49. Fëanor

There he saw him. Such was the flame of his spirit, lightening the mist around with a blood-red, living light that Aragorn had no doubt about whom he is seeing.

"Fëanor…" he stated simply, for he didn't know what title or courteous phrase he should use. Name was enough. Name said everything…

But the Spirit of Fire did not look at him. "Makalaurë… Where is Makalaurë?" he was muttering.

"Your son, Maglor?" Aragorn bit his lip. "I do not know…" There are some rumours in the Age, some people have seen a mysterious harper in a tavern or at the seashore, powerful in mind and body and with scarred hands, but nothing certain. It could also be Daeron - or both of them, though nobody has seen them together. "I am sorry…"

But then Aragorn realized Fëanor isn't listening to him, doesn't even see him. He appeared like holding something, but there was nothing in his hands. "The light of my lamps, so bright, unquenchable… It will help many to find the way in the dark. Do you see?" he smiled suddenly.

Aragorn slowly shook his head, even though the question didn't belong to him.

Suddenly Fëanor gasped, and spread his hands as if he would drop the lamp. "Fire…" he gasped. "There's fire in it! The ships burn! Oh, what did I do? And you helped me, my sons! Amrod! Amras! Don't argue between yourselves and hold the torches! Maedhros! Do not stand there just so! Oh, what did I do? It's my fault! Oh, Nerdanel, it is my fault, isn't it?" he turned at Aragorn, but didn't perceive him. "But I just wanted freedom... to live without the Valar, whether Light or Dark. I wanted to save Middle-earth, not condemn it…" he wept then.

A woman watched him from afar, and there was an expression of great sorrow upon her face. "My son…" she whispered.

Fëanor turned sharply after her voice, but didn't seem to see her, either. He was trapped in his own world.

She sighed. "Such greatness… a flame so bright…" she moved as if to touch him, but never did. "All the strength of my fëa I gave to you… a flower that fades to give everything into one seed. Such a loss… I'm so sorry, my child, I could not stay with you. Maybe it would be different now if I found the strength… the strength to go on and be both mother and wife… Indis could be a wife to Finwë, but she could not be mother to you, my son. I am sorry…"

Aragorn just sighed, and shook his head, finding it too painful to watch any longer.

"Do you think he is mad?" the woman turned to him suddenly, and Aragorn almost jumped, for he didn't think she can see him.

"No, he's not," she replied to herself. "He is trapped in his memories…"

"Is there a way to help him?" Aragorn asked quietly, remembering how he was able to help Maedhros – he hoped he did, at least.

"I tried to reach to him, but he does not even see me. Maybe his father could do it… I know there was love between them, despite his second marriage to Indis."

There was an unvoiced sigh in her words that Aragorn recognized. "What about you, lady?" he asked hesitantly.

"I… understand him. I left him alone, when his heart desired a family, a wife and more children that I couldn't give him. The Valar asked me, when he sought their consent. They asked me, and I said yes, knowing I will not leave Mandos anymore. But he died as well… I've been avoiding him since then. And I am not that sure anymore I do not want to return." The sight, unvoiced so far, came now, and it was unhappy and tired.

Aragorn bowed to her wordlessly, and left her, for he could not do anything. Now though, he could somehow recognize the other sons of Fëanor among the shadows of Elves wandering in the Halls…