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Argon is the fourth child and the youngest son of Fingolfin, the High King of the Ñoldor in Beleriand, and he was a Noldor prince in Valinor, where he grew up. After the Oath of Feanor and the Kinslaying of Alqualondë, he went in exile with his folk. Abandoned by Fëanor with his kins, he was forced to the hard crossing of Helcaraxë, and finally arrived in Beleriand. There he died in the Battle of Lammoth, at a young age for an elf, showing to the Noldor the first signs of the Doom of Mandos.

Back to life, in Fifth Age[]


He woke up, feeling as if he was in a dream. Around him was only darkness and silence, except for the echoes of water that somewhere dripped. What difference could there have been with a dream? He was confused, and his mind was clouded by a light pain at the chest. Slowly rising an arm, Argon tried to touch his body, to find the painful spot, but he remained horrified, and instantly screamed, breaking the sacred silence of that place: he had a wound that passed deep through all his body, but the pain was fading, as his limbs were doing too. He was vanishing into a shapeless soul. Then his mind started to clear, and he started to remember: the battle, the aching sound of thousands of blades clashing together, the horrific and repulsive faces of the orcs, and his run among them. He had ignored all the other soldiers, pointing directly to the chieftain: and he slained him, feeling deeply satisfied by seeing his black, corrupted blood slowly sliding on his sword. He almost forgot of the ongoing battle; when he awoke, there was an orc-herd running towards him, and he swinged his sword, slaining a full row of them. But there were too much, and he couldn't kill them all, and more were arriving. And he felt a blow in his back, and one of them, from his front, used the opening to thread his blade into his chest. And then, came the black.

After his awakening in darkness, much time passed. He spent years thinking on the events of his life, seeing in them Fëanor's fault, but his hatred towards him started to fade, because he understood that all his acts and misdeeds were only led by his firing personality and by the treachery of Morgoth. The Halls of Mandos started to seem a bit lighter each passing day, and his soul walked among the labyrinths of that place, questioning himself and trying to imagine what was happening in the outer world. And after a very long time, during sleep (the souls' sleep, of course, that is something put between dream and reality), he had a vision. Varda Elentari, the star-lighter Valie, appeared to him crowned in light. She gave him a body, his body, but renewed and healed of all his pains and wounds, and he was taken in the presence of the Valar. And there so spoke Elbereth: "Arakàno, the Doom of Mandos took you as first, and as first you have been released from it, for you understood all about Fëanor's foolishness. But here we ask you to help us, for the world needs the strong blood of Noldoràn Fingolfin, and a gentle elf to bring it back in Endor. Many things have changed, and you won't find anyone of the ones you knew, nor of your kins. But the evil walks again in middle-earth, and the star-loving elves are falling to it. Already came the elves of Lothlorien, that once were ruled by your cousin, Galadriel, but now a new king led them at the feet of Sauron. Dark times are coming. I can't ask you more than to be a herald of Valinor, and to bring back some light in those forsaken lands. Nai Eru lye mánata, Noldo". Argon could only bow his head, and he accepted the Valar's will. Then Manwë rose, and touched his forehead with a finger. The elf felt to fall in an endless, dark tunnel, and he lost consciousness.

Awakening in Lindon[]

He awoke at dawn, on a bald hill surrounded by a wide birch forest; the grass was so green to resemble Aman's lawns, and the skyline enclosed a wonderful landscape until the very last sight. Argon stood on the top of the hill, wondering what to do. He was sure to be in middle-earth, but he had no idea of te place, and there was no village or city in the range of several miles. He afforded to his luck, and started to descend the slope, entering the forest: it was a bright wood, where light filtered well among the foliage, and the wildness wasn't dominant, leaving enough space to walk through it. Many days passed, and Argon survived with what the wood offered to him, until he heard voices that spoke in an uncomprehensible language, though similar to his one. He hided behind a tree, and spied the strangers; they were two elves, of possible noldor parentage, and seemed to walk fearlessly in the forest. Then Argon walked towards them, and under their astonished eyes he greeted them in Quenya: "Greetings, my friends. Where am I?" The two others, surprised by such an ancient speech, answered in the same language: "Greetings to you traveller; you are at the feet of the hill of Amon Ereb, in Lindon, the harbor for the elves who want to reach Valinor. Where do you come from? How could you lose here, without even knowing where you were?". So Argon told them his story, and them, uncertain if to believe him or not, took him to the local lord, who had lived in the first age and was an intimate friend of Turgon and Fingon. "If you are really Argon - he said - you should know that your eldest brother hated a specific food, and he always told me of how much he suffered when he was forced to eat it, during the crossing of Helcaraxë. What was it?" The elf was surprised, and felt a bit offended by this untrust and the trivial question, but he answered "Fish, of course. My brother hated fish, and we tortured him in every possible way with it in our fair days in Tirion. Do you trust me now, Heru Forolindonë?". Then the lord excused himself, explaining that it was needed: not many elves are allowed to leave the Halls of Mandos, and everyone would have been able to use a famous name to inspire respect into strangers. But he had proven the truth of his tale, and he would have always been welcomed in the halls of Forlindon.

In the following years, Argon learnt sindarin, and everything related to middle-earth's history. Of the heroic acts of his family in First Age, of the men of Numenor and their exile in middle earth, of the rise and fall of Eregion, the defeat of Sauron and of the new dangers. He fought and studied, proving his skill and bravery in battle, until year VA 113, when Ëarlairë Eressë, an elf who came back from Aman, was crowned king of Lindon. Then, he moved to Mithlond, and there he pledged to the king, staying in the capital for a while.