Title: As Moths to the Flame
Prompt: 032. I lock the door and lock my head, and dream of butterflies instead
Author's Notes: Saeros, Beleg, Gwindor and Finduilas were Elves who died (in that order) as a result of Túrin's actions. Inspired by what Sador said to Túrin when talking about the Elves: 'In their light we are dimmed, or we burn with too quick a flame, and the weight of our doom lies the heavier on us', and also by a brief note when Túrin was with the outlaws: 'But Nellas of Doriath never saw him again, and his shadow passed from her'.
I once thought Men were like butterflies. I can remember many warm summer days when I lost count of them as I walked through the woods of Doriath. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them, each intricately detailed, delighting in the gentle warmth of the sun. At night, I watched them gather around the lamps, drawn inevitably closer and closer, only to perish in the flames. I learnt that butterflies could be captivating, but it was unwise to love them. They spend their lives so quickly, Men and butterflies, living on summer's bounty only to die in winter's first chill.
Now I wonder if it is not my own kind who are more like butterflies, drawn to our deaths. Túrin was a bright flame, captivating but perilous, engulfing those who drew too close – Saeros, Beleg, Gwindor, Finduilas, and many others. I did not perish, but I came close enough to feel and remember the heat of his flame.