the great conversation between manwe and feanor continues. excerpt from work in progress.
Manwë then opened his hands, the palms up towards the high ceiling. « Should I, then, have called upon all the Valar and the Valier, called upon the skies and their rains, upon tempests and great hurricanes? Should I have sunk all of Arda as I smote Melkor, should I have called upon the great winds and ripped away every tree, every stone, every mountain in a mighty maelstrom until naught was left but the bare land, until my brother be drowned in the very pits of his making and Arda be all but dust? Wouldst thou have called that justice? »
Thus Fëanáro leaned in, his teeth bared. « If it is truth that Arda was made Marred, if this doom of destruction was etched into its soul, if it is truth that I forged the slope of my path with my own hands as thou forged Arda with thine, then perhaps Arda should not have been made, and I neither. »
« But Curufinwë », Manwë whispered, « not allowing thy birth would have been murder. »
And Fëanáro gestured as if to speak, but Manwë continued: « Thou hast witnessed history on the tapestries. Perhaps thou thinkest this a cruelty. But dost thou not think that I, in watching time unfold, for naught stays long hidden from my sight, have also witnessed the consequences of all of our choices? I gave the Eldar shelter and it was not enough to ward evil. Dost thou not think that, in some measure, I understand? »
« I ask not for thy pity. It comes too late. »
« And yet it was always there. I wept for thee. »
Fëanáro lifted his chin. « Thou shouldst not have spilled tears. If thou hadst thought it unjust, thou shouldst have raged against it. »
« But I am not of Eru’s Children. I am of His thought, and doing such would have made me in all as my brother. »
