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Drabbles

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They say that, when he died, a white flame sprang up from his helm as it was cloven.

I think not. Fingon never was a son of fire; but of Earth, of stone and mountain, whose roots go deep. I never thought that he would fall; he was solid. He was unlike us, creatures of fire, incoherent and wild. He had the strength of rock, hard in fëa and hröa. No, Fingon's soul did not burn; it simply was, unwavering and unyielding: so I wondered.

I then looked into my brother's eyes and knew whence that white flame had come.