All the characters belong to Tolkien. I do not make money of this.
The Faith of Fëanor
Fëanor bade his sons to halt. "It's useless", he whispered. Curufin raised his eyebrow carefully assessing what was meant by those words, the others except for Amrod, whose heart like his twin seemed to have perished in the blazes of Losgar. Maedhros ordered the stretcher to be put down, and knelt besides his father ran his fingers through his father's thick hair, when he retrieved his hand it was covered in sticky sweat, Curufin biting his lip knelt next to Maedhros and gently touched his father's arm, leaving his hand to rest on his arm. A spasm of pain ran through Fëanor's body, Fëanor could no longer keep his composure, now Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, and even Amrod also were aware the end was near.
Fëanor's body relaxed, and a strange serenity came over him, he gazed into the distance. When his sons followed his gaze they shuddered, for their father was staring at Thangodrim. Then Fëanor tensed, and cursed Morgoth, the dark foe three times, he looked even more tormented than usual, he grabbed Maedhros's arm and pulled him towards him: "Maedhros my eldest, my heir, promise me do not abandon your father, keep your oath and avenge my death", though it took him considerable effort to speak at all, his words still had their way of moving the heart of the listener, and through pity or fear in the end all six of his remaining sons swore to keep their oath and avenge their father's death. After Amrod had made his promise, a sly satisfied smile appeared on their father's face.
Though Fëanor knew this was a battle he could not possibly hope win. he nonetheless tried to cling on to his body, but to no avail. Namo wanted his fëa, the friction of him desperately trying to stay in his body, and Namo tearing his fëa away from his hroa caused white sparks, and Fëanor could see no more, the horrible brightness, brighter even than the Simarils burnt him, and Fëanor wailed, but his hroa did not wail or even flinch. When the heat and the brightness became to intense even for the Spirit of Fire, Fëanor let go. And as his fëa left his hroa, a white flame consumed his hroa, leaving nothing but ashes.
Fëanor felt a rush of warm wind, when he recovered his sight he saw landscape change beneath him, he saw burned shipwrecks and filled with shame looked the other way, he saw his father's second son move across icy plains followed by a hungry cold but ever proud people, he saw the quiet sea that had once been so fierce. He saw empty beaches of the Teleri, the empty streets of Tirion, he saw his wrecked fortress of Formenos, before it stood a woman he knew well, Nerdanel, she stood straight and still, but Fëanor noticed she was suppressing a tremble, then all of a sudden she turned around and started running, she ran towards a figure clad in white with a bald scalp, with a shock Fëanor recognised their youngest son Amras. As Nerdanel clung to her youngest son, he felt a sharp pain go through his fëa, he couldn't make out whether it was regret or jealousy, so as always he settled for anger.
Then the ground beneath him started to change faster, as the heat subsided his naked fëa was beginning to shiver, he had never known such cold.