A Very Fire by Deborah Judge  

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Grandfather's Light

The brothers are reunited. Valinor darkens. Finwe faces his death.

 

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Every exile must come to an end. Fingolfin's father had told him this once, speaking of the long journey to the blessed realm through withered lands. This time of Feanor's judgement had felt like exile, not only for Feanor and Finwe but for Fingolfin himself. When he heard that Feanor would join the great feast on Mount Taniquetil, Fingolfin had allowed himself to believe that the exile would soon be over.

At last they were together at the feast of Manwe. Feanor stood alone his neck was bare of any jewel. His eyes flicked over the crowd and remained on Fingolfin, seeking, daring, taunting. Will you still follow me, Son of Indis?

This was more dangerous than the cliffs of their childhood. These steps of their dance would need to be taken before all those assembled here, and he could not ask Feanor not to let him fall. But by now Fingolfin had learned not to be afraid. He stepped into the circle and took the place opposite his brother, the place appointed to him, the place for which he was made.

In the eyes of the crowd Fingolfin knew that he was the one who had been wronged. "I will do as I promised," Fingolfin said so that all might hear. "I release thee, and remember no grievance." He had the power to do this. He had the power to forgive Feanor.

Feanor took his hands with warm fingers, but his eyes were cold. What darkness in Formenos had shaped this brittle gaze? Fingolfin felt a sudden urge to embrace his brother, to clasp him to his chest here before everyone, to press against this exiled being and squeeze the coldness from his eyes.

"Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart I will be." Fingolfin realized that he was begging. All who watched would think him generous and Feanor cruel. He felt cruel himself. He had come to Taniquetil to find his brother again. At last it came to him, with an ancient memory, and he knew what Feanor was waiting for him to say. "Thou shalt lead and I will follow," he said, willing him to understand. I am not here to defeat you.

Feanor smiled at last and in that moment it seemed to Fingolfin that he had very much misunderstood. But then Feanor moved towards him and his shirt fell open to reveal the green stone shining beneath it. "So be it," Feanor said. Their joined hands came to rest on Feanor's chest, and the light of the stone pulsed through their fingers. To Fingolfin it seemed far brighter than he remembered, the silver-green brightness outshining even the mingling light of Laurelin and Telperion. When Fingolfin at last looked aside, it seemed only natural that the light of the Trees had begun to seem dimmer than it was.

*

"Tell me about light," Maedhros asked his grandfather. The reasons that people had given for the dimming of the light were difficult to understand, something about a giant monster and a war between the Valar. Finwe insisted that the reason was entirely simple: the exile of his oldest son.

Maedhros expected that High King Finwe of all people would know, since he knew more about light than any of the Noldor. "Why is the light of the Trees so important?" Maedhros asked. "Why was it worth the journey?"

"Did you not see it in the Silmarils?" Finwe answered.

The Silmarils were beautiful, they were compelling. They were not something Maedhros could explain. "I can see it," he said. "It is beyond my understanding."

"Do you ever feel that you are stronger when you see it?" Finwe asked. "That you are more than yourself? That is what I felt when I first saw the light of the Trees. Our first doom was to fade. The light of Valinor gave us life, until the world's end. That is why when the Valar called us to come to live in the light we listened, and we listened even though Mandos the Judge named it as a doom."

"You endured a doom to come here?" Maedhros asked.

"I would do so again. I would face any doom to follow the light. That is why I came here with your father." Maedhros could see the parallel. Grandfather was not turned aside in his journey to the light of the Trees by a doom of Mandos, as he was not when he gave up his kingship to follow his son to Formenos. "There are things in this world for which it is worth bearing a doom. My brother Ingwe Lord of the Vanyar was the first to understand this. I am glad that I also understood it in time."

*

"If you would follow then come," Feanor said. Their ritual was done, they could escape their roles for a time. Feanor reached out his hand and Fingolfin took it, then stared at where their hands were joined. The touch was like soft flame licking at his fingers. "You swore," Feanor said. His eyes were bright. They walked hand in hand through the streets of Tirion until they reached the home in which they had been raised, the old palace now many years empty. Feanor led him up a long staircase to a high room, perhaps an old ballroom, empty and with great windows. The light, which had been dimming now for many years, was fading slowly.

"You have defeated me," Feanor said. "What is your prize?"

Fingolfin had promised to follow. He had gone to Mandos to ask for his brother. He did not feel like he had won anything until this moment when he was with Feanor again. "Only to be with you," he said.

When Feanor pulled him down to sit with him in the middle of the floor he did not object. Feanor placed his head on his chest, as if expecting to be held. Fingolfin wrapped an arm about him, helpless to not comply.

He had tried fighting his brother, tried forging swords to oppose him. Years of loneliness and longing had been his judgement. He would fight no longer. Every inch of his body felt a desire to be close to Feanor and to press him to himself as well as he could.

"I know about the plan," Fingolfin whispered. "My son told me. Take me with you."

"Beloved," Feanor said. "I have seen you there. You will be king."

*

"Then what is the doom that we face now?" Maedhros asked.

"Maedhros," Finwe said. "Surely you know. What happens when we die?"

"We go to Mandos," Maedhros said.

"That is not death," Finwe said, "not completely. Our spirits endure and we can return to our bodies, if we so desire. So when do we truly die?"

"Never," he said. And then he realized what his grandfather was asking. "When the world ends."

"And then what?" Finwe asked.

What happens after the end of the world? "Nothing?"

"Nothing," Finwe said. "There is nothing we can build that will live after us. Nothing that will endure past the end of our lives. That is the doom that has fallen upon us with eternal life."

It was something so obvious, all the Firstborn knew it. They were immortal within the bounds of the world. When the world will end so will their lives. They will die at the same moment as everything that exists. It was obvious, and no one ever wanted to speak it.

"What is there when everything is gone?" Finwe said. "Only darkness everlasting."

*

"Your son has gone to my son," Feanor said. "So much he has longed for him." Feanor spoke his words into Fingolfin's chest, a kind of longing in his own voice.

That much Fingolfin understood. It had become clear to him that whatever Fingon felt for Maedhros had gone far beyond friendship. If they wished to wed he would not object, not that it would make the slightest difference to Fingon if he did.

"What is your son doing to my son?" Feanor said. "Has he touched his lips? Will he lie down with him? Has he claimed him? Has he enjoyed him?" Feanor was breathless as he spoke.

"Is that what you wish we were doing?" Fingolfin asked. Something felt inevitable and he did not want to name it any more than his brother did. They were touching from cheek to hip and Fingolfin had to prevent himself from pressing his lips to his brother's hair. "Is that what you want?"

"I wish you were destroyed inside me," Feanor said. "I wish we were never made." His breath was on Fingolfin's face.

"Do not regret your making," Fingolfin said. "I do not."

"My son is well-formed," Feanor said, his hand on Fingolfin's lips. "He will be a feast to your son, a delight. Has your son stripped mine down to his nakedness? Has he kissed his naked body? Will he take him into his mouth? Will he move inside him?"

Fingolfin gripped a fistful of Feanor's hair and pulled his head sharply back. He had sworn to follow, he was following, he could not say this was too much but he needed his son left out of it. Feanor's eyes were lamps in the dimming light. "Stop," he said. The thought of Feanor directing his fantasies towards his son made him ill, but he also could not pull away from him. Which left only one option, which was to stop thinking and let Feanor reach up and take his mouth.

It took an act of will not to pull away. He let Feanor's lips remain on his, then let Feanor pry open his mouth to take what he needed. A breath, then he gave back, letting himself taste. He felt their shared breath move through them, in one mouth and out the other, one breath for one soul that should never have been two...

The desire was so sharp it felt like pain. I want this, he thought, and the thought surprised him. I want. I want. He pushed down on Feanor, pressing him down until he lay beneath him. Feanor's hands were claws on his back, and then fists.

Surely this was not the worst thing they had both done.

"I will do this gladly," Fingolfin said, whispering into Feanor's mouth, grasping for reasons and sense. "Gladly, if it will bring peace between us. If it will end the madness."

"The madness will not end," Feanor said. "There will never be peace." His kisses were hungry and full of need and would accept no hesitation.

Around them the light dimmed and Valinor slowly became dark.

*

"The One who has formed light has also made darkness, the One who has made both peace and war," Finwe said. "Light must shine in the darkness and the darkness will not consume it. Your father was born with the fire of the One. He placed in jewels that will hold the light past the end of the world, into the time when darkness falls."

Around him the light darkened and dimmed. Maedhros felt like a fool but he had to say the obvious. "Grandfather," he said. "It is becoming dark now."

"It will never become dark while my son lives," Finwe said. "Nor while the work of his hands endures."

*

"Is it this?" Fingolfin asked. He needed to know. "Is this what you wanted? Is this what I wanted?" Just this touch, these kisses, this overwhelming sudden joy. He touched the green stone at Feanor's chest. Feanor evaded the tender touch to bite Fingolfin on the cheek, which made Fingolfin laugh.

Were they lovers now? Was that what was going to happen? He had not heard that this was a thing that was allowed between brothers, but he had also never heard of Valinor being dark. Would they be married, like he had been with Anaire?

Why was it becoming dark?

"Now you be quiet," Feanor said, then grabbed his mouth so there was no more to say.

Through the windows they could see Tirion lit with torches as darkness fell.

"Look at my people," Feanor said, after a time. "How they find their own light. Who could not be proud to rule such as they?"

*

"Everything I am is from the light," the High King said. "I was born in starlight and came here to raise children who would be made wise by the light of Trees. All my children and grandchildren have grown in this light. I will fight for this light to the end of my strength."

*

"Would you swear?" Feanor said. "There is something I have crafted, an Oath strong enough to withstand any Vala. I would share this with you."

Feanor's hand was under Fingolfin's thigh. He could see very little. "I will fight any Vala," Fingolfin said. "Any that is your enemy."

"Then swear," he said. "You have already sworn. Swear again. Swear with me." Then he kissed him and pushed any thoughts away.

*

It was as if there was something living in the darkness. Maedhros felt his grandfather's strength fading. He grabbed his sword but he could not fight it, there was nothing to fight. Darkness was all around him and High King Finwe stood alone against it.

In the dark Maedhros heard his grandfather's last words:

"You have come for the lights of my son's forging," he said. "You will not have them while I live."

*

"What happens now?" said Fingolfin. They were still on the floor, still holding each other. All was completely dark.

"Now," Feanor said, "the Valar will destroy me."

*

The maple and mallorn trees touched and intertwined, merged and separated, like Fingon's memories of the sword-dance. Darkness had fallen, but what of that? His sword Ringil shone blue-silver in the starlight with the light that Maedhros had made in its forging. Here on the outskirts of Formenos Fingon held his sword aloft and called out to Maedhros in his mind.

It was still too far. Maedhros was still too distant, as he had been since his father's exile to Formenos too long ago. But now Fingolfin was off reconciling with his vision-mad brother, so the long exile must be coming to an end. At least that was what Fingon had concluded, and therefore there could be nothing wrong with him riding madly in the direction of Formenos within three heartbeats of his father's departure for Mount Taniquetil. If he was wrong, he supposed he would sort it out with his father when he got back. At this point, it was hard to care. Soon, he would feel Maedhros's mind-presence, and see him, and touch him, and...

And then what? Fingon remembered the rush of strange feelings the last time they had been together, the deep shock of longing at Maedhros's touch. He had thought that they would pass, without Feanor there to send them. Sometimes they had, even for months at a time, until he woke from a dream shaking. Or he would be beneath a red-leafed tree, imagining the sword dance, and in his mind it was only a small gesture to cast the sword to the ground and take Maedhros by the waist.

Feanor had not sent this, not from such distance.

And what is it that I desire? He let himself think it with full intention. He imagined Maedhros in his arms, bodies pressed close together. What would it feel like to kiss him? To lie down beside him? He let the image sit in his mind. He felt no shame at it and no fear.

Maybe it doesn't matter where it came from. Anything that was in his body was his now. The thought felt true, with a kind of overwhelming certainty. He remembered the leaf from the top of the mallorn tree, the first present one of them had ever given the other. He felt the light through the leaves of the trees around him.

Then the light started to dim. It felt to him in that moment like a gentle caressing darkness like that he had shared with Maedhros on their last night together. Formenos was closer now. Fingon called out again in his mind, letting the certainty he felt shape his mind-touch into the purest, clearest shout. Nearing Formenos, he felt Maedhros at last.

Maedhros's spirit was screaming, wailing, racked and twisted with unspeakable horror.

*

The only light was from stars and torches. In the Ring of Doom Feanor stood alone, answering the Valar. "You will not have my consent to take the Silmarils," he said. "They are my soul. Without them I will surely die."

Feanor's words were confident but there was a weakness to him, as if his life-force was slowly leaving him as the light seeped from Valinor.

Yavanna asked him again, begging him to break the Silmarils and release their light. "Melkor is like you," Feanor said, "for he will not allow light that is outside of him. What reason have you given me to prefer you to him? Rather I should give them to Melkor, for he too is a Valar, and of your kin, and perhaps less full of lies."

"Do you judge us?" asked Mandos.

"I do judge you, Mandos," Feanor said. "This darkness is your judgement."

"Thou hast spoken," said Mandos. In the distance there was a sound of weeping, forever inconsolable. In the Ring of Doom the only light that remained was from the green stone at Feanor's neck.

*

Fingon arrived too late. Helplessly he wandered the halls of Formenos, his useless sword trailing. Around him the evidence of battle littered the palace. Maedhros's agony still burned in his soul, bringing with it the terrible relief that at least Maedhros was alive.

He found Maedhros at last, with all his brothers, kneeling over what looked like a body. Fingon had never seen a dead Elf before, not even in the seeing-stone. His grandfather was covered with deep gashes that split him open from breast to abdomen. His skull was crushed, mangling his face beyond recognition. Still, there could be no doubt as to his identity. The sons of Feanor knelt around the body, silent in their grief.

"Grandfather," Fingon said.

Maedhros nodded. Silently, Fingon knelt down beside him. No wound showed on Maedhros's body, no visible damage aside from the screaming of his soul. "It wouldn't fight me," Maedhros said. "I couldn't fight."

There is a darkness that is an absence of light, and there is another darkness that is a thing in itself, with a power to strangle the very will. "I didn't know it would be like this," Maedhros said.

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Chapter End Notes

Feanor's E-rated Maedhros/Fingon shipping was one of the scenes I couldn't write 24 years ago. I can barely bring myself to write it now, it creeps me the heck out. But the story wouldn't work without it, I needed Feanor to go just.that.far in projecting himself on his son and also not understanding that boundaries of any kind are a thing that exists. As soon as I wrote that scene the rest of the fic was much easier to write.

*

Mandos on the light of the Two Trees:
"...it is doom that the Firstborn shall come in the darkness, and shall look first upon the stars. Great light shall be for their waning."
"At the last, therefore, the Valar summoned the Quendi to Valinor, there to be gathered at the knees of the Powers in the light of the Trees for ever; and Mandos broke his silence, saying: ‘So it is doomed.’ From this summons came many woes that afterwards befell."

*

There is a short G rated Finwe lives AU in chapter 5 of A Burning Flame.