Chapter twelve: Battle under the stars

Feanar returned to his study after his conversation with Elgorn. He was very confused in his mind at the moment. He was happy for Elgorn and Gilraen, but he wondered if Elgorn's choice was right. Gilraen would be broken if Elgorn fell during this journey. Before, she had waited. Unhappily, but she did wait. Now Feanar was not so sure. His sister was a bit headstrong and quite brave. She would not think twice about following the fellowship.

As Feanar entered his study, he grew faint. Swaying, he managed to grab his chair to prevent him from falling. His breathing grew harsh and his head spun. With blurred eyes, he was able to read the date. Tuile 46. Yes, the day of the attack. The day he lost his mother and almost his own life. Still the poison affected Feanar, causing weakness. Feanar was glad to be in his study instead of dinner. He had told his friends that he had fully recovered from that dreadful injury, but Gilraen knew otherwise. Feanar looked at his hand, white and shaking, where with his other he rubbed the scar between his collarbones. He mentally beat himself. Why did I not remember it was today? Why is Gilraen not here? Why can I not get over it, defeat it! I should be able to knock this weakness aside! Feanar moaned and collapsed.

He woke up in a bed, feeling weak and tired. He tried to sit up, not remembering what had happened to him.

"Feanar, stay there! Don't move!" His fathers pained voice caused him to try harder. He managed to sit up before the lightheadedness came on him. He nearly hurled on his father. His fathers blue eyes were full of worry, sadness and… distance. This worried him. Then they hit him, all the memories, all the pain of him seeing his mother fall, all the pain of seeing his mother fade in his hands as he tried to protect her. The pain in his own chest, all of it he remembered. He reached a hand up to his collarbones. There was an x shaped scar, perfectly matching the barbed arrows that the orcs used.

Tears sprang to his eyes. "Mother, what happened to mother? Father! Tell me! Is mother going to be alight?" The sadness and distance grew in his father's eyes. "Father! Don't fade on me father! Stay with me! Please…" He hugged his father, both of them crying at the loss. His sister entered as well hugging us both.

"Do not think of the past!"

"Is almost better then what is happening now. I just hope there is no war." He said to the voice.

"There will be war. You know that, your friends know that, your sister knows that. You should just hope the whole war is not like the Battle under the Stars."

"I don't know that battle!"

"But I do. And what I know, you know, now."

"Are you of that time?"

"You're learning."

"Feanar, come back! Feanar, return to me, do not give in!" Feanar moaned to himself. Where was he? He tried to move a little. Soft and feathery it was. A bed. And that voice, his sister, Gilraen! He opened his eyes taking in the look of worry on Gilraen's face. Why…? Ah, yes, Tuile 46. Feanar gestured to Gilraen the question if he could sit up. She nodded. He slowly lifted himself up.

"What happened?" He asked.

"You forgot what happens to you today."

"Thanks so much for putting that part so blunt." Feanar said in disgust. Gilraen smiled weakly.

"For some reason, you are affected by the poison more today then any other day." She said.

"That's what I wanted to know." Feanar stood up. "The time?"

"Midnight. And there are people wanting to know where you are… You are the prince of this place…"

"Don't remind me…" He glanced down at the mithril headband on the nightstand. Legolas's brother, then Legolas himself, had worn it. Now it was his. He looked sternly out the window, quite unaware how he looked like an Elf of the ancient days. "Has Legolas returned?"

"Nay. You made amazing time here. I doubt that he would have left Minas Tirith for a day more." Feanar walked aver to the window. Then he looked at the sword. The black sword that he had obtained. Mormengil. He walked over to the sword, his deep blue eyes troubled. Drawing the sword, Feanar turned to Gilraen.

"You are more learned of the ancient days. Who lived in the ancient days, dies in the battle of the stars, and was alive when this swords name was?" Gilraen took the sword from Feanar's hand.

"Mormengil." Gilraen said is amazement. "Name bestowed upon Turin Turambar by the elves of Nargothrod. Turin wielded a black sword." Gilraen's eyes glazed, as they always did when talking about history. "There were many who died in the battle under the stars. Feanor being the most mourned."

"That's it! That's who he is!" Feanar said excitedly. "Feanor…"

"What are you talking about, Feanar?"

"Am I right in saying that Feanor had not yet returned to Middle Earth?"

"You are."

"Then I just lied. He has, just a few years ago, but he has! He is I, I am he. He has been speaking with me of late. That's whom I was speaking to during the sleep. That's who you pulled me from!"

"But why now? Why would he return now in you?" Gilraen asked quietly. Feanar shook his head.

"Perhaps it is to do with the coming darkness."