In the halls by Isilloth

[isilloth]

 B2MeM Prompt, Card and Number: The Noldor I18 - Finwe
Format: ficlet
Genre: gen
Rating: gen
Warnings: None
Characters: Finwe, Miriel
Pairings: Finwe/Miriel
Creator’s Notes (optional):n/a
Summary: Finwe gets to the Halls of Mandos, where his wife already is.

Finwë’s death was cruel, sudden. He did not anticipate, not even when darkness fell on Formenos. He stayed, when others fled, ready to fight not known evil. When Melkor and those horrific shade came, he stood alone against them, in gates of Formenos. He was ready to fight for the last drop of blood. And so he did.
Now his spirit was drifting in Halls of Mandos. He had never thought he would go here. There were no many spirits… Some elves who perished at Cuiviénen, some death at Beleriand by the enemy. And her…
His wife. First wife, ex-wife, he corrected himself. He saw her spirit, flickering at the opposite side of the halls. He didn’t know how to approach her, if to approach her at all. She left him… Yes, she died, but wasn’t it the death of free will? She agreed to his second marriage, she shouldn’t have grudge against him. But he wasn’t true to her, as he should, as he swore to her. He was conflicted, he didn’t know if he wanted to talk to her, or be afraid of it. Maybe both.

She didn’t approach him up to the moment when other spirits started to arrive. There was a point when something bad happened outside, and halls became crowded. Initially, he didn’t know what it was, and when he learned it, he was terrified. His son, his precious Fëanáro, couldn’t do something like that. Their own son, committed such atrocity, he was guilty of thousands deaths, of poor, innocent Teleri as well as his subjects, Noldor who perished obeying his orders.

Míriel was as terrified as well, of the crime, and who committed it. She started to weep in his arms or rather touching his spirit.

“Our son, our beautiful son, how could he?”

“I didn’t raise him well,” he responded, “if I did he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that.”

Míriel didn’t say anything, her spirit flickered in silence.

“It’s also my fault. If I didn’t die, if I wasn’t so weak, I may raise him with you.”

“You’re not to blame. You couldn’t live, his spirit consumed you. You give up your life for him, it’s enough sacrifice.”

“Oh, Finwë, what have we done.”

“Too little, too little it seems.”

Spirits of those who died because of their son flickered around them. It seemed to him it only would get worse, after Fëanáro swore to avenge him and retrieve Silmarilli.