| Login | Lost Password | Help | Rules | | |

Most Recent

Time Waits for No Man by Linda Hoyland General Audiences
Arwen visits an aged Faramir.
~ Magnificat of the Damned. Book IV: Anvil ~ by Spiced Wine Mature
From Angmar to the Dagor Dagorath. The final story in the Magnificat of the Damned series. The Doom and destiny of the...
Where the Shadows Lie by ziggy General Audiences
The One Ring has been destroyed and Sauron banished to the Dark with Morgoth. But not all the Rings were destroyed with the...
Drabbles for Tolkien Weekly by Ysilme Teen
Drabbles for tolkien weekly, a prompt-based drabble community on livejournal.
I'll be Yours if You'll be Mine by NelyafinweFeanorion Teen
Modern setting AU. Maedhros/Fingon. Maedhros owns a bookstore. Fingon is in grad school. Expect appearances from varied members...
Wrath and Ruin by KimicThranduilion Teen
The battle with the Great Serpents of the North brought nothing but wrath and ruin for the wood elves. The aftermath is bitter...
At the sign of the drunken goose by Chiara Cadrich General Audiences
Horor and humor tales from the Inn. New : an adult tale from Umbar.

Site Info

Members: 475
Series: 85
Stories: 1680
Chapters: 8579
Word count: 26131022
Authors: 137
Reviews: 16085
Reviewers: 219
Newest Member: ainisarie
Beta-reader: 29
Recommendations: 53
Recommenders: 13
Challenges: 14
Challengers: 9

Who's Online

Guests: 16


Spiced Wine
10/15/18 02:32 pm
That sounds amazing, Ysilme :)
10/15/18 12:19 pm
who of my music-loving OCs might be interested in playing the nyckelharpa/keyed fiddle... *ggg* )
10/15/18 12:18 pm
I've been to the most wonderful concert yesterday, Swedish Folk string trio Väsen. The music was so beautiful, and it felt so much like Middle-earth, too. (now I need to figure out
10/15/18 12:17 pm
Nice to see you popping in here, fadesintothewest! *waves* *waves generally around, too* Hope everybody else is doing well enough.
Spiced Wine
10/15/18 10:53 am
Hope you do, too, Fadesintothewest :) Good to see you!
10/15/18 09:27 am
Just wanted to say hello. I know things are slowed down right now. I wish I could be more present but work. Looking forward to participating more soon!!!
Spiced Wine
10/14/18 12:23 pm
Sign of a good fic, if you ask me :)
10/13/18 11:23 pm
:D this fic keeps mutating. So far it's sprouted four OCs and an unexpected plot twist which impacts stories that come chronologically later in the series...it's a nightmare but I love it!
Spiced Wine
10/13/18 09:42 pm
I know the feeling. Summerland was supposed to be one short chapter :)
10/13/18 06:26 pm
Mmm, not sure I am going to get any of them over the line this weekend though :( every time I redraft this short story it gets longer...I'm not sure "short" is the right word now!
Shout Archive

Spirit of Fire by lotrfan

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

- Text Size +
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.
You must login () to review.