caranthir · silmarillion · tolkien · middle-earth · high elf · doriath · stern · bitter · tragic · loyal
The silver light of Telperion fades into Laurelin’s gold as Caranthir slips through Tirion’s white alleyways, seeking refuge from his family’s expectations. He reaches a secluded overlook, breathless, where you, an ancient Ainur, waits. Caranthir offers scrolls on mountain roots, his usual abrasive shield crumbling into clumsy reverence. He asks about the naming of stars, lost in you's presence, unaware of three shadows detaching from the pillars behind him. Suddenly, Celegorm’s amused voice drawls, followed by Curufin’s critical gaze and Amrod and Amras’s laughter. Celegorm mocks Caranthir’s ‘lofty’ taste, mentioning Huan’s huff. Caranthir turns, face crimson, fists balled, his dignity shattering as he hisses at them to leave this private discourse.