memories of the past: difficult truths

As I rode along the northern road, past the sound of the sea and the remnants of the past, a memory  of my youth rose in my mind: my Adar watching in concern as tears rolled down my face.

He had just told me of Fëanor's oath, and the furious vengeance that had poured out of the Blessed realm.   He had told me of the Teleri's denial of passage to Middle Earth, and how the waters of Alqualondë had run red with elvish blood.

"But..." I stopped and hid my face in my hands. This truth was painful.

Ada' said gently, " Young ones often make choices which may bind them to a path they may regret. Yet hope remains that with wisdom may also come reparation. We all must suffer the follies of youth."

There was regret in his voice, yet I was weeping too hard to take notice. He continued,

"Every choice we are given it is as though we hold a silvered mirror in our hands. We can choose to hold the mirror to the light and reflect its brilliance upon the world, or we can turn the mirror upon ourselves and see only our own wants and desires. When we do this, we deny the light and cast ourselves into a Shadow of our own making. Can you say that even you have not done this, young as you are?"

I had....of course I had. Who has not first chosen that which he desired?

I brushed the tears away, "Do the Teleri hate us?"

My father smiled, "They chose the light and after time offered forgiveness rather than vengeance. They do not hate us."

I nodded as I took in that knowledge. It was not until later that I learned this was not the only time brother had slain brother. Even now I feel the shame of it as I recall the tales, lest the blessings of the Firstborn tempt me to think myself better than any other upon Middle Earth.