Oh dear. I have little time to read, just odd moments when not working, and I can't read Fëanor and Nerdanel or Fëanor or Fingolfin with anyone else really :( So I'd find it hard to read any story with that in, or if Fëanor and Fingolfin didn't come together.
I also never remember characters in HomE like Lalwen etc, I have no idea who they are really, or don't recall them or what they did. I take the Silm as my start and end point For reading and writing. That does not negate your writing is beautiful however, truly exceptional and unique!
If you hoped they would end up together, I am sorry for the disappointement ^^" There's no actual romance in the fic (except perhaps Aredhel's fling though I wouldn't call it romance, and I don't know if Fingolfin and Faelin platonical stuffs count as romance lol).
This was all beautifully written. I'll have to go back to the beginning, I think, to properly comprehend this, and I am very busy during this lockdown just working, but your use of language and imagery is absolutely stunning!
I suppose Fëanor and Fingolfin wil never get together though? That's really what I want to know. :)
It's so good hearing again from you! I hope you are well despite lockdown, and I definitly need to keep this fic updated on Faerie as it is some chapters lates XD
Fëanor and Fingolfin won't get together (at least not as a couple, or not for a very very long time because now that I think of it, they could after Feast, though I can't explain what will change because that has everything to do with the ending). Right now Fëanor is more focused on not hating him I think lol.
I do have a hard time not shipping Fingolfin with Mirfin/Faelin though lol.
This was a really great chapter! It's so sad seeing how Endor, the promsied land, took its tolls from them all, but especially for Fingolfin. And the facttthat he no longer sees himself as the politician from Tirion is so true and really well portraied. Butt my favorite parts were Fingolfin's chat with both Fingon, then Maedhros - who I already liked a lot!
Fingolfin has been here for 20 years and he is already fed up with everything lol. For all his fire, he talked against leaving Tirion in the first place, and coming to ME meant a lot of sacrifices for him. The more I wrote about him in this fic, the more he sounded depressed and cut from everything he loved :/
I like Maedhros' part here more than Fingon's (some of Fingon's was actually cut in the new version, here I feel like it drags a bit). It is amusing to see someone who is even MORE cynical than Fingolfin lol. And that he is like "I can do whatever I want even if I am not the king" lol.
Thank you so much for you kind review <3
Well, that got me from the start! Such an incredible idea! I like the fact that the place where Fëanor died became a kind of memorial from his followers. It totally would have in canon, I can see it now. But this was ominous and sad. I'm bracing myself for the tears (and excitedly doing so!)
Thank you for your comment <3
I remember reading a fic about this memorial, though the idea was different. They would plant a tree each time Fëanor or one of his sons died. At the end only Maglor and Maedhros' were left, and then the trees disappeared when Beleriand sank. I don't remember who wrote this fic or its title, but that was the beginning of this idea.
Don't brace yourself too hard, the truth is I am a big softy so there will be tears, and then hugs ! (and then more tears. And then more hugs.)
This is a fantastic fic! Your writing is phenomenal
Thank you for the kind review!
From their position in time, the moment that is now, the partition stretches back and forward: a metaphysical thread running from Mirfin’s past to the future, unraveling in many fibers waiting to be woven by his actions. One look aside and Fëanaro can see his own: a long string of embers, dots of lights and shards of cinders, a thread of light that doesn’t seem to know if it should combust in a last flash of rage or endure.
Mirfin’s thread is nothing but dried blood; dried blood running closer and closer to Fëanaro’s, and by them hoovers the last thread of a triad, a great line of pulsing gold encased in deadly frost.
Why would his fate be so close to theirs?
Reading back in time: it always was. Even an ocean apart, Nolofinwë’s and Mirfin’s thread never grow apart, as if some primal force of attraction forcefully kept them together, never touching, running parallel but never straying away. Threads branches from them, Findekano’s gold entwining almost from birth with Nelyafinwë’s, and Nolofinwë’s meets Fëanaro’s in many angry knots – and in the middle of them, Finwë’s song bathing them all in warm, tired love.
Fëanaro reads farther and farther until – until he reaches a knot that makes no sense. Each existence starts at some point, fibers of fate entwinning from two souls until it becomes a thread of its own; except Nolofinwë’s thread (and not only his but that of all of his brethren save Fëanaro) does start with Indis.
But not with Finwë.
It starts with Mirfin, in a place where Finwë’s thread is braided with Miriel’s and Indis’ runs close to Mirfin’s instead; but then Mirfin’s thread bends in another direction, ripped from his family, and his intended spouse remains alone, the fibers of their children running astray to wherever aborted fates go.
Absolutely incredible writing; beautiful, and you handle the complexity of this theme with real flair!
This part of the chapter was the one when I was wondering if what I was writing would make any sense for anyone but myself, I meant it felt very clear to me but also very much "on drugs" (but the Common Cold is not even to be blamed as the idea predate it). I am very relieved that it made sense at least to you, and so happy you liked it <3 Thank you for the kind comment!
Lips, eyes imprinted in Fëanaro’s memories through old paintings and the hazy memories of his father, ever changing as if he were to be forever deprived of the chance to know her. And now she is here, her nose pointier than Fëanaro remembers, lavender eyes lined with kohl, her hair entirely braided and long enough for the tips to dance around her ankles; snake shaped aglets of gold finish each of the long plaits, clinking with each of her energic steps.
He forces himself to stay still and not jump into her arms. His heart screams go; reason whispers she is nothing but an illusion, a trick of light that can only repeat long gone words or speak what Mirfin’s mind can summon.
Oh this is so very sad. But all of this chapter is eerily beautiful; there is even that kind of strange and unexpected beauty in the denizens of Angband,
Thank you so much for the kind review! As always, you have such beautiful words. Eery, strange and unexpectedly beautiful are words I hope fit Fluithin whenever I write her and the very tragic horror that she is.
I was actually surprised by Fëanor while writing this because I had somehow not felt how sad this scene actually was, right until writing it, and then of course that poor character kind of took control to say just how sad he was. Which makes sense, because nothing Mirfin can do will bring Miriel back. And here I was, just wanting to give him a break from all the horror! But no, trust those characters to put some angst into the fluff!
I am curious to know what you think about Melkor's plot for Fëanor and what he means to do with him, as you wrote great plots about characters achieving godhood in your own stories I think it’s absolutely fascinating; it’s one thing that I wish I saw more often in fic, the powers of creation, destruction, the ‘bending’ and changing of life itself, the esoteric elements.
Yes, it's tragic, as I love Fëanor, but it is also enthralling, what you’re doing. So — brava! o/
Thank you so much <3
I don't think you suck at poetry at all. It's the most difficult of literary skills, but what you write absolutely fits with the story and the theme and the 'age'. The cadences of it are true to all those elements.
Well I have to admit that here, I took right from the Silmarillion and just reworked the part about Fëanor's death. Which is not a problem in my mind because in Feast of Ashes, the Silmarillion as we know it would be a history book written much later, so Maglor's song about his dad's legendary death could be the basis for the final draft.
The First Age is such a nice depressing age to write, it is heroic and tragic at the same time!
I am curious to know what you think about Melkor's plot for Fëanor and what he means to do with him, as you wrote great plots about characters achieving godhood in your own stories.
I have to say this is absolutely superb writing, chilling, but gorgeous like a wonderful tapestry that you only see is woven out of blood and sinew when you look closely
Thank you so much for this amazingly well written review I mean: woven out of blood and sinew. And I had a lot of feels about tapestries (something about Fingolfin's thread being frozen and Mirfin's bloodied). And it's wonderfully horrific too <3 Thank you !!!
No, don’t be concerned about that, as it was beautifully written, and I love it; and I find it amazing that you’re not a native English speaker. That kind of tone of the Silmarillion is something I loved about it, and so when I read it in fanfic I squee!
These chapters were betaed in order to clean a bit of non-native stuffs, and I can't thank my beta enough for that! I was pleasantly surprised about Faelin's tale though, because it's one of the parts that needed few corrections.
There will be other parts written like since since I want to give the full tale of Miriel and Finwë!
Ahyar came back washed of weakness. He had hunted the Shadow and vanquished the creature; but he had not killed it. He had pushed its muzzle into the ground and whispered words only he knew into its ear. He sold freedom back to his prey and received power in payment.
“I shall set Laws for our people, and those Laws shall protect us. This I say: the Shadows will not prey on us, for I have tamed them; but their submission is not free, and sacrifices must be made. Each time the Brightest Star will go down the horizon, I shall read Truth in the bones and bloods of beasts. Let the Great Mother chose the least deserving of us, and shall this one be given to the Shadows. Out the sacrifice of one, I create peace for all.”
There were some among the elves who would not agree, for it seemed to them that because Ahyar had vanquished alone, they could secure a great victory if they worked together. But Ahyar spoke, then, with a voice terrible and great, and put such fear into their heart that his brothers and sisters bowed to his will, and nothing was done against his rule.
For many years the Peace of Ahyar stood. At the end of each year the Brightest Star disappeared, and Ahyar would split open the belly of a beast to read the name of the cursed one from a bleeding liver; only the cursed ones were always elves he despised, so his kin learnt to fear him, and soon they called him King.
I love this, because there is something very bardic, very poetic in this writing, like the Silmarillion itself
I admit I was a bit scared that some people would find Ahyar far too powerful for an elf, but apparently people like his story! Writing this part was a real PAIN because as a non-native speaker, changing style to something more poetic is really hard. I tried to go for a Silm type of writing and got inspiration from some parts ("But Ahyar spoke, then, with a voice terrible and great, and put such fear into their heart that his brothers and sisters bowed to his will, and nothing was done against his rule." is almost a copy of Curufin in Nargothrond, and the description of Ahyar is meant to sound a lot like the descriptions of Fëanor). Bards gonna do bardic things!
I think that part of the inspiration for making Ahyar somewhat godlike is partly inspired by the godly ascent you gave some of your characters, though ascent in this verse works differently (mostly by taking power directly from Powers or being gifted some of their power; needless to say Ahyar is the kind of elf who will eat the corpse of a Power or force it out from them, he's definitly not going to ask nicely).
Thank you for your kind review!
This is so beautifully written, but so very sad. Fingolfin building a fortress where Fëanor died.
The walls grow higher each day, and soon the grove is enclosed by them. As he stands near the white stones of the cairn, turned toward the Thangorodrim, Nolofinwë cannot see anything but the dull, grey stones of the walls. He can picture his nephews and with them his brother, his face contorted in anger, his silver eyes turned toward Morgoth, and wonders if by blocking the view, he somehow helped Fëanaro find a kind of peace.
And I had to rush on to this, as it’s so intriguing. The ivory mask turns to her. Featureless; unreadable, the eyes blank and empty. “We shall have peace with Fingolfin, in time, and we wish for our dear friends of the Islands to stand by his side when he bends the knee to the true Gods of Beleriand.”
Ai, ai! What is happening. Hmm.
The moment I understood Fëanor had died where Fingolfin later built his fortress, I knew I had to do something with that. I doubt Fingolfin decided to build Barad Eithel there because Fëanor died here, but he still wouldn't be able to forget about this. He has so many unresolved issues about Fëanor, it is a constant reminder of everything that he wanted to say and didn't.
The Shadow! I am glad you find him intriguing, he's one of my favourite Angband babies! He is a spy from Angband, and from what he says (but that may be a lie), Morgoth wants to convince Fingolfin to become his vassal. The Feast of Reuniting takes place 40 years before the Noldor's great victory and the beginning of the Siege, so the military situation is not yet in favour of either side of the war and Morgoth is still trying some diplomacy I guess.
Thank you so much for the review <3
I do think the sexual tension between these two is fab - and the mysticism of the avari intriguing. There are moments as well when the writing really transcends fanfic and is sublime even though I personally don't like present tense writing- I find it too fanficcy- but I enjoyed this enough to push past that personal preference and I am glad I did. I think the story you are writing for Aredhel is the most interesting I have read actually and there are some images in this to die for.
The sexual tension just happened, I did not plan for this but... I was just incapable of writing those two without it, so I just thought why not, let's do this! I feel like Naswë is something between Celegorm (same hair color, follower of Oromë, talks to animals) and Eöl (very tall, severe face, mostly unlikable) and that's why the tension seemed plausible to me. I am really happy you liked Aredhel in this! She wasn't planned, just took the spotlight and decided that she would be in the story, and that she deserved her own character arc. She was very pleasant to write, we will definitly see her again in Feast!
I can't remember why I chose the present tense for this one. Perhaps I did not feel like I would be able to write this fully in the past, because when I do I end up with a lot of weird constructions. I am not a native speaker and sometimes, I get really self conscious about all the mistakes I make. The first chapters were beta-ed by Bunn/Cycas and are much better now, but I really feel like my writing is a bit too flat for the story I want to tell (except when I need to tell about Aredhel's need to hunt Fëanor's uncle lol). I am relieved that at least one person thinks my writing is beautiful <3
I am currently writing chapter chapter 9 (6 for Faerie) and am really happy with how it's turning out. I hope to be able to finish it either tonight or tomorrow!
Fingolfin wrenches himself back to Irvin; to the crude lanterns hanging from the branches of trees, worn carpets, worn clothes, worn instruments playing worn music and worn people looking at him like he is more than a worn prince playing king in foreign lands he barely knows. He smiles like he is still a young and happy host, greeting group after group to the Great Feast of Reuniting, and pretends he is not afraid that Morgoth will invite himself with darkness, blood and murder.
This is terrific imagery! And I love the encounter with Maedhros. You deserve more reviews actually.
Thank your for the review! I do not mind much for the number of reviews, I got some nice ones on AO3, where I actually reviews a lot currently, I guess I'll get more reviews from Faerie when I will switch back to read here :) and the story is still going, so there's still plenty of time to get reviews!
I am happy you liked Fingolfin's depressing thoughts! He's going to have a lot more of those during this story (and a few happy ones let's be honest!).
Fingolfin wrenches himself back to Irvin; to the crude lanterns hanging from the branches of trees, worn carpets, worn cloths, worn instruments playing worn music and worn people looking at him like he is more than a worn prince playing king in foreign lands he barely knows.
Keep faith Fingolfin, there's still 400 years to go!