Noldolante – Part IV – Finarfin

by May 10, 2005Stories

A/N: Don’t own characters or setting. Nolofinwe is the Quenya name of Fingolfin. And I’m sorry, Tuima: I tried to make this happy, but dear Arafinwe/Finarfin just would not cooperate.

Please applaud for the third son of Finwe!


When all is said and done, it’s a very strange feeling to look back through the histories and lore, and find them all saying that you did right.

He was my brother. That much is simple. He was my brother, strong and bright and fell and fierce. Though even from his childhood he scorned us. But we shared a father. We grew up together in the light of Aman. And deny it though we might, the kinship was always there.

But the first time I was truly afraid was in the night, when he stood before our people and spoke, spoke of battle and exile and strength and glory. For my fear and my sorrow were for all the Noldor who followed. But also for him. And I knew that he would fall far.

I had watched the course he charted. I sometimes tried to persuade him, gently show how he was sailing for ruin. I tried.
” – We and we alone shall be lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and beauty of Arda. No other race shall oust us!”*

And they swore.

He was my brother, and somehow I loved him. But he was a fool.

I spoke of histories. They name Feanaro the greatest of the Noldor, yet call his deeds rash and the work of Morgoth. Is greatness measured in how much you can destroy? Melkor was once the equal of the Lord of the Skies.

But he is my brother.

And so we spoke, me and Nolofinwe. First he cried out against the madness, called on our brother to think, to see. To see how he was breaking all the peace of Arda.

Perhaps we were all fools.

I tried to calm the waters; I tried to clear the air of its clouds of anger and folly. No one heard. Yes, they listened, but so few understood.

And Nolofinwe was supposed to be the wise one.

Even my children were divided. Some stood with Feanaro; some with Nolofinwe. Only Orodreth stood with me.

Another irony of history. He is sometimes blamed for the fall of Nargothrond. Perhaps he was not great, perhaps he was not perfect, but he always did the best he could.

And so I went with them, for I could not forsake my people and my children. And so I watched as the white shores and clear waters were darkened with blood.

They said that I did right.

Namo…he warned us. And in my haze of grief and horror I heard, and I turned back. I left my family and turned back.

They said that I did right.

It was long, long before we first heard of what befell the rest of my kindred. Feanaro fell among the first, of course. My brother crushed by Morgoth, his son by a Valarauka, my sons in battle and in the dungeons of the Isle of Werewolves.

So I was right, it would seem. The Noldor fled, and brought about destruction. But oh, the tales we hear now of their noble fight, of the alliances and leaguer, of love and hate and loyalty. But they say it all began in folly.

And they say that I did right.

*Taken directly from Feanor’s speech after the darkening of Valinor. Please review!


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