Olórë Nolofinwëo
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Chapter 7
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The King of the Noldor sat thinking of his lost brother, and his thoughts somehow formed themselves into words...
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I love you whether or not you love me
I love you even if you think that I don't
Sometimes I find you doubt my love for you, but I don't mind
Why should I mind, why should I mind
What is love anyway? Does anybody love anybody, anyway?
And maybe love is letting people be just what they want to be -
- the door always must be left unlocked
To love when circumstance may lead someone away from you...
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Fingolfin shook himself. Enough of that. It was time for him to appear before the Noldor in the Throne Room. Fingolfin looked at himself in the mirror as he donned his rigol of gold.
"Would you, Nolofinwë of the Noldor, give up this crown, and resign it to your elder brother if he returned?" he asked of the image in the mirror.
The image in the mirror sighed, and did not answer.
"And what would you say to the tramp, if he came to see you?" asked Fingolfin.
Said the image in the mirror, "I do not know."
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The Hooded Stranger stood before the King of the Noldor.
Fëanor knew by now that the enchanted cloak given to him by Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, did indeed mask his identity. But as he met Fingolfin's searching gaze, he drew it more closely around himself.
"You asked to see me, my Lord," he said, bowing low.
As Fingolfin looked at the stranger before him, he began to doubt that the tramp who stood before him was indeed his brother. For as he looked into the stranger's eyes, there awakened in his mind no spark of recognition at all.
"Welcome, Stranger, to the Realm of the Noldor."
Perhaps his brother had used an enchantment to conceal his identity, thought Fingolfin. But how could he know for sure?
"The Lord of the Noldor is kind to one who has long been in exile," said the stranger.
Exile? Was this a reference to the years Fëanor had spent at Formenos? Or was the tramp simply referring to the years he had spent on the road?
"You are welcome to reside here, in the Realm of the Noldor," said Fingolfin aloud. "I have heard report of your great skill and craftsmanship... will you not tell us your name?"
"Forgive me, my lord, but I cannot. But as a mark of my respect for you, may I create for you a jewel to rival the work of the greatest Noldor craftsmen?" asked the stranger.
I am your brother! Why do you hide from me? But perhaps the man was not his brother after all. How might I trick him into revealing himself, wondered Fingolfin.
"The King of the Noldor requires no gifts from you," he said aloud.
The stranger bowed. "How then, may I show you my gratitude my lord, for allowing a ragged tramp to reside in this great realm? May I create a jewel in honour of someone who is close to you? The great Fëanáro Curufinwë, perhaps?"
Ingwë and Olwë had both asked him to create something beautiful in honour of Fëanor, thought the stranger. But Fingolfin had not. Ingwë and Olwë had both said that Fëanor was oft in their thoughts. But his half-brother had not.
Fingolfin looked thoughtfully at the stranger. If you are indeed my brother, he thought, I know how to make you reveal yourself to me. All I need to do is to spark the flame of your infamous temper...
"If you created a jewel in honour of the 'great' Fëanor, as you refer to him, he would deride it; he would throw it in the dust. For he believes that there is none so great as he..." said the King of the Noldor.
The hooded stranger's eyes flashed, but he said nothing.
"...And for his arrogance, the 'great' Fëanor, as you call him, has incurred a just retribution," continued Fingolfin. "He has lost his people's respect."
Fingolfin had spoken harshly with the express intent of provoking his brother to reveal himself. But the Hooded Stranger did not lose his temper.
"I apologise to the King of the Noldor for speaking in admiration of one whom he does not hold in high regard," said the stranger quietly. "And if there is any service I may render you, which will seem more pleasing to you than the one I suggested..." His voice trailed off. The stranger bowed low to the King and walked away.
And when he reached the door of his dwelling, none other than the King of the Noldor was waiting for him there.
A gust of wind blew the hood of the stranger's cloak back from his face, and he hurriedly pulled it over his head again. But in that split second, the King of the Noldor had learnt all that he needed to know.
"To what do I owe the honour of a visit from the King?" asked the stranger. There was the smallest hint of irony in his voice.
"A brother's eyes cannot be deceived by an enchanted cloak," said King of the Noldor. "I know the identity of the Hooded Stranger."
"And so you have come to send me into exile, even as the Valar did?"
"No," answered Fingolfin, "I have merely come to speak with you."
The stranger's eyes flamed. "But I am too arrogant, am I not, and too full of my own greatness, to appreciate such a gesture of affection and concern..."
"Brother," said Fingolfin, "I said something I did not mean, with the idea of provoking you to reveal yourself to me..."
"I have learnt from recent events not to be provoked into rash displays of emotion," said Fëanor.
"And I have learnt, brother, not to be harsh in judgement of those who act rashly out of pain and anger – as I am one of them myself." There was sorrow in Fingolfin's eyes.
"The 'arrogant' Fëanáro found it hard to come to terms with humiliation, and therefore took himself into exile," said Fëanor.
"And will he not come out of exile at the request of those who love him?" asked Fingolfin.
"Are there any such people left in the world," asked the Hooded Stranger, bitterly.
Though this was a rhetorical question, Fingolfin answered it. "I have heard the Kings of the Vanyar and the Teleri speak of you with love..."
"...and the King of the Noldor?" asked the stranger.
The King of the Noldor looked into the stranger's eyes. He was about to tell him that the great love of the Kings of the Vanyar and the Teleri was nothing compared to the love of one who was the stranger's brother in thought, if not in blood...
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... when Fingolfin was harshly jerked back into wakefulness by his son Turgon.
"Father," said Turgon, "Fingon has a premonition that something terrible is about to happen... or has, perhaps, already happened..."
Fingolfin looked up at his eldest son. "What is it that troubles you, Fingon?"
"I have a feeling," answered Fingon, "a strong feeling that I cannot shake off, that my brother Maedhros is in deep distress. Father, I know that Maedhros is in pain."
Fingolfin stood up and strode to the ocean.
"My Lord Ulmo," he said.
There was no answer, but Fingolfin sensed that the Lord of the Waters was listening. The sound of the waves seemed to quieten a little.
"My Lord Ulmo, can you tell us what has befallen our kinsmen at sea? Have they been caught in a storm, or are they under attack? Are they well, my Lord? Or are they in distress?"
Fingolfin's voice shook with concern. He gave a gasp of awe as Ulmo, Lord of the Waters rose out of the sea.
The King of the Noldor knelt before him, his head bent low.
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"Rise, O Nolofinwë the Wise, your kin are well."
"But why, then, do you look so grave, my Lord?" asked Fingolfin, rising to his feet.
"Enter the waters of Ulmo, and you will hear all that I hear,
and know all that I know."
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Fingolfin plunged into the sea. And there, he heard the voice of Maedhros, the eldest of Feanor's sons, speak to his father...
"Now what ships and rowers will you spare to return, and whom shall they bear hither first? Fingon the valiant?"
Then Fëanor laughed as one fey, and he cried: "None and none! What I have left behind I count now no loss; needless baggage on the road it has proved. Let those that cursed my name, curse me still, and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar. Let the ships burn!"
Fingolfin could sense Maedhros' distress as he swam back to the shore, his own mind numb and bereft of feeling. The noise of the burning of the ships at Losgar was borne through the winds of the sea as a tumult of great wrath that clamoured in his ears. Unable to bear the sound any longer, Fingolfin emerged from the sea, and waded through the icy waves to the shore.
"I see a fire, father," said Fingon. "And I feel my brother's pain..."
Fingolfin turned and looked out over the ocean. In the distance, he saw the red fires of the burning ships.
"No," he whispered, almost inaudibly. His face twisted in anguish, and his voice rose to a hoarse scream.
"No!"
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The End.
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Author's Note: For the correct pitch and timbre of Fingolfin's "No," please refer to the scene in "The Empire Strikes Back," in which Darth Vader says, "Luke, I am your father." My sincere apologies to George Lucas, and to his fans, too.
Fingolfin's quote is from the song "What is Love," by Howard Jones.