#which makes ecthelion a very underrated badass

[melestasflight]

While writing Fire for @zealouswerewolfcollector I ended up thinking a lot about the parallels Tolkien creates between Fëanor and Fingon.

Most remarkably, how similarly he describes the moment of their final battle and death:

There upon the confines of Dor Daedeloth, the land of Morgoth, Fëanor was surrounded, with few friends about him. Long he fought on, and undismayed, though he was wrapped in fire and wounded with many wounds; but at the last he was smitten to the ground by Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, […]

And then:

At last Fingon stood alone with his guard dead about him; and he fought with Gothmog, until another Balrog came behind and cast a thong of fire about him. Then Gothmog hewed him with his black axe, and a white flame sprang up from the helm of Fingon as it was cloven.

Fëanor and Fingon both lead their people to a battle against Morgoth with a tragic end. They are both left fighting on the battlefield alone, surrounded by fire, and perish at the hand of the exact same Balrog.

It is a seemingly strange parallel to make because these two characters often appear as complete opposites in the narrative. Fëanor divides his people by burning the ships at Losgar - while Fingon unites the Noldor by saving Maedhros. Where Fëanor begins a rebellion for his own cause of regaining the Silmarils - Fingon seeks ‘not his own, neither power nor glory.’

And yet, despite their differences, Fëanor and Fingon are the quintessential Noldos of the first age. Fingon becomes everything that Fëanor prophesizes for the Noldor in Beleriand:

We are threatened with many evils, and treason not least; but one thing is not said: that we shall suffer from cowardice, from cravens or the fear of cravens. Therefore I say that we will go on, and this doom I add: the deeds that we shall do shall be the matter of song until the last days of Arda.

Fingon's lament in The Lay of Leithian echoes Fëanor‘s prophecy (the lines were adapted later to be Gil-Galad’s own hymn):

The song of Fingon Elves yet sing, captain of armies, Gnomish king, who fell at last in flame of swords with his white banners and his lords.

Fingon indeed becomes the epiphany of the exiles: the combination of his remarkable heroism, valor, and the final doom that awaits him. Essentially, the fundamentals of The Silmarillion itself.

It is no wonder then that during the rebellion of the Noldor, Fingon the Valiant is moved by Fëanor’s words: ‘Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people’ (my emphasis).

They share an ambition, a capacity for leadership, and a skill of voice and strength, not to mention their connection to Maedhros, and the element of fire.

Letting Fëanor and Fingon die almost the exact same way signals the beginning and the end of an era for the Noldor in Beleriand: the death of their first King and, for all intents and purposes, the last.

Fëanor leads the Noldor to Beleriand, and with Fingon, they cease to exist as united people. Turgon becomes King, but who does he rule beyond Gondolin? The remainder is scattered and isolated after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Wars of Beleriand are effectively ended until the Valar take action, and the Doom of Mandos is completed.

For the sons of Fëanor, more than anyone, the Nirnaeth and the fall of Fingon signify a return to the very beginning. A cycle that starts all over again: with the death of their King in flames, their homes destroyed, their hands stained, and being left with nothing but an unfulfilled Oath to regain the one remaining piece of Treelight.

The fight for victory in Beleriand begins with Fëanor and ends with Fingon. It will have to continue in a new book with a new story that goes beyond the fate of Fëanor‘s Silmarils.

The War of Wrath shifts the narrative to a new continent, with a new generation of Elves and their High King - who will die in flames, much like Fëanor and Fingon, fighting before the very gates of Mordor.

But that certainly merits another post.