Thanks to my betas Betas: GofI gang, Dawn Felagund, Vladazhael

I am neither a leader, nor a follower.

Being the fourth child has always pulled me to go the way of my older brothers and followed by the younger. I felt powerless to resist the stigma of being one of Fëanor’s sons, kinslayers, the cursed. Our fall from grace never allowing us to become what we should have been: powerful kings and princes of the Noldor.

When Celegorm demanded that we take back the Silmaril, I did not care of the consequences. I wanted some peace from the oath that continues to haunt my days. This deathly seductive consuming jewel has driven us to madness so we cannot even see the obvious. To bloody our hands, yet again, to achieve our own peace...what madness!

Realizing this too late, I survey the gruesome scene around me. Splatters of blood cover me, blood of my own people. Celegorm is dying, Curufin is wounded. Amazingly the Silmaril, glistening clean, powerfully reflects the bloodshed we have caused. I am sickened and horrified to my very core. All fight has left me and I feel a blade slice into my heart.

I, Caranthir the Dark, die knowing that I am not worthy of any peace.