048: "Fire and ash."

But she never spoke her doubts.

Was it fair of her to ask him to put aside "his" passions for "her own"?

(Since when had they required differentiation?)

She had always known his fire was unutterably great, that she could not match it on its highest, brightest days. Now she had fallen behind, her own fire guttering as the kindling crumbled away.

Is this how history would remember them? Fëanáro, a solar storm obliterating every shadow that dared advance against his glorious nimbus, and Nerdanel, a fragile matchstick reduced to nothing in the hurricane that only made him stronger?