#(holding hands) whoso hideth or hoardeth or in hand taketh finding keepeth or afar casteth-

[southfarthing]

at our wedding (we’re engaged btw) your vows will solely be silm references and im not gonna get all of them but I WILL be nodding vigorously and agreeing w everything you say

JDBDODDNIDJDNJDDHDJ perhaps... perhaps the silmarillion isn't the best place to get vow inspiration from 🥴 but I'm flattered you have this much trust in me <333

[eilinelsghost]

(Medium) Hot Take: "Did the Oath actually condemn Fëanor & his sons to the Everlasting Darkness" is the wrong question because it has a clear textual answer: which is "no."

Did it have the power to do so? That's another question entirely and a fun one to debate.

But did it? Absolutely not.

Because each of the sons of Fëanor (and Fëanor himself) fulfilled their Oath. Nowhere in the various drafts of the Oath is there a version where they call down the Everlasting Darkness if they fail to retrieve a Silmaril. What they actually swear is:

an oath of enmity for ever against any that should hold the Silmarils The Book of Lost Tales, Part One

shall no law nor love nor league of Gods, no might nor mercy, not moveless fate, defend him for ever from the fierce vengeance of the sons of Fëanor, whoso seize or steal or finding keep the fair enchanted globes of crystal whose glory dies not, the Silmarils. The Lays of Beleriand, The Flight of the Noldoli

no law, nor love, nor league of hell, no might of Gods, no binding spell, shall him defend from hatred fell of Fëanor's sons, whoso take or steal or finding keep a Silmaril. The Lays of Beleriand, The Lay of Leithian: Canto IV

neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril. This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. Morgoth's Ring; Fifth section of the Annals of Aman

they swore an oath [...] calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; [...] vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possession. The Silmarillion; Of the Flight of the Noldor

Every version of the Oath that includes the Everlasting Darkness calls it down upon them only if they do not pursue the perceived thief with vengeance and hatred. The only variance from this is in the version from the Annals of Aman where one could conceivably link the Everlasting Darkness with a failure to kill whosoever took a Silmaril. But this version is replaced by the consistent form shown in all other iterations (the same form that is included in the published Silmarillion) and consequently doesn't hold much weight for the argument.

Fëanor and each of his sons (save Maglor who survives the First Age with a Silmaril in his possession) met their ends in pursuit of this exact clause - pursuing those who hold a Silmaril with vengeance and hatred - and consequently dying in fulfilment of their Oath. Which is to say that even if we do hold that the Oath had the power to damn them to the Everlasting Darkness (which it very well may have!), it would not, could not, and did not do so because the terms were met.

And even setting the specific wording of the Oath, the text tells us exactly what happens to one who dies in pursuit of the Oath while still not regaining a single Silmaril: "...[Fëanor's] likeness has never again appeared in Arda, neither has his spirit left the halls of Mandos" (The Silmarillion, Of the Return of the Noldor).

So yes, the Oath might have had the power to send them into the Everlasting Darkness, but it did not have the grounds to do so. And so it did not.

[last-capy-hupping]

Okay, here it goes. I’m finally making a meta post on the Oath of Fëanor, with the goal of tackling a few takes that I’ve seen lately that I find very intriguing but ultimately not very persuasive, given how the Fëanorians actually act throughout the story:

1) the Fëanorians are required to kill you if you interact with the Silmarils in anyway (this seems to be a case of reading poetic language too literally and ambiguous commas)

2) the Fëanorians aren’t required to get the Silmarils back, just kill anyone who takes them, because the Oath was actually about avenging Finwë when it was originally made (I like this idea a lot, but I don’t think that it’s right because it doesn’t jibe with how Fëanor acts about the Silmarils nor with how his sons act)

3) the Siege of Angband constitutes inaction (it’s a perfectly sound strategy for fulfilling the Oath, given that the swearers are immortal)

So, let’s start with the first item on the agenda. (The second and third post in this series will complete it.)

The claim that the Oath requires the Fëanorians to kill anyone who so much as interacts with the Silmarils assumes two things: firstly, that the intentions of the Oath-takers matter less than the literal words and secondly that, that the language is literal, never idiomatic or poetical. In particular, that interpretation seems to rest on a very literal, non-contextual, non-poetic reading of the following passage:

“neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,

dread nor danger, not Doom itself,

shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin,

whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh,

finding keepeth or afar casteth

a Silmaril. This swear we all:

death we will deal him ere Day's ending,

woe unto world's end!”

I’m actually going to start with the first big clue that the language is poetic and not literal, which is the phrase “death we will deal him ere Day’s ending.” “Day” clearly refers to an age or an unspecified era, following the interpretation of many biblical scholars who’ve addressed the seven “days�� of creation. It doesn’t make sense when taken literally. I’m quite confident that the Fëanorians didn’t intend to take down Morgoth or even reach him within a literal day.

So, what does “whoso hideth or hordeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or casteth afar a Silmaril” actually mean? It refers to anyone actively keeping a Silmaril from Fëanor and his sons. Let’s start with “taketh in hand”. That is not a phrase meant to be taken literally. If you take someone or something in hand, you’re not simply holding, touching, or picking them up. You’re claiming ownership and/or responsibility for that person or thing. So, at the very least, you have to either claim ownership of the Silmaril or actively keep it from the Fëanorians. This was clearly not a carefully considered Oath, but Fëanor was rallying the Ñoldor to follow him to Middle Earth. He was asking for help claiming the Silmarils back from Morgoth. It’s kind of unreasonable to assume that this passage literally, actually means that Fëanor would’ve been obliged to kill someone who picked up a Silmaril and handed it to him. I’d also argue that if someone willingly gives back a Silmaril, they’re not longer in the category of people who are hoarding it, hiding it, taking it in hand, keeping it away, or casting it afar.

Now, you could argue that there were loads of unintended consequences stemming from the Oath that were never intended and that this might be one more of them. I disagree though. I don’t think that it was an accident that the Oath named every type of non-Fëanorian except for the dwarves as people who were not allowed to claim or keep away the Silmarils from the Fëanorians. The published Silmarillion gives us example after example of Fëanor being fearful that others besides Melkor/Morgoth want the Silmarils. For example, on page 70 of the Kindle Edition, we read: “…for though at great feasts [Fëanor] would wear then blazing on his brow, at other times, they were guarded close, locked in the deep chambers of his hoard in Tirion. For Fëanor began to love the Silmarils with a greedy love, and grudged the sight of them to all save to his father and his seven sons.” Later, he also refuses to give the Silmarils to the Valar, who would use them to restore the Light of the Trees, and one of the reasons that he gives for his denial is that breaking the Silmarils open might kill him. So, we see here that he’s not just afraid of losing the Silmarils to Melkor or the other Valar. He’s afraid of losing them to anyone who isn’t Finwë or one of his sons. So, I’d argue that the wording of the Oath was actually very deliberate and intentional on his part at the very least. I’ve seen lots of people argue that the wording of the Oath made the Fëanorians do more than they intended to do when they swore it, but I don’t think that that’s true. At the very least, it wasn’t true for Fëanor. Now, you could reasonably argue that Fëanor would have wanted to kill anyone who had kept a Silmaril from him deliberately, even if they later surrendered it willingly, but I disagree with that interpretation because I think that it’s pretty clear that the intent behind the Oath was to ultimately reclaim the Silmarils at all costs. Threatening to kill those who later willingly surrendered the Silmarils would only make that goal harder to accomplish. On the other hand, killing elves who kept the Silmarils from Fëanor and his sons even after negotiations seems perfectly consistent with Fëanor’s intentions at the time of the Oath taking. It likely also coincides with his sons’ intentions at the time, since the text doesn’t suggest that any of them regretted the Oath until later, after the anger and fervor that led to its swearing died down, and they became more aware of its consequences for themselves and others.

It’s also worth noting that Fëanor’s sons repeatedly try to get the Silmarils back through negotiation, most notably with Thingol, Dior, and Elwing. They even attempt that with *Morgoth* himself. That’s how Maedhros gets captured. If the Oath required them to kill all of those who ever claimed a Silmaril, even if they later gave up that claim and returned it to them, why bother with negotiating? You could argue that they intended to just kill the Silmaril holders afterwards, but I’d respond that by attempting prolonged negotiation first with Doriath or Sirion, you’re only giving them time to build up their strength. The Fëanorians never besieged or blockaded Doriath and Sirion while negotiating or in the time leading up to the attacks. This serves as a contrast to how they dealt with Morgoth, particularly after they learned from Maedhros’ capture that he’d never surrender a Silmaril willingly. Plus, even if they intended treachery, their Oath was extremely public. Were they seriously assuming that none of the Ñoldor had never told the Sindarin about its wording? And if it was very clear that they’d kill you even if you willingly surrendered the Silmaril and renounced your claim to it…why don’t any of the holders in Doriath say that during the negotiations?

Furthermore, if anyone who’s ever touched or claimed a Silmaril is doomed to die, why does Maedhros try to track down and rescue Eluréd and Elúrin? Are we to believe that they never interacted with the Silmaril while Dior wore it, or that they weren’t heirs to his claim? And why not kill Elrond and Elros? They weren’t useful as hostages for reclaiming the Silmaril, so if the Oath actually doomed those who’d ever touched it claimed a Silmaril, why leave them alive?

Finally, even if the language is more important than the intent, I’d argue that the language is still vague enough that you could argue that anyone who gives up a Silmaril willingly is no longer a target of the Oath. However, since this is an Oath between the Fëanorians and Eru himself, I think that the intentions in their hearts at the time, which were clearly bad, greedy, and vengeful, matter at least as much as the language.

One last edit: if you give up a Silmaril willingly, you have, by definition stopped keeping, hoarding, hiding, or claiming ownership of it. The only action that seems un-doable is casting it away, though I guess that you could search really, really hard for it.

In part 2, we’ll discuss how the Oath definitely does require the sons of Fëanor to reclaim the Silmarils and how that was its goal. Sorry, Finwë, but I think that those jewels did end up becoming at least as important to Fëanor as you were. I’ll explain why in the next post.

[answer2-life-universe-everything]

On the Oath of Fëanor

I have a lot of thoughts on the Oath of Fëanor (below from Tolkien Gateway): 

Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean, brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril. This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!

Most interpretations of the oath assume that the oath will be fulfilled as long as one of them holds the Silmarils, but in fact, the oath does not make any exceptions. It maybe implicit, but it does not explicitly state it.  I have seen (though I cannot find it now), one interpretation where it causes the Feanorians to fight amongst themselves until only Maglor is left standing, and that seems to be the most direct interpretation of the oath. 

I wonder though, if the oath is binding even after they have the Silmarils in hand. Taking a very literal interpretation of the oath, anyone who hides, holds, keeps or throws a Silmaril is subject to the oath, including oneself. Is that why Maedhros threw himself into the volcano? Because he realized that he couldn’t stop pursuing violence, against his brother, and even against himself, and destroying himself was the only way he could both follow the oath and free himself from it. 

As for whether the oath is magically binding or just an excuse used by the Fëanorians, if the latter, there is no effort required at all to break it of course, but if it is magically binding, what would it take to break the oath. 

Semantics matter a great deal in Tolkien’s world, as we have seen with the prophecy of the Witch-King, and with the variety of creatures in Tolkien’s world (which Fëanor probably didn’t know about), there are quite a few left out - Ents, Hobbits and Dwarves, but even Orcs, Goblins and Dragons! It seems that if any of these were holding the Silmarils, the oath would not stir. 

Another alternative (assuming that it is the case that if Fëanor’s kin were to hold the Silmarils the oath would be fulfilled), would be to hand them over to any of Fëanor’s kin who could hold the Silmarils. Who determines who counts as kin? Maedhros may count Fingon and Maedhros and Maglor may count Elrond (and even perhaps Earendil by extension, and Elrond’s children). All of the sons may count Nerdanel (but would Fëanor, after calling her a traitor). They may all consider Celebrimbor, though he may not consider them kin any more. And they may all consider Miriel as kin. So there are a good number of people who may be able to hold a Silmaril without being burnt, and without the oath waking. 

However, neither of the two suggestions above are permanent solutions - because at any time some dark or desperate person may steal the Silmaril, and waken the oath again. 

There are only two options IMO to break the oath

1. To break the Silmarils (which Fëanor was reluctant to do, as it may very well destroy him), and unravel the oath, as there is now no one who holds, takes or casts away a Silmaril

or 

2. For Fëanor and his sons to say that all the world is their kin (and mean it). And how difficult that would be for Fëanor, with so much of his self tied up in hating his half-brothers and sisters! But all he has to say is “All people are my brothers and sisters”, and he would be free of the oath. 

[wolffyluna]

A Feanor moodboard for the Tolkien Secret Santa 2019.

CC-BY-SA. Image credits here.

Image description under the cut.

[Image description: a 3x3 moodboard.

1. A lava lake in a volcano crater, with a black crust with orange lava peeking through the cracks, and smoke rising from the lake. 2. A white hand, holding a natural cluster of orange-red garnet crystals. 3. A group of three people, holding bunches of torches, silhouetted by a bonfire. 3. A glowing orange toe of a lava flow. 4. A tumbled carnelian, that glows red. 5. A hand sprinkling sand onto a red hot rod of metal resting on an anvil. 6. A lava flow, mostly black with glowing red eges, flowing across older black lava rock. 7. A black-red, nearly perfect dodecahedral garnet. 9. A burning coal oven.

Around the border of the moodboard, in orange and red text, is handwritten:

“ Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean, brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril. This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!

Thus spake Feanor and the sons of Feanor, and many quailed to hear the dread words.”

end image description.]

[whetstonefires]

yavieriel replied to your post:

even darker silmarillion au idea

all wrangling about technicalities of exact interpretation aside, I would 100000% read fic about returned Feanor murdering Maglor for the Silmaril and then sitting their singing to his Silmaril over the dead body of the last of his children

O_O I feel so fantastically outdone. That specificity makes it 10000% more horrible, congrats!

For the timing of that to even work, Feanor would have to arrive in time to see Maglor about to throw it away.  The scenario would have to be something like--ooh, his life-force was tied to the Silmarils, maybe his ghost has been orbiting Morgoth’s crown for five hundred years....

You know what, challenge accepted.

-------

He breathed air again, and almost choked on it.

It had been a long time. He would not have gotten something as important as lungs wrong, would he? He’d had only a single corpse to work with, for raw materials. He had not spent as much time as he should have studying living things, when he had been among the living. The torture chambers of Angband had been good for demonstrations of practical anatomy, if nothing else, but lungs you could see were by definition not working properly.

His hands looked right. And his hair. But then, he knew what they should look like. They probably shouldn’t be shaking. He groped for the sword at his side--not a good one, the one the nis he’d used for parts had died with. Sharp enough. The solidity of the hilt helped.

He couldn’t stay here. It was too far.

Fëanáro made his way seaward along the shale, picking his steps carefully. It had been a long time since he had to worry about slipping. Part of him welcomed it--weight, and motion, the pressure of the wind, the smell of the sea. The rest was consumed with a frantic hunger, the need to move, to close the distance to himself, for he was incomplete, his spirit screaming with it.

His breath came sharper even as the pain eased, a little, as he crested the hill and was struck by the light of his Silmarils.

It was not so very bright, under the yellow Sun, and yet it was all he could see.

Distantly he noted that one was in the hands of each of his sons. Good boys, they’d finally done it. Better if they’d broken Angband themselves of course, but he wasn’t choosy at this point. Such good boys.

Maitimo was curling himself around the gem, cutting off some of the light. Makalaure dropped the one he held, into the sand, and Fëanáro scowled at the sight. Clumsy.

He’d spent five hundred years, by the new reckoning, trapped at the side of his Enemy, and in spite of the pain Morgoth had never been so careless with the gems.

Of course, he had set them into that fantastically ugly iron piece, which was probably worse than the ground.

Maitimo seemed to be crying. Fëanáro didn’t blame him. Their quest had gone wrong from the start, and Maitimo had suffered so terribly in Angband when all his father’s ghost could do was watch, and ineffectually threaten Vala and Maia. And they’d wound up having to rely on the Valar in the end. This was no glorious victory. It wasn’t even the fulfillment of the Oath--these were only two of three.

Eternal Darkness, Morgoth had taunted him sometimes, when he’d had nothing better to do than trouble a ghost. (Which had been often; he seemed to delegate a shameful amount of the effort of ruling to his servants, and Fëanáro had informed the rogue Vala of how inferior a king he made, compared to Finwe.) You called this fate upon yourself, foolish Prince. Eternal Darkness, here at my side.

But he had been only a passing shadow, after all, and the Silmarils shone no less clear for all the centuries burning into his accursed flesh.

...Maitimo was running.

Faster than Fëanáro could have managed in this clumsy new body, even on flatter ground, running--no!

It might as well have been Fëanáro himself he cast into the glowing crack in the world, except that Fëanáro’s mother had not named his spirit for fire without cause. He had never known burning like this before, not even facing Gothmog. He set lights in the world. He did not himself burn.

When the pain stopped, there was no trace of Maitimo, and only the faintest whisper of evidence that the Silmaril still existed, deep in the earth.

Makalaure barely seemed to believe it either.

Fëanáro could not stop shaking, as he clambered upright again. Two, two had been enough to anchor him in place; two reunited with the children of his spirit and bound by his Oath had been enough to drag himself back into flesh. One had never been enough. One hadn’t been enough to escape Morgoth’s immediate influence, curse Luthien to the darkest of the imagined hells he had ever heard Morgoth whisper threats of into the ears of Men, for doing the job halfway.

Curse Maitimo there too. How dare he. How dare.

Traitor child. Perhaps Morgoth had broken him after all. Why were there only two sons left, but that his heir had led them awry? Perhaps he had killed them himself. Perhaps he had been jealous. Fëanáro knew all about jealous brothers.

He staggered down the bluff toward the last survivor. Makalaure would give it to him. Makalaure had never cared for gems, or any treasures you could hold that did not make music. A frivolity Fëanáro was glad of now. That had probably been why Maitimo let him live.

He gripped the edge of a large rock for balance, hands unfamiliar yet and not wholly obedient to his purpose, tearing now almost away from the winnowed fire of his spirit. Not yet. Just a little longer.

At the edge of the land, Makalaure bent over the Silmaril again. Reached toward it, shied back as from the memory of pain. Picked it up anyway.

To hand it...no. He hadn’t noticed yet that he wasn’t alone. He turned even more away from Fëanáro, to face the water. Placed his feet carefully. He was shaking.

He couldn’t mean--no.

Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords.

Fëanáro’s recently regained heart thundered like the orc-drums of Angband, that he had listened to for an Age.

Shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin.

He was running, urgently, gracelessly. The sound was all but lost in the sea. Whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth.

Makalaure drew back his arm, the skin of his hand blackening further with every moment, just as Morgoth had burned, and Fëanáro leapt for his wrist in the last instant.

Dragged the last remaining thief back onto the sharp, unlovely edge of the Nandor sword, and let him crumple with it still in his back as weakening hands snatched the falling treasure from the air before it could strike the ground again.

A Silmaril.

Fëanáro felt well again as soon as he touched it. Not quite himself--perhaps a little more than half, two of the four parts of him lost to earth and sky--but enough. Even with just the one.

Makalaure blinked up at him, hazily, as the light left his eyes. “Atya...?” He must have gotten the face right, at least.

Fëanáro wasn’t angry anymore. He knelt, the weight of Makalaure’s head rocked by the side of his thigh. “There, there,” he murmured, somewhat absently. “Rest now.”

The choked noise his second son made might have been meant as words, or just a sob. Fëanáro tugged the fingers of his right hand away from the Silmaril for just long enough to brush them over dark hair, braided back for battle. There was a little dried blood in it. “Rest,” he repeated.

Gazing deep into the last remnant of the unsullied Light, Fëanáro found a tune. One of the few he had ever made--it wasn’t his medium. A song he’d made long ago in Aman, as a young father, determined to personally soothe the pain-troubled sleep of an elfling just cutting new teeth for the first time.

Long after Makalaure had grown cold against him, he was still singing. Alone with the sea and the sky, and the truest work of his heart.

[senalishia]

Very quick rambly thoughts I am not at all qualified to have:

I don't think there's any wiggle room on only recovering one of them; as long as there's someone out there possessing a Silmaril, the oath-takers are on the hook for dealing out some death. However: the Oath does not actually specify who *is* allowed to possess a Silmaril without being targeted for death. Presumably it's "Feanor and Feanor's kin" but that can cover A LOT and is, um, kind of up for debate by itself anyway. (In the 1977 prose version it's "whoso should take or hold or keep a Silmaril from their possession", which is a little clearer, but not much.)

Beren, Luthien, and Thingol definitely should have been targeted for death by the terms of the Oath; the only possible loophole there would be creative interpretation of "ere Day's ending" which is obviously necessary in Morgoth's case anyway (Fun fact: some Christians believe that the "days" of creation actually refer to geological eras.) [Edit] The Oath was taken after the destruction of the Trees and before the creation of the sun, granting additional ambiguity on what constitutes a "day".[End Edit]

Depending again on your definition of "in hand taketh", "hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth" does not appear to cover all cases of being willingly gifted a Silmaril from a rightful possessor (as if Feanor could imagine such a thing), so that's a possibility.

(While this may not be era-relevant for you, what I honestly want to rules-lawyer is "brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth", and whether that covers Dwarves, Ents, or Hobbits.)

Assistance Needed!

IS ANYONE good at debating semantics?

I have the sons of Fëanor trying to figure out if they can creatively interpret the Oath of Fëanor, and I need points for and against several points:

Is the Oath fulfilled if they have recovered one Silmaril, or do they need all of them?

The “in hand taketh” line makes it sound like they’re sworn to kill anyone who so much as touches a Silmaril, and yet they clearly don’t- Beren, Lúthien, and Thingol all meets fates not at the hands of the Fëanarions.

Do they have to keep the Silmarils after they recover them, or do they just have to recover them?