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Out of the Woods by lotrfan General Audiences
Summary: Oropher receives word regarding the mustering of the armies of the Last Alliance and Thranduil confronts his doubts...
Don't wanna fight this War by mangacrack Mature
The last Elves of Middle Earth sail to Valinor. With them is one of the few people Fëanor claimed to be his friend.
The Ways of Paradox by Narya Teen
How do you pass the time when you know you're facing eternity? Maglor agrees to appear in a student production of The...
Bedtime by Narya General Audiences
Maglor is away on a trip and Maedhros has been left with the children. He isn't sure he's up to the task.
A Nameless Fear by Gabriel Teen
The King of the Woodland Realm has a secret, something he both fears and despises. When a more fouler evil is discovered...
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...
Comfort and Joy by Narya Mature
It's the festive season in Gondolin, and Voronwë finds himself intrigued by the Captain of the Guard of the Secret Way.

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Spiced Wine
09/24/18 10:14 am
I would just choose whichever you want then, Gabriel. It’s what I tend to do when there is no clear answer
Gabriel
09/24/18 06:31 am
I have tried to look for it on other sites, but they have given two time frames which is a little confusing. One in the S.A. the other in the T.A.
Gabriel
09/24/18 06:24 am
I have a little question to ask. totally off the subject. Does anyone know when Bree was built? Was it up and running when Gil galad was king of the Noldor and Celebrimbor was in Eregion?
Gabriel
09/24/18 02:45 am
Okay. If its not too much trouble. Thank you Spiced. :)
Spiced Wine
09/23/18 11:53 am
It’s not a problem, I shall just go in and edit the announcement
Gabriel
09/23/18 07:31 am
Besides, I don't want you having to go out of your way just to add me to the list. But thank you for offering. :)
Gabriel
09/23/18 07:27 am
I don't want to be a bother, Spiced. I think I'll just wait till my other fic has done its dash in the recents list and post the SinS after it. Its no problem.
Spiced Wine
09/22/18 02:44 pm
But I can definitely add it for you
Spiced Wine
09/22/18 02:44 pm
I can add it, Gabriel, but only using a keyboard and iPad I cannot hotlink it I have no mouse, and everything is a pain in the neck
Gabriel
09/22/18 01:00 pm
Not to worry Spiced! It was my fault for not submitting it in time. That's the consequences I guess. :)
Shout Archive


A Feast of Ashes by Kalendeer

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Chapter notes:

This chapter was beta-ed by Bunn. Thank you so much!

The small grove of trees is nondescript, with nothing but a small cluster of white stones to mark its tremendous significance. As if nothing had ever happened, will ever happen but the song of the wind in the branches of oaks and pine trees.

This is the place where Finwë Nolofinwë will build his fortress. He will close the way up the mountains and, when the day is clear, will see the peaks of his foe’s fortress from the parapets. He can picture the high towers, the way he will make the Sirion River turn slightly to act as a natural barrier. He can picture, clearly, where his builders will raise a hall, barracks for his soldiers, stables for his horses. Nolofinwë is, has always been, thorough, well organized, logical.

 Yet, Nolofinwë knows Barad Eithel will not be as logical as it should. He should raze the grove to the ground, cut the oaks for the doors and the pines for the ceiling of the hall. Nolofinwë knows, though, that he will not do so. That the walls will awkwardly encircle the grove as if it were something sacred to protect.

Because this is the place where Fëanaro died.

 

***

 

… and with his dying breath, his gaze turned toward Angband, he made us swear that we would never relent. Never let cowardice into our hearts, or despair disarm us. A fire wild and pure burnt in his eyes. His soul did not depart his body without a fight, and the sheer strength of his spirit burnt his shell to ashes in anger and defiance.

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.

He considers turning the grove into a memorial for his family; for sweet Elenwë, whose body slipped into the sea; for his youngest son, Arakano, dead before the sun could warm his face. What keeps him from doing so is the feeling that, somehow, there’s unfairness in that. Elenwë and Arakano died because of his brother’s treachery. So the walls grow and the groves stays the same, tainted by the ashes of the peculiar death and the feeling that something is just not right.

Perhaps it’s the trinkets. The Fëanorians left a few weeks ago for East Beleriand. For days and nights before their departure, women and children, soldiers and crafters wandered to the grove, leaving small gifts hanging from the branches of the trees or in the crook of their roots: painted stones, carved statuettes, treasured old ribbons floating in the wind.

We commemorate our parents, Aicahendë said. Curufin’s wife. Her parents were childhood friends of Fëanaro, drowned when Uinen broke their stolen Teler ship. We commemorate our friends. Her fellow apprentices, one pierced by an arrow in Alqualondë, another one at the beginning of the Battle Under the Stars, and the last one in the mad charge that had ultimately claimed Fëanaro’s life. We commemorate our one true king, and the life we lost.

Do not even think of destroying this place.

Nolofinwë will not; not with the feeling that it is haunted. Haunted by doubts, regrets, anger, betrayal and tears.

And so the fortress grows, grows and grows, and it is never, never truly Nolofinwë’s own.

 

 

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