Thanks go to the many people who've helped me in the creation of this story, especially Cirdan, Jillian Baade, Finch and Maia.
Gone. You are gone, and I am lost, alone in the dark.
How could you leave me, Father? I love you. I need you! You told me when I was small that you would always be here for me, and until now you always have been. You stayed with me when Mother abandoned us, and followed me willingly into privation. And it was the warmth of your love that first kindled my gifts, and the light I later trapped with my hands was a pallid thing next to the your blinding radiance.
I know you once thought of leaving. It was not your fault - she was responsible, she tricked you into loving her, made you forget Mother, tried to woo your heart away from me in favor of her own ill-gotten sons. In the end, though, all her efforts came to naught; eventually I drove her away, and kept you safe. But now you are trapped with Mother in the Halls, and there is nothing I can do to bring you back to me. I've lost you forever.
And when you were slain, all that was bright in Aman died with you. For they have been stolen, the lights I made, the stars of my hands, my Silmarils. He has taken everything from me. He has tried to destroy me - but I will not give him the satisfaction he is seeking. I will not rest until I have regained what is rightfully mine!
And I will not forget, ever. I know who really killed you, Father. I will always remember who it was who chose to pardon the Black Foe, permitting him to walk among our people, giving that evil one the freedom he needed to strike you down. Who it was who tried to force me to destroy my Silmarils, to shatter my heart along with my gems, not caring in the least that it would slay me. Who it is who now holds you unjustly imprisoned while allowing your killer, the thief of my light, one of his own kind, to escape untouched and unpunished. And who it is who is even now trying to turn my own people against me, that they might follow the leadership of Indis's eldest brat instead; for unlike me, Nolofinwë is willing to grovel at your murderers' feet forever in exchange for your throne.
I will not allow this! My people have been the Valar's thralls long enough - it is time that we break free of their chains and leave this cage to seek our freedom elsewhere. Freedom, and justice, and vengeance. Justice for your murder, Father. Revenge for the harms the Black Foe has inflicted on us. We will go forth in wrath, and regain the light that he has stolen from us, and in the end we will cast him down. The lands of our birth we shall reclaim, for they rightfully belong to us; we will permit no mortal race to usurp our place there. And we will show Manwë Súlimo that the Noldor do not need the Valar. Our might shall be equal to their own, once our rage is kindled.
It is time I return to Tirion. I have a fire to light.
The names of the characters used in this story are all Quenya, and the meanings of all of them can be found in the essay "The Shibboleth of Fëanor," published in The Peoples of Middle Earth (History of Middle Earth, vol. 12). When more than one name is listed for a character, the first name is the father-name, and the second is the mother-name. The Sindarin equivalents of these names are as follows:
Nolofinwë - Fingolfin
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.