(Disclaimer: All the characters and the world they live in belong to JRR Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion and HoME 10 and 12. )

With thanks to Bellemaine for beta reading.

“Mandos you hold to be the strongest of all that are in Arda, being the least moved, and therefore you have dared to commit even the Marrrer himself to his keeping. Yet I say to you that each fëa of the Children is as strong as he; for it hath the strength of its singleness impregnable (which cometh to it from Eru as to us): in its nakedness it is beyond all power that ye have to move it if it will not.”

(Nienna: The Later Quenta Silmarillion. Morgoth’s Ring. JRR Tolkien. Ed C Tolkien.)

Mahanaxar. Seventh Age. Recalling time spent in the Halls of Awaiting.

‘At last spirit of Fëanáro, son of Finwë, we can begin,’ had Námo Mandos said.

I had little concept then of what was to follow. Though I knew well the power of the Valar, I feared them not. Neither did I hold that one, nor any of his kind in any regard. And I knew as well as any, I knew from my study of the Valar’s debate on the sundering of my parent’s marriage, that the fëa of a child of Eru could not be broken nor forced against it’s will. Eru Ilúvatar would not permit it, even by that stern Doomsman.

‘Begin then, jail master,’ I replied in thought. ‘Your wish it was to constrain me while I walked the lands of Aman and thereafter - now do you have that wish. But think not that, even so disadvantaged, I am without all will or strength.’

A grim pleasure did I momentarily experience; to know I could still deny Mandos in some manner - to have a focus, even one so poor, as a reason to exist. But as I spoke the image that was my memory of her warmth, that was the beauty of our firstborn babe, faded beyond my attempt to hold it fast.

‘Desire for love and desire for power do not abide well together, as thou must know. Aye, spirit of Fëanáro, the lies of Melkor thou shalt yet unlearn in bitterness.’ The voice of the appointed judge echoed those of the herald of Manwë to me upon my departure from Tirion. Then he also was gone from my presence

Nothing began.

I waited. What else was there, for I could do nothing but wait upon memories and upon the Valar? Nothing happened - no word, no image came to my thoughts from beyond. No rebuke, no condemnation nor sentencing was there. Alone in the shadow of my memories was I.

Then of a sudden I was as part of a living picture, and one where all my senses of perception were restored. I was with my father, a young child again, running eagerly to him across the mosaic-floored hall of his house. He picked me up and spun round, holding me up as if to the heavens, as if he would give thanks to Ilúvatar Himself for my being.

“Finwion; my beloved son! Greater than any gift possible art thou to me,” my father had said.

His love was set upon me in abundance. I was his pride and his joy. That he, who was himself most mighty in thought, in strength and in words, should think so of me, filled my heart with joy. To the side of the hall sat my mother with some few of her ladies, each engaged in broidery. She smiled at the sight before her, overcoming for that moment her constant weakness. Solemn child though I oft was; I had laughed with delight.

Then that bright memory faded.

‘Atar; amillë?’ I uttered hopefully. But they were not with me.

‘They should be here,’ I thought again. I knew they should both be in the place of awaiting. Why was I not reunited with those whom my heart loved best?

There was a haze as of mist, as my memory changed abruptly to the arrival of my sons at Máhanaxar after the Long Night began. Most angry was I at what had befallen, for I had been led hence by a false word at the command of Manwë, to be hemmed in by my enemies.

“Speak, O Noldo, yea or nay! But who shall deny Yavanna?’ Tulkas had demanded of me.

‘Give over the greatest works of thy hands; give over the Silmarils that they be broken, and we will again have the Light!’

I had felt them all bend their will to that end. As Moringotho had portrayed them, they seemed to me in that moment. Jealous thieves, whose sole aim was to take from me the perfection I had created. Though I dismissed the Enemy from the door of my house once I saw through his semblance of friendship, I was not fool enough to believe I could dismiss all the assembled Lords of Arda. But neither would I give over my Jewels to those kin of the jail-crow? Nay, not even for the healing of the Trees. To my eyes the Trees’ possible light was polluted beyond recall to wholeness. How could that which was utterly marred and darkened be yet rekindled? But a final ploy did I consider it to be - another attempt by the Valar to control the Eldar. I would not give over my Jewels of free will.

Then Nelyafinwë was there - hot and dirtied from fast and furious riding. His hair was dishevelled, his face a mask of pain.

I had known! Before he spoke a word, I had known.

“Blood and darkness!” he cried to all who were assembled, though it was I whom he sought. “Finwë the King is slain, and the Silmarils are gone!”

Nothing could have prepared me for that onslaught! Overcome with anguish was I, that I thought to die from the pain. And I fell upon my face, in the dust, as if all life and light had been drained from me. Mayhap it was then I was slain?

Such a high price I paid for answering Manwë’s summons! I had been not at Formenos to defend of my own when the Enemy came upon them – for no other Elda could have stood against Moringotho and prevailed. My Jewels were taken from their place of safekeeping – my beloved Sire was slain, and in a manner most vile! As Moringotho had taken it upon himself to crush my father’s head, so was my heart crushed in that instant with grief immeasurable. And I had risen to my feet only to run from that place seeking solitude in which to give vent to my tears and my un-healable hurt.

I had wanted to die.

Then it was that the anger flamed in me again, that I saw how the Valar had betrayed my father and I. I had thought to end my own life. But the anger and hate gave me purpose anew.

‘I will avenge thee, dearest king and father. I will redress the wrong done to thee and to thy people. ‘ I had thought. And I would follow the one who had taken my father’s life in order to steal my Jewels for himself – aye and any other who laid hand to them save my sons. I would seek out the murderer, the thief, unto the very ends of Arda - Vala though he be!

Silence.

The quality of darkness altered that I knew myself aware only of the place of my confinement again. No movement - no possibility of change was there in that world in which I existed. A solitary captivity for the duration of Arda with my anguish and regret played forth time and time again; was that to be my doom? What difference then was this place from the Everlasting Darkness?

“Atar!” my heart cried out in desperate longing to behold him again.

So very much did I want to be reunited with my father. So much did I want to speak with him of what had transpired at Formenos – to tell him I despised myself for failing him; that I loved him more than my own life.

In that early solitude in the Halls of Awaiting, my thoughts would not leave him. Time and again did I make recall of incidents when we had been together; he and I. The chosen ambassador of Oromë, the chosen and beloved king of the Noldor he had been. The greatest king he was in my heart then, and always. Nolofinwë had agreed to rule in Tirion; aye, that was true. But no king was he! Never had that half-brother of mine been a ruler of half the stature and nobility of our father, and for much time had it been in his thoughts to usurp the throne. In his jealously, his envy of me, did that second son see our father set aside his kingship, that he might become the chosen pawn of the Valar.

‘And now mayhap, Nolofinwë has what he desires,’ thought I. For he would have hurled his rage and enmity at me across the great sea, but in the end he and his followers would have crawled back to their cage. So did I think him likely to be forgiven and restored - to be acting ‘ruler’ again in the thraldom that was Eldamar.

“Atar!”

But that desperate call had been to, and not of, my own fëa. “Forgive me atar, for again have I failed thee.”

I tried to focus my thoughts, to summon my will and strength to answer his cry. But I could do nothing.

Again I had vision of him; of Nelyafinwë, hung from that precipice by a band of steel upon the wrist of his right hand. Gaunt of feature was he, and bearing signs upon his body of much mistreatment: of long without water or nourishment or any act of kindness.

High upon the precipice did I perceive him to be - so far beyond the reach of any possible aid. For Nelyafinwë to be captured thus must have meant the others were, at the least, scattered. Most likely it meant that Kanafinwë, who ever watched his elder brother’s back, was dead.

I was nigh lost to despair at that sight, and wished -- ai -- I wished, I hoped, for so many things: for Turkafinwë to take up the leadership, (not the kingship - that was my firstborn's by right, while he drew breath.), for an attempt to be made to reclaim Nelyafinwë's freedom. But idle, useless speculation it all was for one who was powerless.

Then again the presence that was Námo Mandos was impinging upon my consciousness. A cold and distant observer did he seem.

’My eldest son suffers torment beyond endurance,’ I spoke in resentful tone. ‘Will you not find a way to end his suffering now? Or is it the purpose of the Valar to humiliate him for my deeds; to shame my House by allowing Moringotho such a trophy of victory over Eldar and Valar alike?’

No answer was forthcoming.

’Then tell me at least if any other of my sons yet live?’

A deep sigh did it seem the Vala uttered then, and he spoke forth.

‘We will begin!’

‘Nay - we will not! Not until I know what has happened, that my sons appear to desert their appointed king against all I ever taught them to do.’

‘Thou hast asked, and this answer will I give thee. Nelyafinwë is still captive because thy other sons will not make barter for him. In so refusing, they show wisdom. But neither will they waste time set aside for that main purpose of theirs. Are they not constrained by an oath to maintain their war against the Enemy; to reclaim thy jewels and not be turned aside; neither by law, nor love, nor league of swords; dread nor danger nor Doom itself?’

The oath! The oath it was that kept Nelyafinwë so constrained?

‘Neither for love of their brother may thy other sons turn aside from their purpose. We will begin,’ repeated Mandos.

No note of pity or of sorrow was there in his voice. No appeal could be made to him; I knew that well. I would not have done so for myself. Neither could I plead for my son, though the pain of memory was sharp, and for an instant did I again look down upon a wide-eyed, tussle haired infant in my arms. One whose first word so pleased me. One whose first word was ‘Atar!’

But I knew from the Vala that my other sons yet lived, and were no captives.

So I thought to play Mandos at his own game. He wanted, no doubt, to bring me into a state of supplication and servility - a trophy of his own. I, for my part, wanted to know what transpired with my sons and their effort against Moringotho to reclaim my Jewels. Though I trusted Mandos no more than I believed my sons trusted the Dark Enemy, yet would I match wits with him. We would see who prevailed?

‘So be it,’ said I.

‘We will begin with thy memories of Nolofinwë.’

Almost did I laugh with contempt! No more should I have expected from Námo Mandos than he would lead me to consider that oath-breaker; that cause of much of my grief.

‘Some barter is this, that I forgive my half-brother and give my blessing on his useless kingship in Aman? Is that what you want in exchange for an end to Nelyafinwë’s torment?’

No answer came from the Doomsman, but more memories flooded my mind. I knew then what was expected - for he could not force me to relive any particular occurrence. Yet was he not inviting me to so do, and with a promise mayhap, as reward for my cooperation?

Nolofinwë? So would it be! And mayhap I would show my jailer what a poor choice the Valar had made in supporting one so untrustworthy as my half-brother.

- - - - -

Atar – Father

Amillë – Mother

Moringotho – Morgoth

Nelyo / Nelyafinwë / Maitimo – Maedhros

Turko / Turkafinwë – Celegorm

Káno/ Kanafinwë – Maglor

Notes:

There is a possible contradiction regarding the manner of Finwë’s death. In ‘Laws and Customs’ it says his body was burnt as by a lightening stroke, and destroyed. In the Later Quenta Silmarillion it has his head crushed as with a great mace of iron. In notes to the Later Quenta, it is suggested the accounts may not be wholly contradictory, as Maedhros sees flame out of the cloud of Ungoliant, and finds Finwë’s sword twisted and untempered as if by lightening.