Title: Talisman


Prompt: 031. You knocked me out, I can never be the same; I pushed you over, but here we still remain


Word Count: 234


Rating: PG-13


Author's Notes: They're not my characters. A talisman is a charm or an amulet of some sort. They're intended to bring good luck, but Anglachel has proved to be just the opposite for Túrin, as he accidentally killed Beleg with the sword.

This was inspired by a quote from the ancient Greek tragedy Heracles by Euripides: 'This bow is anguish to me, yet I cannot part with it.' It struck me as very similar to the way Túrin sees Anglachel. I feel like such a nerd, we didn't even study that play…

…Yet with the change of a name he could not change wholly his temper, nor wholly forget his old griefs against the servants of Morgoth; and he would go hunting the Orcs with a few of the same mind, although this was displeasing to Brandir. For he hoped rather to preserve his people by silence and secrecy.

'The Mormegil is no more,' said he, 'yet have a care lest the valour of Turambar bring a like vengeance on Brethil!'

Therefore Turambar laid his black sword by, and took it no more to battle, and wielded rather the bow and the spear.

- Unfinished Tales

I don't know why I keep it, this twisted talisman of mine. It brings back memories that I would rather let lie, of the time in my life when we were both called the Blacksword. For all our valour, we could not save Finduilas, nor Gwindor, nor Nargothrond; and I can still remember the terrible grief in Beleg's eyes as his blood turned the sword red… I was glad, almost, when Brandir asked me not to use the sword any more, although the bow and spear are less to my liking. I laid the legacy and the weapon of Mormegil aside, hoping to find peace.

I was mistaken. We are troubled less by the orcs, that is true, but the sword is constantly in my thoughts. I keep it well out of the reach of innocent hands, for I wish neither the sword nor the memories to escape. And yet… even when I am alone in my house, I can sense it.

And it feels as if it can sense me.

If I heard such a tale from somebody else I would dismiss it immediately, if I had not seen the sword turn black and blunt after Beleg's death… and while fighting for Nargothrond, I could feel a wild joy, despite the outcome of that disastrous battle. I fear that I am beginning to go mad.

Or worse, I fear that I am not.