The Judgement of Fëanor by Kingsdaughter613  

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The Judgement of Fëanor

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It came to pass, early in the Third Year betwixt the Darkening of the Trees and the Healing of Vasa, that Fëanaro Curufinwë arrived in the Halls of Judgement before the Lord of Mandos. There he found arrayed before him the Great Court, Lord Namo presiding at its head, the Lady Nienna to his right, and a Lord unknown to Fëanaro at his left.

“You have a secret Vala.” With great effort Fëanaro drew to himself the swirling flames of his fëa, and crafted from them a countenance that he might glower at the Judge.

“Not secret,” the Lady Nienna corrected, her every utterance a balm. “Merely unknown to thee. There are many Valar in service of the One, and the greater number dwelleth not in Arda.”

“Yet he is here, with a place in this court, at a trial that is to be mine.” So great was the indignation of Fëanaro that the flames of his being filled the Hall in its entirety, burning with a terrible heat. Before it, the elven fëar fled, and even the Maia drew back. But three Valar did not stir from their place and the heat wounded them not.

“I am here,” the unknown said, “to prosecute thee. For such is my task in the court of the One, and in all other courts as the One hath seen fit to devise. Lhoiχamōz I am named among my kin, and to thine Hloimo.”

The flame that was Fëanaro turned to the one who named himself Hloimo, and upon the Vala’s winged form fell the full measure of the elf lord’s blazing wrath. “I know you not,” Fëanaro cried, every word defiance. “You who would speak of my deeds afore this court, I defy you! Kotumo, Adversary, I name thee, for you have set yourself against me and are thus made my foe! What right have you, who I know not, who know me not, to lay judgement upon me!”

“Hloimo doth not judge thee,” quoth Namo, and all the Halls trembled at his words. “I do.”

“And what right thee?” Fëanaro challenged, blazing bright. “What right any Ainu to judge the Quendi? You, who do not live, who only ever dress as us, who do not eat, or sleep, or love! We are as clever pets to you, talking birds in gilded cages, to play with as you will! To judge us you must know us, and you know us not at all!”

“There is a wisdom in this,” Hloimo adjoined the Judge, “ill spoken though it was. We who cannot conceive to rebel must judge him for rebellion. Death I know, for I have wrought such punishments for the One. Yet death unjust is one I know not, but of this crime is Fëanaro guilty, for unjust death he wrought upon the Teleri. And of theft, its doing and its violation, how may we, who own naught and need naught, judge?”

“Why,” Fëanaro asked, his flames dark with suspicion, “do you defend me, Adversary?”

“I do not,” the Prosecutor answered.

“To this Court the One gave the judgement of the fëar of the Quendi,” Nienna adjured the Judge. “And if we may not understand the whole of their deeds, so may the same be said for any save the One Himself. But accepting this, knowing this, we who serve in this Court must judge with mercy and pity, for better a sentence too lenient than one unjustly harsh.”

“There is one other,” Hloimo suggested,  “who may be said to know these deeds, and the heart of he who wrought them. One who knoweth oath and treason, rebellion and murder, theft and destruction, for all these hath he endured, and all of these done in turn, and for all of these must he be judged.”

At that Lord Namo raised his hand, and Prosecutor and Advocate were silent before the Judge. “What say you Fëanaro?” queried Namo, and all the Halls grew still.

Fëanaro drew his fires near, fashioned as a quend forged of flame, and raised his burning head defiant. “I say, none but I know my heart and deeds.”

“So be it,” adjudicated Namo. “Then of thyself be judged.

“In the Ring of Mahanaxar thou didst speak boldly against us, when we sought of thee thy Silmarilli and desired to break them. Speak now afore this court, Curufinwë Fëanaro, as thou didst there, of what punishment is due he who hath stolen the great treasures of a people.”

“Let him be cast out,” Fëanaro proclaimed. “Let him be despised by all, a thief branded, and that which he hath stolen be taken from him and restored to its owner!”

“And if such retrieval be impossible,” Hloimo pressed, “for the thief hath made it so?”

“I would see him utterly debased,” Fëanaro hissed. “Let him crawl as a worm in service to the one he harmed, and be made to toil for all hours until he hath restored what was lost and his debt be repaid. But if such restoration is impossible, as you say, then let him surrender a treasure as valued to him as that which he pillaged was to its owner, that he may know for himself the loss he hath inflicted!”

Namo nodded, graven stone, and Nienna wept beside his throne. “On this, too, thou wilt speak, Curufinwë Fëanaro. Murder did the thief do, in the course of the theft. What punishment wouldst thou lay upon the killer?”

“Let the murderer be slain!” cried Fëanaro, and the flames of his fëa leapt high.

“But if he is already dead,” reasoned Hloimo, “what then?”

“Then let him be bound until the end of Days,” Fëanaro snarled, “and his deeds be held ever afore him, that he may not turn his eyes aside or imagine himself guiltless!”

Nienna laid her head in her hands, her tears a rivulet on the floor of the court. “Must you deny all mercy, Fëanaro? Is there no place for pity to rest upon thee?”

Fëanaro turned to her, ablaze with righteous wrath. “Mercy? Pity? For he who hath none, let there be none!” And Nienna pressed her hands to her mouth and her keenings filled the Halls.

But the eyes of Namo were dark with pity all the same, as he turned to the defendant and spoke once more. “Tell now, Curufinwë Fëanaro, what is just punishment for a father who, in the commission of these deeds, hath slain his son? For indeed, it is as thou hast said: we of this court have no conception of such a thing, and cannot in any means comprehend it.”

And Fëanaro was silent, the flame of his fëa dimmed to an ember, and knew he had adjudged himself in truth.

In patience the Court stood, awaiting the defendant’s allocution. An eternity passed, and a moment, for time runs strangely in the Halls of the Dead. In time, Fëanaro slowly raised his head and met the eyes of the Court once more. “I do not know,” he admitted softly, “that there is any punishment that may be given, that might answer such a crime. I cannot think of one, for I cannot conceive of worse than to know I have done it at all.”

Namo inclined his head, and then he stood and drew back his hood, his eyes grieved. Beside him Nienna wept, and even Hloimo bowed his head as the Lord of Mandos proclaimed his judgment. “This court herein declareth that all shall be as thou hast bade. For thy deeds, Curfinwë Fëanaro, the judgement shall be in accordance with thy judgment. For alone in Arda, only thee, save the One who Knoweth All, knoweth their end.”

“So it is heard; so it is witnessed,” quothe Hloimo. “The Judgement of the One and His emissary is just.”

“So is it determined; so is it proclaimed,” wept Nienna. “The Judgment of the One and His emissary is true.”

Namo rose a from his seat and gazed down upon Fëanaro. “In the usual manner, I would say now that the judgement be mercy. But not this day. For in all the time I have served as judge, and in all the days that shall come hereafter, never have I, nor shall I, set a judgement so cruel as this one thou hast demanded of me.

“The Judgement of the One is mercy. Thy judgment is not.”

So saying, the three Valar adjourned, the Hall of Judgment made empty by their absence, save for Fëanaro alone, a flickering flame amidst the darkened court.

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Chapter End Notes

Hloimo is the Jewish/OT Satan, who serves as prosecutor in the Heavenly Court. I hope that came across, but if not, now you know. He’s one of five Biblical angels who show up in some of my later stories. His name comes from poison, referencing the name Samael - Poison of God.

Namo could not serve in the prosecutorial role for two reasons: it’s inherently unjust for the Judge to be the prosecutor and Divine Justice is always merciful.