Melkor's Bad Day by Deborah Judge  

Melkor was having a terrible time. All he wanted was to steal the Silmarils, darken Valinor and destroy Feanor. And he had a simple plan! All he had to do was sow dissent among the Noldor and turn them against each other. Feanor and Fingolfin were the obvious targets. Their father had married two women, one after the other had died. Their father was known to favor Feanor over Fingolfin. Both were known to be proud and ambitious. Surely they would hate each other. It should be very easy to make them hate each other just a little bit more.

He started with Fingolfin. "Your half-brother is forging swords in secret," he said.

"That is nice to hear," Fingolfin said. "I haven't seen a real sword other than the old one Father hung behind the fireplace. We only use practice swords when we spar. I would like to see the swords Feanor makes, I'm sure they will be very pretty."

That was not the expected answer. "He is going to use them against you," Melkor said.

"I will look forward to it," Fingolfin said. "I haven't had a chance to spar with my brother in a long time. We've been distracted...nevermind. Thank you for letting me know, I will ask him about the swords when I see him tonight."

This was going nowhere. He went to Feanor. "Your half-brother is trying to take your father's love," he said.

"That angers me greatly," Feanor said.

"As it should!" said Melkor

"It angers me," said Feanor, "that Fingolfin should feel that he needs to take what he is entitled to by right. Truly, he is deserving of all love."

"But he is trying to usurp you! He seeks to rule!" Melkor said.

"If he enjoys the work of governance and wishes to do more of it he is welcome to it," Feanor said. "I will gladly use the extra time to make him trinkets. A silver and pearl hairpiece would suit him I think."

Melkor was running out of patience. Weren't half-brothers supposed to hate each other? Maybe he would have better luck with one of Feanor's children.

He tried with Maedhros. "Fingolfin and his sons are trying to usurp the leadership of your family."

Maedhros looked at him, clearly unimpressed. "Which sons?" he asked.

"Well, he has two." Melkor said. There was also Argon, who may or may not exist but even if he did exist was too young to usurp anything bigger than his father's lap, so Melkor left him out.

"I see," Maedhros said. "And you believe both those sons desire leadership? And would fight me for it? Have you seen evidence of this?"

"Turgon has spoken of desiring leadership," Melkor said.

"Yes," said Maedhros. "But you said sons, plural. Fingon neither desires to rule nor would in any matter act as my adversary. Your information is mistaken."

On the way out Melkor saw Feanor and Fingolfin delightedly sparring with the new swords, which were indeed very pretty. They were both, he had to admit, very good at it. After a time Fingolfin knocked Feanor over and then threw himself down into the grass alongside him. Melkor couldn't see what happened after that.

If siblings refused to hate each other, what about sibling races? Surely he could find those of the Firstborn who could be made to envy the race of Men. He found Fingon and Finrod, two young Elves who seemed good candidates. Even if Fingon did not desire rule he was known for impulsiveness, while Finrod had a reputation for ambition. He told them about this short-lived and weak race and told them that the these Men were going to win the Valar's favor.

"Tell me more," said Finrod. "If they are so short-lived, how do they build anything that endures?"

"They are very loyal," Melkor said, "so that an injury to one is an injury to all, and what parents begin is continued by their children."

"And how can they fight us," Fingon said, "if they are shorter of stature and weaker than we are?"

"They are fierce and brave and do not fear going to war against unequal odds," Melkor said, hoping that would make them sound threatening.

Fingon and Finrod agreed that these Men sounded very interesting and they were looking forward to meeting them.

In desperation Melkor turned to Galadriel, who was known to dislike Feanor, and who longed to found a great kingdom. "Feanor is trying to take your hair," he said.

"Oh," Galadriel said. "I gave it to him."

Melkor stared. When he looked closely he could see a small lock of her hair was gone.

"I never used to like Feanor but I had a long talk with Uncle Fingolfin, who can occasionally be wise, and he explained to me that really Feanor and I want the same thing. We're working together on ways to get to Middle-earth and build kingdoms there. Feanor wanted my hair for some research he's doing while I work with my mother's people at Alqualonde to figure out transportation. So I gave it to him."

Was there anything else he could try? He went back to Feanor's house and knocked on the door. It took a while before anyone answered but eventually Fingolfin opened the door, his hair unbound and his clothes looking like they had been put on very quickly. Feanor came running behind him, his clothes also a mess, his lips looking very red. "You are interested in my Silmarils," he said to Melkor.

"Well," Melkor said, "yes."

"Then come," Feanor said. They walked down to the vault where the Silmarils were kept, Feanor in front of him and Fingolfin behind. They were still wearing swords, probably from their practice earlier. Melkor of course hadn't brought his, he didn't want to look suspicious while spreading rumors.

The well-fortified vault of the Silmarils had only one door, which Fingolfin closed. Then he stood in front of it. With his sword. That he was very, very good at using.

Feanor went over to the Silmarils. In their light his smile was fey. "Why don't you touch them?" he said.

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