5/16/18: I am taking this story through a bunch of much-needed editing, so there will be some slight changes to the way some things happen, but it will still essentially be the same story.
Hello all! This is an experiment; I do not know if I will be able to finish it. Please bear with me and enjoy if you can!
Much love,
Unicadia
Ammë never told me, but I know she did not expect me to come out the way I did. I can imagine her face, the midwife's face, Atar's face, all looming over me, confused at the ugly reddish creature sleeping in my mother's arms. They were expecting something more along the lines of my three elder brothers, all breathtakingly handsome in their own ways. They expected red hair like Maitimo, wise dark eyes like Maka, or porcelain skin like Tyelko. And, no doubt, they expected me to cry when I was born. I would shed many tears in my life, but I had none for my first day in the world.
One thing I do know, though. My parents did not find me attractive, and their names for me reflected that sentiment. Atar named us all after grandfather Finwë, with appropriate prefixes, but he called me Morifinwë, dark Finwë. Mothers usually waited a while before giving their children names, but right off Ammë called me Carnistir, red-faced, which I hated because it was true, but loved because my mother gave it to me. My skin became worse as I grew older. It did not remain consistently reddish-brown, but turned patchy, especially on my face. The maidens always preferred my brothers, older and younger, to me.
"Why are you always so angry, Moryo?" people asked.
"Does he ever smile?" people whispered to my parents when they thought I couldn't hear them.
I did smile, rarely.
I am Prince Morifinwë Carnister Fëanorion of the Noldor, known as Caranthir the Dark in Middle Earth. I have spent an Age in the Timeless Halls, and Mandos still refuses me leave to depart. Not many love me, but I must needs set the histories straight. I am here to plead my case.
Last edited: 5/16/18