Kindness
Long time ago he knew what kindness was. A mother's kiss, gently brushing his unruly hair. Soft hand on his cheek, deep red, hushing his anger. Strong, welcoming shoulders of his older brother around his own, thin frame of youth, when he was upset. Firm grasp of his father's hand, guiding him, correcting his first attempts in the forge. Fёanaro's voice, teaching, demanding, sometimes impatient, yet always proud and loving, like his father once was.
It changed, but it was not a sudden notion. Others mistook his proud bearing and forwardness for arrogance and he was called ill-mannered, though he was a generous lord. He didn't mind it, as long as his realm was safe and prosperous, his contacts friendly and his trade flourishing. He was respected and he had loyal friends.
Then came the fire, sudden and destroying, and his lands were gone, lost in flames and covered with ashes. Morifinwe Carnistir, no, Caranthir, was suddenly but a refugee, seeking a safe place for his people, a lord without his lands. They fought, he fought, but then all their hopes were buried with one betrayal, they were all thrown on their knees, all the princes of Noldor, one by one. There was nothing left.
He no longer knew the touch of love. His body recognised only pain and grief, responded with violence to violence, be it from friend or enemy. His words were bitter, his soul sour. His heart longed and bled.
Or was there really nothing? The Oath burned in his veins, poisoned his mind, until at last they all gathered what little forces they had and all the sons of Feanor turned against the ones that kept their precious gem. One more time, elves fought against elves.
Pain and cold overwhelmed him, as he struggled on his feet, his hand on the wall. The Enemy must have been watching them and laughing in pleasure, seeing elves slaughtering elves, he vaguely thought, as he struggled to catch his breath. Just one more, just one... The pain was greater and his vision blurred with tears. There was no one to catch him as he fell, no one to wipe the blood from his mouth, as he gasped for air. No one. Nothing.
But, after all, that arrow was kindness too.