I own nothing.

We survived. We survived the Grinding Ice, and we are here. I doubt that you were expecting that.

What were you thinking, when you burned those ships, Fëanáro? I do not try to imagine your thoughts anymore. Your mind has grown strange and fell to me; it does not seem like the sort of path I should walk. No, yours is a path I should definitely not walk. If I was ever to tread your path, I do not think that I would ever know sanity again.

You were insane. That was what I thought, when I laid eyes on that terrible pillar of fire and smoke, across the Ice-choked waters. As the host gave a great cry of desolation, I thought that you were mad, and murderous. I thought that you meant to see us all dead.

That had to be it. Arafinwë had returned to Eldamar with a small portion of his following, but they never killed in your defense, Fëanáro. They never swore any oath of loyalty to you. They were free to go home. And there were many who were free to go home, and yet stayed, our nephews and sister among them. But there were many who could not turn back, Fëanáro. Our niece could not—the blood she spilled was Noldorin and not that of the mariners of Alqualondë, but Artanis is still a Kinslayer. My children could not turn back, and neither could I.

There is blood on my hands, on account of you. I could not turn back. You knew that, and yet you still burned those ships. Those ships that we bled and shed blood for, those ships we died and killed for, our only quick means across the Sea. And you threw them away like they were rubbish, like they were of no use to anyone.

You didn't intend for us to use them. It was your intent from the beginning to abandon us in Araman. You left us all to die, and I wonder if you ever feel remorse over it.

It matters not. Your remorse or lack of it does not matter to me at all.

We suffered much, on the Ice. I sat upon the roof of the world and stared at the endless track of stars. Behind me, the children of the stars wept and wailed for the loved ones who died of cold and hunger. They grew dull-eyed and haggard, so weak that I thought that we would lose them all.

Arakáno dreamed in vain of warmth and light. My youngest is a dreaming child, but his dreams did not keep him warm. Findekáno was dogged by memories of a friendship betrayed. I wonder if your sons ever felt remorse, themselves. Irissë hunted to keep us fed, and often her hunts did not bear fruit. Turukáno railed against you and all of your following for the death of Elenwë and the near-death of Itarillë. I railed with him. It seemed as though we would never find our way again, as though we would be doomed to wander trackless Ice, until we all perished.

But we are here now. I am here now. The host of Nolofinwë lives. The host of Nolofinwë has come to join you, across the Sundering Sea.

I am coming to you, my brother. The light of a new orb shines before me, the light of a new day shines before me. The ground is carpeted with flowers and grass, full of life. My standard bearers unfurl my banners. The trumpeters blow upon their horns, and the air shines and shimmers with their music. The time of the stars is done.

My children are strong, and valiant. Findekáno, Turukáno, Irissë, Arakáno, I believe that they can face anything. Our people are strong. They can face what lies ahead, despite you.

I am coming. I am here. You thought to have me die in Araman, Fëanáro, but I am here now. There is blood between us. I am here now, and I will face you.

I keep my promises.

Fëanáro—Fëanor
Arafinwë—Finarfin
Artanis—Galadriel
Arakáno—Argon
Findekáno—Fingon
Irissë—Aredhel
Turukáno—Turgon
Itarillë—Idril
Nolofinwë—Fingolfin