
And Nerdanel said yes.

She bore him seven sons,
Each as perfect as the dawn,
Hasty-rising, ruddy-faced,
Well formed like their father,
Hair of russet like blazing flames
Or dark as midnight secrets,
Ready to face the day,
To forge gold.

With time they grew
In strength and stature,
In wisdom and maturity,
Learnt pride and loyalty,
Wandered far and saw much
And gained too,
Reputations of their own.

But Fëanor too changed
With the pass of time.
He was charmed by flattery,
Vain and arrogant he became,
And still perversed
By Morgoth's lies,
His insiduous arts
Slipping deep within the psyche.
Fell and fey he was become,
No longer would he heed her words,
Her desperate pleas of restraint.
But Fëanor was not restrained.
Fëanor could not be restrained.

He took their sons to exile
And then to war and death.
And she, alone, wept bitterly
Remembering those Elder Days
When they had been
Side by side, as equals,
Companions of many journeys.

Chapter End Notes

Thus ends my contribution to Fëanorian Week 2017. If you've made it this far, I'd like to thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the poems!