Valarauko (To Your Years) [Short Fanfic | Middle-Earth]

To Your Ears

"Balrog..." by graemefazakerley.

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"The story that now reaches your ears, Fëanor, Spirit of Fire," I began to say to the misunderstood elf, "is not a legend, but started many ages before your role in this world began, and came to an end, in a certain way, ages after your recollection to the Halls of Mandos, from where you refuse to leave to talk with your old relatives and friends."

Fëanor kept the eternal impassibility that he had assumed soon after returning to Aman, after his historic death in a fight against several Valaraukar, among whom I was. Sitting, cross-legged and with his head held high, he kept his eyes closed.

"I tell you this," I went on, "because I know that, sitting there, you still listen to me; and because your ears still work, even if you wish otherwise. I believe this story is not long, and the eternity that awaits me prevents me from accepting that I will not have time to finish it; for what was revealed to me after finishing my role in the History of Arda, Eru is not so close to returning. So our time in Aman is still indeterminate, and even if you do not look at me, I will be at your side, telling you a story that can enlighten you and rekindle the fire of your spirit. In many ways this fire resembles mine, and there is still much you can do.

"During the construction of Arda, I helped the Valar for many ages, but Melkor's power and his dirty words spoke loudly to the fire spirits, and like many others I was attracted by their lies and their desire for the Light. And so, I was one of his spies among the Valar, for at that time I could still abandon the horrendous form which I later assumed. I did not betray because I was evil, for I loved the Powers of Arda; but because of the control that Melkor was able to exert over me, even as he turned his back to the Light and sought darkness. For a long time I regretted not being able to abandon him and live in the West, next to Arien, which is now unreachable.

"The Dark Lord was the first to find the elves on the dark shores of Middle-earth," I said to Fëanor, referring to Eru's eldest children. "At the time, he had created the fortress of Utumno and we, the Valaraukar, inhabited it. It was then that we assumed our whips of fire, terrible scourges that represented our corruption and with which we terrified everything we saw. We were not the only ones at his side, for many monsters he created and several other spirits he carried with him through mighty words, to occupy also the fortress of Angband.

"At Angband we lived until, one day, we heard a frightening cry of terror and despair. Melkor was back in Middle-earth and carrying the Silmarils. Your Silmarils." This time I waited for some reaction from my silent listener, but not even the mention of the fateful gems made him move or open his eyes. Then I continued.

"We left Angband like a storm of fire, for during our master's absence we lost the ability to change shape: cruelty would reign over us forever. And it was with such cruelty that we came to Lammoth - as that place was called thereafter - and we marveled at the darkness, the macabre Ungoliant.