Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 1 |
| Fëanor |
| Good grief’s freeing – in mourning, he's maladroit, miserly consumptive. Fire and Spirit – hot, dry splendor, he was ever for her brothers. Her tears he yoked, harnessed to machinery, to further further machinations. Then he burned terrifying, grief feeding grief to feed rage – endlessly! Fear the fire that fears subsiding. But she sits at his hearth, stings his breast with regret until, maddened, he rives himself. Fire fills that void, cracks him wide – ends him early. Nienna lies amid the heat of his ashes, her blisters weeping. But she will to Mandos, to his hearth again – endlessly – ‘til patience overcome him… |