• Welcome to The Tolkien Forum! Connect with fellow Tolkien enthusiasts and join a community that is over two decades old, and still going strong. We look forward to meeting you.  Register

Eä's Redemption

XIII. Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

Alas, the Teleri were still detained in Middle Earth,
for they dwelt in Eastern Beleriand, close to the sea,
sadly, it happened that the call of Ulmo too late they heard
furthermore a major part of them were waiting for Elwë.

Despite the longing for their king's presence in the journey,
when some Teleri got to know of the other clans' departure,
many of them chose to thread toward Sirion's mouth in hurry,
naming Olwë, Elwë's brother, to lead the people to their fortune.

These Elves remained to abide on the coast of the western seas,
in an eternal yearning for their long-lost sisters and brothers,
Ossë and Uinen fostered the newly formed fraction of the foamy breeze,
teaching them the secrets of the marine arts, songs and discoveries.

The Teleri grew a deepest bond with those salty waters,
just as they had been previously marked by the same affinity,
they rooted their essence in the sea and nautical matters
became their specialty, a sacred bond to live through infinity.

Alas, not only did the Teleri miss the Noldor family,
the Noldor reciprocated the feel, now having reached Aman,
so Ulmo listened to Finwë's deplorations carefully,
and went to take those who were willing to reunite their clan.

Ossë and Uinen's hearts filled up with grief and sorrow,
for their kingdom were the seas of Middle Earth,
around the shores of the Outer Lands; and tomorrow?
No singing voice of the Teleri would here be heard.

So Ossë convinced a few of the Elves to stay
with him in his reign, for he'd miss them greatly,
Falathrim, the Elves of the Falas, was their
new name, the first shipbuilders and sailors of the sea.

In the Brithombar and Eglarest bays they lived,
they selected as their ruler Círdan the Shipwright,
giving to Ossë and Uinen the best possible gift:
their company and loyalty that chose their sight.

Many among Elwë's family dear also decided
to remain here to seek him in the Outer Lands;
otherwise they would have happily reunited
with their Quendi kin in Aman; yet, Elwë's chance.

They came to be known as the Eglath, the Forsaken,
for they didn't arrive in time until Ulmo and Olwë departed,
while the other, timely Teleri would indeed be taken
on the island that brought them back where Creation started.

The Eglath preferred to live in the woods and hills of Beleriand,
for the sea inspired them to mourn beyond endurance;
for their deepest longing was always the same one, called Aman;
they were destined to live in Middle-Earth with perserverance.

Elwë finally awoke from his profound slumber,
got out of Nan Elmoth together with his Melian dear,
he craved the Two Trees' light but ultimately encumbered
this aspiration, for he perceived the light in her face here.

The disheartened people of Elwë already thought
he had been long gone, in good fate or drear,
and how did they rejoice when suddenly they caught
a glimpse of their ruler, who came to appear.

His people laughed, heart beating, screams of ecstasy,
for the unthinkable had became a dream come true,
Elwë now appeared magnificent and they breathlessly
awed him, taller and prettier than any other Eru Creature

with silver hair floating in the wind of fateful glory,
they danced and jumped and hugged and ran,
the start of their new epoch of happiness; the story
of the Elven Kingdom of Elwë, the Sindar ones.
 
XIII. Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

Ossë followed the squad of Olwë and wept,
and when they reached Eldamar, or later Elvenhome,
he invoked the Teleri from the sea's depths
with a migthy voice in midst of the churning foam.

The Teleri overheard their mentor's faraway lament,
so they implored Ulmo to halt for a moment,
for deep inside their fervent wish was to spend
more time with Ossë who after them went.

So Ulmo, eager, anchored the island
in the bottom of the sea, for the Teleri to stay,
for, back at the Council, the Valar's plan
he thought was not the best for the Elven way.

Ulmo understood the heart of the Teleri,
having objected against the Quendi's relocation,
for their home, Middle-Earth, would be
the best place to reach their goal and destination.

The Valar were discontent at that decision,
and Finwë bewailed the absence of Elwë;
knowing his friend was left behind, a prevision
clenched his heart that he was nowhere.

He sensed he would be able to see him only
in the Halls of Mandos, some fateful day,
and the feeling was painful and lonely,
for he craved his presence that was astray.

The island didn't move ever again.
Named Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle,
in the bay of Eldamar it was lain,
where the Teleri lived, still versatile.

The Teleri, underneath the starry firmament,
saw Aman's shores, the land soaked in immortal flames;
Since too long a time they came to spend
in their new home, their language different became.


 
XIII. Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

The Vanyar and the Noldor were destined to live
in the lands of the Imperishable Valinor.
Yet at times they would become rather ruminative
out of nostalgia for the starry atmosphere.

They rejoiced at the Two Trees' eternal lights,
yet the stars in the cosmos had their own charm,
for this reason a passage was cut in the Pelóri's heights,
so that they could peek in the black sparkling chasm.

In the deep valley there that reached the sea,
the Eldar uprose a green, lofty hill, Túna its name,
from the west it was bathed in the light of the Trees,
from the east it lay in shadows that quiet became.

The east side had a view to the Eldamar bay,
the lonely island roaming in the Shadowy Seas,
while through Calacirya, the Cleft of Light, the rays
of the Blessed Realm were seeping through at ease.

The magical light showered the obscure waves
with silver and golden hues, alchemical purification,
and all that beautiful surreal Valinorean grace
reached the Lonely Isle's western shores in restoration.

The radiation made the western shores wonderful,
beautiful and really young, so fresh and green,
it was the first time that flowers happened to grow
at east from Aman's Peaks; a miracle so far unseen.
 
XIII. Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

It was upon the hill Túna that the Elves raised
the city of Tirion, with white walls and terraces;
Mindon Eldaliéva, Ingwë's tower there faced
the sea mists, its lamp silver-plating the watery masses.

Few mortal men have ever sailed that far
as to behold the pale glowing from the tower,
its mysterious radiance resembling a star,
a symbol of the Elven immortal carnal power.

The Noldor and the Vanyar happily lived together
in Tirion upon Túna in friendship for a long while,
mastering crafts and arts, becoming wise and better,
away from gruesome trials and fate in Middle-Earth's exile.

The Elves cared most of all for the White Tree, Telperion,
so Yavanna crafted another one for them, smaller in form,
it resembled its image, save for the fact it didn't carry an
option to shine on its own, yet no less loved at home.

In the Sindarin language they called it Galathilion,
planted upon the terrace beneath the Mindon,
it flourished and put forth its offspring to carry on
its legacy throughout Eldamar, while time went on.

One of these saplings would be later borne
to Tol Eressëa, later known as the tree Celeborn,
from it descended the the line of Nimloth, grown
as the White Tree of Númenor, where it was sown.


XIII. Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

Manwë and Varda were fond of the Vanyar,
while Aulë held the Noldor under his guardianship,
from him they learnt in great details his lore,
sometimes even surpassing him in craftmanship.

They grew ever more insatiable for knowledge;
their tongue was ever changing, for they sought
the fairest names for all perceived, in homage
to the perfect Creation the Valar had wrought.

The masons of the House of Finwë were the first,
who, wandering among the hills in search for stone,
discovered the Earth's precious gems, unlocking thirst
to devise tools to shape and cut them; for they shone.

They kept none of these riches, in virtuous sharing,
giving them freely, unconditionally; generously;
enriching Valinor's beauty, for they were caring,
no avidity known to them, gratefully, venerably.

XIII. Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

In the later epochs to come the Noldor clan
would return to Middle-Earth, so deeply valiant:
Finwë was their King, who had three sons,
Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin; all three brilliant.

Fëanor was born of Míriel Serindë,
Fingolfin and Finarfin born of Indis of the Vanyar,
among them Fëanor was greatest in lore,
in craftmanship and eloquence, bright like a star.

Fëanor's spirit burned like a living flame,
while Fingolfin was the mightiest in strength;
valour, and steadfast courage - his fame,
these virtues of his were his inner wealth.

Finarfin was the fairest in all heart matters,
remaining a friend to the sons of Olwë,
he took as wife Eärwen from Olwë, her father,
she was the Swan-maiden of Alqualondë.

Fëanor had seven children: Maedhros the Tall;
Maglor the Singer, heard beyond mountains and seas,
Celegorm the Fair, with charm provoking awe,
Caranthir the Dark, serious his gaze, deepest his deeds.

Curufin, the master craftsman, inherited his father's skill,
Amrod and Amras, twins alike in body, spirit and will.
They would become renowned for their admirable hunting,
Celegorm above all delighting the chase and all the jumping.

In Valinor he was often the companion of Oromë,
riding beneath the sound of his mighty horn,
with great heroic acts during their infinite roam,
and thus long-lasting legacy for stories born.

Fingon, King of the Noldor in the Northern Lands,
and Turgon, lord of Gondolin, were the sons of Fingolfin,
their youngest sister Aredhel the White, who understands
providence, riding through the forest, having games to win.

Her cousins often accompanied her there,
yet she gave her heart to none of them,
Ar-Feiniel, with snow-white face and black hair,
clad in silver and white, notorious her fame.

Finarfin's sons were the Faithful Finrod,
later in days named Lord of Caverns, Felagund renowned,
his heirs were also Orodreth, Aegnor and Angrod,
loving Fingolfin's children as if they were of their own.

They had a sister, called Galadriel, the fairest maiden
of all the House of Finwë, with hair as burnished gold,
as if her tresses still emitted the radiance of Laurelin,
whoever missed its light, sought her hair, it is told.
 
Last edited:
XIII. Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

The Teleri dwelt for a long time in Tol Eressëa,
alas their hearts were slowly changing,
they were drawn towards the light beyond the sea,
that beyond the Lonely Isle was spreading.

Their souls were torn in two halfs, contradicted,
one loved the song of the waves in Ossë's realm,
the other one missed their relatives and depicted
their reunion in their imagination overwhelmed.

At the end the craving for the Light dominated.
And at the will of the Valar Ulmo sent Ossë, their friend;
he taught them the naval science, they created
ships of their own for their journey and Ossë sent

a flock of swans with strong steady wings,
they pushed the Teleri ships through the salty masses
in those areas were there were no winds,
the last voyagers reached Aman and Eldamar's waters.

They inhabited that place so they could contemplate
the splendour of the Two Trees shining bright,
they could walk on the Valmar streets and felicitate
each other on the crystal stairs of Tirion's might.

They sailed on boats in Elvenhome,
they wandered in the surf of the sea at will,
their hair under the imperishable light shone,
the light that came from behind the hill.

The Noldor gifted them with many precious stones,
opals, diamonds, crystals, rubies, sapphires,
they scattered the riches in bays and along shores,
they took pearls from the depths that were dire.

Their homes and the halls of Olwë in Alqualondë,
the Haven of the Swans, were seme of pearls,
and many lanterns followed the visible line there,
the harbour of their ships, their city, their world.

They would craft their ships from gold and black agate,
in resemblance they built them to look like swans,
at the border of Eldamar stood so high their gate,
that allowed entrance to whoever they would truly want.

At north of Calacirya, the Pass of Light,
where the stars were vivid and clear,
they lived to explore, to sail, to unite
with their inspiration, empirically dear.

And after a time, the Vanyar fell in love
with the lands of the Valar and the Two Trees,
so they left Tirion and climbed above,
inhabiting the mountains of Manwë in bliss.

That is how the Vanyar separated from the Noldor,
gradually departing, each to their fate and design,
always adventurous, wanting to discover more,
the Noldor ones remembered Middle-Earth declined.

The latter remained in Calacirya, or the hills or the valleys,
from where they could hear the surf of the western seas,
they often travelled, a family of friends and allies,
to the extent of wherever their foot could step and reach.

The people of Túna and Alqualondë still grew a bond,
with Olwë reigning in Alqualondë and Finwë in Tirion,
Ingwë was considered to be the High Elven Ruler, beyond
the separation of cities, folks in all different regions.

Ingwë chose to abide with Manwë in Taniquetil,
where safety, patience and wisdom prevailed,
where the air inspired hope and was tranquil,
and all the plans of Eru were rather half-veiled.

Rarely did Fëanor and his sons stay at the same place,
they were wandering far and wide, through the unknown so bold,
adventures and epic quests were their inner ways,
they reached the borders of Darkness and the Outer Sea cold.

Often were they guests in the halls of Aulë,
while Celegorm preferred Oromë's home,
where he learnt of beasts and birds that be,
starting to talk to them as if one of their own.

All living creatures were safe in Aman back then,
all but the gruesome creatures of Melkor, the Evil Great,
and some of these animals would never be seen when
the Earth would change forevermore, for time doesn't wait.
 
Last edited:
XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

At last the Three Eldar Kindreds gathered
in Valinor, in the Noontide of the Blessed Realm;
Melkor was in chains, angry and bothered,
too busy being vile, grim and bitter; overwhelmed.

For Valinor, it was a time of joy and of glory -
long in years, yet rather brief in memory.
The Eldar grew in stature of spirit and body,
The Noldor advanced in craftmanship; exemplary.

Long years they laboured, ever better,
from which sprang countless precious things,
the Noldor even devised the first letters,
Rúmil of Tirion - the sage who invented signs

for recording written speech and song,
either carved upon metal and stone,
or inscribed with pen and brushes long,
for history to be remembered and known.

It was also in those days Curufinwë
was born in Eldamar, in Tirion's royal halls,
the first and most beloved son of Finwë;
Fëanor, the Spirit of Fire, was he called

by his beloved mother Míriel instead,
and by this name he is remembered
in the Noldor traditions' spread,
the glorified Master of Science hot-tempered.

Míriel was also called Serindë,
for her unsurpassed skill with the loom,
her hands most gifted known to be
at broidery; so was the gift of her womb.

Great and radiant was the love between
Finwë and Míriel, blossoming in the happy days
of the Blessed Realm; in the serene
light of the Two Trees they felt purest grace.

Yet in giving life to her son,
Míriel was slowly consumed in body and spirit;
longing for release of the burden
of life, she wanted to withdraw and be free from it.

Having bestowed upon the child both life and name,
she said to Finwë words that are hard to be heard:
"I shall not bear a child anymore - ever again,
my strength was poured wholly into Fëanor's birth."

Finwë was grieved, for the Noldor were still
in the dawn of their days, he hoped for many children,
amid the bliss of Aman, he had other will:
"Will not Aman itself restore your strength then?

Here every weariness finds its rest."
Yet Míriel continued to fade away so pale,
so Finwë thought Manwë knew the best,
who entrusted her to Irmo of Lórien, frail.

Irmo should care for her for a while,
and at their parting Finwë was crestfallen,
he considered the thought so vile
that she'd have to be away, he felt caution.

For he believed they would part for a short time,
that she would return recovered from convalescence,
and her man felt sad she'd miss the period prime
of their newborn son growing without her presence.

"You are right; it is so," said Míriel.
"I would weep, were I not so utterly spent.
Yet do not blame me for this, as well
as not for whatever may come as an event."

She went into the gardens of Lórien,
laying down to rest, seemingly asleep,
her spirit departed silently to heaven,
the Halls of Mandos, leaving Finwë to weep.
 
Last edited:
XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Seemingly, Míriel was just asleep;
just as vivid as if she would wake up,
amplifying Finwë's yearning, hollow and deep,
it compelled him to expect and stay up.

The handmaidens of the late wife
looked after her body with tender care;
so her physical temple seemed alive,
yet her presence, departed, was felt nowhere.

Finwë, driven by grief and illusion,
for she was there, yet she was not,
bore a heart full of heavy confusion,
to sit by her corpse was all that he got.

Calling her by tenderest names
caressing her deprived of vitality cheek,
trying to lull her back in vain,
hoping the Word got power, he'd seek

to evoke her spirit to her vessel,
now an empty shell to irritate his senses,
he's stay there, hushed, he'd nestle,
until he lost faith and withdrew his caresses.

For all his efforts were in vain,
the only joyless one within the Blessed Realm,
yet to numbness turned his pain
and he stopped going to Lórien that overwhelmed.

Why waste his heart's vitality to emptiness?
All that was but a promise leading to nothing,
the one you feel when, prepared to process
a reward, it shatters from inside in sudden shutting.

So Finwë chose life instead of slow lingering.
He had a child to raise, to educate, to love.
So he redirected his energy to parenting,
leaving behind that love he had to outlive.
 
Last edited:
XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Finwë devoted his entire love to his child;
Fëanor grew swiftly, as if secret fire burnt
deep inside of him, specially designed
to make him fatefully skillful and versed.

Fëanor became tall, handsome and handy,
with a piercing and clear gaze; black raven hair,
firmly decisive in every deed he would be;
no one could change his will or make him waver.

Among all of the Noldor he was the wisest,
the most skilled one, back then and onwards,
and he dedicated all his ardour and zest
to craftmanship and scientific hard works.

When he was young, he decided to meliorate
Rúmil's work, inventing a new, better script,
the Eldar still do to this very day use the great
alphabet for their writing needs and manuscripts.

And again, he was the first one to find a way
how to create precious stones of higher quality
compared to the ones hidden in the earth per se,
imbedding in them aspects of cosmic reality.

The first ones he crafted were transparent and clear,
under the starry light they sparkled with silver fire,
even brighter than Helluin under the dome, so dear,
and other crystals that reflected imagery and desires.

The visions would appear inside, as if from afar,
yet sharp as if through the eyesight of Manwë's eagles,
perfect alchemy embedded in their core; so aware,
rarely did Fëanor give rest to his hands, or mind; a seeker.

For his destiny played a central role in Arda's devising;
he was a brilliant genius with greatly fulfilled potential;
yet, tragedy in fate always chooses to trigger rewinding
lessons that though ultimately precious, feel drearily painful.
 
XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Even though still in his earliest youth,
Fëanor took Nerdanel as his bride,
the daughter of the greatest smith -
Mahtan, who had Aulë as his guide.

Fëanor learnt the art of crafting
from his capable father-in-law;
his knowledge was steadily expanding
regarding stones, gems and metal.

Nerdanel also possessed a firm will,
yet she was more patient than her man,
for she'd tame her mind to be still,
trying to fathom the mentality of elseone,

for she desired not to conquer wits,
rather she aimed to embody the cosmic truth,
so at first she often managed to dismiss
Fëanor's outbursting episodes, back then - she could.

Later on his deeds started offending her,
so they shortly started turning cold to each other;
Nerdanel bore seven sons to him; at their blessed birth,
she passed on her temper to some of them; not to all brothers.
 
XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

It happened so that Finwë took
for a second wife Indis the Fair;
one of the Vanyar; she didn't look
similar to Miriel; nothing to compare.

She was Ingwë's close relative;
and her hair was purely golden,
she was svelte and light, positive;
Finwë fell in love and smiled again.

The shadow of Miriel didn't leave
neither his home, nor his heart;
and the son he praised most and believed
in, was Fëanor, who'd still depart.

For Fëanor didn't fancy his father's new marriage;
he bore no love for Indis or her sons,
who were Fingolfin and Finarfin he'd disparage,
so he lived separately, exploring Aman.

He was too busy with adventures through the land,
he collected wisdom and secrets of his crafts, hence;
regarding the events that later on occurred unplanned,
many souls blamed them on their home's severance.

Had Finwë overcome his deadly sorrow,
had he dedicated all his inner virtue and not mourn,
to the raising, in the name of the new tomorrow,
of his son who, instead, was somewhat cold and stern;

fate wouldn't lead to the curses of Fëanor,
unfortunate chains of occurrences would be avoided;
great evil would be prevented, for their misdemeanor
marked the Noldor life records; providence exploited.

Yet Indis' children were mighty and glorious,
the story of the Eldar would have lost a lot
if they hadn't come to life, these spirits victorious,
so Eru's All-seing Eye knows what or what not.
 
XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

While Fëanor and all Noldor masters
were labouring with greatest joy,
while their crafts were increasing ever faster,
and Indis was raising her beloved boys,

the Dawn of Valinor was approaching its end,
for Melkor spent three epochs in captivity,
in Mandos' Halls, to solitude condemned,
until his verdict exhausted its effectivity.

As Manwë had promised to him initially,
Melkor was brought before the Valar thrones again,
seeing their glory and bliss, he, prejudicially,
felt bitter envy in his heart, covered in pain.

He glanced at the Children of Iluvatar,
sat by the sides of the Almighty Ones,
blackest hatred was all that he bore
against the merry creatures, at once.

He caught a glimpse of innumerable precious stones,
started craving them avidly for his own self,
yet all these thoughts he buried deep in his bones,
putting on hold his revenge against the Elves.

For he wanted the evil plot to mature,
to become ripe and scatter the fruit of malice,
so that what the Elven ones would endure
would be prolonged; poison in their chalice.

At the gates of Valmar Melkor crumbled
at the feet of Manwë, begging for forgiveness,
swearing an oath to become humble
and make up for his misdeeds with givingness.

He promised he'd assist every Valarin endeavour,
even if that meant he'd be granted the last position
among the free ones in Valinor, he'd be the helper
of every soul there, until he'd be restored in redemption.

Manwë then granted him a pardon;
yet the Valar were still suspected distortion,
they thought he definitely needed a warden,
so he had to stay in Valmar as precaution.

Alas, Melkor's speeches seemed gracious,
not only the Eldar, but also the Valar
received wise advice, so valid, efficacious,
when they turned to his own "I AM" star.

After a while they allowed him to walk freely,
and Manwë believed he got cured from corruption,
for Manwë didn't bear not a drop of inner evil,
unable to comprehend the ways of deconstruction.

For Manwë knew that at the very beginning,
Melkor was equal to him in Iluvatar's mind, at core,
he couldn't fathom Melkor's wicked reckoning,
for love had fanished from his heart, forevermore.

Ulmo didn't really get deceived, though,
Tulkas also clenched his fists firmly,
yet they respected Manwë's decision by law;
rebellion against rebels would also end up deadly.
 
XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Melkor despised from the bottom of his heart
all of the Eldar, for they were joyful and wondrous;
besides, they were the reason for the Valarin wrath
that banished him from the Utumno fortress.

So ever more he pretended to be full of love,
he sought the friendship of all Elves,
he offered advice, help and supervision of
every initiative of their blessed selves.

It's true, the Vanyar didn't believe him too much,
for they dwelt in the light of the Two Trees,
they didn't want anything else than to watch
the holiness of the Divine Presence in Peace.

Melkor neglected the Teleri on his own part,
for he deemed them too weak and unworthy
of the devising of his dark schemes and dirt,
so the Noldor he chose to corrupt, trying to convert them.

The Noldor greeted the wise secrets he shared
with them happily, for they craved erudition of worth;
they listened to some words they were not prepared
for that they had better never actually heard.

Later on Melkor insisted on the dubious fact
he had taught Fëanor many skillful techniques;
which would cause on the Noldor Elve the impact
needed to create his best works and relics.

Yet that is a lie born out of envy and greed,
for Fëanor was the one among the Eldar ones
that despised him most; let alone to need
his contribution to his original artwork done?

Yes, it was Fëanor, the son of Finwë,
the first one in Arda to call Melkor Morgoth;
and although Fëanor's heart truly would be
full of mistrust against the Valarin thought,

that was incited by Melkor unnoticeably,
from within, a discord that divides,
turns one against the other unforgivably,
depriving mercy from salvation against lies,

although Fëanor was subject to cold alienation,
never did he seek advice from anyone else,
save from his wife, Nerdanel; then he hastened
and lost connection even with her, losing her defense.

For Nerdanel was wise and saved some of the trouble,
alas, he turned obstinate and self-convinced,
and instead of easing him, her advice made it double,
for he stubbornly acted oppositely at his whim.
 
XV. Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

At that time the treasures were created
that became the greatest Elven works;
for at the peak of his skilfullness, fated,
Fëanor desired something new and of worth.

Maybe he was touched by the foreshadowing,
by an omen for the coming days of destiny;
he pondered on the possible ways of preserving
the imperishable light of the two trees successfully.

In great secrecy and fruitful silence
he undertook a great mission that contained
all of his knowledge and agility in science,
and all that resulted in the Silmarils, untainted.

They appeared to be in resemblance
three precious stones and we will never know
what they bear inside, a transcendence,
until the End of the Days that will show

how the Sun will extinguish at once,
and the Moon will crumble down,
followed by the tremulous occurrence
of Fëanor's return, awaited and renowned.

For Fëanor perished long before the Sun
would start shining from the firmament;
now he abides in the Waiting Halls, a missed one
by his beloved kin; expecting judgement.

The stones looked like diamond crystals,
yet infinitely firmer, so no force within Arda
could break them and dim their inward spirals,
bearing codes protected by the gems' surface.

Yet for the Silmarils, the crystals that bore them,
meant for their own essence not more than the
perishable bodies of the Children that wore their
inner ardour filling their particles with eternality.

Fëanor brought to life the inner flame
of the Silmarils, mixing rays of the Trees of Valinor.
And that light is still alive even today,
even if the Trees withered in times now forlorn.

For that is the reason for the sharp shining
of the Silmarils even when deeply hidden in a treasury box,
with their own light, just as Varda's stars; beings,
alive and merry, rejocing, accumulating and emitting Lux.

Every single soul that abided in the beloved Aman
observed mesmerisedly the work of Fëanor's hands;
Varda blessed the Silmarils to be invincible against
every unclean touch that meant to desecrate and damn.

Mandos foretold that the fate of everything in Arda,
the earth solid, the seas, all creatures, the skies,
were tied to the Silmarils that actually bore the
very core of Eru's Flame; the Source but capsulized.

Great zeal did Fëanor feel for these creations,
alas, every overdone passion turns to corruption;
blessings untamed and uncontrolled are damnations;
possessive inclinations turn greed to destruction.
 
Last edited:
XV. Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Melkor started craving the Silmarils,
just as once he had desired the Imperishable Flame,
the same the source of these intimate thrills,
the seek of God but perverted turns awe to pain.

Even the vaguest memory of their splendour
would immediately start corroding him like acid,
the yearning pushed him to demolish Fëanor,
to end the Valarin-Elven friendship, to blast it.

He cunningly hid his endeavours deep inside,
his carnal appearance didn't give it at all away,
who knows that his deadest depths would hide,
masked as friendly advice, alas - disguised decay.

His divinely pointless but prolonged work
slowly, invisibly led to fruition of evil mess
for whoever sows lies, withdraws then to lurk,
observing spitefully from distance the distress,

caused by the nets of division and conquest,
discord, having been planted, always multipies,
then the mastermind enjoys in secrecy the rest,
how the victims continue spreading his own lies.

With their own eyes.
Under God's skies.
While unity dies.
But God never tries.
His plan just develops for Eru's glory.
So eventually it's not God who worries.

So the Elves, having been hooked by the bait,
Melkor having prepared the ground with rancid patience,
yes... he was avid but as Elohim he still knew how to wait,
and he found ears ready to absorb secret damnations.

For the curious ears are not at all encouraged
by the forces of divine to seek premature Lore,
failed tests at proving knowledge get scourged
by fate, for arrogance is punishable by the Law.

Some tongues would heartily spread the ember
of the heard secrets, the first failed trial of knowledge,
friend deceived friend through the lies of the pretender,
veiled as wisdom proving one's discerment; instead - a sacrilege.

Oh, Noldor, oh Noldor, how bitterly you'll pay,
for the foolishness of listening Melkor with trust.
For now.... enjoy the last beautiful days
of peace and light before repaying debts becomes a must.
 
XV. Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

When Melkor saw how many bought his lies,
he started roaming more often among the Elves,
his graceful words would unnoticeably tie
them in nets, as if these thoughts came from themselves.

The listeners of his delusions disguised as advice
would recall these suggestions as if their own;
Melkor ignited visions that below the Eastern skies
they could build kingdoms and their own crowns.

These realms would be mighty and glorious,
the kings would ordine in the land they would rule;
then Melkor imprinted the idea so hideous
that the Valar brought the Elves to Aman's world

only because they feared the Elven beauty,
that their kin would multiply across the broad land,
after that, of course, impossible it would be
to contain their creational power they'd have at hand.

For Ilúvatar had gifted them with the ability
to co-create, just as their chieftains of forms,
furthermore, Melkor added to the credibility
of that suspicion with another source of alarm.

For the Valar expected the future apparition
of the human folk the Elves weren't aware of;
Manwë hadn't still revealed, as premonition,
that another race would receive the Valarin love.

Melkor's cunning plan was to take advantage
of the reasonable silence of Manwë, caused
by the mandatory Law predicting damage
of prematurely revealed results because

every hidden knowledge is sacred,
whenever a plan is still to be born,
yet not confiding may turn to hatred,
where mistrust replaces faith in the throne.

So Melkor amplified the gap, seizing the chance,
he whispered of the coming of the mortal men,
save for he didn't even comprehend those ones,
for amid the Third Song he was too busy to pretend,

too ingulfed in his part, of chaos, discord and vortex,
he didn't even pay attention to what Eru chanted,
so to him these future arriving creatures were complex,
so vague was the seed of doubt he planted.

Yet this was enough for the rumour to spread,
sometimes ambiguity works even better,
for truth crystallises in the One's eternal stand,
while lies lead to chains of tangled clatter.

Since truth just dawns as inner insight,
chaotic thoughts that give no rest
are the source of dimming of the light,
when confusion convinces it knows the best.

The Elves started believing in misinformation;
that the mortal humans would be easier to control,
due to their fragile nature of carnal dissipation,
the Valar planned for the humankind to grow

in the land of Middle Earth, depriving the Elves
of their righteous claim over the land as firstborns;
as immortal, beautiful, immaculate Selves
that unnoticeably let pride in to become the norm.

So apparently the Valar had brought them west
to keep them in captivity under the light
to make them forget what lay in the rest
of the world and maybe it was time to fight.

All that was a blatant lie, yet a successful one.
Never did the Valar desire free will's depravation,
also, rarely would humans believe elseone,
take advice, listen, have consistency, let alone patience.

So the will of mortal men is like a castle in the sand,
unsusceptible to forces against disintegration,
destined to return to the mud in the land,
so there's no point to try its immortalisation.

Yet who knows the gift of Eru for these men,
the alchemical processes forging that kind,
for the hits of the ocean waves smoothen
the mollusks till they become golden and shine.

What did the Elves understand of mortal fate?
Or of creatures they had never interacted with?
So while Manwë was obliged to wait and wait,
the Eldar believed in Melkor's deceptive wit.
 
XV. Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Thus, the Valar didn't perceive the danger -
the poison that corroded Valinor's peace.
The Noldor, grumbling, turned to strangers,
forgetting the source of their gifts...

They devoted their hearts to pride,
although their knowledge and possessions
came to light from their Valarin guides,
talents the Noldor twisted with passion.

The new flame of yearning for freedom
and for vast reigns ignited in Fëanor's chest.
Melkor laughed at him and his delusion,
for he despised Fëanor the most, with unrest.

For Melkor craved the Silmarils avidly,
waiting for a chance to be able to seize them;
Fëanor kept them meticulously; an agony
for the Elohim - consumed and condemned.

Regardless of all that Melkor's ever done,
he didn't really need mere external configurations;
for he was chosen to be among the ones
who could bring life forward from zero to new creations.

But has he ever really shut to the current of malignity,
to feel the silence within that utters the truth?
To perceive the transcendental imperishability,
that he already had it all, more than he would?

For he craved the Triune Flame of the Center,
that was his first glimpse, forever captivating him,
he couldn't understand that he could only enter
through the heart and not through any outer things.

Melkor was aiming at representatives of lesser kingdoms,
a way to express that he wanted to be the Source himself,
for possessing the Silmarils would mean a way of dominance
over Eru's Flame, yet it was just a jewel toy of an Elve,

for Eru that stone meant nothing but a fragment
of Life's manifesting force, essence in frames,
for differences disintegrate in a blink of a moment,
for all are sparks in atoms, for Life all's the same.

For the only thing that could make Melkor happy
would be if he realised what total death meant;
then feel gratitude for God's immortality,
erupting with virtue's inexhaustible intent.

For the truth is simple and it is to feel thankfully,
beyond the narrowing scenarios of a magical game,
when spells dissolve, it is time for Aum's alchemy,
a river of everything where nothing stays the same.

So... Fëanor suffered from the same condition;
the greed of not sharing, the desire to possess;
he only took out the stones during festive traditions,
to put them on his forehead and feel how they bless.

On all other occasions, he hid them in his treasury,
in Tirion, guarded, in hidden depths without access,
his love for the Silmarils mixed with avidity, weary;
only his father and sons saw them; hidden from the rest.

Fëanor fell for the illusion of matter and time,
where the outlines convince they are realer
than the essence that formed them; "They're mine!"
While all inside is Unity; and Fëanor a stealer.

For the Light did not belong to him after all,
the Flame, the Source, the Three-Fold Life;
and all who claim power over the One, shall
be humbled in lessons; separated, to contrite!
 
Last edited:
XV. Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Fëanor and Fingolfin, precious Finwë's sons,
were great rulers and everyone dignified them in Aman;
yet pride in their souls for rights and control won,
and Melkor took advantage of their weakness in common.

The Vala spread new lies in Eldamar,
and soon Fëanor overheard the hearsay;
that Fingolfin and his sons lately were
determined to overthrow Finwë... and his heir.

The deep reason behind this wicked scheme
apparently was that the Valar wanted
the Silmarils outside of Tirion's regimen,
to fall under their dominion; warranted.

Fingolfin and Finarfin, reluctant to forgive,
were reached by other convincing nonsense;
"Beware! The proud son of Míriel has no love
for Indis' offsprings; he will banish you, hence,

from Túna, as he has a tight grip of his father,
he has gathered strength and has become mighty,
he does not consider you to be truly his brothers,
all he cares for is his own glory; oppose him!"

When Melkor saw that his lies were lingering;
the Noldor were full of arrogance, wrath and vice;
he started whispering of weapons, triggering
the launch of the forging of swords, axes, of spikes."

They crafted shields, decorated by the emblems
of many tribes and families, from which rivalry stormed;
they spoke to no one of their arsenal's assemblage,
for everyone though they were the only one forewarned.

Fëanor built a secret workshop; that Melkor knew not;
where he forged swords for himself and his sons,
he crafted high helmets; red feathers on them he put,
Mahtan mourned for sharing his science once,

with Fëanor and Nerdanel, the wife of the Elve.
Apparently, this knowledge should have stayed hidden;
for the fools spilled the sacred wisdom, thus expelled;
for God's mysteries shall not be abused as forbidden

misuse of what was confided for unity's purpose;
deeds to be rectified through some painful lessons;
the debt - repaid, save for repeated mistakes, or worse;
and patience is the only means to end the trials' sessions.
 
XV. Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Thus, with sinister rumours, false advice,
and with prematurely shared knowledge,
Melkor ignited enmity through his lies
in the Noldor hearts; desire to avenge.

Their discord put to an end the Blessed Days
of Valinor, where the pure glory dimmed;
Fëanor would already unveil his new ways,
rebelling with speech against the Elohim.

He declared out loud that he'd leave Valinor,
that he'd free those Noldor who'd follow him;
he spread disharmony, acting as a challenger,
and Finwë got concerned, for deeply within

he sensed the source of the arising fatality,
a premonition, an omen that felt treasonably,
so he summoned his noblemen, validly,
to a concil, to decide how to act, reasonably.

Then Fingolfin, steadfast, ran into that site,
he stood before Finwë and he spoke unto him:
"My King and Father, won't you tame the pride
of our brother Curufinwë, haven't you seen

that they call him, and in that they're right,
the Spirit of Fire, who speaks for our peoples,
as if he were the King with authoritative might,
for I think it would be rather needless

to say that once it was you yourself
to convince the Quendi to follow the Valar,
you took the Noldor where we dwell,
through perilous paths to the Light of Eldamar.

And if today you still don't regret it,
at least two of yours sons truly would
respect your decisions, and I bet it,
you left Middle Earth behind for good."

Before Fingolfin had the chance to finish,
Fëanor ushered into the fateful hall,
with a helmet and a sword; he diminished
the speech of his brother he forestalled.

"So it is as I thought" Fëanor uttered,
"My brother by nature has already rushed
before our father" his armours clattered,
"As many times before" he added with disgust.

Then he turned to Fingolfin and drew his sword:
"Shoo and take the place that you deserve!"
Fingolfin bowed before Finwë; left through the door;
yet Fëanor ran to him, showing the purpose he served.

"See, half-brother!" he said firmly and boldly,
touching his heart with the tip of his sword,
"That's sharper than your tongue; try to scold me
or take away my seniority, or our Father's love", cold,

Fëanor threatened Fingolfin with his death:
"Maybe then I will free the Noldor ones
by depriving you of your very last breath,
put a halt to your guile, just in an instance."

Many overheard those words, for Finwë's home
was located amid the square below the tower of Mindon;
yet Fingolfin didn't answer to what his brother had sworn,
and silently went to search his brother, namely Finarfin.
 
XV. Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

The Noldorin discord could not be hidden from the Valar anymore,
yet its seeds had already been sown in the somber darkness.
When Fëanor started talking openly against them and call for
rebellion, they decided it was his pride that had caused the mess.

Alas, airness had already penetrated the hearts of all the Noldor,
Manwë got sad, but he only observed and didn't utter a word.
The Eldar had come freely here, so they were allowed to exit Valinor;
the Valar deemed it madness, yet they would never deter.

Nonetheless, Fëanor's deeds couldn't be undermined,
righteous anger and sorrow clenched the Valar inside.
They summoned him before the gates of Valmar to rewind
all that he had spoken and done; to answer for his pride.

They evoked everyone who'd been showing solidarity,
everyone who knew details of those deeds and events;
Fëanor stood before the Ring of Doom to warrant the
incentives that caused his acts, for his own defense.

It was at that trial the cunningness of Melkor was revealed;
so Tulkas left the council immediately to seize him for a hearing.
Fëanor wasn't found innocent either; brute force he yielded,
he disturbed Valinor's peace and drew a sword to his sibling.

Mandos then uttered: "You speak of slavery;
yet if this is the case, you won't escape from it anywhere.
For Manwë is a ruler not of Aman solely,
but of the entire Arda; your deeds are unjust everywhere.

So either within Aman, or outside of it, it's all the same providence.
Now hear your fate: "Leave Tirion for twelve years,
where you pronounced the threat; seek advice from your own self, hence,
do not forget who you are; after this term expires,

your act will be forgotten and will remain a memory,
this is if the others forgive you truly, from the heart,
then Fingolfin stepped in readily, sincerely:
"I forgive my brother" - with faith in a new start.

Yet Fëanor did not answer, he stood silent before the Valar,
he turned his back to the council and left Valmar at once; with
his seven sons departed in exile in Valinor's northern border,
where they build a fortress and a treasury deeply below it.
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.

Share this page

Similar threads

Tolkien Bible Crossover series short stories compendium
Replies
1
Views
687
Roy Lores
Why did good in LOTR eventually win? Did evil stand a chance?
Replies
10
Views
2K
Klaatu
Come on Baby Light My Fire
Replies
4
Views
1K
Backyard Professor
Why I Say J. R. R. Tolkien is Tom Bombadil
Replies
8
Views
2K
david_wendelken
Fanfic Concerning the Black Númenorians
2
Replies
28
Views
9K
LittleAlex
Menu
Log in
Register
Cookies are required to use this site. You must accept them to continue using the site. Learn more…