Finarfin stood upon the shore, looking eastward
into
the wind, catching the very faint scent of flowers in the mortal
lands.
The light of Isil shone through the Calacirya behind him, as Anar
barely
lit the edges of the sky in front of him. The edge of the sky had
a slight tinge of red, as if the eastward lands were on fire.
This
fire took him back in his mind, through many years, through what seemed
an eternity gone, to a day that he had not forgotten though it was
almost
legend now in the eastern lands. As he stared eastward he began
to
talk to himself.
“So quickly it had happened. We three brothers
were divided. You, oh Feanor, and our brother Fingolfin, went to
make war upon the Dark Lord. Yet I remained behind. But it
did not start out that way. We would have gone together. We
could have gone together, three brothers to avenge the death of their
father.
How did things go so awry that day?
I look back on that day, many, many years ago.
Our father lay dead, slain by that treacherous foe Morgoth. It
was
he who truly set us at odds. It is true that we had our
differences
long before Morgoth was unchained. Still, I say that in some
degree
there was love between the three of us, if only because we were
brothers.
Never would we have thought to draw blade against one another had not
Morgoth
given us such a thought! And yet there we were, only hours
earlier
our father had been slain. You had called the Noldor to Tuna, and by
the
power of your voice convinced many of them to leave Aman and follow the
Black Foe into Middle Earth; too many you had convinced. Even I
would
have been swayed had I not already a mind to go and seek revenge for
my,
for our, father’s death. Yet I was not in such a fiery state as
you,
and though I wished revenge I also sought that we took council and
thought
on our plans and deeds ere they were done. But you prevailed, my
brother, and our people wished to leave before they had prepared.
We gathered our things in haste. You wished
to lead us out of Aman ill-prepared, no council and no knowledge of
what
lay before us, and for this I was loathe to go. Yet I would leave
neither my people nor my brother Fingolfin to the utter rashness of
your
haste and fiery will, and so I marched with him and those who
went.
Even against my judgment I marched, though I felt already the peril
upon
us. Already were our people divided among us, some with you and
many
more with Fingolfin and myself. But my people packed more
heavily,
not willing to give up everything they had had in Aman.
Even the messenger of the Valar warned us not to
march, and the Noldor did not listen. An evil hour he called it,
yet the true evil had not yet come. Exiled into Middle-earth you
were, and still we marched. I should’ve stopped then, but somehow
I knew that if I did not march that day I would get no other chance of
revenge. And so I marched, and so we marched, on to Alqualonde to
ask for aid and for ships. Yet these they would not give us, and
so you took it upon yourself to take their ships. Even as I think
of it now I shudder and I rue that day we set upon the march!
How,
Feanor, could you kill kinsman and friends? How could you wrestle
from them those ships, as Morgoth took your Silmarilli but days
before?
Even then I knew we would not succeed, yet I tried to lie to myself,
saying
to myself we were still fighting for a righteous cause.
It was not until we heard the Doom of the Noldor
that I could no longer tell myself these lies. “Valinor shall be
shut against you…to an evil end shall all things turn that begin
well...treason
of kin unto kin, and fear of treason…slain ye shall be..” After
hearing
these things I could no longer deny to myself or to any other that this
once holy crusade was doomed. We had slain kin, we had stolen
from
them, and we had not heeded the warnings that others saw so
easily.
We had become little better than our Black Foe by fulfilling all he had
wished to accomplish. I could not lead my people into such horror
and evil. I turned around and lead those who would follow me back
to Tuna.
Now, my brother Feanor, I stand here on the shores
of Aman looking northward, and eastward. Though a new age has
come,
I need no Palantir, no lore-master, no tale of ages past to show me the
shores of Losgar so long ago. For from this place I could see
these
things, though too far for sight these places were. I see you,
Feanor,
as you burn the ships Elven blood had bought, abandoning our brother to
the harsh ices of the Helcaraxe, and I see Fingolfin’s face when he
realizes
what has happened, the first evidence of treachery awakening in those
who
marched on. I stand here, my brother, as king of our people, and
yet I have no solace from this title. My pain is eased only by
knowing
that Morgoth has paid for his crimes, both to our family and to all of
Arda. And yet, at times I still wonder how it could have turned
out
had things not gone so awry, had it remained as it should have, three
brothers
on a righteous quest.”
For several more minutes he stood there as the sun
rose and the tide changed. When Anar had risen, fully visible in
the early morning sky, Finarfin turned from the shore and walked away.