OutOfTheFog by wmoritzer
Mountains in Araman.
Reader deep thought: What an eventful time! The Noldor sure started their careers as Exiles with a bang, or three. And the Sun and the Moon sprung up in time to bear witness to the stuff of legends. Gothmog debuted, Fëanor passed, the Noldor-lords reunited willy-nilly, Noldor meets Sindar, and Thingol unhappy. But still, the Noldor prospered and there was diaspora, much thanks in part to Maedhros’ mellowing out, Finrod’s loyalty to their friendship, and the even-tempered EQ of Fingolfin. Everything happened. Even LOVE, blooming in Galadriel and Celeborn’s companionship in Menegroth (interestingly, both were Thingol’s kin). And yet, already two Wars of Beleriand before the end of the chapter, in the brief span of time right before the Sun first rose to her 60th anniversary, and the Silmarils were still in Morgoth’s ever scheming hands. Bummer. And what did the Noldor do? Siege Angband of course! Four hundred fifty years. Longevity hath its privileges.
Reader deep thought: Well, “You’ve got mail!” was probably the alert most in the Blessed Realm could only dream of hearing forevermore. If there was any notion of the Valar going native with their penchant of looking like the locals, the opening preamble proved the Valar were superior beings not born of Arda. The more surprising revelation must be the potential of Fëanor. Got to wonder, why a Noldor? Why not a Vanyar? Also, the Sun and the Moon!
Reader deep thought: How bitter the cup Melkor brewed. And yet it would not have burnt as terribly if not for Fëanor’s self-righteous hard-heartedness, and obsession with the Silmarils.
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