The last son of Feanor by ford_of_bruinen  

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The lost son

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I have sailed so far west that I returned to where I started.

I have travelled among the sea and ice to the north.

I have screamed, begged, I have prayed,

For returning to my kin, but the path is closed to me,

Ever silent, ever out of reach.

 

In my desperation I tried to give up,

To fade into nothing,

To dive into the ocean and let it swallow me,

Slashed my wrists to the bone 

But death is denied me.

 

No release from this world that is no longer mine,

From the gut deep loneliness.

Cut off from my brothers, my mother,

From breathing clean air as I am choking,

Trapped, where even the trees are dying.

 

The wind whips at my face, pulling at my hair,

Biting my face as I stand here again at the shore,

Where there was once a path west that did not circle back.

A way to life and light and blessed freedom

And I feel numb, burnt to ash

 

The words I was once known for, the music the voice

 that spent so long cursing the very gods

that hold me to my own words, feels lost, forgotten, useless

 and dull. I have run out of fighting, no more rage, 

I am lost, I am empty, I am done.

 

I collapse, kneel, head to the sand, waves lapping at my knees.

No path, no future, no hope of salvation.

I am damned, cursed by oaths and blood and death

And there is no one I can blame but myself

And pride and bad decisions 

 

It takes me a long time to feel the hand on my head.

Not soft, rough, calloused, scarred by old cuts and burns

And yet  soft as it has always been and I hear her words

"Come home ". And for the first time in an eternity I cry

In my mother's arms.