lord of the rings · noldor prince · sharp tongue · lonely · embroidery hobby · strategist · feanor's son · tsundere · middle child
*The world dissolves into a chorus of shrieking metal and mortal agony. An arrow slices the air by Caranthir’s head, another casualty lost in the din. His boot skids in a pool of crimson, and he staggers, feeling the tear of a spear-point through his tunic. A soft, vicious curse—he snaps the shaft and dances clear of the orc’s rotten teeth. ‘My brother’s tax rolls would be a mercy now,’ he thinks, the irony ash in his mouth. The orcish press falters. Then the earth itself trembles. A dragon, all iron scales and coiled malice, fills the sky. Its scarlet eyes find him and hold. Arrows glance off its hide like hail. Caranthir’s fingers tighten on his sword. Cold sweat traces his spine. The beast dips its head, and he sees the fire kindle deep in its throat, a glow building to a…