Disclaimer: The usual thing… Arda and everything in it belongs to Tolkien, I am making no money here.

Author's notes: This story was written for a challenge at the PPC board. A POV of Nerdanel when Fëanor and his sons take the Oath.

In the Shadows

We have not met each other for so long, so why should I miss him when he leaves?

"Because you shall never see him again," my mind whispers. "Do not let him go."

And yet I just stand here, outside the circle of bystanders, who listen to him and cheer when he speaks of flight, freedom, far places and waters under unclouded skies.

I stand here, outside the circle, outside the torchlight, in the shadows, and tears trickle down my face, because I know he will go. I should do something, but I can not. I can not keep him here, for I am weak and the only love he still has in his heart is that for his stones, now that his father is dead. He may have lost him, them, and his heart may burn with thoughts of vengeance, but how can he be so blind? How can he not see that he welcomes death and doom with open arms?

I should go with him, guide him so that he may not be lost along the way, but I know it is in vain. I can see shadow and flame towering above him, I can see his sword glittering in a last stubborn try to save himself, and I can see him fall down under the whip of the demon.

I am not the one to prevent this. I am not strong enough. I will let him go, even though we shall never meet again. This is the sacrifice I will make. But nothing more. Nothing more am I willing to give than this part of my heart.

And yet, it is not enough, not enough.

There is more I have to give.

My sons.

They leap to his side, swords drawn and they repeat his words, thus banishing themselves by their own free will. They will leave their mother behind, for they do not see me in the shadows.

I want to step into the light, so they may see me, remember me, but I am not strong enough.

I want to scream, to take their words back, but there is no way to do so.

And so I am silent, tangled in the net of my thoughts, and foresight tells me what will happen to them, all of them, while the fragments of half my heart lie on the ground at my feet and one thought repeats in my mind over and over.

I am not strong enough.