Nadya's fanfic- Hope Renewed final Chapter 4- revenge

                                                                          Chapter Four
                                                                       Fear and Revenge

"My Queen?" The voice stirs me from my waking dream.
Elf bodies need little sleep, and my mind has rested enough. Now, in Valinor no more, but on Middle-Earth. The Land my fathers called Endore.

Now it is time. My voice is strong and commanding, despite the music of its tones, inherited from my Telerin mother, long gone now.

"We leave for Lothlorien."
Our horses can cross great plains and vast expanses. What does distance matter to elves? We who were made stronger, faster, sharper in sense, and to my everlasting regret- more long-lived than mortals.

Immortal. When I was young, I learned from my mother, that elves were gifted with life, longer than that of any other earthly creature. We would never weary, nor bow down and weaken with old age. Our skins will never crease, our hair will never whiten like snow. If we were slain or faded due to grief, we would be remade, in bodies identical to those we once had, if we were righteous and if we so chose. Yet, our destinies had been sung and foretold, before the beginning of this world.
The gift of mortals- in particular- Men- was to die, after a short life. To weaken or to be easily slain, by steel, by strength, by the elements of this world or by the decay of time. Yet they would have the freedom to do many things- to choose their own destinies.

A freedom I confess, I envy.
Lothlorien's woods soon loom ahead of us. We enter the shade. Whereupon we were chanced by the Sindar and the Silvan elves that lived within this wood.
"Halt!" the guards stop us from going further upon our horses, or on foot. "Who enters the realm of the Lord and Lady of the Wood?"
I remove my helm. My red hair flashes out amongst the paler or darker colours of the wood and these elves. Brighter, reddish gold copared to their fairness that blended in with the light of these wood and their darkness, that blended with shadow. My eyes gaze straight at his. He knew those eyes, even if he had not seen its like before, he would have heard of them.

"Rumil of Lothlorien." My voice intones, still strong, despite the Telerin music. " Would you halt me now? Would you forbid me from entering the realm of my cousins and friends? The realm I have for so long defended and helped to build? Would you deny me this gift of entering and meeting my kin, a gift that they, themselves, has offered me?" My eyebrows raise.

Rumil blinks. Caught off guard, for the first time in his immortal years. "Of course not, Queen Eruvande Estela. Of course you may pass, although we were told to expect you, we had to be sure."

Of course they had to be. I could not fault them that. I merely nod and signal my warriors to move forward, leading our horses on foot. They complied.

Forgive them, my cousin, although I sense that you already have. They mean no offense, they were merely cautious and on their guard.

I smile. I knew that voice, deep, yet female, resonating within my mind, betraying pleasure at my presence within these woods.

Artanis. My cousin.

Long has it been, since I heard her voice and gazed upon her person. No, she sensed I was not offended, instead, she was to compliment these guards, for we knew that they had done their job well.

Welcome my cousin.

For apart from she, I was the last of the House of Finwe upon this land. Artanis was her father-name and Nerwen the name her mother had given her, yet most knew her by the name given by her husband Celeborn: Alatariel, or Galadriel, the Maiden crowned with a garland of the brightest radiance. My father's cousin and my mother's. Artanis, she would be to me always.

For I had known her since the cradle I had slept within. The daughter of Arafinwe, my grandfather's half-brother, and of Earwen the daughter of Olwe, my mother's grandfather, she was close kin to serve as my mother, should the occassion demand it- such was the case of marriages.

We have now entered the depths of Lothlorien, the flets glowed a more burnished silver, and many of the elves came forth to greet and welcome me, yet, despite the warmth of their faces, I knew the threat they felt as the power of Mordor grows, just as the power of Angband had once.

Galadriel, whom I knew as Artanis came forth to greet me herself, along with Celeborn, her husband.
She was tall, taller than any female elf, save for I, who equaled her in height. I knew not whether that had come from the blood of our Noldorin fathers, or our Telerin mothers. But her hair was the colour of the finest, purest gold, as marked one of Ingwe's blood. Indis, her grandmother had given a gift to Arafinwe and his line, that among the Noldor, save for Tyelcormo, my uncle, they had been the bearers of gold within their hairs. Yet this was touched also by silver threads, star-like and radiant, from her Telerin blood. I too had held both gold and silver as well as copper in my hair. The gold had been those of Istarnie, my grandmother's mother, who had been born a Vanya. The silver, was my mother's father's colour. Such colours had blended, in strands, with the red of my hair, and  even elves had found the result breathtaking. They said that Artanis' hair had inspired the creation of the Silmarils- that or the equally famed eyes of my mother.

Celeborn stood beside her, just as tall. His hair was a deep silver, and his face, normally grave, smiled alongside his wife's in welcome. Yet the sight that saddened me was the absence of Celebrian. Their daughter and the wife of Elrond had, long ago, after visiting from these woods, been waylaid and tormented by orcs. Her twin sons Elladan and Elrohir had rescued her from further brutality, yet despite the ministrations of Arwen, her daughter, and of Elrond, she had sustained a wound which could only be cured upon Valinor. And thus, she had left.

How many must we lose? I ask myself, how many losses must be felt within our hearts that such sorrow should be able to give? How much more had we to lose? For had I not lost so much, before and after the war with Morgoth? Celebrian had been dearly loved by me. I was honoured at their wedding due to Elrond's, and her insistence. Why did she suffer so?

Why did we all suffer so? The Lord and Lady bowed to me, the queen of what was left of the Noldor upon Middle-Earth. I shook my head. "You need not bow to me cousins." For many who enter their realm felt reverence for them, even I.

"I bow to the queen." Celeborn intoned solemnly. Beside him , Galadriel smiled. I smiled also,
"Artanis." She smiled further. "There are few who know me to have ever had another name besides Galadriel."

"Yet I have known you, ever longer than those, for yours was one of those faces I had seen in my cradle." I motioned to one who held parcels for them, "Gifts for the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien in these times of Peril. May you glean whatever joy you can find from them."
I turned my head, many of Lothlorien's dwellers had descended from the flets up above where they lived in the Mallorn Trees, to see and greet me. Their cheers warmed my heart, but not for long.
Sensing the darkness growing within me, Celeborn and Galadriel ushered me inside. To their halls built high within the silver Mallorn branches.

                                                                           ***

"Grave times have forced me to confer with you cousins." These were my first words indoors.
"Yet allow us to exchange a few pleasantries, afore we allow ourselves to fall to such grim news."

"Time is not yet of the essence," Artanis smiled. "And so we shall." The talk held none of orcs, battles and marrings of evil, nor even Sauron. Yet, before long, we wandered into grave talk. For in such words I had gleaned that Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur's line and of a house long held in their royal standing, had fallen in love with one amongst our kindred. Arwen, Celeborn and Galadriel's grand-daughter and the daughter of Elrond and Celebrian. My smile vanishes in an instant. Oh Eru, what has been done! Both I and they were to lose another treasured one. For such unions would end in naught but sorrow and much grief.

"What has been done?" I rubbed my hand across my head. " Now she has chosen to bind herself to the fate of a mortal. A long-lived mortal perhaps, by the standards of men, but still a mortal, nevertheless, and not likely to walk hand in hand with any of our kind, before or after our deaths, in grief or by the sword." I shake my head in agitation. Yet I would not allow myself to feel great despair, for here before me stood the grandparents of Arwen Undomiel. "Can we convince her otherwise?"

"Convince her?" Celeborn shook his head. "I know not, but I doubt very much that her heart will be given to another. She, as of her father's line, the Half-Elven, has chosen a mortal fate."
I bite my teeth together to keep myself from crying out. A mortal fate! Who knew what happened to mortals once they pass. Not even those upon Valinor knew. For although we doubt that Eru-Illuvatar would let their souls fall to oblivion,  we know for certain, they are not remade in new forms as we are, and they do not enter the same places as those tread by the spirits of our kind.

Yet bitterness took hold of me, as I wonder if I should have faded in grief also. For I had loved, not once, but twice. Once to a far distant kinsman who was rumored to have been the son of Findekano, my father's closest friend, son of Nolofinwe, or of Artaher a more distant cousin. He had been born upon Aman, yet his early life, before that on Middle-Earth, had been shrouded in shadow. Yet we had made him our High King, after Findekano had vanished. The other I had loved, I now confess, Centuries later, a mortal man, very much like Aragorn son of Arathorn, and because of such similarities, him I cannot despise, despite being the doom of Arwen. Skilled with a bow and made a king among his own kind, his ending was what we elves had hoped for Aragorn. That one day he would retake the throne that his forefathers had sat upon. Yet I knew she was prepared to die. Should I not have done that very thing, not only for my family, but for either of these kings I had loved- and perhaps still love? Which of these two would I have chosen, which should I have died alongside? But that question was as futile as asking about which wife Finwe, my forefather would have chosen. Finwe was long dead now, Miriel, even longer, and Indis had most likely departed Tirion, to live once more amongst the Vanyar, with Findis her daughter, while Arafinwe her son, Galadriel's father remained in Tirion as king. And I had a duty to follow.

"Alas that such has happened." I sigh but manage to stifle the pain, far too weary with sorrow. "And in such dark times, once more. I came not of cordial pleasantness cousins, this I admit. I did not even come for solace in times of darkness, nor to give it, this I confess also. Yet I come with a purpose, against the armies and wrath of Sauron of Mordor, does such a purpose go."

Galadriel is solemn. My Artanis, my cousin, had never been surprised, even within the days of her youth. The light of a star, born long ago shines within us both, born in the blissful, unmarred lands now taken from this world. Yet hers was longer-lived than mine.

"Indeed, this we know, Estela, cousin of mine, for here with us we have Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of Mirkwood, once called Greenwood the Great."

My eyes shoot up at her. Now was I surprised. "Thranduil?" I say, startled. "He is here?" I did not believe that Thranduil would so easily desert his realm and leave his people within the grasp of danger, yet here he was, and he must have such reason to be here, else he would not have left them.

Celeborn nods and gestures for me to come with them to the other room. The doors opened and there, stood an elf tall and strong, dressed not in the raiment of peace, but of war. His silvery-golden hair, flowed down past his shoulders, his grey-blue eyes were solemn ans he regarded me and bowed slightly: " Queen Estela."

I too, bowed, "King Thranduil. I did not expect your presence when I arrived here. I thought to journey to you realm and ask to meet you there in person."

Thranduil smiled slightly." Fair is the light of your face and fairer is the light within your soul, Queen of the Noldor upon Middle-Earth. Yet the admiration of many grows ever more with your willingness to defend and die for those who still remain within this earth." He hesitated. "Have you heard the news given from Imladris, months ago?" I shake my head. "My son Legolas, had walked with eight others towards Mordor. With Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to Elendil, Boromir son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, with Gimli son of Gloin," he sighs with a reason I know not of, " and with four halflings, one amongst them is a Baggins, and with Gandalf the grey wizard."

I was further startled."Olorin?" for this was the name I had known the grey wizard in the Undying Lands. Before he was sent to earth to fight the forces of Sauron that remained.
Not as one aged, lined and grey, but as a Maia, the pupil and friend of the Valie Nienna, lady of Mercy. Yet there was another matter," Baggins" I say. "Is that not the name of the Halfling that came with Thorin Oakenshield in his quest to recover Erebor?" I ask. "The one you have named Elf-friend?" he inclined his head. "Has he not grown too old for such perilous quests?" I ask. But Thranduil replied, "True, but he has kin. A young one, I believe called Frodo. he has the One Ring."

Now I take a sharper breath than any I have taken in centuries. "The One Ring?" Now my shock turned to anger. "Cursed be such a foul thing wrought from the depths of Mordor, a more fouler place than ever I had thought it before! Curse the maker even more that it should survive, curse it forever! May it grow dull and black, and may it lose its shape, so that fools who are entranced by its beauty, shall be fools no more." Thranduil was silent. He had anticipated this, yet he had no knowledge of how deeply I would loathe the Ring and all others. For only a great fool, the greatest this world could spawn, could have ever created them. My cousin Telperinquar, whom the Sindar called Celembrimor. had forged such rings. He had, in his stupid, blinded ambition to prove himself equal to our grandfather, had forged three rings for the elves, Vilya, called the Ring of Air, a great sapphire, set within a band of gold, Narya, the Ring of Fire, set with a giant ruby also in gold and Nenya, the Ring of Water, an adamant- not a diamond but brighter, and stronger, set in mithril.
I turn sharply to Galadriel and saw that she still wears Nenya upon her hand, I try to mask my fury. Of course he gave it to her! Telperinquar the Vast Fool, had failed to learn the lessons of the past, in wanting to be my grandfather's equal, despite seeing the horrors such wondrous power and beauty in such objects! How could she still wear such an abomination, almost as foul as the Silmarils themselves,as the One Ring, and the Seven for the dwarves and Nine for the mortals who now became the Ringwraiths. Save for the One Ring, Telperinquar had forged them all, at the behest of a "friend", Sauron in disguise.

I flushed in anger, "So it still survives. Has it yet corrupted or weakened anyone? No wonder Sauron grows so strong and Mordor dares to expand its boundaries! The One Ring had been lost when the Colossal Fool Isildur was slain. How came it  to be found?"

"By another halfling called Smeagol." Startled, I looked at Thranduil. "Or rather, it was his kinsman that found it. And both had quarrelled over it, and the kinsman of Smeagol was slain. Smeagol soon was forced to leave and took refuge within the Misty Mountains with the Ring. There it corrupted both his mind and flesh. Until the day came when the company of Thorin Oakenshield-" he shook his head-" arrived and it came to the possesion of Bilbo Baggins. Now it passes to his young kinsman Frodo, who along with eight others, are given the task of journeying to Mordor and destroying the Ring in the Fires of Mount Doom, the only place it can truly be destroyed."

I was speechless. "How is it, that all of you had known of this and I had not? Why has not Elrond nor any of you yourselves, ever thought to mention such a thing, of the greatest of importance, to me?"

"Ah," Artanis sighed. "We had made such an attempt, but to do so would mean that the inhabitants of Mordor would have learnt and you and your people have for some time now,  been vigorously fighting these Dark Forces, which threaten your lands. We did not know when it was safe to tell you and whether you could come to Lothlorien or Rivendell, or even Mirkwood. Until now we had not the chance."

I shake my head. How is it, that unless I were a child and able to eavesdrop upon others, someone must tell me what I had needed to hear? I had spent a great amount of time trying to gain information which would help my people, yet, only now, did such news come to me.

Memories flood back, memories of long ago, when..... No I will not think of such a thing.
Now I had other matters to deal with. I sigh. Artanis nods. "I believe we shall meet again for dinner, the four of us. For now I believe the need to refresh ourselves of these news, arises. Shall I escort to you to your rooms, cousin?"

I sigh, but I went to follow her. As I have always followed my family and my people.
Even when they lead me to sorrow.

                                                                      ***

Now I go once more into a waking dream.
The memory of Formenos, what happened on such an eve.
I knew not, at first, why my mother woke me up, from my sleep. All I had remembered was that the realm of Aman had been in turmoil. We had lived frantic with fear and worry. Despite the radiant goodness of Telperion's light, none of the younger ones, such as myself, was allowed to venture, after Laurelin had waned completely. In fact, few ot the older ones had done such a thing. Day and night we were watchful and wary, always travelling in groups. Windows and doors were never left open, even for a second. They were always locked, and bolted, with the strongest of locks and enchantments. None ventured alone. We children only played inside and when there were trusted caregivers to keep a firm eye on us. I had sensed their fear, and always I had attempted to lift it. It would work, but soon, their happiness had faded and once more they remembered that Melkor, was lurking somewhere, on this continent, no less.

Then my mother had awoken me, and hastily, she dressed me, in layers and layers of clothing, sturdy and fit to travel in. Boots of strongest material covered my tiny feet, secured in tight buckles. Clothes that wrapped me in snugly, yet with no access cloth that could be loosed to flap in the wind, or with my movements. Fabrics that needed little cleaning. I was groggy with sleep, but puzzled. Why must we leave? Was it Melkor? She winced when I asked her, and said she would prefer to answer as best she could only when we arrivedat Formenos. Formenos! The northern city I had so loved to go to in summers, yet my mother worried and looked sick with fear and anxiety. I knew that we would not go there for enjoyment.

She hurried me downstairs, where my father was already waiting. Our horses were saddled and ready, the carriage as well, but that would be for the things my parents had hastily packed. I would ride with my father, who lifted me with him, in front, on his horse. After a while, my uncles joined us, and their wives and childres, all older than me. Yet Itarille was not there, nor any of my grandfather's half-siblings and their families. Indis was not there. But Finwe was. We rode off to Formenos.

I later learned what had happened. Melkor, remembering that it was for his sake that he was chained, had sought revenge upon the Eldar. And in particular, the Noldor, although I knew not why.
He had sown lies and evil rumours amongst us, and more than one had reached the ear of my grandfather Feanaro. He had than confronted his half-brother Nolofinwe, with stinging accusations I knew not of, and in violation of many laws upon Aman, had drawn a sword against him- his own blood. For this he was reprimanded and was forced to leave to Formenos by the Valar, until they summoned him to Valmar, capital of all Aman or to Taniquentil, the highest mountain in the world, to answer as to why he had done such a thing. In support of his eldest son, whom he loved greatly, Finwe had chosen to go with him.

In Formenos the guard had increased. I could no longer find the enjoyment and freedom I had been so fond of, in Formenos. Instead I was watched by my grandmother Nerdanel, by my mother and aunts, by my father and his brothers, by the guards, and even by my grandfather, and Finwe.
Even my uncles, Nityafinwe and Telufinwe had refused to take me out and paid close attention to my whereabouts. "All of Aman knows you are most dear to us." Finwe had told me. "And with Melkor loosed we cannot take such a risk." So I have had to suffice with entertaining my family and the Lords of Formenos, and guards and attendants present, by dances, songs and plays, written to amuse them. They would then laugh, for a while. Even Feanaro, in the midst of such dark moods.

Yet that day had come when he had to leave for Valmar. Finwe would stay behind, as would the rest of us, save Nerdanel and the guards that accompanied Feanaro. Before they left, and I hugged my grandparents tightly and they kissed me. "Until our next meeting, Little One." Nerdanel murmured softly against my hair, the same colour that we shared. Feanaro too, had smiled briefly at me, before mounting his saddled horse and leaving. Once they left, I asked if I could play outdoors on the hillside with escorts, if need be. My question was met with firm refusal. I had to be content within the courtyard- with guards no less. So I had played there, quietly, until I saw the sky darken. I gazed upwards, curious, as to why this was so. I clutched my toys tightly. It was the middle of the day, Laurelin's bright light had gazed down upon us, it was not anywhere near the mingling of the lights. Telperion had not started to wax. I blinked. Then it darkened completely until it was black, and I saw no light anywhere. Not Laurelin, not Telperion. Not the stars that guarded the Eldar throughout their Journey to Valinor. Only darkness. I trembled. I was alone in the dark. Then the guards had grabbed me and the lights fashioned by my grandfather, that did not flicker or fade and needed no flame, went on. But it was still dark. I heard my mother scream for me. My father, too, calls out my name in panic.
Yet, before they could come, something forces me and the guards to the ground, something dark, and indeed terrible. Evil. Melkor.

I was pushed to the ground, by an energy I knew not of. It forced me down, and no matter how hard I tried, I could move no part  of me. In fact, the more I tried, the faster it drained me. I could barely breathe in my fear, and due to the force of such dark power. Then out of the gloom, I saw it, through the light of the fallen lantern. Shrouded by a cloud of more darkness, yet still I saw it. And if I could scream at that moment, I would have.

A Great, Monstrous thing, the likes of which I had never seen. Enormous, larger than any beast I had ever encountered, swollen and bloated, gigantic and covered with gruesome bristly hair. It's red-black eyes, glittered with such evil, and the pincers, which looked sharper by far, than any needle or blade, was larger than swords. Of the legs, there were eight, enourmous and thickly haired, muscular, grasping and strong. It heads inside and there I felt something, yet greater and more evil, filled with more terrible power, the presence of Melkor. The gigantic beast was Ungoliant, mother of Shelob and all the giant spiders. Her vomit was a thick web of darkness, and her hunger was insatiable. It was said that she mated with spiders of a similar likeness upon Middle-Earth, only to devour them later. Of her sons and daughters, the weakest she devoured also. In the end, they would later say, that in her eternal hunger, she devoured herself.

Yet she had passed me, and went inside. There inside, I felt the presence I knew to be Melkor and my terror had reached its peak. I also heard a strong voice, a beacon of goodness amongst such evil power, a resistance. Finwe. Yet I would remember nothing of how it faded, only that I sensed something terrible for him. Finwe!

Then the spell passed, I recovered my strength. Racing inside, before the guards could catch me, I passed through an arch of stone which had crumbled and collasped, like the stones of a mountain. Moving some aside, I made a hole, through which a small child could pass through. I quickly clambered in. And there I saw the sight.

Finwe! Sobbing, I ran towards him, grasping his hand. He smiled to see me in the last moments of his life, glad to see me, and glad not to be alone. He was down, upon the ground and I embraced him, as if I could cling on to his life and force it not to leave. A great gaping wound was in his torso, his ribs mashed and his organs crushed by them, as if a great mace had swung at him. I kissed his cheek. He dried my tears, with his hand with his final strength, and kissed me also, "Farewell, Little One. beloved of all that knows her, always beloved." Kissing me once more, he gave up his light. And his soul went that day to the Halls of Mandos.

Dimly I was aware of my parents, screaming and shouting my name in terror, dreading of what they would find. I could hear them, my remaining kindred, digging out the rocks in a frantic haste. I cared for none of that. My clothes were stained in blood, my hair askew, and I howled into the night as if I myself were suffering the agony of the torments of Melkor, just before my life would leave me. I heard my name screamed out from the other side of the rocks.

"Estela!" Then they came, the light of the lanterns peaking through and my parents had rushed forward to embrace me, until they saw the sight that Melkor had caused.

I screamed, my grief, howling with torment into the night.

I remembered nothing save for what was told to me much later. I was numb that day, numb with grief and dread of what more would come. I did not even move.
My mother had held me to her, my grief paralysing me, and my shock, more than Melkor's evil spell.
I remember someone, announcing that Artanis and her mother Earwen had arrived, with Arafinwe's guards to escort us back to Tirion. I knew not the length of time that passed. I cared not.
Earwen, continiuosly asked whether I had recovered sufficiently enough, whether I could sleep, or whether I would move to eat. I had no such thing. Artanis came, many times, to sit by my mother's side, and hold us close, her hands stroking my hair, yet I felt no lessening, of shock or grief. Someone had whispered that my father had gone to Valmar with his brother Macalaure, to tell the news.

I saw it all, far too clearly. Someone had whispered, before they had come to Formenos, both Melkor and Ungoliant had gone to Ezerllohar, the mound in which the Two Trees stood. After the fall of the Great Lamps, the Eldar arrived upon Valinor. Then the Valier Queens Varda Elentari, mother of stars and Yavanna Kementari, of the things that spring forth from the earth had combined their strengths and created two seeds which they planted, side by side, within the mound. The Queen Nienna, Lady of Mercy, sister of the Feanturi, had watered the mound with her tears. Nienna the Weeper had wept for Arda when Melkor had marred it. I wondered, somewhere in the great expanse of my mind, whether, she would weep more this time. Was there any hope and endurance we may glean from her this time?

From the mound had sprung two shoots which grew high above the land. One had bark of the smoothest silver. It's leaves were a dark green and underneath it was pure silver. Its light was also silver and purer than any silver light. It was named Telperion and its radiance made to shine at night. The other tree had bark of the finest gold and leaves of a young green and the light and its dew, was of the purest gold, as Telperion's was silver. This was Laurelin and it was made to shine during the day. Only twice did their lights mingle, evenly, in a day, in the morning and in the evening. Now they were both gone, for Melkor with Ungoliant's help had drained the Two Trees of life and the world was plunged into darkness once more. But what did I care whether the Trees shone or not. Finwe was gone. Nothing would ever be the same.

They whispered that Feanaro had gone wild and mad with grief and rage, along with most of the Noldor.  There in the great square, where the White Tree, Galathillion grew, He summoned all his people, who chose him for their king and he raged, renaming Melkor, Morgoth Bauglir, the Dark Enemy of the World. Then he called them to fight and retake the lands of Middle-Earth, and to leave the cages of the Valar whom he blamed for setting Melkor- now Morgoth loose, in spite of being the guardians of Arda, appointed by Eru All-Father. Now summoning his sons he had them do an act I knew my father and his brothers wished, later, that they had never done. They swore the Oath.

Eruvande was my father-name. The Oath of Eru, for after many sad and childless years my parents had gone to the Valar in help and guidance. They had been promised that Eru All-Father would grant their wish, should they believe. Their wish was granted, and thus, was I named. now it seemed a cruel jest, that I should be named as such in times of joy, whereas in sorrow and grief, my father, his brothers and their father had sworn an oath, that, as others would later say, that none should make and none could break, for they swore in Eru All-Father's Name and invoked Manwe and Varda, King and Queen of the Ainur, as witnesses.

Estela was my mother-name, and it meant Hope. Hope I would be for the Noldor in such dark times, but hope could not save them in the end, and neither could I. I had failed them, in my youth. But I was young no more.

These were the word they spoke:

"Be he foe or friend
Brood of Morgoth or Bright Vala
Elda, Maia or after-comer" -Men, dwarves, hobbits and ents-
"Man yet unborn on Middle-Earth,
Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,
Dread nor danger, nor Doom itself
Shall defend him from Feanaro, and Feanaro's kin
Whoso hideth, hoardeth, or in hand taketh
Finding keepeth or afar castheth
A Silmaril. This swear we all...
Death, we will deal him, ere the world's ending,
Woe unto world's end! Our word hear Thou,
Eru All-Father! To the everlasting darkness doom us
if our deed faileth.
On the Holy Mountain, bear in witness,
and our vow remember,
Manwe and Varda!"

And so they swore, and so they marked themselves for Doom. For Morgoth had stolen the Silmarils, and Finwe, he slew to gain them.
  

Top: Left and Right: Feanor and his sons swearing the Oath. Above Left: Melkor and Ungoliant destroying and draining the Two Trees of Life. Bottom Left: Feanor threatens Fingolfin, his half-brother with a drawn sword. Left: The Two Trees of Valinor in their original state, during the Mingling of the Lights.