A Very Fire by Deborah Judge  

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A Very Fire of the One

In the distance there was a great fire and they knew they had been betrayed.

In the beginning, Feanor said, the All-Father created Arda through music..He made lesser beings and delegated to them his power. These beings, these small creatures, took control of our world. They made laws that were not good so that we would not live by them.They hid their light from places that were dark. They created a place of illusion and said it was good. They promised our father light and brought him here to die in darkness.

When I was born, I am told, the fire in me consumed my mother's spirit and body. I grew, they say, with a secret fire within me, a secret that those who made this place are not able to understand. With this fire I lit vessels of matter which will not be known until the Sun passes and the Moon falls. I lit them with a light that cannot be broken within the Kingdom of Arda. The fates of Arda, earth, sea, and air lay locked within them. Then the light was taken.

Eru has set in me a fire greater than you know.

This place is a place of illusion, a place of everlasting darkness that calls itself light. I first saw through this illusion when you were born, when I knew that we had been poured into the cage of two separate bodies. Any world in which we both exist is a broken world. I would break it further until my body breaks open and the shell of the world cracks so the light within it can appear. I would tear it to shreds with my hands until all that is left is song.

*

The two hosts proceeded separately. Feanor's hosts on the ships and on foot and the much larger host of Fingolfin behind them. They made camp not far from each other. From the camp of Feanor came Maglor's music, answered by Finrod from Fingolfin's camp. On the second night Feanor came to Fingolfin's tent and
in a moment was on him. Fingolfin could feel the growing weakness in Feanor's body and still he hurled himself at Fingolfin, hungry for any kisses he could claim.

After that the floodgates were open. All through the march, when they could they went off together to find some privacy behind a tree or a burned building. Fingolfin learned to press him up against things: walls, tree trunks, anything that would hold their weight. Feanor was hungry for kisses, needy for them.

"It won't be much longer," Feanor said. "Not in this world." That, Fingolfin understood, was why they were allowed this, a last moment to be as close as bodies allow. This truly was madness, the push of skin against skin, strength against strength, heartbeat against heartbeat. The fire of Feanor was consuming him. He was glad to be consumed.

*

Fourteen days into the journey Fingolfin broke up a fistfight between one of Finrod's guards and a guard from his own house who had been in the vanguard with Fingon. When he spoke with them, separately, each told the story of the other's unprovoked attack at Alqualonde.

The children of Finarfin had grown up along with their mother's Teleri kin. It was not a surprise that they wanted to protect them, but that meant that members of Fingolfin's host had joined the battle on opposing sides.

Finrod would neither confirm nor deny. "I have chosen the doom of the Noldor," he said. "I am of your people now."

"Is that what you will tell those who fought on the other side, if they wonder if you can be trusted?"

"Do you think that is likely to happen?" Finrod asked. "Is that something people under your governance are likely to say?"

"There is no reason to expect the children of Finarfin to forgive us," Turgon said to his father later. "We have made no moves to apologize to their relatives or to return that which was stolen." Turgon had been in the front with Fingon but had never been willing to speak about it. Had he joined the battle against his friend? He was unwilling to say.

"Feanor will never return anything, and I'm sure he has no regrets." Fingon said. "Moving closer to one house will take us further from the other."

Fingolfin spoke to Feanor about it that night in the tent, pressed close together. "We are one people," he said.

"We are two hosts," Feanor answered. "The greater part follows you and are not sworn to my oath or my vengeance."

"How do we go forward?" Fingolfin asked. It felt like he had tried everything. Feanor would not submit to him and although he had promised to follow Feanor he was not going to submit to him either, certainly not to be an accomplice in wrongdoing. He had not taken Feanor's oath, nor had those who followed him. If neither would submit and they followed different paths, what would become of their people?

"There are things I am not able to do," Feanor said. "Soon I will break and you will go on. Light will shine from the fire that consumes me and will illuminate your path."

*

"I gave away the sword you made for me," Fingon said to Maedhros as soon as he could find him. "I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive..."

As soon as Maedhros had his arms around him everything else fell away. With his head against Maedhros's chest it felt like nothing had changed since they were young. But so much had. "I gave the sword to my father," Fingon said. "Since he's going to lead us."

He felt Maedhros tense at the words. "You know I am a son of Feanor," Maedhros said. "I follow the path of my father the king."

"I know," Fingon said. And your father isn't going to lead us anywhere but the Halls of Mandos.. "I won't fight against you. I won't be your enemy. But I don't want to follow your father again. Not after Alqualonde."

Maedhros's hands were on the prince's crown in his hair. By naming his father king, Fingon abruptly realized, by making himself crown prince, he taken that from Maedhros. He wanted to beg forgiveness. I never wanted to take anything from you . "I'm not angry," Maedhros said, before he could speak. Maedhros let go of the crown and went back to stroking Fingon's hair. "This is between our fathers," he said. "I will never fight you."

There was a certainty in Maedhros's words, a conviction, that ran through Fingon's body like a sudden spark of joy. The thing that was between them was so true and real that their fathers could not corrupt it, nor could they break it apart.

"Alqualonde never should have been your first battle," Maedhros said. "I thought you would turn back with your uncle."

Fingon's laugh shook both of their bodies and he reached up to pull Maedhros down so they were face to face. There was so much before them, all the great deeds and great kingdoms they had imagined. "I'm never turning back," he said. "Never." Then he kissed him with all the certainty in his body.

*

"If only we had been twins," Feanor said, "born to the same mother, grown in the same womb.'" They were lying together in the complete darkness, in Fingolfin's tent, Feanor's head on Fingonfin's chest and all their limbs entwined. "I could have grown with you like this. Until the moment of my birth it would have been all that I knew, you close against me. Then in the same crib, skin to skin. When my hands learned how to grasp I would have held you. When my mouth first moved I would have tasted you. The first word I spoke would have been your name. The first necklace I would have forged would have been to adorn your neck."

Fingolfin let himself fall into the fantasy. Feanor was fading. His body was thin. Soon the time would come that in the absence of Treelight they had agreed to call morning, when Feanor would return to his ship and Fingolfin would do his best to keep his people alive. His people who, with some few exceptions, largely hated Feanor. He wrapped his arms around Feanor and let himself enjoy the closeness.

"My first arousal would have been at the sight of your naked body. My first orgasm from rutting against your thigh," Feanor continued. Fingolfin rolled on top of him, letting their bodies press together through their clothing. "My first opening at your fingers. My first claiming when you entered me."

In the dark Fingolfin held him. They would have this at least. Doomed and cursed, they would have this.

"It is good that it will be you, to be king after me," Feanor said, "If anyone, then you. You will live when I am gone."

Fingolfin felt Feanor shiver in his arms. When I am gone, Feanor had said, as if that were something that Fingolfin would survive. As if he would not throw himself in fury at any Vala that tried to take him.

Fingolfin turned him over, pushed him down. "If we had been born to different fathers," he said. "both great princes, I would have been your best friend in childhood. When I learned to walk I would have gone to you. I would have courted you as a child with flower-chains and ribbons. I would have filled your father's home with lavish gifts and swear that nothing is lovelier than your eyes. Every brave act I would have done would be for your hand. I would have wed you in Tirion in front of all the Valar. My soul would have entwined with yours as our bodies joined and all would see it in our eyes. No one would doubt that I am yours and yours alone, not ever or for a moment. At the moment of your death," Fingolfin paused. Feanor needed to hear this, to stop his fantasies that Fingolfin would be his heir. "I would die alongside you, to be with you in the halls of Mandos rather than outside the halls without you."

Feanor reached up and pulled him close. "I do not ask you to forgive me," he said, lips against Fingolfin's neck. "Not for any of it."

*

On the march Fingon borrowed a hunting-bow from Aredhel and practiced shooting at rocks and leaves. It was different from a sword, much less intimate and personal. If he killed something - or someone - the blood would not stain his face. He was idly shooting targets when Feanor came to sit down next to him.

"You are not welcome here," Fingon said.

"You speak this way to your king?" Feanor said, but he was not angry. Nor did he make any move to leave.

"The last time I will ever follow you willingly was at Alqualonde," Fingon said. There was no sound like the scream of the dying, a sound that Fingon would hear in his dreams. It would remind him of his decision to follow Feanor.

"Nevertheless," Feanor said. "You are a creation in which I take pride. Sculpted finely, like a jewel that burns inside with the fire of the one."

The words scraped at Fingon's soul. There was a truth to it. He had let Feanor inside his mind far too often, for all his youthful conviction that he could protect himself. He said nothing.

"The Helcaraxe stretches from here to Middle-earth. You can lead your people across the ice. You and your father will break through the ice with your fire and you will reach Middle-earth a leader. They will all follow you. Your father will be king of the Noldor, until he comes to me. You will be a hero and a great leader. That is why you and your father have to lead them now."

Weren't they going to take the boats across? Wasn't that why they had done this? Wasn't that what the battle at Alqualonde was for? Fingon couldn't think. None of this made sense.

"I wish I could see your great deeds in Middle-earth," Feanor said. "I wish I could live to see it. I wish I could see the kingdoms you and your father will rule."

"I don't want you there," Fingon said. "I'd throw you out."

"I would expect nothing less," Feanor said. "Only care for my son."

Fingon did not owe Feanor an answer and felt uninclined to give one. "Why does it matter so much to you?" he said.

"He will need to bear much, before the end," Feanor said. "He will need your valor. And you have always been my ally."

How much of his life had Feanor shaped? "You always wanted me to be with him."

"I created nothing that was not in your own mind," Feanor said. "I only let you see it, so that you would act before it was too late."

Everything that had come from Feanor's mind had turned to horror but this one thing would not. He had promised Maedhros that their fathers would not come between them. "I can't change what you did to me," Fingon said, "Or anything I've done. But I will love Maedhros as long as my soul exists. I will love him as long as his soul exists. I don't care if you made me do it. I don't care if you made him do it. It is still more real than anything in the world."

"So many oaths," Feanor said. "But this one you will keep."

*

On the shores of Losgar the sons of Feanor disembarked. Maedhros prepared to return to bring across the others, starting first with Fingon. Of course that was what his father would want. Instead Feanor took up the torches and began to set fire to the boats.

It didn't make any sense. "You wanted him to come with us." All the visions his father had shown him of Maedhros and his friend together. Why would he do this?

"Do you think I came here for any other reason than to fight Morgoth and die?" Feanor said.

"You spoke of great deeds," Maedhros said.

"I said he will do great deeds," Feanor said. "They both will. If they cross the Helcaraxe that will be the first." Another boat was set alight.

"You can't do this," Maedhros said. "You're playing games with the life of my friend."

"No games," said Feanor. "He won't fail. They won't."

Feanor gave a torch to Maedhros. "Now you do it," he said.

In all his life Maedhros had never refused a direct command from his father but at this he stood aside.

"There will be death," Maedhros said. "If they attempt to cross the Helcaraxe. People will die."

"There has already been death," Feanor said. "We have both been part of it. More people will die. But not my brother."

And then Maedhros saw it, saw the madness between his father and his uncle in a way he had never seen before. If his father went to die fighting Morgoth then his uncle would follow him and also die, there was no chance it could be otherwise.

"We should never have been two," Feanor said. "Only one of us should ever have been. The world cannot endure both. I will be consumed. Let him carry the light. He will burn with the very fire of the One. I wish I could live to see it."

The ships were burning and Maedhros could not stop it. His father was going to die and he could not stop it. His beloved friend and his brave uncle were going to suffer on the ice and there was nothing he could do to help. He had promised Fingon that they would not be separated by their fathers and he could not keep that promise. What, then, was the use of his strength?

The light of the burning ships was the only fire left in Feanor's eyes. He took the green stone from his neck and placed it in Maedhros's hands. "You will do what I can not," he daid.

*

In the distance the ships burned. A great shout rose up as they knew they had been betrayed.

The first thought Fingolfin had was for the beauty of the swan ships, now destroyed. The second was of overwhelming longing to be by Feanor's side. It was only third that he realized: they had been abandoned.

Next to him Fingon fell to his knees, his face in his hands.

And what was left for them? They had renounced the protection of the Valar and had refused the last opportunity for repentance that his brother Finarfin had taken. Would they throw themselves into the water that had taken their kin?

Beside him Fingon started shaking, his face still hidden. Aredhel stood by the shore hurling curses and insults across the waves.

Fingolfin put his hand on Fingon's shoulder, in an attempt to steady both of them. Fingon grasped his hand. "There's another way to go," Fingon said, staring at the flames. "We can go across the ice. It will be hard but we can do it."

Fingolfin thought that would be true of everything, now.

The flames reached to heaven and across the water to Fingolfin. Of course his brother's last words to him would be fire. You are fire he thought. He felt in his body this gift his brother had given him: to lead the Noldor on a crazy, desperate journey, to fight the enemy and die. To do great deeds and to fall. And then at last he thought, when I fall I will go to you and what should never have been two will be one

In the distance Turgon was shouting. "Are we not a hardy people? Can we not solve any problem to which we set our minds? We have no need of ill-gotten stolen ships."

Fingolfin was proud of his practically-minded son and soon he would go to join him. But all he could see was his brother's last message.

"You are committed to this," Fingon said. "Still." Know that this love will destroy you.

They were going forward in the face of the curse, in the face of the knowledge that all begun with good intent would end in evil, their lives would end in death, and love begun would end in betrayal. That it had happened already changed nothing.

"I am," Fingolfin said. Then I will be destroyed. If it was madness, so be it, even while their ships burn. Love is the fire that burns us, that makes and unmakes us, that shatters us on the ice and burns us in flame and leaves us glad to be destroyed. Love is the curse that damns us and that makes us unafraid to face damnation. It is the fire of the One.

In that moment, for a moment, he saw reflected on the ice a glimpse of the All-father who would let his world be torn apart, against the will of the Valar, only to let light like this come into it. Who would break open his entire world just so that his creations could have a little bit of light.
Brother, he thought. Beloved. Let me only do this, let me only burn with the fire you have given me. Beloved. I will be with you soon, as soon as I can, only let me protect my people as I have sworn.

"What burns within us cannot be quenched by ice or water," Fingolfin said. "We will come to Middle-earth."

Chapter End Notes

The title of this chapter (and of the fic) is from Song of Songs 8:6-7
Love is strong like death
Jealousy is strong like Sheol
Its flames are flames of fire
A very fire of God.
Great water cannot quench love...
If a man would give all the treasures of his house for love he would still be rejected.

Feanor's retelling of the creation story and his own role in the fall (or not-fall) is inspired by the 2-3rd century Gnostic text Hypostasis of the Archons.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypostasis_of_the_Archons

There's also a shoutout to the Arcade Fire song 'My Body is a Cage', which I also think suits this version of Feanor.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6F_Hx3oLfvU

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