"But Melkor also was there, and he came to the house of Fëanor, and there he slew Finwë King of the Noldor before his doors, and spilled the first blood in the Blessed Realm; for Finwë alone had not fled from the horror of the Dark." (Silm, 9: Of the Flight of the Noldor.)
So he was now dead. The first being murdered by violence in the land of Aman he was. And he had fled his shattered hröa for good.
Finwë, who was High King of the Noldor, could not hear the lament of his people when the tidings of his death were brought to the Ring of Doom. Nor was he aware of the desperate cries summoning him back that echoed in the darkness of the broken stronghold, when his son, crazed by grief, pressed his lips to his broken skull and brooded on his wild thoughts of revenge.
He was now nothing more, and nothing less, that a pure fëa without hröa, floating eerily through the empty and cold Halls of the Vala Mandos. He didn´t know where he was going and why, too stunned yet with what had happened to him a short while ago.
The black spider and the accursed Vala had tried to attack Formenos and carry away the Silmarils. He tried to protect them, but the monster wrought a fatal sticky thread around him, so he couldn´t even defend himself against Melkor´s dreadful blows. And he had failed once again.
"Even unable to protect your own house you were at the end", he thought bitterly.
"You could not possibly have done anything, my love."
Unable at first to believe he had really heard that voice, Finwë looked around.
"¡Míriel!" he tried to cry, but then he realised he hadn´t got a voice anymore, as the shadow that stood before him. It was her thoughts he had heard.
"I was waiting for you, my love" those thoughts flooded to his mind, and they embraced. It was a very strange embrace, because none of them had a hröa and their fëar were both mingled and confused, although it wasn´t at all a painful sensation. Rather, the tickling that Finwë experienced inside when Míriel traversed him made him feel he was whole at last.
For a very long time, none of them did move, until, finally, he who broke the embrace.
"Terrible things have happened" he stated, concerned again.
"Tell me how our son fares. They seldom give me tidings down here." Míriel asked then, looking into her former husband´s eyes.
But Finwë wasn´t able to meet her gaze, and he turned away.
"I cannot say. I stayed at home, and he went away. Maybe...maybe he is in danger. Our grandsons might be dead now, too.
"No, they are not, for they would be here." she answered gently. "Now the Valar are assembled, and even Mandos is away from his Halls. They will find a way to protect our kindred against the evil Vala.
Finwë tried to believe in that, but he found that he couldn´t. The horror he had seen was so powerful and full of evil that the deep impression it caused in him lasted even after his own death. He began to think with foresight, and for a moment, he thought he could see the sorrows that his people were going to endure, and shuddered.
How could he be there, in peace, and enjoying the company of his beloved first wife, while his sons, his grandchildren, his people, and Indis...?
Indis. His wife.
"Do not worry. You are temporarily freed from your bond, until your return to the world. And she will wait for you."
As Míriel said that, realisation finally dawned upon Finwë. He had been thinking that he should return to Aman as swiftly as he could, and try to make amends for his past errors. Returning from the dead, perhaps, he would be able to avert the doom of the Noldor, which he felt that was drawing near. To speak with his son again...
But now he was aware that it was not possible, he also knew what he must do. Hard as it would be, he had to.
"Míriel, you must go and speak to Fëanaro now."
His wife looked at him incredulously.
"What did you say? Me...go away? But I cannot!"
"Only if I am alive. That was the doom of the Valar. But I will stay here."
"Finwë!" Míriel was shocked ." Why?"
"Because you will know how to ease Fëanaro´s pain better . Because he longs to see you. Because you are wiser than I. Because I feel marred, and unable to do the task myself. And because I caused you pain and you sacrificed yourself for my sake. "Do not think it is going to be an easy task to be alive, now that Evil has awakened. I would that the circumstances were better, my dear."
"But Indis is waiting for you."
"Yes. " For a moment, Finwë was in pain about the decision he was going to make. "Go and tell her that I love her. And tell my sons, too. Not only Fëanaro...but all of them."
And so it was that Finwë relinquished his claim to dwell once again in the World of the Living, and his first wife Míriel came again to see the Blessed Realm. Unfortunately, when she arrived, she learned of the flight of the Noldor, and of her son´s rebellion against the will of the Valar. Never again did she see him and, in pain, she left her people, now ruled by her stepson Finarfin with the help of his mother Indis, the Vanya. And she went again to seek the counsel and help of the Valar, who made her a handmaiden of Vairë, and entrusted her forever with the task of weaving tapestries with the fate of Arda Marred. As for Finwë, he never was known to return from the Halls, so he most surely remained there forever.
(Note: All the information used for making this chapter was taken from the Silmarillion and from "Morgoth´s ring", a volume of the HoME. Suppositions, however, are mine.
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.