Tarnished Gold
Disclaimers: All characters, situations etc. belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. I am making no money from this and intend no infringement of copyright.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Finrod Felagund reflects on his return to Middle-earth. Very short.
Feedback: Yes please.
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The sweet wind on the wide waters, the wide waters on the far shore: how many times have I dreamt of these things? The wind calls to me, and the sea sings to me, and I long to return. How many years has it been since I last saw that fair land, since I beheld your beloved face?
Here I am mighty indeed, but there is no joy for me without you, my Amarië, and these desolate lands do not warm my heart. We were so foolish to imagine we could be great lords in this place and that that would be enough to content us.
I have seen friends and enemies alike fall into ruin under the fell hand of Morgoth Bauglir who deceived our hearts with such promises, although we did not recognise his dread voice. My uncle is dead and our power is failing. We have brought nothing but death with us, and it will claim us, one by one.
And these … these merry, angry children cheer my heart but a little, although I love them as dearly, if not more, than my own kin. They are brave, and bright as the flame of a candle, but their lives, too, are as short as candles blown out in the tempests of time. I can teach them to speak the tongue of the Elder Children, and sing to them lays of Valinor in the morning of its splendour, but I can never teach them to forgo their fear, for my own is too deep, and my longing too strong.
They have named me wisdom, but they are wrong, for despite my long years, I am not wise. Pain is within me for what I forsook, but more for what I cannot save. Yea, I should have regrets for the wide pastures of my home and the wild, true heart of my love, but I should not be so bitter, if only I thought my coming had brought glad tidings to the Forsaken Lands. But it is not so and never can be. I left what was good, but did not bring good with me. I abandoned what was holy, but holiness shrouds me not. I denied love, but its kind rays have not illuminated this land. All I did was in error, and I can never repay that debt.
Some times, when I lay awake at night, I smell the elanor growing thickly on more noble hills, and I hear my footsteps racing through the grass, my brothers and sister at my heels, our golden hair glowing with the light of the Trees. Now Angrod and Aegnor lie in the cold earth, and while Orodreth and Artanist have grown in awe and majesty, they no longer laugh so readily, nor are so free with their affections as they were in that far off time.
And I? I fear that the strength and mirth, which was once within me, diminishes with each passing year, and the cold of the Helcaraxë lives in my bones, numbing my heart.
I feel my doom coming near; though I now not in what form it will find me. Will I welcome it? In truth, I know not. Terror gnaws at my heart, begging me to flee before it, and yet … and yet, I beckon to it, for surely death will bear me home, and I shall tread that far strand again, and sing the songs of my youth with a gladder voice.
FINIS
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