Archive of Our Own ^beta

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To my dyabolical self,

I have recently incuired that Atar purchase me a journal. There is someone whom I despise so greatly that my loathing for him cannot possibly be understood through mere conversation. His name is Findaráto, and I find him to be utterly deplorable.!!!!!!!!!

Wherever shall I start? My grief with him runs deeper than Atar’s disdane for my uncles.

To begin, he seems to have a crush on Amare Amarië, a Vanya. I cannot possibly understand why anyone would, or could, have romantic interest in girls. They are all so very oedius odeus odyus o d i o u s and unpleasant to be around, and Tyelkormo told me they have “cooties”. I have asked him what this means, and he has yet to tell me. Either way, I cannot comprihend it. She is not even that pretty, and I don’t like her.

Secondly, Findaráto has a penchant for ordering me around when I try to do things. Tyelkormo took me and him to the river and he kept trying to tell me I wasn’t swimming right and Tyelkormo just kept laughing even though it wasn’t funny.!!!! I do not want to spend any amount of time with Findaráto ever again, he is obnoxious and es exhasperating.

This has been my very first entry. I will take extreme measures to make sure nobody impeeds upon my privacy and noses through this journal. And it is not a diary.!!!!!

Yours truly,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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To me, myself, and I,

Atar took us to see Káno’s performance today. It was breathtaking and I enjoyed it a lot. Káno is an excellent singer and harpist, but his songs all sound so melancolic. It is my belief that he should perhaps branch out into another janra of song. 

On another note, Tyelko introduced me to his new friend. Her name is Irise Írissë and she is a girl. I do not understand why Tyelkormo is friends with her, because girls have cooties. My currant hypotheses is that they are only ackuaintenses and not actually friends. I am quite pleased that she is not as bothersome as Findaráto is, at least. I still hate him.

Yours truly,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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(The whole passage is scribbled over, albeit not very well. The contents are still mostly legible.)

Hi Curvo its Tyelko!!!!!!! 

I dint know youkept a diare wy dint you sho me??? Im gona tell Fenda Findaráto that your in love with him that woud be reely funy!!! 

You shold hied your diare beter if you dint want me to fined it. Also Írissë is my best frend an she dos not hav cooties!!!!!!!!! We ar gona get maried in the fuchure!!!!!

— Tyelko A K A your favrit brother 

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To my JOURNAL,

I HATE TYELKORMO!!!!!!! That deluded, white haired fiend actually told Findaráto I hold feelings for him!? And Findaráto BELIEVED HIM. Why would boys like other boys? Boys are supposed to like girls. Which is bothersome, because I hate girls. They annoy me. 

Ugh, Findaráto asked if I wanted to play at the beach with him and I didn’t say no. How foolish of me to bukle to his pressuring. If he irritates me (which I am certan certain he will) I shall throw sand at his face.

AND TYELKO, STOP READING MY JOURNAL OR I’LL TELL ATAR THAT YOU’RE BEING MEAN TO ME!!!!!!!! 

The ONLY ONE writing in this JOURNAL,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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To the one reading this journal (ME, NOT TYELKO),

Atar unveiled his newest creations to me today, he calls them the “Silmarils”. He says his goal was to replikate the light of the two trees. In my humble opinion, he has done so perfectly and I am proud to have him as my Atar. The Silmarils produce a breathtaking glimmer when light shines upon it, and it almost hurts to look at. Atar is going to fit them into a necklace so he can wear them around and he says I get to wear it too.

Lately, Nelyo and Tyelko seem troubled to me. Both of them get this downcast look whenever Atar and I walk past them. I don’t know why they’re upset but I wish I could help them. Perhaps I should ask Nelyo and Tyelko to take me to the town square. And I’ll make them circlets too. Nelyo will get rubies or garnets in his and I think Tyelko will like topaz because they’re the color of his eyes. 

I am ashamed to admit this, but I did end up going to the beach with Findaráto and I enjoyed it. I did throw sand at him but it didn’t hit his face. He just laughed and started splashing water on me. I still don’t like him but I guess he’s not that annoying. I’ll show him a book I have on smihth smithing as a test. If he reads all of it, then he can be my friend.

Things are changing. I can feel it. I don’t know if I like it.

Yours truly,

Curufinwë Atarinkë 

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To nobody,

Moryo hit me today!!! He gave me a bruise on my face, and Atar took him to his room and yelled at him for I think twenty minutes. He deserved it. He said my jewelry sucked and I told him I’m the one making useful things instead of shoddy axes and he punched me. My face still hurts. Atar dragged him back out; he was crying and his face was so red. That’s why Ammë called him Carnistir, ha. He apologized, though you could tell he was livid. 

However, I… must admit Atar scares me when he yells. Granted, he does not yell at me, but he does at Tyelko sometimes. 

I hope he never yells at me.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë 

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Tyelkormo left today. Or was it yesterday? He promised to take me to the forest, so I went to his room to wake him up. He’s just… gone. He didn’t take his circlet with him. He never even said goodbye to me.

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To my inanimate confidante,

It is eeriely quiet in the house without Tyelkormo. Káno isn’t singing as much and Nelyo doesn’t really talk to me. I tried to ask Moryo if he wanted to play with me but he just told me to go away. I suppose I could still play with Atar and Ammë, and Findaráto too, but it feels strange now.

I admit, I miss him. At first I was relieved to see Tyelkormo gone, he always roused at such early hours. I don’t like being up so early. But I liked playing with Tyelko. He’s more fun than my brothers.

I hope he returns soon. Or at all.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Salutations,

Atar has, at last, fitted the Silmarils into a platinum necklace. I helped him make it and I believe it is our finest work yet. The only matter is that it is much too big for me, though I suppose that’s merely because it is not mine to wear. Atar says I’m permitted to borrow it for important occurrences.

He looks sublime with the Silmarils on. Sometimes it feels like Atar is the true High King, not grandfather. Then again, he is the crown prince, so perhaps one day he shall gain the throne.

I asked Atar if maybe Nelyo can wear it and he said no. He said nobody else other than us get to wear it. Take that, Nelyo.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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My silent companion,

Ammë and Atar have been arguing lately. She believes that Atar cares about the Silmarils more than he cares about us, a claim which I find absurd. She does not understand what he’s sacrificed for us— for me. She claims that he has locked himself away in the forge but she refuses to open her eyes and see. Atar cares about me more th Atar cares about us more than anything in the world. I wish Ammë would just let us be rather than driving the rift further apart.

Tyelkormo has still not returned. His room has not been touched since he left… it’s cluttered as always, and if I were to give my honest opinion, quite filthy. Nelyo and Káno both reassure me that he would return, but Moryo said he’s left us for good. I’m uncertain who I should believe.

When not in the forge, I mostly spend my time with Findaráto. He makes for fine company in a pinch. I have a feeling Atar will bar me from seeing him though, he is becoming increasingly hostile with my uncles. At times I don’t even do anything with Findaráto. We just sit together and… stare at something.

He held my hand yesterday.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

Why? Why can’t I play with him anymore? He’s my friend. He’s my cousin and my friend and I don’t care what you have to say. I don’t care if “Nolofinwë and Arafinwë are orchestrating a plot against our house”. I will play with my friend as I please. I wish Tyelko was still here. Did you drive him away, too? I thought he hated me, Atar. I thought he hated us. I’m going to go to the forest to find him and I’m taking Findaráto with me.

I still love you, Atar, but I fear what you’re becoming. Nobody is lusting for the Silmarils. Ammë is right, you should perhaps take a step back from your work and… be around us. You don’t even go to see Káno perform anymore. I asked Nelyo to take me last week. I also asked Nelyo why he’s so downtrodden, and he told me it’s because he feels as if you don’t value him. Káno says he never asks you to come because he doesn’t wish to disturb you. I miss you, Atar. I miss you when you weren’t working in the forge. I miss when you would play with me and Tyelko, and when you laughed over Káno getting embarrassed over compliments, and when we took care of Moryo when he scraped his knee, and when you and Nelyo would pick on me for being shorter than the rest of us. I miss you.

Your little star,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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To myself (and Tyelko),

I snuck out with Findaráto today, late in the night. I didn’t realize he wished to search with me. His company meant a lot to me. He also brought along… what was his name— Turakáno Turukáno? His new friend, or whatever. Regardless.

We went looking for Tyelkormo in the woods, and, as expected, came up empty handed. It was by pure chance that we even made it out. I was certain we would be lost until the end of time, but luckily Turukáno spotted a stream which ran through and out of the forest. I don’t believe Atar noticed my disappearance.

Tyelko, am I so abhorrent that it seemed a better decision to flee rather than speak the truth to me?

Tomorrow is my begetting day. I assume you’ll miss that as well.

Your brother,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Good afternoon,

Tyelkormo has returned.

I should be happier, but I don’t feel anything. He’s changed. He hardly speaks, and when he does it’s to his animated shag carpet of a dog. I despise that creature. According to Tyelkormo, it is a hound gifted to him by Oromë, Vala of the hunt.

As if I care.

He left me. He was gone for years for some idiotic Vala. He didn’t send anything for my begetting day. Not a gift, not even a letter, not even some fucking well wishes. Atar and Ammë tried to make it special. I appreciate their efforts, but I… I don’t know. Do I know him anymore? He threatened Atar.

At times it feels like I’m the only one who truly exists in the world.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Hello again,

It has been a while. I have two new brothers now, collectively named Ambarussa.

Ammë is gone. Atar-… I can’t describe him. I hear sobs emanating from his room at night, and he strikes metal like he wants to destroy it. There are times when I can see semblances of his old self when he speaks to me, but such occurrences are infrequent at best, and at worst all part of my imagination. He no longer speaks to my uncles, and we are forbidden from seeing our cousins. To put it kindly, Nelyo is not pleased with this new development.

At least Atar has the Silmarils to keep him sane. To be quite honest, I struggle to even ascertain if he even wants me around in the forge with him anymore.

No matter, I will do as he tells me.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Strange news,

I… am not entirely sure how the matter at hand played out, but I am now a husband. Atar insisted that I wear the Silmarils for this occasion, and he wept tears of joy at the ceremony.

I must admit, however, I don’t feel much attraction towards my wife. She is a lovely woman, and I’ve received the jolly news that I am to be a father as well, but I just don’t feel— anything. Frankly, it was at Atar’s insistance that I even seeked out a partner. Had he not urged me I doubt I would’ve married so soon, but what’s done is done.

The Ambarussa have grown significantly since I last wrote here. They’ve each gained their own names— Pityafinwë and Telufinwë. They’ve taken to Nelyo and Káno quite well. I don’t know much else about them, unfortunately. I spend most of my days with Atar. He’s been forging weapons of all things, and has instructed me to do the same. It is strange, but I shan’t question his will.

Atar, in a twist of events, invited the Nolofinweans and Arafinweans to the wedding. 

Findaráto was there. He sat with Turukáno.

I don’t know why I hate seeing them together.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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I come bearing news once more.

I am now a father! How strange, right? His name is Tyelperinquar— silver fist. I proposed that he be named Curufinwë after my father, but my wife refused. Doesn’t she know what an honor it would be to be named after the greatest Noldo in Aman?

Tyelpe takes after me and Atar. He has our hair, that fiery glint in his eyes, and a drive to create. Atar dotes on him like he doted on me as a child. The sight truly warms my heart. I pray that taking care of Tyelpe will bring him back to his old self, as improbable as such a course of action may be.

On another note— even though Tyelkormo is physically here, he is absent. I see the wildness in his eyes, his longing for a simpler life in the woods, but he knows he is bound to the family. He leaves for days without a word, and at first I feared that’ll be the final time I see him. Now, I… suppose it wouldn’t make a difference whether he is here or not.

I do wish he’d dispose of that beast he calls “Huan”, however. My clothes have not known peace from dog hair nor cleanliness.

Quite irritated,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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We meet again, friend.

I scared Káno with a centipede while he was singing. His shrill shrieks have proven to be quite entertaining.

• ◡ •

^ That is a smiley face. Regrettably, artistic talent seems to not have been a trait that I inherited from Ammë.

Nelyo received a sword for his begetting day. It was forged by me and Atar. We’ve been training, preparing for… something. I’m not sure what, and I don’t dare ask. Moryo insists on using a battle axe, and Atar seems to have given up on trying to convince him otherwise. Personally, I much prefer daggers and bows to those clumsy things.

Tyelpe has been play fighting with Tyelko using sticks! He’s learned how to speak so soon already. He really does look like me when I was younger. Except, he might be a bit too influenced by Tyelko… he tried to eat grass because “he saw a deer do it”. I hope my brother does not try to convince him to eat dog food…

Still covered in dog hair,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Finwë is dead. The Silmarils are gone. Stolen by Melkor. The Valar sat and did nothing.

Atar’s rage scares me.

Part of me wishes he never created the Silmarils.

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We swore the oath together, the eight of us. Findaráto called this an act of folly. He does not understand. I don’t need him to. If he wishes to loiter endlessly in Valinor, then I will leave him to his own devices. He can spend the rest of his barren life with Turukáno for all I care. I don’t need him. He doesn’t need me. (Hasty scribbling) I domt don’t need him I don’t wamnt want to see (illegible) ever again I h(illegible) him

(There is nothing but angry scribbling for a bit.)

Atar plans to return to the east. We will set off at dawn. Tyelpe is coming with me.

I will not let him down. I cannot let him down.

May the everlasting Darkness claim me if I fail.

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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(There are smears of blood on the page, brown and rusted from oxygen exposure.)

The Teleri refused to surrender their ships.

We killed them.

I did not know what it felt like to plunge a sword into a man’s heart until then. I don’t think I want to know what it feels like again. It is sickening. How can Tyelkormo enjoy such mindless slaughter, and the slick of gore on his hands? Does he see them as naught but animals? Game to be slain?

The seas are wretched. It is difficult to write when the waves rock the ships as thus. Káno has been is still crying. He’s composed a new song; the Noldolantë, he calls it. Does he grieve for our actions, or is he more faithless than I presumed? We have fallen nowhere. Had the Teleri simply given up their ships, there would’ve been no death. Their cowardice and greed led to their downfall.

(An ink spill caused by the constant pounding of waves renders the next paragraph entirely obscured.)

I must depart, Atar is calling for me.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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We’re burning the ships. Atar told me beforehand, but not the others, it seems. Káno is weeping for those we’re leaving behind. Moryo… I think he wants to strangle Atar. Tyelko stared at the ships like an idiot before I threw his torch for him. Nelyo threw his in the water.

I know why they’re upset. Findecáno and Írissë. They’re not coming. Nelyo refuses to speak with any of us, not even Káno. Tyelkormo is being dramatic as always. I’m sure he’ll run off into the forest somewhere, get all bloodied up, then come back like an abandoned puppy.  Huan has been howling nonstop since the flames began. I should’ve lit him on fire too.

I suppose Findaráto isn’t coming either. He wasn’t there at Alqualondë. Good. Let his hands be free of guilt and his heart free of sin. I am nothing to him.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Has Beleriand always been running amok with such foul creatures? Our second night here was spent in the company of ill beasts called “orcs”, which we’ve slain in haste. The stench of their rotting bodies and tar-like blood is appalling.

Atar insists that we do not tarry, and I am inclined to agree with him. Their speech brings pain to my ears and their appearances are ghastly.

I shall keep this note short. We set off for Melkor Morgoth at sunrise.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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(The page is stained with tears, and the handwriting is almost unreadable.)

(Illegible) is dead and (illegible) my fault my fault my fault my fault

(Ink is spilled across the page. The author did not bother to clean it.)

(Illegible) not be writing but it hurts and I deserveit my handsareruined I hate (scribbles)

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I’m sorry Atar. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve died with you. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Tyelko made me some gloves “to help make things easier”. We both know it’s so I don’t have to look at my hands again. The burns were worse than I thought. Káno tried to heal them, but I insisted that he refrained. I want the scars of my failure to stay with me forever, as a reminder of what my inaction brought forth.

I’ll be better, Atar. I promise. I will retrieve the Silmarils, even if it is family that I must slay. I’ve failed you once— not again. Your death shall not be in vain.

Eternally yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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(The entire page is filled with crossed out sketches of Fëanor.)

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Atar,

Nelyo is gone. That damned fool— I told him to stay, and that the letter he received was as clear a trap as any, yet he refused to heed my word. He set off with some of our men, and it has been days since their departure.

Káno is doing nothing. He acts like a deer, frozen and unable to move in the face of certain death. Why must we be stricken with such inept leaders? Even if our numbers are not as mighty as they have been in the past, we still have an army at our disposal. Am I the only one who sees this?

I will try to convince him to at least attempt to find Nelyo. If you were still here, Atar, none of this would’ve happened. I can only do so much by myself. The others plainly refuse to acknowledge my point of view, or even admit that their ideas are ineffective.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

The Nolofinwëans and the Arafinwëans (save Arafinwë himself) crossed the Helcaraxë. I don’t know how.

Findecáno rescued Nelyo. He’s— he looked horrible, Atar. His body was so terribly mangled, his right hand had been hacked off at the wrist, and there were these scars across his face and body like someone’s taken a lash to his skin a million times. He was barely conscious when Findecáno brought him back. Káno and the twins spent every moment with him, tending to his wounds. To his fortune, his condition quickly improved, but do you want to know what he did?

He abdicated. Not to Káno, to Nolofinwë.

I am as appalled and ashamed as you must be right now. Nolofinwë is the King of the Noldor, a title he has done utterly nothing to deserve. Káno, or even Findecáno should’ve been king. Káno is the rightful heir to the throne, and if he did not want to rule, he could’ve abdicated to Tyelkormo. And at least Findecáno did something. What has Nolofinwë done but speak against you? Did he not think your plan to return to Middle-earth was folly? He is a traitor, undeserving of any title but that of a two faced snake.

Nelyo has deemed it best that we claim our own lands, and I agree with him. I do not want to be with these imbecilic, vexing, perfidious villains for another second. If I must reclaim the Silmarils all by myself, then I will do so. Enough of this.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

Shockingly enough, Tyelko (and his fur blanket with legs) decided to come with me. I half expected him to run off on his own and roam around the great forests. We traveled northeast, and settled upon lush plains with mountains and woodland just up ahead. Tyelko wants to name the plains “cool plain”. I told him that’s a terrible name. He isn’t budging. Knowing Tyelkormo, I doubt the choice in name even comes from the fact these plains appear more temperate in climate.

…he probably thinks it’s so cool to have new plains to explore. Sometimes I wonder why I keep him around.

At the very least, he should prove useful in defending our new lands— assuming he isn’t keeping me from sleep with his obnoxious snoring. We plan to fortify the pass ahead, and have our followers settle on the plains south of. Nelyo should not be far from us, only ten leagues east of the pass. The orc raids seem to be decreasing in frequency, or so I hope. I’m growing quite bored of shedding blood, and my nose does not fancy their stench.

Did you hear of the renaming, Atar? They’re bastardizing our very names with the tongue of the grey elves. You are Fëanor now. Nelyo has adopted the name Maedhros. Káno has become Maglor, Tyelko is Celegorm, and Moryo is Caranthir. I will not let them debase my name. I shall be Curufin of the Noldor, and my son shall be Celebrimbor. I won’t let these Moriquendi take the last thing I have of you.

I love you, Atar. I wish you were still here with me us. I feel so lost without you.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

Moryo told me there are creatures that dwell in the mountains, ones with great experience in the art of smithing! I set off to meet them at once, and I believe I have gained friendship with them. They call themselves the Khazâd, but the Moriquendi have taken to calling them the “Naugrim”, meaning “stunted ones” in relation to their short stature. They are quite the curious bunch. Abrasive, easily angered, strangely secretive, and loyal to a fault. There are many times where I’ve witnessed drawn out disputes that could’ve easily been avoided had they set their loyalties aside. Still, they are indeed masters at their craft. Dare I say their skill rivals even mine? They’ve taught me several different ways to work metal, and I’ve picked up on their language, Khuzdul. However, they’ve asked that I do not speak it outside of their realm.

One of their kind, named Telchar, gifted me a blade which he called Angrist— “Iron Cleaver”. It is a handsome knife indeed. Tyelkormo was quite upset that I brought no enchanted blades back for him, to which I told him he has a flea-infested Vala mutt and that I’ll happily surrender the knife to him if he gets rid of that foul creature. He has yet to do so.

I do wonder how the Ambarussa are doing… they set off on their own when we seperated. They and Tyelpe have grown so fast. Wasn’t it only yesterday when they were mere boys? Tyelpe now goes hunting with Tyelkormo when I do not want to am unable to, the former with a sword and the latter with a spear. He picked up smithing as easily as I had. The sword he carries is forged by his own hand! You would be so proud of how far he’s come, Atar. He is the best thing that’s happened to me.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

Tyelkormo is being insufferable again. And by insufferable, I mean he is once again agonizing over Írissë. She went off to follow Turukáno to his hidden city, or what have you. Gondolin, I believe it’s called? To be frank, I don’t particularly care. What Turukáno chooses to do is not my business, nor do I have any interest in it. Tyelkormo, on the other hand, seems determined to find this city— in spite of the fact that it is apparently extremely well hidden. I wish he’d use that brain within his thick skull sometimes, and realize that his half cousin is not nearly as important as fulfilling the oath. He’s acting like some lovestruck teenager whose parents have forbidden him from ever seeing his partner again. I mean— really, Tyelko… excuse my dropped formalities, but… do you have a crush on her? You’re being entirely irrational and dramatic with your constant whining. If Turukáno forbids her from seeing us, then there is nothing we can do, no matter how much you say that it’s unfair.

It’s quite the work having him as my brother…

Speaking of. Moryo has invited us to Thargelion! He says we should catch up more often and I do agree with him. I could use some fresh company right now, especially in the midst of Tyelkormo’s star-crossed lover angst. We will be taking our leave in a couple days. He’ll be shocked to see how much Tyelpe has grown. He’s up to my shoulders now!

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

I’ve returned from Thargelion. Moryo was a generous host, and Thargelion was quite the sight to behold. I’m pleasantly surprised he rules as well as he does, given his… temperament. Perhaps it works in his favor this time? He says his kingdom is nearly crime free. We spent most of our time hunting in the nearby forests, and going horseback riding. I believe the distraction did Tyelkormo good too. He’s no longer talking about Írissë as often, and his energy is coming back to him. His face shines each time he comes back with a freshly shot deer.

Unfortunately, hunting isn’t really my cup of tea. I’m alone right now; Tyelko is still back in Thargelion with Moryo, probably still running around in the fields and shoving him into lakes. Tyelpe begged me to let him stay for a bit longer, and… I know I shouldn’t have left him, Atar, but how could I say no to him? He stared at me with those glimmering eyes of his and I just couldn’t bear to deny his wish. I pray that Moryo and Tyelko are taking good care of him. Knowing Tyelko, though, I have a feeling he’s teaching Tyelpe how to catch and eat crickets right now, that barbarian.

My followers have told me that Írissë had passed through Himlad while Tyelkormo and I were away? I find that claim hard to believe, but I will let my brother know once he returns. If he tries to return to Gondolin with her, I’m going to kill him.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

My men were right. Írissë came this way a few days prior, and she had this strange boy by her side. I’ve never seen him before— is she married now? Did she have a son…? She was in a great hurry and refused to stop, even when I told her I’d provide her protection until Tyelkormo returns from Himring.

Then, around two days after, a dark elf from the woods of Nan Elmoth crossed into our lands. Eöl he was called, and he too was in a hurry of some sort. He had asked if I had seen Írissë, or as he called her, Aredhel. His wife. A lie, most likely, for Írissë rejected every man’s advances, even Tyelkormo’s at first. I refuse to believe that she would simply consent to a stranger, one who is not even of Noldorin descent.

Still, I had to let him go, much as I wished to end his pitiful life then and there. He technically had commited no crime… I told him to let go of this folly, but he did not seem to heed my advice, as he left swiftly on his horse. Tyelko’s going to kill me, isn’t he? In hindsight, I don’t believe it to be that great of a decision in telling him I had seen our cousin.

There is something foul emanating from this. I hope I had made the right decision.

Yours,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

The seige upon Angband had been broken. I do not know how, it just— it just happened. Rivers of flame erupted from the the Iron Mountains, and orcs. So. Many. Orcs. Have you ever seen a migrating colony of ants? That’s what it looked like. Utterly revolting. It makes me wish I could douse them with tar and set them all ablaze.

Tyelko and I have had to relocate to Nargothrond until we can force back Morgoth’s foul servants. I haven’t heard from Nelyo or Káno, or Moryo and the twins… It worries me to think what fate might have befell them. I sincerely hope they’re alright. What if they’re hurt, or worse…?

At least I have Tyelko and Tyelpe here with me. Tyelko is still fuming about Írissë. She hasn’t been returning his letters, or something like that. He looks so tired now, so unlike him when we first came to these lands. He still writes to her, and- his letters are heartbreaking. That poor fool.

I’m not writing about Findaráto.

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By the Valar, Findaráto is-… I can’t describe him. I can’t describe the way his hair catches the lights of the court hall, of how it shines like the leaves of Laurelin, the way he looks at me and he smiles and for a moment I stop thinking of the Oath. He welcomed me to Nargothrond like nothing ever happened, as if we were still just children back in Tírion. He’s more stunning than I could ever imagine now, and I- I’ve missed him. I’ve missed you, Ingoldo. I missed you so much. I wish I didn’t swear the Oath and I could just stay here with you. Would you let me do that?

He’s hosting a feast tomorrow night for Tyelko and I. It’s the first thing I’ve had to look forward to in months.

Oh Eru his laughter. His laughter is sweeter than any song I’ve heard and I just want to hold him forever and never let go. I wish we were young still. I wish the only thing that I still worried over was Atar’s approval. I wish we could still play together on the banks of rivers, and throw sand at eachother.

Remember when your atar asked you to stop announcing whenever you’d have me over because otherwise my atar would come over and demand that I return home? You were so vexingly obnoxious, Ingoldo. You have no idea. I don’t even know how we became friends.

Are we still friends? Do I still have that privilege, even after the horrors I’ve committed?

I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever get to tell you. Never, most likely. I love you, Findaráto Ingoldo. I love you.

Yours (in my dreams I hope to be, that is),

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

There is a Man here. Man, as in Atan. He was speaking today about Findaráto being indebted to him, and something about a ring that Findaráto had given to his forefathers?

What troubles me, however, is that this Atan seeks the Silmarils. Tyelkormo and I tried to dissuade him from going on such a foolhardy quest, for they will certainly meet their doom, if not at the hands of Morgoth then at the ends of our blades. They will not listen, and now I fear that Findaráto will be accompanying him too. His people will follow him to the ends of Arda to their own doom.

There is no debate here; we will stop them. If not Findaráto, then at least we will save his people from a pointless slaughter. The thought of his innards strewn across my blade sickens me… but that is the price we shall pay for you, and I am ready to pay it.

I hope, when we meet again, that you look upon me with pride.

Your son,

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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Atar,

Findaráto is dead.

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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The city is back under control. Tyelko and I have “temporarily taken over duties” for our dearest cousin while his loyal followers languish over his departure. His death is under wraps for now— they needn’t know of his fate, not yet. Those who spread rumors of his demise have been silenced.

Tyelko objects to this, says it’s wrong for me to hide his death from his people. He does not understand the advantage such concealment brings us. Then again, he does not understand much of anything. He does not understand this is part of the game we all must play.

Let them hope, and let them fear. When the time is right, the truth will be revealed. Let them taste the bitter reality that Findaráto succumbed to his own ambition and grandiosity.

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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We met someone today.

Lúthien, princess of Doriath.

For now, she rests within Nargothrond in a cell that I had prepared just for her. Tyelko seems to take fondly to her, and expressed to me his desires to wed her. At first, I did tell him such wishful thinking was ridiculous, but I simply did not see the opportunity this brings. We are princes, are we not? And my brother deserves someone worthy of being his consort. The union of the Noldor and the Sindar could just be what we need in the war against Morgoth, and to regain our lost Silmarils.

Another part of me suspects he only wants to marry her because she looks like Írissë. That would not be surprising in the least, but he has stopped mentioning her as of late. Tyelko, I do wonder what goes on in your mind sometimes. What does that voice in your head tell you? Do you command it, or does it command you? Why do you not look me in the eye when I speak, why do you run off into the wilderness at odd hours in the night? I know you do it. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.

You worry me sometimes, Tyelkormo. A lot of the times. I see the hesitance in your eyes when I tell you of my plans. Are you doubtful of me, or of my ideas? Of yourself?

I shall write to King Elwë Thingol as soon as I am able to. She will wed Tyelko.

Curufinwë Atarinkë

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She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s fucking gone. Where the hell is she, where is Huan?! I had the finest guards watch her I had everything planned out it was PERFECT EVERYTHING WOULD’VE WORKER AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE SILMARIL AND (angry scribbling)

TYELKORMO WHY DO YOU NOT KEEP AN EYE ON YOUR FUCKING DOG WHY DO YOU NEVER CEASE TO INCONVENEN INCONVENIENCE ME AT EVERY STEP?!??!!

I had a plan. I had a plan, it was perfect and now it’s utterly ruined. I swear to Eru, I am going to kill someone. Everything is falling apart and I am. I’m going to sit with Tyelpe. I can make this work. I will make this work. If I can’t make Lúthien wed Tyelkormo then I will get my damn Silmaril another way. I have a kingdom at my disposal. I have Tyelko. I can do this.

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(The handwriting is messy and hastily written, some of the letters smearing into eachother.)

They know. They know what happened. Or they think they know what happened, because it is not truly what happened, but because they think it is the truth then it must be the truth.

I- us, killers? If I am a killer, then they are colonizers, taker of land and abuser of everything surrounding it. I did not kill Findaráto. Findaráto killed himself. I warned him. I WARNED HIM.

I   W A R N E D   H I M !!!!!

HE DID NOT LISTEN! IS THAT MY FAULT?! AM I TO BLAME FOR THE ACTIONS OF ANOTHER?! WHY IS IT ALWAYS MY FAULT?! EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT, IS IT? IS THAT THE GAME WE PLAY NOW? DID I KILL MY FATHER THEN?!? I LOVED HIM. I LOVED HIM LIKE I LOVED FINDARÁTO I WOULD SHOULD HAVE DIED IN HIS PLACE BUT THAT IS NOT ENOUGH nothing is ever enough.

But what does it matter what I write here? It matters not that I am innocent, that they accused me of betraying him when it is THEY who were too cowardly to follow him, THEY who said NOTHING when he chose to accompany that FUCKING ATAN. They betrayed him, not I, but who will believe that? Who will believe that when it is easier to blame everything on Celegorm and Curufin, the accursed brothers, spawns of Fëanáro, usurpers of the throne? Orodreth or whatever his damn name is is lucky I have enough mercy left in me to not slit his throat come nightfall. I don’t understand how he has the right to rule, am I not Findaráto’s cousin?! I am his elder!

Huan is back, by the way. How marvelous.

Everything. Is. Falling. Apart.

We’ll be lucky to not be executed tomorrow. I highly doubt that blonde oaf even has it in him to kill another, anyway. I cannot wait to get Tyelpe out of this fucking place. It reeks of death and betrayal.

Curufinwë Atarinkë, wholly undeserving of the Finwë name.

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I’m writing this under a tree.

I don’t know why the specification is necessary. We’ve been spending the last few nights under trees. If ignoring the circumstances behind why we’re living like vagabonds, I’m sure Tyelkormo would love it.

He’s currently tending to a campfire and preparing dinner. I would help him, but… he’s always been better at this sort of thing than I am. I scare the rabbits off when I try to hunt, and I- don’t particularly want to think about fire. He skins them better, more efficiently than I could ever hope to accomplish. It’s slightly unnerving.

He’s roasting them and I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m not hungry. Or I am, but that I don’t deserve to eat.

I’m sorry, Tyelko. I’m sorry for everything. It’s all my fault, when isn’t it? It’s always my fault.

Orodreth (is that even his name? I cannot remember what it was Quenya.) spared us like I suspected, though I honestly would’ve preferred if he lopped my head off instead. I try to tell myself I don’t care, that I’m better off without. There’s only so many things you can lie to yourself about. Like how desperately, inconceivably I need Tyelko to prolong my pathetic existence. He’s the better of us, he always has been. I would not be here if not for him.

He could’ve- if Tyelpe was his son instead, he would not have (tear stain), would he? If Tyelpe was his son he wouldn’t hate me. He would’ve come. He would be here now and sleep at my side and dream of better days to come and I would be whole, I would be whole with my brother and his son and Atar and none of my failures.

My own son hates me. My flesh and blood hates me. I still have his brooch and I don’t ever want to look at it again. I want to cast it into the firey depths of Thangorodrim and forget it all. Nelyo and Káno are going to be so… fucking disappointed ashamed and I’m going to lose everyone. I don’t even know why we’re bothering to seek refuge with them. It doesn’t matter and fucking hell I’m crying again I can’t let tyelko see this he doesn’t need to see this. I’ve (tear stain) enough people and I need him with me I can’t lose him too but it hurts

I hope you know I love you, Atar. I could never hate you, no matter what you do. If you had made me and me alone swear the oath with you, I would have done so. I would follow you to the ends of Arda itself if you command it of me. If Tyelpe was your son he would have too, not because I tell him to but because you are the perfection of the Silmarils personified you are divine light and you are holy and he would see that. You are everything which I hope to be, which I have failed to be, you are light and I am darkness itself all consuming. And you would know how to sway him. You would know because you swayed me. And I love you.

He does not love me. He despises my very existence. He despises it enough to renounce me as his father. She’s probably laughing, her friends are laughing. Curufin, a father? A glorious, magnificent, pathetic joke. I could never be a father. Then again, he’s grown so much. He does not need a father to watch his every move, to scold him at every turn. I’m useless to him and to everyone else and to myself what can I do that doesn’t bring ceaseless pain and suffering? Nothing.

I’m sorry, Tyelpe. If I could start everything over again I would and I would’ve loved you like I should have and made you see that. And you would’ve loved me too and you would be here and I would be happy.

Curufin

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We saw them again and I was so… indescribably angry. We should not have tried to. Do what we did but I was so angry.

Is this what Tyelkormo feels every single day? If so, I pity his existence even more than I pity my own. Poor thing.

Still, he saved me. I didn’t— really expect him to, nor do I know why he did. Huan’s gone, and maybe it’s my fault too. I don’t know. For the first time, we were his prey, his enemy to cut down with his fangs. I would’ve understood if I were the target, but he turned on Tyelko. Like all those years that they spent together was nothing, as swiftly as Tyelko had decided to leave me for Oromë.

I shot the Atan. To be precise, I tried to shoot Lúthien first. Then I shot the Atan. I have never wanted to watch someone die this badly. If Huan had not been there, if Lúthien had been killed like she was supposed to, I would’ve much liked to watch him writhe and scream as I cut each finger off its bone, pull out his eyeballs, cut open his abdomen and pull out his innards one by one and feed them to the crows. How I would’ve loved to feel the slick of his blood on my hands as he lay dying, knowing that he was the one who took Findaráto away from me. He killed him. I know he did. He killed Findaráto the second he set foot in Nargothrond.

My neck still aches. I hope my shirt collar is high enough to conceal the bruising. I hope that idiotic Man and his accursed wife and their traitor hound are dead. I hope everyone under the sun rots like the wastes of space they are.

Curufin

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Casualties:

• 2/3rds of Noldor? Must recalculate. Heavy losses, could be higher.
• Findekáno slain
• 6,000 some of Gondolindrim
• 3/5ths Atani; Huor and Haldir slain.
• Can’t recall death count of Easterlings, or whatever they call themselves. Bór slain.
• Azaghâl of Belegost slain. Dwarven losses possibly ~15,000 give or take.
• Combined death toll of ~250,000.

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He looks at me like it was my fault. Like I had personally slit Findekáno throat on the battlefield and trampled him into a broken mess of bone and gore on the battlefield. He does not say that, but I know that is what he thinks. Though he tries to hide away from all of us, he does not realize how easy he is to read. I know what those scars on his face say, how the white streaks in his hair seem to whisper to eachother while he’s turned away from me. They call me a liar. Murderer. Usurper. Betrayer of kin. He does not need to say so to me for me to know. He despises me, possibly more than he despises Tyelkormo.

Atar, Tyelko led his own forces today. You would’ve been proud of him, I know you would have been.

Me, I didn’t do much of anything. Mostly wandered the battlefield and count the dead. I suppose that was my role now, the one who calculates. “Curvo, do you recall how many men Turukáno brought with him?” “Curvo, how many from Findekáno’s army were slain?” “Curvo, who is still alive?” Curvo, Curvo, Curvo, Curvo. I’m sick of hearing my name.

Had that serpent Ulfang not betrayed his word, we may have yet prevailed, but what could we have done against Morgoth himself? We are mere ants compared to him.

Perhaps I should ask Káno to write a lament for me. I heard he is composing a song of remembrance for Findekáno… most likely because Nelyo asked him to. If I were slain, would he write anything for me? Would I even be remembered, or would it be better off that my name be lost forever?

Curufin

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Oh Tyelko- I’m… I’m so sorry. Eru, what have I done? Why was that letter not delivered to me sooner, why did they read it, why is everything going wrong?

I killed her. I killed Írissë. She’s dead because of me and my… Valar forbid I try to do right for once, and abide the rules of the Eldar! I should haved killed him where he stood. He should’ve been dead. And Írissë paid that price for him. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I can’t… I can’t. I’m so tired.

Tyelkormo is inconsolable, almost as if he looked at Nelyo and thought “why not adopt that walking husk grimace for myself?” He does it well— look like a walking husk, that is.

I found him by a river, curled into himself with cuts on his arms and half his hair lopped off, like some dog who lost his owner by that very river and now guards it with his life. That analogy is not far off, I fear. He is very much like a mourning dog, Írissë his old master whom had passed away. I do not know what to do. What do I even say to him? What is there to say?

It kills me to see him like this. It kills me to see his wrists laden with scars, his fingers forever carrying the metallic scent of blood. I wish I could make everything better. I wish we were still bickering in Tirion.

Curufin

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(The page has multiple tear stains, most of them still wet. Some of the ink is smudged because of it.)

HI fuchure curvo this is tyelko!!!!!!!!

How lon did it take you to fined this? I bet You dint eeven notis that I (illegible) in your diare at ferst hahaha !!!!!!! Did Findaráto ask youtu bee hes boyfrend yet ?

Im guna tel evrywan you hav a (illegible) and you cant sdop me. Also you shud com hang owt with me and Írissë sumtime your allways hangying owt with atya in the forje isnt it boring? I wold be bord.

Ok bye!!!!!!!!!!!!

— T Y E L K O

A K A your best an culist brother ever in the wourld.

(Below the “signature” is a drawing. It depicts Curufin and Fëanor riding a deer, and next to them are Celegorm and Aredhel with bows. There is a sloppily drawn forest background behind them.)

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He is better now, I believe. Or, at least, he has grown sufficient in hiding his pain to the point where I don’t notice if I only glance in his general direction. I know he doesn’t like to bother us with his problems.

It took me until now to realize Tyelko and I weren’t as wildly different as I had once thought we were. I wish I had realized sooner. I wish I had been a better brother to him.

He took me fishing today. It seemed time that I finally learn some basic wilderness survival skills now that we’ve officially become “the dispossessed brothers”, as I like to think of ourselves. After the failed union, there was nowhere left for us to go, so we took to the forests of Ossiriand. Tyelko seemed more at home here than he had ever been.

We do not speak of the Silmarils, but it pulls on me. It pulls on me like I know it pulls on the rest of us. It is in Doriath— how long we can resist before we try to reclaim it? We cannot delay our doom, only wonder when it will come.

Sleeping on the damp forest ground is miserable, by the way. My back is not taking kindly to this wandering vagabond lifestyle. I did not realize what a luxury it is to have a real bed— I wish I had a real bed.

Curufin

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We make for Menegroth tomorrow. Dior will not surrender the Silmaril in peace, and so we shall wring it from him by force. Tyelkormo and Nelyafinwë have managed to recruit some of the Nandor for our cause, but they are few in number compared to the great host which reside in Menegroth. Logically, I am doubtful of our success, but Tyelkormo seems wholly convinced, so I will believe him. We have no better course of action, regardless. Kanafinwë insists on sending “just one more letter”; that is what he said about five “one more letters” ago.

Tyelkormo’s eyes burned with a great fire when he spoke of his plan, almost reminiscent of Atar. He sounded much the same, too. It is ironic that he is not named Kanafinwë instead, or noted for the similarities between him and Atar. I suppose in my case, it was more so in reference to my appearance instead. Tyelkormo’s always been the better speaker between us.

I wonder what Tyelpë must think of me now. Another slaying of kin by kin. He does not understand, will not understand, I should say. He was too young to understand the Oath when we swore it, and he is too foolish to understand now. The Silmaril is ours by right, and he knows of our Oath. Who is in the wrong then? Brothers avenging their deceased father and trying to reclaim what is theirs, or the son of thieves who shall die defending his kind, thieves? He is defending the actions of Morgoth then, is he not, for Morgoth stole the Silmarils before his father?

Some day you will understand, my son. Some day you will see that what I have done is just. Though, I do wonder if you’re even alive to ponder my actions now.

I shall retire to bed now. I will record what occurs at the battle. No doubt Nelyafinwë will want me to count the casualties again, tiresome as it is. I don’t see why he cannot do it himself.

Curufin

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(There is only blood on the next few pages. The rest of the journal is blank.)