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A Festival of Lights
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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4
The Spirit of Fire Answers the Lord of Darkness

The Spirit of Fire Answers the Lord of Darkness


Thy amillë named thee well when she called thee Fëanáro, the Spirit of Fire. In none other of the Children have I seen the Imperishable Flame burn so brightly. Wilt thou burn for me, Fëanáro?

“And why should any seek to live but for thee, Lord Melkor? Ilúvatar gave into this world many of thy kind, and countless more of the Maiar. Yea, I will agree ye all are most worthy of honor; but none other demands our worship as dost thou.”

The ellon’s words stung the Vala, but there was nothing he could do in retribution, not here at the door of Aulë’s forge. The Smith of the Valar suspected their dark brother of continuing to foster plans not approved by all of their number, so Melkor dissembled here. But who was this mere Child to offer him, greatest of the Valar, such disapproval? He would teach the creature the lesson due him….

*******


With the aid of his Maiar followers Melkor had toppled the pillars of the first Great Lights. There were fewer now who would openly follow him than there had been before, but Ungoliant would do his will. Oh, she had ever done his will, had she not, tying her shape at his behest to that of the greatest of Spiders, devouring all of the liquid light she could come upon, leaving her own darkness ever in her wake? Those Trees created by his fellows—they were an affront to his eyes, for he had not taken part in their crafting. Yea, he would see them felled, and would take the children of the blooming of their flowers, the Silmarilli crafted by Fëanáro, for his own. Let this land of peace and harmony reverberate to the discord that was within his own soul, and let the Burning Elf know the vengeance due him for spurning the advances of Melkor, greatest of the Children of Eru’s own Thought!

*******


Holding a blazing torch in hand, he looked in its flickering light down on the handiwork of Melkor, now named anew by himself Moringotto, the Black Enemy, and felt the fire of his own fëa burning darkly within him. The gates of his stronghold thrown down, and his own father dead, the marks of Melkor’s spear and dark flames upon him. And the doors of his treasury riven, bent as if they’d been crafted of paper rather than the finest of steel, and his greatest treasures, the finest works of his own hands, the jewels he’d refused the rest of the Valar and all of the world—taken as if they were mere diamonds and pearls!

“You wished once that I should burn for you,” he muttered darkly. “And indeed I shall—but not for your pleasure. Nay, if I burn for you, it is for your utter destruction, as you have dealt to me! I will set the whole of Aman ablaze with hatred for the works of the Dark Vala, the Marrer, who has sought to deny us all that is light and beautiful! And your brethren shall find themselves unable to stand in the face of the holy flame of vengeance I shall unleash upon you, and in the end will be consumed by the same fire, dark as it has now become!”

And indeed he did fire all of the world with hatred for the Black Enemy.

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