Thus we parted

*******
My father I do not want to do this. But I have to. I can no
longer bear to see the oath consume you. My father, my father can you remember
the last time your hands shaped anything? Even swords you make no longer. For
the fire of your soul is slowly being extinguished by the blasphemous oath you
swore out of love for my grandfather. O how I hate the spirit of fire, may he
rot forever more in the deepest pits of the halls of Mandos. How could he do
it? How could any father let his own son damn himself so? Did he not realise
how wrong such an oath was? No he did not realise. Caught up in the spell of
the Silmarilli he knew nothing but hate, anger and vengeance.
I am a maker also, and I too know the danger of becoming too
attached to the works of one’s own hand. I pray everyday that that fate does
not befall me and every day I also pray that my true father is returned to me.
The one who held me in his arms when I was frightened. The one who taught me
the art of making and mending with patience all save my mother thought beyond
his ability. I want back the man who was loved by my mother, not the man that
she would not follow after Mandos gave his prophecy. Where has he gone, the
maker, the mender? What have you done to him you murdering impostor! Tell me
you are an impostor wearing the face of my beloved father, sent by the dark
lord to destroy us from within. That is what you are doing, father, destroying
us from within. What is worse is that you are doing so out of your own accord,
for your will has been twisted by the fell oath of Feanor.
No, no, no I cannot follow you any longer, I cannot be a witness
to your slow demise. I love you too much for that, my father. Please repent,
please abandon the fell oath. Nay father, I do not believe the oath-breaker
will be tormented until the ending of the world, for this is an oath that should
never have been sworn and keeping it is a greater evil than breaking it. Just
as following your father was a greater evil back than in Amen than disobeying
him. No, father, I do not know if obeying you now is as great an evil as disobeying.
All I know is that I will lose my very sanity if I am subjected to but one more
sight of the darkness of the oath of Feanor consuming your bright flame. I love
you my father, but I cannot follow you. Please forgive me.
You are not angry. Sad but not angry. I know not if you understand
my reasons completely, but you accept them. You are holding me like you used
to and I feel the grief flow out of you. Grief but not repentance, o father
why not repentance? You still do not see. But that does not matter. This might
be the last time I see you, for I know not if the everlasting darkness really
will be your lot. So I weep, I weep for the cruel fate that has befallen us
and I weep for this cruel parting that may last forever. But you assure me that
we shall meet again before the end. I believe you and we part.
You turn your back to me and follow your brother out of Nargothrond,
never to return and I, I remain were I stand, weeping for you my father. Many
come and tell me that I have followed the right path. I care not for their words.
What can words do for me now? Nothing, they are all empty. I have to fill this
emptiness. I will fill this emptiness. So I head for the forge with determine
strides, hoping and praying that my love for creation would fill the void in
my heart that was been created by our parting. Suddenly I stop. Was this it?
Was this what grandfather was trying to do? Was he trying to fill the void in
his heart created by the absence of his mother with his creations? Did he succeed
with the Silmarilli and was that why he could not abandon them? No, no, no please
no. I do not want to be like my grandfather. I do not want to die for my creations,
for if I die I can create no more. Please, Iluvatar, do not let me share the
fate of my grandfather. Please.
*******
Author’s note: A big thank you
to AfterEver for betaing.