Namo has never seen a fea like that. It was compelling, intoxicating, gorgeous even when trapped in his hroa, which was a beauty in its own right. But to its free form, it was like a candle to Laurelin.
Not even the greyness of his halls could dim it. Teleri waiting after the Kinslaying in Alqualonde gathered at his arrival, ready to accuse, to ask for reasons. They fell silent when they beheld him. None could speak first, and after he passed them on his way to the Doomsman, ignoring them, they retreated in silence and never sought him out.
His father could not bring himself to speak with him either; neither could his brother, his sons, his nephews nor Sindar they have slain under his oath. Even Maia in Namo’s halls never addressed him. Only Namo did.
He spoke to him of many things, not only the fate of his house and jewels. He spoke of happenings in Arda Marred even after his kin resided in it no more. He spoke of happenings in Valinor, of new works of art made, of new songs sung under the stars. He spoke to him at length, even though he barely responded. Sometimes, a scoff; on rare occasions, a caustic remark. But he was mostly silent, pretending to ignore his words. Yet Namo knew he listened. His mind was too restless not to latch on anything new, and there were few things changing in Halls of Mandos.
Namo understood not why he did it. He just couldn’t help craving his presence. Yet this part of his doom remained was not revealed to him by One. He explained it to himself as being naturally drawn to the brightest of fear in his abode, brighter than even many of his servants. It is natural, after all, he reasoned, for are we not drawn to brightest light? But Namo did not concern himself with kelvar; thus he knew not what becomes of moths that are drawn to the flame.
And then, the time came when Arda was to be remade and all fear in his Halls re-embodied. But if he insisted on staying, maybe his wish would be granted, cajoled Namo. After all, what is there for him, out there? He said himself he already created his greatest work. His family is estranged from him. What is there for Curufinwe Feanaro out there?
Feanor sneered at him. He said that he saw through his pathetic attempts to befriend him, yet he couldn’t have imagined it would have been for this purpose. He thought he wanted to make him feel remorseful, compliant, obedient, he ranted. Yet it was for far more sinister a purpose, he raved. He wanted to make him stay here, so that he appeared repentant to the point he didn’t think he deserved another chance at life, so that the judgement of Valar seemed unquestionable, he accused. He went on and on, ignoring the sorrow Namo didn’t bother to conceal. When he was done he walked out, head held high, to join the other fea to be re-embodied.
Namo turned to see Vaire looking at him. She has been looking at him with a strange sentiment in her eyes for a long time now. Now he recognised it. It was pity.
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Date: 2012-05-13 12:52 pm (UTC)Not even the greyness of his halls could dim it. Teleri waiting after the Kinslaying in Alqualonde gathered at his arrival, ready to accuse, to ask for reasons. They fell silent when they beheld him. None could speak first, and after he passed them on his way to the Doomsman, ignoring them, they retreated in silence and never sought him out.
His father could not bring himself to speak with him either; neither could his brother, his sons, his nephews nor Sindar they have slain under his oath. Even Maia in Namo’s halls never addressed him. Only Namo did.
He spoke to him of many things, not only the fate of his house and jewels. He spoke of happenings in Arda Marred even after his kin resided in it no more. He spoke of happenings in Valinor, of new works of art made, of new songs sung under the stars. He spoke to him at length, even though he barely responded. Sometimes, a scoff; on rare occasions, a caustic remark. But he was mostly silent, pretending to ignore his words. Yet Namo knew he listened. His mind was too restless not to latch on anything new, and there were few things changing in Halls of Mandos.
Namo understood not why he did it. He just couldn’t help craving his presence. Yet this part of his doom remained was not revealed to him by One. He explained it to himself as being naturally drawn to the brightest of fear in his abode, brighter than even many of his servants. It is natural, after all, he reasoned, for are we not drawn to brightest light? But Namo did not concern himself with kelvar; thus he knew not what becomes of moths that are drawn to the flame.
And then, the time came when Arda was to be remade and all fear in his Halls re-embodied. But if he insisted on staying, maybe his wish would be granted, cajoled Namo. After all, what is there for him, out there? He said himself he already created his greatest work. His family is estranged from him. What is there for Curufinwe Feanaro out there?
Feanor sneered at him. He said that he saw through his pathetic attempts to befriend him, yet he couldn’t have imagined it would have been for this purpose. He thought he wanted to make him feel remorseful, compliant, obedient, he ranted. Yet it was for far more sinister a purpose, he raved. He wanted to make him stay here, so that he appeared repentant to the point he didn’t think he deserved another chance at life, so that the judgement of Valar seemed unquestionable, he accused. He went on and on, ignoring the sorrow Namo didn’t bother to conceal. When he was done he walked out, head held high, to join the other fea to be re-embodied.
Namo turned to see Vaire looking at him. She has been looking at him with a strange sentiment in her eyes for a long time now. Now he recognised it. It was pity.