Chapter Text
Feanaro was no stranger to gossip. His father was the high king of the Noldor and ever since he was born there had been whispers in corners about him. About his mother. About his father’s new wife. They followed him everywhere he went. It didn't matter if he could hear them or not. Stories were told, songs were sung. Pronunciations of names were changed in minute but infinitely cruel ways. Feanaro knew all of this and he burned with it. His spirit was bright and strong. Too strong the whispers said. So strong and so selfish to take his mother’s spirit in addition to his own.
Nevermind that it wasn’t true. Nevermind that Miriel’s soul had been weary long before Feanaro was even a thought. Morgoth was chained in Mandos but even in a land of seeming peace, there existed cruelty and unease.
Some nights his thoughts would plague him and he’d sit next to his bedroom window and stare at the light of the trees and feel his soul burn within him and he would beg- Eru and The Valar and even The Trees themselves, Amme shouldn’t have to hurt because I took too much. Please I didn’t mean to take her fea. Please, I'll give it back. I swear it I will give it back.
He didn’t speak an oath aloud. But he swore it in his heart before he was even full grown. He threw himself into his craft as he grew up. He poured his spirit into it. He studied and worked and grew and always in the back of his mind was the thought: Maybe, just maybe I can give her spirit back to her someday. I will pour her spirit back into a gift so fine it will strengthen her and she will forgive me for taking what was hers by right.