Disclaimer:  They’re all Tolkien’s, not mine.

SOUTH MITHRIM:

Fëanáro’s brood, seen through the friendly eye of Huan, Celegorm’s hound, at the time they moved camp to South Mithrim.

I. Kinslayers

Oath-takers, kinslayers, ship-burners, dispossessed; betrayers of their people, angry ghosts of revenge, descended upon Morgoth under the wings of their mighty rage…

Haughty children of the greatest among the Firstborn, he who brought his own demise in his madness and his arrogance, they were beautiful to behold, in wrath as well as in peace.

Grieving sons, caring brethren, thoughtful rulers of doomed people, stranded scions of fate, they carried their burden with pride.

Singers, hunters, warriors, crafters of beauty, husbands, friends and lovers, all consumed in the unquenchable fire of their curse…

I was honoured to be counted among them.

II. Hasty riser (Celegorm)

We used to climb a small hill before dawn, my master and I, and look northwards. He’d curse and rage, fists raised against the unyielding mountains. He’d weep, too.

I knew him better than most; we had learnt to hunt together, following the hosts of Oromë. I’d seen him await his chance calmly, melting into the forest, belying his mother-name, “Tyelkormo”.

I loved him well, but that wasn’t enough to make me speak words of comfort to him. The compassion I had glimpsed in his eyes in front of dying beasts was lost since Alqualondë, and that made me wary.

Tyelkormo: Celegorm’s mother- name, meaning “hasty riser”

III. Dispossessed

In the mornings, I’d follow the twins.

Those two still resembled their old mischievous selves, though somewhat wilder.

Their antics were as welcome as their help. We could pretend we were back in Formenos, wandering around the encampment, looking for ways to entertain ourselves -being useful or plain nuisances- while awaiting the next hunt.

And still, they were not the same; something was frozen in their eyes.

A harsh rebuke or a not so playful shove would put me on edge and make me grunt menacingly.

“You’re frightening Huan, brother!” one would smile; but their smiles were feigned.

IV. In the forge. (With Curufin and Celebrimbor)

“One of these days, I shall forge a stronger collar for you, Huan, lest you run into one of Morgoth’s beasts out there…”

Intended to be kind, those words always managed to make me uneasy.

His father had shaped a silver collar for me long time ago in Valinor -a work of art. "Celegorm's hound deserves no less," he had pronounced then.

Yet, as I enjoyed the warmth of the forge in the cold midday mists of south Mithrim, watching father and son work their magic by the flames, Curufin’s words only reminded me of the Doom we all shared.

V. Morifinwë (Caranthir)

He was good at hunting, killing, doing whatever was needed without fussing.

He wasn’t good, though, at suffering fools or listening to idle words. He hated unnecessary arguments, and usually cut down to the heart of things. He had a focused mind, and the inner fire that had burnt their father alive.

I guess he was the first to come to terms with their deeds.

His eyes would stray northwards, then to me, then down to the ground, as if we were to unearth some mighty doom to overcome Morgoth’s stronghold.

Fists clenched tightly, his growls were wilder than mine.

VI. The singer

We all had our evening meal with Maglor.

Around the fire, they chattered and gossiped and even joked, trying to ignore the vacant place among us.

At night, I’d stay by his side.

I knew my words would be needed before the end, so I’d howl instead, joining the mightiest of singers in his woeful lament. 

He wished his powerful voice could carry across those dreary peaks, and bring some comfort to the one they never spoke of, the one who was lost, the one who would have been king…

I wondered whether our wails would reach the northern shore.