Feanor will not admit this to anyone, least of all himself, but he actually liked Indis back when they first met and she was just his father’s nice friend who took him for walks and answered all of his questions about the different plants in the garden. Afterward he recontextualized her kindness as nothing more than an attempt to get closer to his father (which in a sense it was, of course, but not in the manipulative way he makes it out to be.)
Speaking of things I drew a while ago but didn’t get scanned and posted to the internet, I give you Aman Dance Party, part 1. I think the colors on this one came out particularly well, though some of the detail in the linework was lost in the coloring, so I’m very pleased with myself overall.
A headcanon you will pry from my cold dead fingers is that Feanor has the very annoying habit of 1. almost never bothering to dress appropriately for any given occasion while 2. always managing to look fabulous. So here we have Feanor who threw a nice shirt on over the shit he was already wearing, which is why his boots ten million percent clash with the rest of his outfit. That was intentional. Neardanel, on the other hand, does dress for fancy parties, but I am also firmly of the opinion that elves have the concept of fancy dress pants.
Finwion lies next to Finwë, his soft baby snores and occasional movements the only thing breaking the silence of his bedchamber, lit by the silvery light of Telperion. Finwë knows he has a bassinet for his son to sleep in at the foot of the bed, but Finwion’s warm little body is such a comfort in his grief that he cannot bear to let him go, even as his tears soak into his soft, downy hair.
He cannot cry forever. His thoughts drift from his ever present sorrow to contemplate the pins and needles plaguing his arm. His son may be small but he is a healthy baby and his arm is in an awkward position beneath him. He shifts in an attempt to get more comfortable. Finwion stirs and emits a wail of discontent at being jostled, but Finwë is quick to stand and gather him up to gently bounce in an attempt to stave off any waterworks. He holds Finwion in one arm as he quietly attempts to get feeling back in the other.
In all honesty, he is glad for the distraction from his own thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Finwion,” he coos quietly, in the hopes that his voice might soothe him, “I did not mean to wake you!”
He takes Finwion over to the window, in the hopes that the silver light which usually fascinates his son will help to calm him. It is futile, and Finwion’s cries only grow louder.
Finwë then tries the mobile above the bassinet, the dangling shapes and mirrors usually able to bring absolute joy from his baby, who loves to try to grasp them with fat fists, but it is no use.
He casts his eyes around the room, and stops when he sees it, lying innocently in Finwion’s cot.
It is a soft, stuffed owl, about as large as his infant son. The owl is stitched from soft fabric, and is slightly worn from Finwion’s clumsy baby love. Finwë knows it very well by now. He watched Míriel stitch it early on in her pregnancy, before she was too tired to lift her needle. They were so happy then, their world filled with nothing but joy at the thought of the bright life they would be bringing into the world. Finwë remembers excitedly pressing his hands to her swollen belly, already able to feel the heat of the tiny spark of fëa within her. Before that tiny spark grew to a roaring flame that consumed her whole.
Finwë holds that flame in his arms now, and the heat of his soul still grows with every passing day. Sometimes Finwë wonders if his son’s fëa will ever stop increasing, or if it will one day reach an inferno that consumes everything it touches like it engulfed Míriel.
He attempts to shake off the morbid thoughts, and turns his attention to his wailing son once more. Picking up the owl, he shifts Finwion to a more comfortable position and presents him with the toy.
The reaction is almost magical. Finwion does not immediately silence, but he latches on to the owl and his sobs begin to quieten. Finwë lies him down on the bed again, and watches Finwion curl against the toy. He cannot help but chuckle as he watches a fluffy wing find its place in Finwion’s mouth for him to gently gum on.
“That’s going to need a wash soon,” he mutters quietly to himself, suddenly exhausted.
Finwë closes the heavy curtains to darken the room once more, then climbs back into bed as carefully as possible, slotting himself around Finwion’s warmth. He is still not yet used to the softness of his bed after the centuries of sleeping on rougher things, first in Cuivienen, then on the Great Journey. But he finds himself drifting off rather quickly, sped by the soft snuffling of his son.
I’m so happy that Feanor didn’t change his name in Beleriand the same way his brothers did, or it’d probably be something horrible, like “Fincurufin”
FINfincurufin. MORE FINWE than they!
But I suppose “Spirit of Fire” was too cool to give up. Speaking of which, we don’t have mother names for Fingolfin or Finarfin, do we? *ponders* Ideas?
Granted, I may be missing something, but I can’t remember any right now.
Although I agree that Spirit of Fire was too cool (and appropriate!) to give up, I hc that the Finwions’ Sindarized names had more to do with Fingolfin blatantly establishing his claim to the crown/connection to Finwe despite being of the second branch of the royal family, the second faction of the Noldor to arrive in Beleriand. FINgolFIN and FINarFIN and FINgon and FINrod– of Indis’ offspring, the high king of the Noldor in Beleriand and the high king of the Noldor in Aman have double Fins, and their heirs each have a single Fin. Their names emphasize their connection to Finwe and their place in the succession. You cannot talk about them without speaking of their birthright. Maedhros, however, has no reference to Finwe at all despite his Quenya father name Nelyafinwe, which specifically refers to his place in the succession before Fingolfin. The Sindarized names emphasize the line of Indis’ right to the kingship and distance Feanor (Spirit of Fire, besides being way cool, brings to mind his rashness/anger as well as his creativity, while Curufinwe (iirc that’s canon?) refers to his skill and relation to Finwe) and Maedhros from Finwe and his authority.
I think this might be a popular hc, and if I’m reinventing the wheel, whoops, I’m new?
You’re right about Fingolfin and Finarfin, @below-et-almost. Fingolfin had started calling himself “Finwe Nolofinwe”, which is the reason behind the translation. (I’m not sure which book is the source though.) With Finarfin, either his children started referring to him that way or he did during the War of Wrath. But although both of that was definitely meant to emphasize the connection to Finwe, I’m not so sure about Fingon and Finrod. To me, it always seemed that the Noldor chose themselves which names to translate, and I assume it was usually the one they had used most before. If someone insisted on using a certain name, I don’t think anyone could stop them and make them use another, no matter the political implications.
So, it’s possible that they were considering the things you mentioned while choosing their Sindarinized names, but it’s equally likely that Findekano and Findarato just happened to be their favorite names. Same with the sons of Feanor – I don’t think that anyone could have told them no if they had wanted to use their Finwe-ish father-names, and while I can imagine Maedhros deciding not to because it was more diplomatic, I doubt his brothers would have gone out of their way to do that. So I’m assuming that for all of them except Curufin, the mother-names had aready been used more.
My headcanon about Feanor is that he was using his mother-name as a way to honor Miriel and remind people of her. (Which ofc means he and his sons wouldn’t change it because respecting that is more important than the distance from Finwe. But the post was a joke/shitpost anyway, so I ignored all of that and just thought ‘what if Feanor had decided to one-up Fingolfin and call himself “Finwe Curufinwe”‘)
Number five seemed to be the most popular, so here’s a snippet from that:
This is not the throne room in Tirion.
Or, rather, it is, but it’s the throne room as he remembers it, not the throne room he was recently shown after his release from the halls of Mandos. Fingolfin can’t help but relax a bit. It’s a dream or a vision of some sort, surely, but it’s a comforting one.
He smiles at the faces he sees around him. Some of them are still in Mandos. Some he has hesitated to speak to. But now here they all are, disturbed by whatever politics are current today, but blissfully safe.
And there is his father, on the throne.
Fingolfin’s breath catches.
The familiar words, the words that have haunted his dreams, roll down. The issue at hand: Feanor’s desire to leave Valinor and his words against the Valar.
Fingolfin knows his part. He knows what he is supposed to say. He is supposed to call for the restraining of Feanor and to disparage Feanor’s loyalty to their father. He is supposed to drive in the final wedge. He has had this dream before.
He waits a moment for the words to come forth against his will, but nothing happens. His father’s eyes merely remain fixed on him.
Fingolfin has many words he would say to his brother – yes, brother – and more than a few might be unkind, but he has to admit that his long ago remark had been unjust. Feanor’s loyalty to the Valar is questionable at best, but having seen him grieve their father, there can be no doubt about Feanor’s honor and loyalty to him.
He had wondered, on the Ice, what might have happened if he hadn’t said those words. If he had offered any other, lesser, insult. If he had kept his own counsel. If, if, if.
So he says instead, “I have heard much rumor about my brother’s views on these matters, but I confess that we have not spoken plainly of the matter face to face. I would be sure I know his views fully before I respond to them.”
And then Feanor strides in, dressed for war, or at least the closest approximation Aman raised elves could imagine.
The fire of his brother’s words is nearly irresistible, but Fingolfin does his best to resist anyway. He can only afford to lend half his attention to Feanor’s words. The rest he must devote to figuring out how he will respond.
If this is a dream or a vision, it might not matter, but –
He can feel his bond to his wife, as of yet unstrained. He can feel the power of Feanor’s words as an almost physical force. He can see a crack in the floor that he does not think he ever noticed before.
It occurs to him that this might not be a dream, and if there is any chance it is not, then it matters.
I love it ❤ Feanor’s goals are so cute… That was unexpected. But Feanor having way less problems with adapting his old life fits quite well. On the other hand he only lived a few weeks in Beleriand – so he may never got used to the Sindarin names?
Hitting Fingolfin back would indeed endanger all his plans. With all of his Family and the Silmaril beeing in Tirion (not in Formenos) they would be far safer. I doubt Morgoth would fight the Valar directly.
I would love to hear what they do to prevent all that shit that had happened without loosing their yet unborn family members (as Fingolfin asks himself)!
(Fingon calls Feanor ‘Uncle Feanor’ – not ‘Uncle Feanaro’. is he a time-traveller too?)
*smacks forehead*
No, that was just a typo on my part. I’m so used to typing Feanor that I didn’t catch that.
I’m glad you liked it! Not sure yet if I’m going to continue it.
So apparently I am going to continue this!
Although after this update, you might wish I hadn’t.
Fingolfin’s explanation doesn’t end up explaining much at all, so Fingon ends up drawing his own conclusions. Given the circumstances, those conclusions cause enough concern that he goes to Maedhros, who goes to his brothers, and soon the rumor mill in the city is fairly certain that Fingolfin and Feanor, tentative allies, are now at each other’s throats again.
“Relax,” Feanor tells him. They’re meeting in Feanor’s office this time, and Fingolfin is pretty sure some of his nephews are lurking protectively outside the door. “The Valar aren’t going to exile you over a few punches.”
“And if they do?” Fingolfin says wearily from his seat.
Feanor shrugs, still pacing restlessly. “Then events are one step closer to being back on track, and we’ll have a better idea what will happen next.”
Fingolfin stares at him for a long moment. “I hate you,” he said flatly.
“I know,” Feanor says with far too much cheer. “Which reminds me.” He goes to the elaborate safe in the wall and after a moment of visible hesitance wrenches the already slightly ajar door open. The light of the Silmarils gleams forth.
Feanor dumps them in a bag that somehow manages to hide that light and then turns and holds them out expectantly towards Fingolfin.
Fingolfin had thought he had seen Feanor desperate last time. It is nothing compared to Feanor now.
He had thought to find his brother stirring up the people. Instead, he finds him outside Celegorm’s sick room, drawing up plans to depart immediately.
“We’re not ready yet,” he protests immediately. “It takes time to prepare an army, Celegorm’s not even fully healed yet – “
Feanor slams him against the wall. “Time. What time do you imagine we have?” he snarls. “With two hands you promised but with one hand you gave. Do you think I never saw that part of the tapestry in all my long years in Mandos?”
Suddenly Feanor’s grip is the only thing keeping him upright. “Ungoliant,” he breathes.
As a person of color who comes from a race where extremism has been used to protest racial injustice, can I just say that I absolutely love Feanor. In today’s political climate, we’ve seen a lot more Feanor’s. From people scaling the statue of Liberty to protest children being put in concentration camps, to riots over racial injustice, being extreme is one of the only ways we can get a point across.
Feanor has always reminded me of Malcolm X, or any other Civil Rights activist that has done the extreme and questionable to get their point across. He is an extremist, but his extremist views come from the unfair treatment he and his people received in Valinor. I think nowadays, in the midst of racial and other injustices, Feanor’s characters starts to be more relevant.
When you understand the history of rioting and protest and social injustice, than a lot of what Feanor did starts to make sense. It’s like Nat Turner and the slave revolts, or the Haitian Revolution. If people don’t listen, then often times it’s necessary to use extreminism or violence to make a point, and the violence can be bloody, but the main point is that it makes a difference, it sends message.
Stop enslaving us, stop oppressing us, stop killing us. When words don’t work, violence must. That why I like Feanor, he stayed silent and complaint for as long as he possibly could , but then the Valar allowed his things to be stolen, his father to be killed, and his people to be terrorized.
I don’t condone the kinslaying at Alqualonde ,But Doriath and Sirion were justified.
Feanor was a leader, and a Civil Rights activist imo, one of the few in Tolkien’s works. Perhaps that’s why he was so demonized. But as a person of color who deals with Civil Rights, i see a lot of myself and my people in Feanor. I’m not saying his coded to be poc, but I’m saying his struggles mirror my own.
And honestly, if you’re serious about social activism, i’d consider looking at Feanor’s character in depth.
I agree with some of your points, @diversetolkien. Personally, I’d say that Feanor’s best moments when it comes to activism were his attempts to convince people to leave Aman before the Darkening, and when he was fighting Morgoth in Beleriand and also started learning Northern Sindarin in that short time. He had a right to do the former and the Valar should have adressed it better. It is possible to tell someone that you think their idea is bad or dangerous but you’re not going to stop them or ensure they have no means of doing it. I don’t believe that the Valar had bad intentions the way most real world oppressors do, although they did make mistakes and I know there’s a lot of room for different interpretations.
But I’m not sure why you think Alqualonde is inexcusable whereas the other two Kinslayings are? For me, it’s the other way around; Alqualonde wasn’t planned to be a kinslaying, and though the Noldor were better prepared, both sides hadn’t had much experience with real combat. Of course, it’s still horrible, and Feanor definitely had been planning to steal the ships, which obviously was a bad and somewhat hypocritical idea already (given that the Teleri said they cared as much about their ships as he did about the Silmarils).
But Doriath and Sirion were definitely premeditated. It sounds like most of the Feanorions would not
have wanted to attack them if not for the Oath. It did a lot of damage to all the Elves’ capability to resist Morgoth, apart from Eärendil and Elwing managing to get the Valar to interfere, which couldn’t have been predicted. Sirion was a refugee camp. Even if you think they had zero rights to the Silmaril, I don’t see how the Sindar can be viewed as oppressors of the Feanorians. Also, none of the kinslayings were about civil rights or social activism, and the main message they sent is that the Feanorians were willing to kill for the Silmarils because of the Oath, to the detriment of other causes, and I think they’re not really comparable to most real world examples you mentioned.
I’m so happy that Feanor didn’t change his name in Beleriand the same way his brothers did, or it’d probably be something horrible, like “Fincurufin”
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