I so wanted the sons of Fëanor to make their appearance in this chapter, but it would have gotten far too long, and those reunions would not have had the attention they deserved. Besides, Fëanor and Nerdanel deserve a bit more private time. I apologize and I ask you to bear with me; the boys will appear next time for sure! Thanks for coming this far with me!
Homecoming ~ Part IV
It was only after Nolofinwë had gone that Nerdanel turned to me, revealing the tears sparkling in her emerald eyes - not of sorrow, but of joy beyond words. She smiled warmly.
"I know I should be angry with you; I should be furious. The things you did, Fëanáro..."
She closed her eyes against the echo of boundless grief.
"Believe me, I have tried to be angry. But I cannot be, not anymore. My sons are reborn and my suffering has been turned to strength; what have I to hold against you? Better to forgive and move forward. Besides..." She curled a lock of my hair around her finger. "...I love you too much. I know I do. Naught else could have inspired me to spend ages fighting for your honor."
"I left you with much to do," I said bitterly. "The Treatise alone must have kept you occupied for quite some time."
"You know of the Treatise of Truth?"
"Know it? I read it from beginning to end in Mandos, and I do believe it was largely responsible for my salvation. I am sure you walked a fine line in avoiding justifying our actions, but it was well and beautifully done, and for me, deeply moving."
Nerdanel's face grew radiant.
"Oh, I am so glad! We were delighted to see how much the Treatise improved Arda's opinion of you, but at once we feared that you, for whom we had truly published it, would never see it. To hear that you have seen it, and that it meant something to you, makes all of our work worthwhile."
She stood on her toes to kiss me, then returned her hand to mine, leaning instinctively into me. I was stunned once again at how wonderful physical contact, however slight could feel.
Nerdanel drew me towards the central courtyard, a beautiful circle of white cobblestone, inlaid with a golden mosaic patterned after my father's heraldic Star. Thick, shady trees were planted in neat rows around it, and the lights strung from them cast a silvery glow over the dancers. A high dais stood at one end, before the gates of the palace, its polished marble gleaming, and my heart missed a beat to see it.
I swore my Oath there.
I incited my people to war and ruin there.
I damned us all there.
For a moment, I saw myself standing upon it, looking out over countless torches flickering on waves of darkness. Their light cast a red glow on my drawn sword, as though it was already stained with blood. I felt the turbulent emotions of my people wash over me, felt a hot surge of adrenaline and fury roar up within me until it seemed I would burst if I did not throw back my head and howl my vengeance to high heaven.
Eru, I was no better than Moringotto that night, drunk on battle-fervor and the power of my own voice.
Nerdanel sensed my inner turmoil, I knew, for her gaze had followed mine to the dais. Presently, she squeezed my hand and drew me towards it.
"You must reject it, love," she said. "Your past sins are forgiven; they cannot hurt you now. Let them go."
She led me to the base of the dais and my blood froze. It was as though I could still feel a ghost of the Oath and its terrible binding power.
"Istyë, I cannot... I belong to the past, to the Oath, to the Void."
"You do not. You were released long ago."
"They are triple-locked still, all of them!"
Nerdanel took me by the shoulders and spun me to face her, her eyes afire.
"Do you believe, Fëanáro, that there is a single lock, a single chain, a single oath that the Allfather cannot break? He loosed every one of your bonds when you stood before Him in judgment; you are free! For your own peace of mind, you must believe that you are. You must declare it to yourself and to your past."
My legs were locked, and had Nerdanel not kept one hand at my back, I would have fallen flat.
"I am with you," she said as we took the steps to the dais.
And she was. Her hand was warm and firm in mine, roughened with many years of craftsmanship. She was my rock, my strength, and my love, as she had always been. Her faith in me was absolute, as was mine in her.
It was in myself that I had a severe lack of confidence.
A cold as keen and penetrating as that of the Void knifed through me, stealing my breath. It was as though the Oath had become a sentient thing, had crept up inside me and hissed in a voice of ageless malice,
Never free never free never free...
I sank to my knees, shivering in the warm night. It was so strong, so very strong, glutted on the blood of countless thousands and the souls it had drained of life and light. What had begun as mere words spoken in the name of the Father had become a demon of terrifying power, self-willed, ever thirsting, never sated.
Never free never free never free...
Eru, it was so strong. It had far surpassed the strength of its creator. The thought was horrible.
If I could not master it, who could?
Nerdanel's hand was warm in mine, burning through the ice that had filled my veins.
"It has no strength," came her voice, as though from a great distance at first, then growing steadily clearer. "It is destroyed, rendered powerless by the Allfather, and the Allfather conquers all evil. The only place it yet survives is in your mind, Fëanáro. Your mind is a home of which you are the master; you have every authority to dismiss unwanted guests. Do so! Banish this demon!"
Deep within me, the fire of my spirit rekindled as a tiny spark.
You have no power over me, I told the monster whose sinuous black coils were wrapped about my soul. You have no power over my people. The Allfather drove you back into the pits of grief and madness from whence you came. Those you claimed are reborn and rejoicing in their new lives. The evil you wrought is healed, and you shall harm us no more! By Eru's name I gave you life; by Eru's name I give you death! By all that is good and holy, I, Curufinwë Fëanáro Finwion, cast you back into the poisoned depths that bore you! I renounce you and your power, now and forever!
A brief and brutal struggle ensued between my burning words and the icy voice of the demon.
Never gone never gone never gone... it hissed.
You are gone, I said, my mind-voice now soft and deadly. You are nothing.
There was something akin to a shriek of chilling, inhuman pain, a roaring of water in my ears, a feeling of splitting apart from within -
I came abruptly back to reality to the thunder of a drum cadence, accompanied by a sweeping crescendo of harmony from every musician in the city. There came a peak of sound so powerful that it shook the ground beneath my feet, and then, with the cutoff, every light in Tirion was extinguished.
I knew a moment of horror in which I was hurled back to the night of the Darkening, the night when my world shattered. Every fiber of my being screamed in anguished protest.
Then suddenly, with a burst of music, the torches blazed back into life, and every star in the heavens seemed to burn with a greater intensity so that a mantle of diamonds was spread above us. Every voice in the city was raised in concert with the strings and percussion, singing a glorious hymn to Eru and to life. The harmony was about me and within me, driving out the cold of the Oath, setting my spirit quivering with joy.
"It must be midnight," said Nerdanel, drawing me to my feet. "Midsummer's Day begins now. It seems fitting, does it not? Our brightest star returns to us on the day of longest light."
She settled herself against me, laying one hand on my shoulder and twining the other with mine.
"Dance with me," she said. "We have so much to celebrate."
She laid her head on my chest, and I rocked her gently on the sweet tide of the music. It seemed defiant somehow, dancing together in utter bliss atop the very dais where such sorrow came into being. With my wife in my arms and my words of exorcism still burning in my mind, I felt as though an incredible burden had been lifted from me. My heart was lighter, cleaner, purer than it had been in ages.
As I relaxed, I realized that this darkness was nothing like that which had fallen when the Two Trees were destroyed. Where the Unlight had been cold and clammy, paralyzing the body and sucking all the breath from it, this was warm and gentle, settled about the world like a veil jeweled with stars. Even the sea of torches I now looked out upon was different than what I had seen from the dais when last I stood there. On that night, in that darkness, the firelight had been sickly, distorting my people's faces, rendering them lost in some purgatory between light and shadow. Tonight, the fires were steady and sure, their light blurring the hard edges of all it touched, smoothing them over with beauty.
Firelight and starlight. Gold and silver. The Two Trees reincarnated.
The thought was heartening. Moringotto had destroyed the vessels of Yavanna's making, yes, but the light they had held lived on in every other light, great and small. He would never extinguish them all. His conquest would never be complete.
The combination of fire and stars seemed somehow primitive also, something that hearkened back to Cuiviénen of old, and campfires beneath dark skies. My father's earliest days were spent there, between such lights, I realized. A longing for my ancestral home rose in me, a longing to see them as my father had, playing not over walls of stone, but over a mirror-still lake, smooth and black as obsidian glass. Eru, it must have been beautiful!
Watching the torchlight and the starlight mingle on Nerdanel's face, I had a glimpse of how she must have looked on the field of battle, amidst the fires set by the enemy and the cold silver gleam of steel. Suddenly, it became far less difficult to see her as a soldier.
Resting my head atop hers, I asked her, "What was your finest battle?"
"Goodness, they were all fine in their own way," she replied, a fierce, beautiful smile on her lips. "If I had to choose, I would say that I loved best the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, when the Vanguard joined the riders of Rohan for a final charge to break the leaguer on Minas Tirith. You cannot imagine the power in six thousand galloping horses and six thousand riders screaming with battle-fury. It causes the ground to shake, and then it flows up through the horses' feet and into the soldiers' every vein and sets their blood aflame... To this day, I wonder how our enemies managed to stand their ground and meet us. For a few glorious moments, we were untouchable. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could harm us."
The fervor in Nerdanel's face dimmed a bit ere next she spoke.
"Of course, it did not last. We were granted just enough power to sweep down that field and break the enemy lines, and after that, the fighting took quite a toll on us all." She sighed. "It almost seems a sin to love it so."
"I see nothing sinful in rejoicing in your enemies' deaths, my love, as long as you never cease to honor the Children of Eru who also gave their lives."
"There is far more to war than the deaths of the enemy," said Nerdanel. "If it were only that, I do not think I would love it. It would merely be a duty. As it is, there is something about it, something raw and primal, that gets into my blood and... I cannot explain. You did not experience enough of battle to understand, but when the Last Battle comes, you will learn. I pray that Eru will keep you safe when you do, for war is a dangerous thing. It acts on certain soldiers like a strong drink - if they are not careful, they lose themselves to it."
I knew that all too well. I knew what I had become at Alqualondë, and in the Dagor-nuin-Giliath. Dear Eru, on those two occasions I daresay I loved battle even more than Nerdanel did. It gave me a physical release for my anguish, a physical target for my vengeance, and a vicious sense of fulfillment that I desperately needed - especially after so long of feeling that I had allowed my father to be slain, and committed an irredeemable failure.
Unfortunately, it had also turned me into a monster. That invincibility that Nerdanel had described was something I understood as well. It numbed my mind to all but fury at Alqualondë, it sent me charging into the waiting arms of death at Dor Daedeloth. Seeking to feel anything other than grief and guilt, I had embraced war and drained glass after glass of it, and that had been my downfall.
But now was not then. When the Last Battle dawned, I would not be alone and grieving. I would have my family and friends at my side, and they would keep me firmly grounded. As long as they were with me, as long as they loved me and I loved them, I knew I would not spiral away into madness again. Love was the remedy to the intoxication of battle.
On the other hand, the prospect of final vengeance upon the Dark Lord and his legions was attractive indeed. In my mind, I saw myself draw back and plunge my blade into Gothmog's chest, and something hot seared through me with such force that it set me shaking - with something utterly apart from fear.
Deny it as I might, I was a Noldo, and war was in my blood.
Come if you dare, demons, I thought. You will find it will not be like before. The Children of Eru are ready and waiting for you this time.
The hymn to Eru ended then, transitioning into a dark, lively reel.
"Do you remember this song?" asked Nerdanel.
"Absolutely not!" I had never been one for dancing in my previous life. My wife had always been the dancer.
"Then make it up!"
She took me by the hand and led me down from the dais, into the throng. My heart light and rejoicing still in my renunciation of the Oath, the prospect of the Dark Lord's fall, and in life, I let my inhibitions fall away. The beat of the drums settled inside me, filled me from head to foot.
The world dissolved into firelight, starlight, and music, through which shone the emerald eyes of my wife.
