An Essay on the Sons of Fëanor by clotho123

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2. The History of the Sons of Fëanor


The two marriages of King Finwë proved crucial in shaping the future history of the Noldor, but some of the nuances of the story will be lost on those who know it only from the published Silmarillion, as the tale was tied up with Tolkien’s ideas on Elvish immortality and resurrection which are not explored there. Elves were created immortal, but if they were killed or died from grief or other stress (Míriel, most unusually, died of weariness after Fëanor’s birth) then their spirits went to the halls of Mandos, and there, after a period of healing, they might be restored to life.  This did not always happen however, since the Valar might refuse resurrection as a punishment or the Elf spirit might refuse to be re-embodied, and this Míriel did, insisting that she did not want to go back.  When Finwë wanted to marry again, however, this created a problem, because elven marriage was supposed to be for life, and the Valar were very firm on the point that it was not permitted for an Elf to have two spouses living.  They therefore decided that Finwë might remarry only if Míriel were to choose to remain in Mandos forever.  Fëanor took this decision very badly and it was undoubtedly a factor in his resentment of his half-brothers.

We are told that, “As soon as he might (and he was wellnigh fullgrown ere Nolofinwë [Fingolfin] was born) he left his father’s house and lived apart from them, giving all his heart and thought to the pursuit of lore and the practice of crafts.”  [MR  3 ii] Probably it was somewhere around or soon after this time he married, although an exact date is not given by Tolkien. Fëanor’s wife Nerdanel is an interesting character, who appears only briefly in the published Silmarillion, but she is treated at somewhat greater length in a passage quoted in Morgoth’s Ring. [3 ii]

“…while still in early youth Fëanor married Nerdanel, a maiden of the Noldor; at which many wondered, for she was not among the fairest of her people. But she was strong and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge.  In her youth she loved to wander far from the dwellings of the Noldor, either beside the long shores of the Sea or in the hills; and thus she and Fëanor had met and were companions on many long journeys.  Her father, Mahtan, was a great smith, and among those of the Noldor most dear to the heart of Aulë.  Of Mahtan Nerdanel learned much of crafts that the women of the Noldor seldom used: the making of things of metal and stone. She made images, some of the Valar in their forms visible, and many others of men and women of the Eldar, and these were so like that their friends, if they knew not her art, would speak to them; but many things she wrought also of her own thought in shapes strong and strange but beautiful.

 

She also was firm of will, but she was slower and more patient than Fëanor, desiring to understand minds rather than to master them.  When in company with others she would often sit still listening to their words and watching their gestures and the movements of their faces.  Her mood she bequeathed in part to some of her sons, but not to all.  Seven sons she bore to Fëanor, and it is not recorded in the histories of old that any others of the Noldor had so many children.  With her wisdom at first she restrained Fëanor when the fire of his heart burned too hot, but his later deeds grieved her and they became estranged.

Tolkien also produced a brief physical description of Nerdanel according to which she had “brown hair and a ruddy complexion. [VT 41]

That Nerdanel’s father was a craftsman does not mean that Fëanor was in any way marrying beneath him.  Mahtan was a friend of Aulë and wore a circlet on his head, both of which suggest high status.  Indeed with the possible exception of the shadowy Enerdil almost every elven craftsman we hear about is high status; several members of the royal family of the Noldor were skilled in craft and not just Feanorians (Finrod and Turgon are mentioned as such) and most of the non-Noldor artisans we hear about are high status as well – Círdan certainly is and even Eöl is lord of a whole region with servants loyal to him.  All of which suggests craft skill was highly regarded amongst elves and not seen as in any was a lower class occupation.

There are two versions of the Nerdanel and Fëanor’s estrangement, in the earlier [MR 3 ii] Nerdanel refuses to go to Formenos with Fëanor, but instead chooses to stay with Indis “whom she had ever esteemed” (that must really have annoyed Fëanor!); in the second the separation is not dated but she is said, less unexpectedly, to have returned to her father’s house. [PM 2 xi].

Although Fëanor and Nerdanel produced a record number of children only one grandchild is recorded – Celebrimbor, who went on to make the Rings of Power.  Celebrimbor in fact was one of those characters whose origins Tolkien changed several times (making him at various points a Noldo of Gondolin, a Telerin Elf from Alqualondë, or a descendent of the Sinda Daeron); but he is described as a descendent of Fëanor in the appendices to the second edition of The Lord of the Rings, and CT notes that his father would have felt bound by this if he had remembered it (which he didn’t always).  It also fits with the Star of the House of Fëanor which Celebrimbor drew on the west gate of Moira, a very odd thing for him to put there if he were one of the people of Turgon, Olwë or Thingol!

All that Tolkien ever wrote about the wives and offspring of Fëanor’s sons, apart from the note about Celebrimbor in the LOTR appendix, appears to be a couple of brief jottings reproduced in PM [2 x].  The first reads: “It seems probable that Celebrimbor (silverfisted) was son of Curufin, but though inheriting his skills he was an Elf of wholly different temper (his mother had refused to take part in the rebellion of Fëanor and had remained in Aman with the people of Finarphin).  During their dwelling in Nargothrond as refugees he had grown to love Finrod… and was aghast at the behaviour of his father and would not go with him.  He later became a great friend of Galadriel and Celeborn.

The second note was: “Maedros the eldest appears to have been unwedded, also the two youngest… Celegorm also, since he plotted to take Lúthien as his wife. But Curufin, dearest to his father and chief inheritor of his father’s skills was wedded, and had a son who came with him into exile, though his wife (unnamed) did not.  Others who were wedded were Maelor, Caranthir.”  As far as I know Tolkien never said anything more about the unnamed wives of Maglor and Caranthir, not even whether they married in Aman or later in Middle-earth.

In the early parts of the Silmarillion legends the sons of Fëanor appear largely as appendages of their father.  We are told that he, and they, “abode seldom in one place for long, but travelled far and wide upon the confines of Valinor, …seeking the unknown.”  [S 5] (Always a restless lot it seems!). When Fëanor was exiled from Tirion his sons went with him.  However there is evidence also that before Fëanor’s exile his sons had spent quite a lot of time in the company of their half-cousins, the descendents of Finwë and Indis, despite Fëanor’s own lack of liking for that side of the family.  In addition to the well-attested friendship between Maedhros and Fingon, Aredhel is said to have often gone hunting in the company of Fëanor’s sons and was apparently particularly friendly with Celegorm [WJ 3 iii].  In early versions Tolkien also made Angrod and Aegnor (and in still earlier ones Orodreth as well) close friends of Celegorm and Curufin, close enough that Angrod and Aegnor were said to have been taken to Middle-earth by the Fëanorians in the ships. [LR 2 ii, iii]  Although this idea was abandoned by Tolkien it is interesting that it ever existed at all.

The published Silmarillion has nothing to say about what the sons of Fëanor were doing when Morgoth came to Formenos, but an extended version appears in the HOME, where it was Fëanor’s sons who brought the news of Finwë’s death and the theft of the Silmarils to the Valar (and to Fëanor, although they apparently did not realise he was there at first).  [MR 3 ii] The most notable point here is that Fëanor’s sons were not at Formenos when Morgoth and Ungoliant came: they had ridden out together to the north.  This was no doubt a deliberate choice on Tolkien’s part, had they been at Formenos he would have had to represent them as fleeing and leaving Finwë to face the danger alone.  Plainly he did not want to do that, whatever their other faults they were not cowards. True, their actions when Morgoth passes by are not heroic, but less pusillanimous than abandoning their grandfather would be – and in fairness even the Valar are “blinded and dismayed” [S 8] by the darkness of Ungoliant.

The next time they appear is in the square at Tirion, swearing the fatal Oath, and we do not know whether Fëanor urged it on them or whether they leapt in without prompting.  Either way from then on turning back was no longer a possibility for them, as the messenger of the Valar recognises.  After that things move on quickly to the first Kinslaying.  It does not seem that Fëanor or his followers intended bloodshed beforehand, although they certainly meant to take the ships by force.  “But the Teleri withstood him, and cast many of the Noldor into the sea.  Then swords were drawn…”.  [This and quotes in the next two paragraphs from S 9]  Of course deciding to seize the ships was a wrong act in itself and Fëanor, of all people, should have had more respect for what Olwë said about the ships of the Teleri being “the work of our hearts, whose like we shall not make again.”  However, it seems the actual Kinslaying was not premeditated.  Going in with a bunch of armed followers, starting a struggle, and not anticipating people might get killed might seem very naïve, but I think we have to assume at this time the Elves were still very innocent in many ways. They knew little about violence.

Once the violence had started it inevitably escalated.  It seems evident that the whole episode was more shocking for Elves than it would be for us.  First: from the mere description of the episode as ‘Kinslaying’, when it is a fight between different tribes in which no actual kinships are named (compare the Gondor war of Kinstrife, which was an episode of dynastic infighting). Second: the specific descriptions of First, Second and Third Kinslayings indicates that mass killings of Elves by Elves were very rare.  At this point, in fact, it was probably unheard of and the shock waves must have been enormous.

As the Noldor rowed the ships away “the sea rose in wrath against the slayers, so that many of the ships were wrecked and those in them drowned.” No doubt the Noldor knew very little about sailing anyway.  It was as they pressed on northwards that the Doom of Mandos was proclaimed, a mixture of prophecy and of curse on the Noldor.  After these events it’s not surprising that Fëanor’s popularity – never high in spite of his charisma – fell still further, and many of the Noldor spoke against him.  When the host reached the north and were faced with the necessity to divide their forces for the crossing by sea or attempt the Helcaraxë “already the fear of treachery was awake among the Noldor.  Therefore it came into the hearts of Fëanor and his sons to seize all the ships and depart suddenly…

There is no reason to suppose that anyone guessed Fëanor would abandon the rest of the Noldor permanently.  Fëanor (not much of a forward planner) may not even have known it himself at that point. When he did decide to set fire to the ships he probably did not expect Fingolfin’s people would cross the Helcaraxë, he seems to have thought they would turn back.  Although that does not excuse the betrayal, once again Fëanor does not seem to have intended actual deaths and nor, presumably, did his sons.

Confusingly there are two distinct versions of the ship burning at Losgar. The one in the published Silmarillion has Fëanor publicly order the burning of the ships, in which only Maedhros refuses to take part.  Later, however, Tolkien came up with a different story, which is reproduced in the section of HOME entitled The Shibboleth of Fëanor.  [PM 2 xi].  In this version the ships are fired at night when most of the camp is asleep and only Fëanor, Curufin and a handful of others take part.  Only in the morning does Fëanor discover that one of his twin sons has remained asleep on ship-board and been accidentally burned to death.  (The way in which the text is written and published makes it difficult to work out which twin died, but careful examination shows it was Amrod, and additional notes published in VT 41 confirm it, this is discussed further in the Appendix on names).  CT decided not to incorporate this story into the published Silmarillion, and doing so would certainly have required a fair amount of rewriting, especially as at the end of his life Tolkien may have decided that both twins should die, not just one.  In an annalistic note Tolkien originally wrote “Tragedy of the burning of one of Fëanor’s sons” then later added the words “2 younger”, perhaps merely as an expansion, but perhaps as an alteration intending to change ‘one’ to ‘two’. [MR 2] More conclusively in some late notes on the story of Eöl there are repeated references to the “5 sons of Fëanor”, which are pretty much inexplicable unless two of the sons were now intended to have died early in the story. [WJ 3 iii]

I have to admit to not finding this one of Tolkien’s happier inventions. There is a certain dramatic power to Fëanor’s act of treachery rebounding so quickly (although that would mean a consequent loss in the story of the sack of Sirion).  But it means losing the dialogue between Fëanor and Maedhros and taking the onus of guilt off five of the sons.  The continuing tension between Fingolfin’s people and the Fëanorians seems much less significant if guilt for the ship-burning is confined to Fëanor, Curufin and a few followers than in the earlier version where the guilt is belongs to almost the whole host, and the eventual (partial) patching of the rift seems therefore a much greater achievement.  In the Shibboleth story there is surely much less reason why the remaining Fëanorians, who are not only mostly guiltless but have also suffered loss due to Fëanor’s fit of crazy destructiveness, should be too ashamed to welcome Fingolfin’s people; and much more reason for the other Noldor to accept them as friends again – after all Fëanor is dead, Curufin well down the pecking order of his sons and the other guilty a small minority.  Fëanor’s refusal to admit guilt or dismay over his son’s death is damning, but also superfluous since the same characteristics appear in his death scene.  It is true, however, that the story adds an extra dimension to his fall in the image of him sneaking around in the night, concealing his actions even from (most of) his own followers and sons. Elsewhere Fëanor, even at his most destructive, has grandeur; this moment is almost sordid.

The major events that followed need not be told in detail here.  Fëanor and his sons conclusively defeated the Orcs of Morgoth in their first major battle, but Fëanor had a rush of blood to the head and got himself killed by Balrogs.  Fëanor’s death scene is thoroughly chilling:  “with his last sight he beheld far off the peaks of Thangorodrim, mightiest of the towers of Middle-earth, and knew with the foreknowledge of death that no power of the Noldor would ever overthrow them; but he cursed the name of Morgoth thrice, and laid it upon his sons to hold to their oath and avenge their father”.  [S 13] It is a clear mark of how far Fëanor has fallen that knowing he has bound his sons to a battle they cannot win he is unrepentant.  Probably it makes no practical difference, there is no reason to suppose Fëanor could undo the Oath if he wanted to, but still this is not the act of a father who cares for his children but of a hate-filled obsessive to whom they have become mere instruments of revenge.  The only possible excuse for Fëanor’s putting his hatred and desire for vengeance above the future of his sons is that he was insane. What they felt about this we do not know; it was in any case too late now to turn back.

However strong-willed Fëanor’s sons were the whole situation must have been a severe culture shock to them, and indeed to all the Noldor.  They had grown up in Valinor, in an environment that was safe, protected and apparently free from violence as well as being permanently lit by the Trees.  Death, moreover, was extremely rare, and could always be cured if the individual wished. Those Elves who had spent their lives in Aman, which would most likely have been the vast majority of the Exiles, could hardly have been more sheltered.  Suddenly the Light they have always known is destroyed, then they find themselves embroiled in the Kinslaying, their companions are shipwrecked and drowned, and the Doom of Mandos has made it clear they cannot expect resurrection, at least for a very long time (and that’s without the issue of Everlasting Dark…).    Then in Middle-earth, probably without very much in the way of supplies or shelter, they have no choice but to fight a merciless war against creatures which, if they knew of them at all (they probably knew something about Orcs, but not necessarily Balrogs), would only have been an old tale to those born in Valinor.

The Noldor at this point most likely had no notion at all of large-scale warfare.  No idea of tactics or strategy, of battle formations, of constructing defensive fortifications.  How could they have?  Elves may have had experience of fighting Orcs before and during the Great Journey, but probably on a fairly small scale, raiding bands rather than armies.  They had to learn fast.  (Fortunately for them Morgoth probably didn’t have much notion either.  He had fought a war before, but fighting the whole college of Valar would surely called for very different methods than fighting a bunch of angry Elves. Certainly so far as we can tell from Tolkien’s limited description of the early battles Morgoth’s only tactic appears to have been to throw lots of Orcs and Balrogs at the Elves and hope that did the trick.)

All this would have been disorienting enough, but on top of it comes the death of Fëanor, whose charisma and reckless determination almost single-handedly propelled the Noldor into exile.  There can be little doubt that Fëanor, whatever his faults, must have been a powerful presence in his sons’ lives, and as far as we can tell they had – with the lone exception of Maedhros’s refusal to help burn the ships – followed him unhesitatingly.  In doing so they had cut themselves off from their old lives and the rest of their family – on both sides for Tolkien tells us Nerdanel’s kindred had remained in Aman. [PM 2 xi] Whatever they thought of his increasing deterioration his death must have left a gaping void.

All in all it is not so surprising that a group of Elves who do not lack for tough-mindedness on later occasions seem rather at a loss in the immediate aftermath of Fëanor’s death.   The first reaction we hear of is for Maedhros to persuade his brothers to pretend to accept Morgoth’s offer of negotiation but to act in bad faith and send a greater force than was agreed.  Exactly what he intended is not entirely clear, but there are signs here both of moral deterioration and of lingering naivety. Proposing to spring an ambush at a parley is an immoral act, even if the opponent is Morgoth. And not anticipating that Morgoth might do the same thing only more so suggests they still did not fully understand what they were up against.   

Following Maedhros’s capture it seems that all his brothers could think of was to withdraw to Mithrim and fortify a camp, a remarkably defensive action for Elves who had just won a major battle.  No doubt they realised, as Fëanor had in his last moments, and as Fingolfin would, that a direct attack on Angband was hopeless, but still the action suggests an inability to come up with any positive plans.  One should probably not condemn them for not anticipating Fingon’s attempt to rescue Maedhros; as with Beren and Lúthien walking into Morgoth’s throne room to steal the jewel it would probably have seemed unlikely to the point of insanity that any such attempt could actually succeed.

In the meantime the Fëanorians had met some of the Sindar for the first time in Mithrim, and were apparently pleased to do so, although there was something of a language problem to begin with.  However when the sons of Fëanor established contact with Thingol for the first time things got off to a bad start; although this was by no means all their fault.  “For it entered into the heart of King Thingol to regret the days of peace when he was high lord of all the land and its peoples.  Wide were the countries of Beleriand and many empty and wild, and yet he welcomed not with full heart the coming of so many princes in might out of the West, eager for new realms.”  An attitude that would have been reasonable enough if Morgoth hadn’t been all over Beleriand before the Noldor arrived! (Of course Thingol had good reason to be furious when he found out about the Kinslaying, but that happened later.) The Fëanorians were not tactful certainly.  They “were ever unwilling to accept the overlordship of Thingol, and would ask for no leave where they might dwell or might pass”. [WJ 1] However the blame for bad relations was not all on their side.  This is important, because although a casual reading of the Silmarillion legends suggests the brothers were incorrigibly undiplomatic, I believe closer study gives a more complicated view.

The reconciliation that followed Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros changed the circumstances of the Noldor dramatically.  The brothers now accepted Fingolfin as king, however grudgingly in some cases, and the Noldor began to form a strategy for dealing with Morgoth. The idea of a siege did not bring the immediate recovery of the Silmarils any nearer, but it was at least some kind of action, and as we have seen, appears to have satisfied the Oath for a while.  Still old resentments flared up again in the quarrel between Caranthir and Angrod over a message from Thingol.

Soon afterwards Maedhros took his brothers off eastward, partly in order to avoid further quarrels, and settled them in an empty part of northern Beleriand, east of Doriath.  Presumably they had some idea of what sort of territory they were headed into, although Tolkien does not tell us whether they had scouted it, or merely got reports from the Sindar.  There they gathered  “all such people as would come to them” [S 13] Tolkien tells us (probably northern Sindar for the most part, more on that later).  The territory was divided into separate lordships, although Maedhros seems to have retained an overall authority.

A long line of hills formed a natural defensive barrier between Morgoth’s territory to the north and the territory of East Beleriand to the south, and Fëanor’s sons naturally centred their defences on this line although they had some control also over the plain of Lothlann to the north.  Maedhros held the western range of the hills, which were not very high, with his citadel on a great hill known as Himring, the Ever-cold. Towards the centre of the Fëanorian line was a gap where the line of hills failed and this, most vulnerable, part of the line was held by Maglor who kept a strength of cavalry there.  The easternmost line of hills, which were higher than the western and more like mountains, and the territory known as Thargelion which lay behind the range, belonged to Caranthir who had his home beside a lake called Helevorn, in the shadow of the greatest peak of the barrier range, Mount Rerir.

West of Himring was a pass which lay between the hill line and the upland of Dorthonion (the territory of Finarfin’s sons Angrod and Aegnor). Celegorm and Curufin fortified the pass, and also held the territory of Himlad behind.  However to the east of Himlad were the woods of Nan Elmoth, and this was not Fëanorian territory but was held by Eöl, whose presence was presumably tolerated by the brothers although they did not like him (or he them). According to a late note of Tolkien, towards the end of the Siege of Angband Curufin (and perhaps Celegorm also) lived at the south east corner of the Pass of Aglon and kept a watch on the fords of Aros which were on the eastern border of their territory.  [WJ 3 iii]  Finally Amrod and Amras occupied the central part of the southern territory, which was sparsely populated.  Theirs was the only territory set back from the front line.

The borderlands settled by the sons of Fëanor were, by Tolkien’s own statement, the part of the north march most open to attack.  Unlike the lands further west there were only low hills guarding much of the land against attack from the north, and at one point in Maglor’s territory even these failed.  Guarding against attack by Morgoth would have meant hard work and co-operation among the sons, which seems to have been forthcoming.  “Their riders passed often over the vast northern plain, Lothlann the wide and empty…” [S 14] Tolkien tells us, keeping a strict watch out for attack.  Morgoth was well aware of this, and his first attempt at testing the strength of the Noldor was therefore directed towards the west, (as was the attack by Glaurung a hundred years later, but that appears to have been Glaurung’s own choice rather than Morgoth’s).  Although at one point in The Silmarillion Tolkien tells us the people of Fingolfin and Fingon were “the most feared by the Orcs and most hated by Morgoth” [S 14] we may note that in both the Dagor Bragollach and the Nirnaeth Arnoediad Morgoth used Glaurung, his most fearsome weapon, against the Fëanorians, particularly notable in the former since the natural defences were weakest in the east.  Whilst Morgoth may have had his own reasons for hating Fingolfin’s family particularly, it seems that at this stage he had a considerable respect for the Fëanorians’ strength in battle, and indeed Tolkien in one account says that following the first battle of Fëanor and his sons with Morgoth’s forces “the Orcs ever feared and hated them after.”  [LR 2 vi]

Tolkien does not tell us very much about the fighting methods employed in the First Age, but there are a few interesting comments on the Fëanorians. In the Dagor Bragollach Glaurung and the Orcs “overwhelmed the riders of the people of Fëanor [probably Maglor’s followers] upon Lothlann”.  [S 18] In an annalistic account of the same battle “Celegorm and Curufin held strong forces behind Aglon and many horsed archers and after being defeated they retreated westwards with such mounted following as they could save”. [WJ 1] In both passages there is a reference to riders which indicates that the Fëanorians, or some of them anyway, used cavalry quite a lot.  We know they had brought horses with them out of Aman, and plainly they made good use of them.

As Maedhros at least was apparently aware, their own strength of arms was not going to be enough to win them the war against Morgoth.  Allies were needed, but the conduct of some of the brothers made that more difficult to put into practice.  Nonetheless although the Silmarillion has a good deal to say about their less diplomatic moments that was not the whole story.  Reading between the lines it is evident that they could make friends as well as alienate people.  Tolkien is quite firm in his insistence that all the realms of the Noldor lords in exile in fact included more Sindar than Noldor [e.g. WJ 1]. This must have been true of the Fëanorians as well as the others, a fact all the more remarkable because in a late note Tolkien states the lands occupied by the Fëanorians had not been previously inhabited by the Sindar [WJ 3 iii], so any Sindar who followed the Fëanorians must either have come with them from Mithrim or joined them later. In view of Thingol’s well-attested dislike for the sons of Fëanor (even before he found out about the Kinslaying) that seems surprising, but a linguistic note of Tolkien’s casts some light. Thingol “had small love for the Northern Sindar who had in regions near to Angband come under the dominion of Morgoth and were accused of sometimes entering his service and providing him with spies.”  [PM 2 xii] Thingol was probably being at least somewhat unfair here since “No Elf of any kind ever sided with Morgoth of free will, though under torture or the stress of great fear, or deluded by lies, they might obey his commands.”  [WJ 4] However if Thingol was not very well-disposed to the North Sindar it is easier to see why some of them would choose to follow the sons of Fëanor.

Equally notable is that they seem to have got on well with the Green-elves, or Laiquendi, who after the death of their leader Denethor “came never forth in open war, but kept themselves by wariness and secrecy” [S 10] and acknowledged Thingol’s overlordship.  The Green-elves did not like strangers and were not pleased by the coming of Men, but after the Dagor Bragollach the people of Amrod, Amras and Caranthir “had aid of the Green-elves”, [S 18] and after the Nirnaeth the Fëanorian survivors are said to have mingled with the Green-elves of Ossiriand, [S 20] which is remarkable considering what is said about the Green-elves elsewhere, including that they accepted the lordship of Beren.  Amrod and Amras may have been the significant figures here; they lived just to the west of Ossiriand and therefore seem the most likely of the brothers to have won the friendship of the Laiquendi.

The Fëanorians also had a lot of dealings with Dwarves.  Caranthir conducted a good deal of trade with them, although relations do not seem to have been warm.  Curufin, however, was actively friendly with Dwarves and learned their language, [PM 2 xi] and Maedhros convinced the Dwarves of Belegost, and perhaps Nogrod as well, to fight against Morgoth at the Nirnaeth; probably the only time Dwarves are recorded to have followed an Elf-lord into battle. (It’s not clear whether the Dwarves of Nogrod fought in the battle or merely helped by making weapons, although they certainly did that).  He also got information from the Dwarves, they told him of the coming of the Easterlings.  [WJ 1]

There is less evidence of their dealings with Men, although Estolad, the Encampment, which was the first large settlement of Men in Beleriand was within the territory of Amrod and Amras, and we are told that although many of the Edain migrated westwards many others remained at Estolad  “and there was still a mingled people living there long years after, until in the ruin of Beleriand they were overwhelmed or fled back into the East.”  [S 17] We don’t know whether Amrod and Amras took much notice of them, however, and Tolkien did state that not many went north to the lands around Himring.  [WJ 2 xiv] The only one recorded to have done so is one Amlach (son of Imlach son of Marach) who entered Maedhros’s service. Why most of the Men preferred to go westwards is nowhere stated, perhaps the Elf-lords of the west were more welcoming or perhaps the land was more attractive.  There is a note in an early text that the sons of Fëanor were unfriendly to Men “because of lies of Morgoth,” [SM VII ] but this idea seems not to have been developed, unless traces of it remain in Caranthir’s initial underestimating of the people of Haleth.

There is one other scrap of evidence for the mixed nature of the Fëanorian following, and that is in one of Tolkien’s linguistic commentaries, where he says of the Fëanorian followers “their speech was mingled with that of [the other Noldor], and of Ossiriand, and of Men.” [LR 2 v].  This seems to be further testimony to their dealings with the Green-elves of Ossiriand, and perhaps a hint that they may have mixed with Men more than other writings would suggest.

Relations with the other Noldor would remain crucial, however.  After several centuries in Beleriand they may have missed an important opportunity to pursue their cause.  We are told that Fingolfin believing the numbers of his own people and their allies had grown strong enough to attack Angband, urged a full scale assault “but because the land was fair and their kingdoms wide, most of the Noldor were content with things as they were, trusting them to last” and therefore not many were willing to listen to Fingolfin “and the sons of Fëanor at that time least of all.” [S 18]  This seems strange – they still had an unbreakable Oath to worry about after all –  but perhaps what they, or some of them at least, objected to was not so much the idea of an assault as an assault that was lead by Fingolfin.  This would fit with a late remark that something over fifty years before Morgoth assaulted Beleriand in the Dagor Bragollach Curufin and Celegorm were “beginning to prepare for war again ere the shadow of Thangorodrim became insuperable.” [WJ 3 iii]  This would imply they were not blind to Fingolfin’s reasoning, but presumably would not follow his lead; although Tolkien’s notes also indicate they retained enough diplomatic sense to want to avoid a further quarrel with Turgon.

Whatever the truth about this they certainly suffered heavy losses in the assault of Dagor Bragollach.  Himring was held; but Lothlann was overrun by Glaurung, Caranthir’s fortress was taken by Orcs and the surrounding land ravaged, and Morgoth’s armies forced the Pass of Aglon with heavy losses, compelling Celegorm and Curufin to retreat west to Nargothrond with some followers.  Four of the brothers had therefore been driven from their territories, and the simultaneous loss of the high lands to the west, where Angrod and Aegnor were killed, left Himring isolated in the front line.

After the Dagor Bragollach the Fëanorians therefore had to adjust to a weaker position.  Caranthir joined with Amrod and Amras and they fell back to the south.  (The Fëanorians incidentally seem have been good at retreats – and no sarcasm is intended, an organised fighting withdrawal is a difficult thing to pull off).  “Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves; and the Orcs came not into Ossiriand, nor to Taur-im-Duinath and the wilds of the south.”  [S 18] A look at the map shows they had formed what was effectively a second line of defence, relying on the hill line of Andram which stretched east from the River Sirion.  The hill of Amon Ereb stood alone in open country between the end of Andram and the River Gelion, which formed the western boundary of Ossiriand, it was a natural centre point for defence, although not very steep and probably used as a centre for mobile forces rather than a great stronghold like Himring.

They seem to have recovered some of the lost territory at least briefly, however; for we are told in the Annals under the year 463 that Maedhros gave the Easterlings dwellings in Lothlann, [WJ 1] so the Fëanorians must have been controlling Lothlann again by this time.  Some at least of Caranthir’s territory seems likely to have been retaken also, for on his map of Beleriand Tolkien wrote ‘later Folk of Uldor’ in the middle of Thargelion [WJ 2 xi]; since the territory later given by Morgoth to the Easterlings was in Hithlum [S 20] this land was presumably granted by Caranthir as part of his agreement with Uldor’s people.  These two references imply a considerable military recovery, but details of how it was accomplished are not given.  A better recorded gain was Maedhros’s recapture of the highlands of Dorthonion in the year 469; this is criticised as having given his intentions away to Morgoth, but as it is also said that Uldor’s folk were already supplying Morgoth with information is doubtful that it was the taking of Dorthonion that alerted Morgoth.  There would certainly have been strategic reasons for recapturing Dorthonion before attempting to lure Morgoth’s forces out of Angband: to leave the high ground in Morgoth’s hands would have been to invite an attack from the rear, and to attack Angband and Dorthonion together would have dissipated strength.  Like everything else about Maedhros’s campaign the retaking of Dorthonion was no doubt a calculated risk, which did not in the end pay off.

The series of events leading up to the Nirnaeth Arnoediad can be read as an illustration of many of the brothers’ qualities, good and bad.  It was the greatest and most carefully prepared attempt to take the offensive against Morgoth ever made by the people of Beleriand: a remarkable, formidable, alliance of Elves, Dwarves and Men.  That Maedhros succeeded in putting it together was quite an achievement, although a good deal was owed to his longstanding friendship with Fingon, who supported the plans whole-heartedly and was no doubt responsible for Turgon lending his support.  It must have been Fingon also who recruited the men of Hithlum, but the alliance with the Dwarves can be put down largely to the Fëanorians. Yet there was little support from Nargothrond and less from Doriath owing, at least in part, to the recent, discreditable activities of Celegorm and Curufin, although given Thingol’s previous record we may doubt whether he would have participated anyway.  The alienation of Nargothrond, however, was both new and serious, and Orodreth’s motives for standing aloof are understandable, if short-sighted.  Yet in the end it was not lack of alliances that lost the battle, but poor choice of allies; one tribe of Easterlings remained faithful, but another, for unnamed reasons, joined Morgoth’s side.  The sheer scale of the resources which the Elf kingdoms had poured into the battle made them especially vulnerable to defeat.

A couple of scraps of information from Tolkien’s early accounts of the battle are worth citing here.  In his alliterative ‘Lay of the Children of Húrin’ Morgoth is furious over the escape of the sons of Fëanor as well as that of Turgon – the former may have fallen out of later versions of the legend only because it had nothing to do with Húrin who is the chief focus here.  [LB I i(a) and I(b)] Then in an early prose version of the battle we are told Fëanor’s sons “wrought great slaughter on Orc and Balrog and traitor Man that day.” [SM III ] Balrogs?  I suspect that line was dropped when Tolkien decided to make the Balrogs less numerous and harder to kill but it remains rather striking.

The disaster of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad effectively put paid to any real hope of regaining the Silmarils from Morgoth.  From then on the sons of Fëanor were fighting what Elrond in a later context calls a ‘long defeat’.  Their war against Morgoth was lost: since the Oath would not allow them to abandon Beleriand hope of long-term survival was lost as well.  They were as good as dead, and with no hope of re-embodiment.  The only question left was whether they were Doomed to Mandos, or to Everlasting Darkness, whatever they believed that to be.  It is worth bearing that in mind when considering events that followed.

The published Silmarillion has only a little to say about the immediate consequences of the battle for Fëanor’s sons.  The losses among their forces were undoubtedly heavy, and we are told that “They took to a wild and woodland life beneath the feet of Ered Lindon…, bereft of their power and glory of old.” [S 20].  The Annals have a little more “The Gorge of Aglon was filled with Orcs, and the Hill of Himring was garrisoned by soldiers of Angband.”[WJ 1].  The loss of Himring must have been a particularly notable blow, although we have no details of how it fell, whether taken by storm, or by siege, or whether those left within (there would most likely have been some garrison still) had a chance to pull out. The various references to the wild and wandering life of Fëanor’s sons after the disaster have a certain significance.  Tolkien was almost obsessed with the figure of the noble wanderer: dispossessed, impoverished and often outlawed but still bearing a proud heritage.  Beren, Túrin, Húrin, Tuor, Aragorn and Thorin Oakenshield all have elements of this. Yet of all the elven characters in his works the sons of Fëanor probably come closer than any to fitting the pattern, one of a few places where there is a sense their story appealed to his imagination in a way that was never fully realised in his writings.

All the same the Fëanorians cannot have been a spent force after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, even if a certain amount of reading between the lines is needed to observe that.  They still had enough of a force available a few years later to sack Doriath.  Even making allowance for the fact that the people of Doriath were no doubt reduced after the previous sack by the Dwarves of Nogrod, that probably fewer of them were battle-hardened, and that they were taken by surprise; this was not something that could have been done with a mere handful of followers.   Moreover, since it seems unlikely that any of the Sindar (even the North Sindar who Thingol did not like) or Green-elves would actually have marched on Doriath, the sack was most likely carried out with only their Noldor followers, and perhaps some Men.  There must have been more survivors of the Nirnaeth than the descriptions of the battle would suggest, perhaps scattered fugitives rallied to the Fëanorians later. Some of Fingon’s people might even have joined them when Hithlum was overrun.  After all for those who wanted to carry on the fight against Morgoth there were not, by this stage, many other options.  Doriath and Gondolin were still pursuing isolationist policies; Balar seems to have been more a refuge than a centre of active resistance; Nargothrond, before its fall would have been the best alternative but only for those who could find it.

We can also note that at one time Tolkien envisaged the Dwarf army that sacked Doriath being ambushed and wiped out by Celegorm and Curufin (or in another version Caranthir) who were hoping to get hold of the Silmaril – which in this view of the story was not in the possession of the Dwarves having already been passed by Melian to Lúthien.  Although Tolkien later decided to bring the Ents into the First Age by having them help Beren to wipe out the Dwarf army his previous idea again implies the forces available to the Fëanorians were still formidable. [WJ 3 v]

All the same there is very little information about what the Fëanorians were doing during this period.  The hill of Amon Ereb was still a central point for “upon that hill Maedhros dwelt after the great defeat” [S 14]  (Maedhros was evidently partial to hills).  The brothers presumably led fairly scattered and separated lives rather than remaining together for we are told that on hearing of the Silmaril in Doriath they “gathered from wandering”, [LR 2 iii] whether this was for strategic or personal reasons we have no way of knowing.  Despite what was said about them dwelling beneath the Ered Lindon it seems they had not abandoned the land west of the river Gelion, although they were now vulnerable to attack from the west as well as the north, especially after the fall of Nargothrond.  Although Morgoth concentrated most of his attention on finding Nargothrond and Gondolin in the west, he is not likely to have paid no attention at all to the east; we may guess at guerrilla warfare with perhaps occasional stronger probes from Angband.  If the Fëanorians could no longer challenge Morgoth it seems he could not overrun them without greater loss than he wanted to suffer whilst there were still other Elf realms to attend to.

Then we come to the Second Kinslaying, and a crucial decision which gets passed over remarkably quickly.  Tolkien never developed the episode at any length.  The best information we have is that after learning that Dior wore the Silmaril in Doriath the sons of Fëanor  “hold council.  Maidros restrains his brethren but a message is sent to Dior demanding the Jewel.  Dior returns no answer….  Celegorn inflames the brethren, and they prepare an assault on Doriath.” [WJ 3 v]

This really is an essential turning point.  Since the death of Fëanor five of the brothers have been behaving themselves fairly well.  Curufin and Celegorm had a bad lapse in Nargothrond, but the worst the others have been guilty of in the last five hundred years or so is being arrogant.  But now they launch an attack on fellow Elves that, unlike the First Kinslaying, is wholly premeditated.  Dior’s right to the Silmaril is dubious, but that is not a good reason for invasion and slaughter.   And it’s not only a wrong act; it’s a stupid act.  By attacking Doriath they are putting themselves beyond the pale, making it highly unlikely that any other Elves would ever ally with them.  Probably not much could be expected from Turgon (who rules the last remaining Noldor kingdom) anyway, since Turgon had never forgiven the ship-burning; but the Green-elves were likely to be shocked, as were Círdan and Gil-galad, and any Sindar followers among their own hosts would surely not have been pleased. And with their forces reduced by recent disasters they really cannot afford more losses.  Attacking Doriath severely reduces their future chances against Morgoth – and there can be no question of abandoning that war, even apart from the Oath there’s no way Morgoth is going to let them alone for any length of time.  True, they really have no hope of defeating Morgoth now, but why make matters worse than they already are?  We know, moreover, that Maedhros at least has been well aware of the need for unity and alliance in the past.  Attacking Doriath is, from a practical point of view alone, a terrible decision.  So why did they do it?  What did Celegorm say to his brothers, and why did they listen?

We never find out.  In the light of what Tolkien has to say elsewhere about the Oath, however, I think that must have been the crucial factor.  The two Silmarils possessed by Morgoth are out of their reach.  Despite the threatening talk of Celegorm and Curufin before the Nirnaeth, the Silmaril in Doriath was also out of their reach, as long as the Girdle of Melian remained.  But with the Girdle gone we may reasonably assume the Oath would have reawakened in full force.  Furthermore they may have believed that sooner or later attacking Doriath was essential if they were to have any hope of avoiding the Darkness to which they had vowed themselves.  It depends on which version of the Oath you adopt, but if the gist was that they could avoid the Darkness by doing everything in their power to regain the Silmarils, then attacking Doriath would now have seemed the only way, their strength being surely too reduced for further attacks on Morgoth.  We might say that not simply their lives but their souls were on the line, and perhaps that was what Celegorm said.  Still, it is frustrating the turning point was not developed in more detail.

A little more can be said on the Sindar side: although that too is not explored in any detail the story is clearly one of escalating resentments and feuds ending in mutual tragedy.  Thingol’s original anger against the Fëanorians was caused by the news of the Kinslaying of Alqualondë and renewed by Celegorm and Curufin’s mistreatment of Beren and Lúthien (it sounds as though he may have been in denial about his own degree of responsibility for the pains of the Silmaril quest); and this together with general Silmaril desire, and the arrogant tone of the Fëanorian message, caused him to refuse to give them the Silmaril back.  Dior’s motives for ignoring their later message are not explained but were probably similar; possibly he also underrated either their ability or their willingness to actually attack Doriath.  After the sack of Doriath one can well imagine that Elwing would not have been willing to give up the Silmaril to those responsible for the deaths of her parents and her brothers.

It’s worth remarking here that the chapter ‘Of the Ruin of Doriath’ in the published Silmarillion was constructed by CT and Guy Kay, from various notes made by JRRT, and I can find no warrant in JRRT’s writings for the statement that the sons of Fëanor ‘fought with Dior in the Thousand Caves’. Tolkien’s own annalistic note states that the sons of Fëanor “come up unawares in winter” but goes on “At Yule Dior fought the sons of Fëanor on the east marches of Doriath and was slain.” [WJ 3 v; see also LR 2 iii]  So it would seem that Tolkien envisaged a pitched battle, with Dior having enough warning of the Fëanorian approach to meet them on the borders of Doriath. That they were able to overcome the people of Doriath in open battle is further reason to think they still had significant forces at their command.  No doubt Menegroth was sacked afterwards, however, for it is not likely Dior would have had his young sons with him at the battlefield.

Even less is said about the surviving Fëanorians in the years immediately following the sack of Doriath than about the years immediately before. They evidently resumed their separated wanderings in the east, for before the sack of Sirion we are again told “they gathered together from their wandering hunting paths”. [SM III] We can guess that they had suffered heavy losses in the fighting, but Morgoth at this point was absorbed in bringing down Gondolin and probably had little attention to spare for the east.  They must have made themselves effective pariahs, but we get few details of this. Isolated in the east of Beleriand as they were, the practical consequences of outraging the other Elf settlements may not have been so great at first, and we do not hear of any active response from Círdan or Gil-galad.

There is, though, a curious note that after the Kinslaying Turgon “vowed to march never at the side of any son of Fëanor,” [S 23]: curious because it seems unlikely there would have been any prospect of that anyway.  There may be an explanation, however, in an early text where Ulmo, via Tuor, advises Turgon to make alliances with Men and prepare for battle against Morgoth.  “Nor should the feud with the sons of Fëanor be left unhealed; for this should be the last gathering of the [Noldor], when every sword should count.  A terrible and mortal strife he foretold, but victory if Turgon would dare it…” [SM III ]  In this version it was only if Turgon should refuse to go forth to war that Ulmo advised him to abandon Gondolin and flee to the mouths of Sirion. Turgon, of course, refused to listen. That the idea that Ulmo had advised a last union of the Noldor survived for some time is suggested by a much later note of Tolkien’s that in the same year as the Kinslaying “Ulmo sends a last warning to Gondolin… but Turgon will have no alliance with any after the kinslaying of Doriath”. [WJ 3 v].   As Tolkien’s annalistic reckoning put the ruin of Doriath after Tuor’s coming to Gondolin Tuor cannot have been the messenger here, but the idea seems to be the same, as it is difficult to see why Turgon’s views on alliances and Kinslayings should have been relevant unless Ulmo had advised union with the sons of Fëanor.  This story lends an extra dimension of tragedy to the Second Kinslaying, for if the Fëanorians had not marched on Doriath, then perhaps (only perhaps, since he had a number of motives for not heeding the advice) Turgon might have been more willing to listen to Ulmo.

The build up to the Third and final Kinslaying, the destruction of Sirion, is treated almost as briefly as the decision to attack Doriath.  As has been said above it is not a choice that seems to have been arrived at lightly or readily.  On first learning that the Silmaril was in Sirion the surviving brothers did not act, with Maedhros at least apparently making a conscious choice to break the Oath.  Yet they were unable to keep up the resistance (some of Tolkien’s notes indicate that it was Amrod and Amras who pressed for attack, the older brothers would have held out longer).   The Oath was too strong for them.

A difference between this, the Third Kinslaying, and the previous two, is that there were Noldor in Sirion, refugees from Gondolin who would no doubt have fought alongside the Sindar from Doriath.  Perhaps this explains why here at last the loyalty of the Fëanorian followers, which seems to have been pretty strong all things considered, began to break down: “some of their people stood apart, and some few rebelled and were slain upon the other part, aiding Elwing against their own lords (for such was the sorrow and confusion in the hearts of the Eldar in those days).” [S 24] Given Tolkien’s stress on the shocking nature of Elves slaying Elves it is perhaps surprising this had not happened before.

Indeed the community of Sirion may have contained a bigger mixture of refugees than appears in most of the texts.  A late piece of writing by Tolkien, intended to introduce the Túrin story, contains this passage.  “For in the last days of Beleriand  there came thither remnants out of all the countries, both Men and Elves: from Hithlum and Dor-lómin, from Nargothrond and Doriath, from Gondolin and from the realms of the sons of Fëanor in the east.”   [WJ 3 ii]. The survivors from Hithlum and Nargothrond were probably a minority, for since the settlement of Sirion was formed first by refuges from Doriath it seems likely that most of the Noldor survivors from earlier catastrophes would have settled with Círdan and Gil-galad on Balar.  However their presence remains notable.  It is also suggested that some of the Fëanorian followers had already abandoned them before the attack on Sirion – Sindar shocked by the sack of Doriath perhaps? At all events the mixed nature of the community, and the consequent tragedy of allies and kindred turned enemies, perhaps goes some way towards explaining why The Silmarillion calls this “the last and cruellest slaying of Elf by Elf,”[S 24]; the ‘cruellest’ reference is otherwise hard to understand.

Although few details of the attack are given we may be able to name some of the victims of the sack of Sirion.  Dírhaval, a mortal poet who composed the lay of the Children of Húrin was one  [WJ 3 ii]. Another may have been Egalmoth, Lord of the Heavenly Arch in Gondolin, since some very early notes of Tolkien’s have him slain at Sirion, although the assault was then attributed to Morgoth not the Fëanorians. [BLT2 3 ].  Here the former allies of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad were turned against each other, both sides no doubt using skills honed against Morgoth’s troops.  Both sides must have lost heavily, although it was the Fëanorians who won the battle – without gaining the Silmaril.

It can be assumed that following the Third Kinslaying the Fëanorian survivors, probably much reduced, returned to their old haunts in the east. Morgoth’s power, however, was growing, and all the elf realms had now been destroyed.  In one set of annals Tolkien has this to say.  “Maidros and Maglor, sons of Fëanor, dwelt in hiding in the south of Eastern Beleriand, about Amon Ereb…But Morgoth sent against them, and they fled to the Isle of Balar.”  [LR 2 iii] Again we have the hill of Amon Ereb appearing as their centre, and it seems confirmed that it was not a fortress. How much weight we place on the rest of this solitary reference, which is neither confirmed nor contradicted by Tolkien’s later writings is up to the individual.  On the one hand it is likely Morgoth would send against them, if only because they were there; on the other one really wonders why the Elves on Balar would take in Fëanorians.  Tolkien did not dwell much on this period of history, preferring to move on to the culmination of Eärendil’s errand and the War of Wrath.

There are some differences in the accounts of the War of Wrath, most notably that in the narrative account of events none of the Elves of Beleriand fought with the Valinorean host, although the remnants of the Edain did.  (This may be Tolkien’s attempt to explain the particularly brief and distant narration of the War of Wrath – there were no detailed accounts because the Elves who made the histories were not there) [S 24]  In the annalistic tradition however Eonwë “summoned now all Elves, Men, Dwarves, beasts and birds unto his standard who did not elect to fight for Morgoth.  But the power and dread of Morgoth was now grown very great and many did not obey the summons.”  [LR 2 iii] I suppose it is just possible to reconcile the two versions by saying that all the Elves of Beleriand refused the summons, but this seems unlikely, especially as the war lasted between forty and fifty years (Tolkien’s chronology varied slightly).  In support of the version in the annals we may note that Elrond at the great council in LOTR seems to be remembering the breaking of Angband firsthand – but then Elrond is not strictly an Elf and it is conceivable that he and Elros fought with the Edain.  Whichever version we follow, though, the whereabouts of the Fëanorians remains obscure.  They are hardly likely to have been welcome in the host of Eonwë.

It is a notable fact that there is marked emphasis on Maedhros and Maglor in the final passages of the Silmarillion.  The Elves of Middle-earth, we are told, take the rising of the new star that is the Silmaril carried by Eärendil as a sign of hope, but the comments we actually hear come from the two brothers, who, strikingly enough, do not seem to feel any resentment that the Silmaril is out of their reach; further evidence perhaps that they were driven by the Oath rather than desire for the stones themselves.  Then when the host of Valinor finally arrives we hear virtually nothing of the reaction of the Beleriand Elves, other than the Fëanorian brothers, who at the conclusion of the war bring themselves “with weariness and loathing, to attempt in despair the fulfilment of their oath.” [This and quotes in the next paragraph from S 24]

It is surprising, perhaps, that Tolkien does not make more of the killing of the guards who were watching the Silmarils in the camp of Eonwë.  (Does that not count as a Kinslaying?) Otherwise the final act of the drama hardly needs much comment, although we may pause briefly on the moment when Maedhros “perceived it was as Eonwë had said and that his right thereto [that is to the jewels] had become void, and that the oath was vain”. What is noticeable here is that the question of right had not really come into the final conversation between Maedhros and Maglor, except perhaps tangentially in Maglor’s suggestion that in Valinor they might “come into our own in peace.” It was the Oath that mattered, not the question of whether Eonwë was correct about their having forfeited the right to the jewels, if anything Maglor seems to take it for granted they have not.    Tolkien, we may further note, explicitly describes the Oath as vain whereas the right is void, a significant difference.  It is no simple situation presented here, but rather one in which it seems the brothers have lost both the right and the ability to possess the stones, without being released from their Oath to regain them. There was indeed no way out.

Although the legends recorded in the Silmarillion end with the final victory over Morgoth there is no sense of joy.  The concluding tone is sombre, even grim.  If the remark that the triumph of the victorious host was lessened by the fact that they returned without the Silmarils may inspire the thought that Fëanor was not the only one overly obsessed with the shiny gems; nonetheless a victory which had come only after such overwhelming loss and destruction could hardly be entirely happy.  Whereas at the end of The Lord of the Rings the mortal communities on the good side all survive and flourish, at the end of the Silmarillion all the realms that once flourished, and even Beleriand itself, are lost forever.  The bleak note on which the work ends, however, is at least in part due to the way in which it is recorded, with as much space given to the final workings of the Oath as to the victory itself, and the last passages of recorded dialogue in the entire work being given to the despairing brothers.  In a very literal sense the last word is with the Fëanorians.


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