Author's Note: The prompt was "quietness"; my personal theme was loneliness and fear, and Fëanor.
Out
The silence was the first thing he noticed, that first time he stepped outside the world's walls. After a life filled with sound -- crackling flame, quiet well-pleased singing, angry shouts, dark hoarse whispers, the melody of hammer on anvil, the snap of the bow-string, joyful laughter -- a lonely voice weeping in pain, a heart slowly breaking -- this quietness was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, strange.
He babbled to himself, at first, trying to fill up the empty space -- but his voice was pulled from him into that deep nothingness.
He was alone: for the first time, Fëanáro was frightened.