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Where the Shadows Lie by ziggy General Audiences
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Berries and Starlight by Narya Teen
Míriel takes Indis for a winter walk in the woods.Written for the 2018 Silm Lady Love Winter Prompt Fest on AO3. The prompt...
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Spiced Wine
01/14/19 07:48 pm
I hope it is!
01/14/19 07:28 pm
I know, I love it. My home! (I wish...)
Spiced Wine
01/14/19 07:14 pm
What a great picture, Narya!
Spiced Wine
01/14/19 07:12 pm
Me, too, their status says they’ve been having intermittent outages all afternoon
01/14/19 06:56 pm
Is anyone else having issues getting on Dreamwidth? I'm missing my fandom snowflake fix! :P
01/14/19 06:49 pm
It's up :)
Spiced Wine
01/14/19 02:24 pm
Oh, please do!
01/14/19 02:07 pm
In other news, bunn has painted a scene from Paradox! It's on her deviantart (victoriaclare); I will embed it into the story when I'm not meant to be working!
01/14/19 02:03 pm
I hope you do, Spiced :)
Spiced Wine
01/14/19 10:07 am
I think I did a few in 2012. I might do some, if I have finished Magnificat by then.
Shout Archive

Spirit of Fire by lotrfan

[Reviews - 8]   Printer Chapter or Story
Table of Contents

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Story notes:
This is from last year when I did a series of 100-word drabbles about Maedhros (No Flame Burns Forever). It was a good exercise so I thought I would try a similar idea with Fëanor as the central character. I have been reluctant to utilize him as a character in my works, as I am somewhat intimidated when I think about writing him. These short glimpses into his life gave me a better sense of how I think of him in my head canon and made me more comfortable with his character in general. So here is a series of 100-word (occasionally more than 100 words!) drabbles from the point of view of Fëanor, starting in his childhood and progressing to his death (and perhaps Mandos if inspiration strikes.)

I have based the timeline more on the information in 'The Shibboleth of Fëanor' rather than the published Silmarillion, as I prefer to imagine he had some time with Miriel before her death, which is why he was so affected by it and by Finwë's subsequent marriage to Indis. I also think it gives his mother time to realize more about his character, so that she aptly names him the "Spirit of Fire." Miriel is described as dark eyed and silver haired, which was unusual for a Noldo. I have retained that appearance here. I also adhere to the idea that Nolofinwë/Fingolfin resembled Fëanor in appearance.

My thanks to nyx thranduillon and Cheekybeak for their encouragement to try this

Please check out this lovely drawing of Fëanor by Irsanna at Deviantart. I think it completely captures Fëanor and his feelings for Miriel. She gave permission to link it here.
Chapter notes:
Each chapter will contain the set of drabbles that pertain to that time in his life

He does not understand the words she murmurs to him but he feels warm and safe, gazing up into her dark grey eyes, the shining silver silk of her hair framing her pale face.


Amil's smile is all for him as he climbs up onto her bed to burrow in her arms. He thinks she looks paler and her arms feel thinner to him. Those thoughts scatter away when she laughs and hugs him close. He can never hear enough of that laugh.


The other mothers do not stay indoors. He sees them in the market, in the gardens, strolling in the light of the Trees, chasing their children in the street. Amil doesn't leave the palace. Perhaps she is just too precious to Ata for him to share her with anyone other than Fëanor.


He realizes the servants do not notice him, when he curls up in the odd corner of the palace with a book, or settles in the branches of a tree to think. He overhears them speak of Amil. He wonders what the great hardship was that she went through that weakened her so much. He is horrified when he realizes they refer to his own birth.


She knows he is troubled as she brushes the hair off his forehead so she can look into his eyes. He tries to look away but Amil strokes his cheek and whispers, "Look at me, Fëanaro." The love that shines in her eyes makes him momentarily doubt what he has heard but he can tell she is even weaker now than before and it is all his fault.


His father brings him to the study, his face serious and distant. Fëanor feels a shiver of fear run through him as Ata tells him he is taking Amil away, to see if time in the Gardens of Lorien will give her back her strength.


She hugs him to her, tighter than he can remember her ever hugging him before. He feels her kiss the top of his head and she whispers "I love you, Fëanaro. More than anything. Never forget that." He clings to her, unwilling to let her go, even when Ata's voice gets stern. Fëanor does not want her to leave him.


Ata has come back alone and he does not leave his study. Fëanor eats alone, goes to the gardens alone, and reads in the library by himself. He asked about Amil the day Ata returned from Lorien but Ata only said "She rests," and would say no more.


He sits on the horse in front of Ata. He would have tingled with excitement to be taken on a journey like this before, but now it is different. They go to see Amil but Ata is not happy and Fëanor cannot enjoy the trip with the dread that is growing in him, as they travel to Lorien's woods.


Amil doesn't not wake, not even when he calls her name and hugs her close. Her eyes are closed and he knows that is not right. Ata is speaking to Lorien nearby but Fëanor cannot hear what they say. All he wants is for Amil to open her eyes.


There are books strewn across his floor, amidst the shards of his mirror and the shattered remnants of the small clay animals he had made for her while she was gone. They litter the floor as he looks for something, anything else that he can shatter, to take away the agony of his heart breaking. Amil is never coming back.


He and Ata are inseparable. They wake together, they eat together, Fëanor sits in the window seat of the study while his father meets with guests, reads reports, and confers with his counselors. It can never replace Amil but he treasures Ata's time.


He is not like the other children and he wants little to do with them. They do not have to say anything. He sees it in their eyes, how they look at him and then their eyes dart back to their own mothers. He is like no one else. Finwë awoke in Cuivienen and is Firstborn. Fëanor was born to Miriel and she is the only one on these shores who lives no more.


He has a tutor now and a whole world has opened up to him. He reads, he writes, he learns to ride and how to shoot a bow. Long stretches of the day go by without seeing Ata, but his days and his mind are full—ideas, concepts, theories and plans. He feels like a cauldron bubbling over—he has so much to express.


His room is cluttered with models, scrolls and books, piles of papers on his desk. He is working on a diagram for the mechanism of the new fountain Ata wants to build in the garden when his father knocks on his door and peeks into the room. He smiles at Fëanor, noting the untidy desk and the papers scattered about. "Fëanaro, don't forget dinner tonight. The Lady Indis dines with us." Fëanor nods at his father, for all appearances taken up with his drawing but his hand has frozen in place. Why is she here again?


He is in the room in the East Wing of the palace, the one only he goes to anymore. His mother's tapestries hang on the walls and he is surrounded by the memory of her. He knows they are searching for him. He can hear them calling his name. The wedding is today. If Ata thought about it hard enough he would know exactly where to find Fëanor. But Ata does not come.
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