Disclaimer: All owned by Prof. J.R.R Tolkien and the Tolkien estate I have merely borrowed the characters for a short little while.
Authors' note: Apologies for the noticeable lack of fics as of late, no excuses, I just couldn't be bothered to write any of them up since last year. As for those few of you who were reading Journeys the story has not been discontinued, chapter three has just been giving me some headaches. Anyway, without further ado Those who go on is finally up for you reading perusal.
Those who go on…
By, Aria
"But in that hour Finarfin forsook the march, and turned back, being filled with bitterness against the House of Fëanor … But his sons were not with him, for they would not forsake the sons of Fingolfin; and all Fingolfin's folk went forward still, feeling the constraint of their kinship and the will of Fëanor, and fearing to face the doom of the Valar."
Father has turned back, I knew he would and I am glad he has. He has grieved harder than any of us for what happened back at Alqualondë. Mothers' people became his own over the years; and though I was brought up in that fair haven I am also the eldest son and indeed, eldest child of this line and I cannot turn back. It would have killed father if he had continued, I know it would have, he would have died of grief long before ever we could reach Endorre and I would not have seen him suffer so. It hurt Artanis that eh would not continue and I think she considers him a coward because of this, but to me, he is no coward for he did not allow himself to be ruled by either of his brothers' but did rather what he believed to be right. In so many ways did I want to follow him back home but, if I had I would have left the people of our house, nay my house, to the leadership of Artaher; and although I do love my little brother, he cannot lead an entire house. I know this and would not have placed this burden upon him. For burden it is and how my father did not collapse under the weight of it I know not. I wonder, will I? For father had mothers' support but I, I do not. I have my siblings' aye but, Angaráto is married and he will be starting a house of his own soon enough. Perhaps some will choose to follow him? For I never realised just how large the following of our house was and, although a third did return with father still is it large; and the people look to me to protect them. I have seen my Uncle place many of his people under the leadership of Findekáno and Turukáno though not Arakáno who he believes is still too young to lead a House. Perhaps. Perhaps I should follow my Uncles' example and divide my following to stand under my brothers' also; though, to be under my overall leadership since I am the leader of this House.
Ai Amárië how I wish you were here now. My strong and beautiful one. We were to be betrothed. I had my cousin forge the rings himself. Two silver bands and I would have asked you. Then but a year later we would have been wed. But now? Never now. Too large a stretch of ocean separates us now my love for that wish to ever come true. Never again will I look upon another as I looked upon you. How could I? You stole my heart and now keep it under lock and key yourself my Good lady and so shall it ever be kept. Both my heart and my spirit, my very soul do you keep in your care my Lady and I pray…I pray you shall take good care of it. For now you shall hold it until the very End of Days.
I pray for you my Love. I pray that you shall see fit to still look, nay think upon me with love. Although after the bloodletting at dear Alqualondë me thinks that you shall not…
But I pray…nay I beg of you to listen to my father. My dearly beloved father as he tells you of our family's innocence in that senseless act. No blood did I spill my Love. No blood does stain these hands my sweet one.
Though you shall say still that is little conciliation for still have I gone on and left you.
Deserted my mother – dear sweet Eärwen of the silver hair- my father – beloved, gentle Arafinwë too much of a Vanya to ever leave Aman in rebellion- and you my treasured beloved. You Amárië of the golden haired Vanyar; tender and large of heart. I hope you shall accept my last gift to you. I gave it unto my father to give to you when he at last turned to leave and return back to Tirion to confront the Valar themselves. And I know he shall bestow it unto you. That silver ring that I so long ago had made for you. Those many years ago when we both were but young. Yet when I saw you Amárië dancing in that festival. Dancing under the light that is now gone I loved you. I loved you from that very moment.
But, I will not leave my kinsmen to face the unknown alone. I could not live with myself if I allowed them to cross this ice…
Yes the ice Amárië. The Helcaraxë, the dread ice of the North. I could not allow them to dare this crossing alone. My father left our people in my care and so I shall care for them, as I know he would have done if he could have.
My father could not have endured this Amárië not with conscience. A man of deep feelings is he Amárië. He was torn, torn between going on, journeying onwards to the unknown seeking only revenge for the death of our patriarch; and between the knowledge that if he would do so the kindred's of the Noldor and Teleri would never be reconciled.
He and mother bind the two kindred's beloved one. My father is not a coward as some of my very kinsmen do declare. As even my sister does declare, calling him weak of heart and spirit. Nay this is not so. My father has returned. He has turned back to face the greater unknown. Such a great unknown that not even I could face and so, I did not.
As I embraced him that one last time he spoke to me my father did.
"I fear I shall not see you again my son. Not until all we know has changed and what little hope we cling to has fled away."
I look at him then. I looked at him, my noble father, noble and wise. Tears glistened in his eyes though none did fall; matching mine own. I never realised how much alike we looked until that hour, nor how well he was named: Arafinwë Ingoldo…a mother name that I too share and perhaps it shall prove true for me as well. Only time will tell.
I never noticed when he did it but he pulled me close once again to whisper in my ear.
"Be strong my son. Be strong, as I could not. Care for them Findaráto. Care for them. Our people will look now to you for guidance and you must grant it to them. Temper your Uncles' pride. You must be reason. When the madness seeks to consume all remember yourself. Remember who you are. Soothe the councils of your kinsmen; do not allow pride to rule you. Otherwise it may be all of your downfalls.
Be well. Be safe and care and look after your brothers' and sister where I could not. Farewell my son."
My fathers' last words to me, full of wisdom and truth. A quiet man, but one who watches all and takes note of all also.
It was only after he had turned from us that I opened my hand. I had felt him impress something cool and metallic within it as he had spoken but only now as he leaves do I dare look.
Twin serpents with glittering emerald eyes glared up accusingly at me. While their heads met beneath a crown of golden flowers, that one upheld while the other devoured…my fathers' ring. Our family's ring. My ring. I almost went after him then…almost…almost…but I did not. I could not.
No oath binds my family to leave our home except for our overriding pride; and it is this that is our downfall.
Pride…beware of it Amárië. Pride is our downfall. The downfall of the Noldor. Only a select few could overcome this pride and return. Only a few could humble themselves and seek forgiveness.
For it is my pride that forces me to march on. It is my pride that forces me to support my cousins. And it is my pride that now leads so many of our people. Forgive me my pride.
Forgive me my father. My wise and noble father.
Forgive me my mother. My gentle and beloved mother.
Forgive me my love. My beautiful and kind-hearted love.
For I go on and mayhap I shall see none of you again.
Forgive.
"The fire of their hearts was young, and led by Fingolfin and his sons, and by Finrod and Galadriel, they dared to pass into the bitterest North; and finding no other way they endured at last the terror of the Helcaraxë and the Cruel hills of ice…"
End Notes/ Continued authors note:
Names:
Arafinwë Ingoldo Finarfin
Nolofinwё Fingolfin
Artahir Orodreth
Angaráto Angrod
Aikanáro Aegnor
Findaráto Finrod
Findekáno Fingon
Turukáno Turgon
Arakáno Argon
Artanis Galadriel
Endorre Middle-earth
As can be seen I have used the Silmarillion version of Finarfin's family not the HoMe, right? Wrong? Technically a matter of opinion however he's stuck in my head as part of that generation not the next. Argon aka. Arakáno is the third son of Fingolfin according to HoMe (as you can see I like to use some of HoMe as well as ignore it). The ring is the 'ring of Barahir' given to Barahir by Finrod; it was described as having bearing Finarfin 'emblem' and so I thought this story might be nice in explaining some of its origins as well as advancing my little series of 'Those who…' fics. Again, I'm sorry for the delay in posting this story especially considering it was finished (draft form) in June 2004. For all those awaiting the next chapter of 'Journeys', that is if you haven't given up; I am still writing that story however I have been stuck upon one particular scene for the past many, many months and being at university now I doubt always have enough time to devote to writing, mores the pity. Especially when you consider if I could finish that one scene the chapter would be virtually written. Still, I hope you have enjoyed this little one and I look forward to hearing any feedback from you.