Written for B2MeM13 Day Four. (The prompt is the first paragraph of the story.)

Random note: Sure sign of Tolkien obsession: recognizing each and every one of the B2MeM13 prompts so far and being able to reel the context, the theme, the characters involved, and all other random details related to each.

Slash: to assume or not to assume, that is the question. (In other words, it's up to you. Translate the adjectives in whichever way you wish to.)

Naivety, self-accusations, gloom, evidence of an overlarge ego and all signs of Asperger's Syndrome are INTENTIONAL. Especially the Asperger's bit.

"Give me leave, lord,[...] and I will guard him and guide him as I may; then no man shall say that Elven-words are lightly spoken. Nor would I wish to see so great a good run to nothing in the wild." *

Fool, Beleg, fool! You were ever a fool when it came to matters of the heart. But then, so was I. And I brought myself to ruin, and Beleriand with me. See what has happened to me, the boy you loved so well! See what he has become!

So great a good, you say? So great a good, maybe, that I can wed my sister, abandon the only one who truly loved me, kill my faithful comrade-at-arms and the one closest to my heart, even though it may be by accident, bring a mighty kingdom and a valiant folk to ruin, spurn a foster-father who treated me ever with kindness…So great a good indeed! What good have my deed wrought? Have they brought anything but ruin?

Nothing, indeed, Beleg. Nothing! Your words were indeed prophetic. I was set loose in the wild, and the wild is wild no more: it has been taken by hideous evils, creatures of Morgoth, as they hunt for me, me, Túrin. It is my fault. Look at the great good I have wrought.

I rue the day you took that cursed oath. Oaths are the ruin of Elves, as you well know. And yours brought death! Your death, and the death of my heart. My heart does not matter, but you, you, Beleg Cúthalion, should have survived. You should have lived to see whatever the future brings us.

I should have died in your place! What am I, a Man who will die anyway, compared to the famed Strongbow, pride of Doriath? If you had abandoned me, Beleg, and gone back to your borders, they might be safe longer, and King Thingol sit in Menegroth in peace for a little more time. I could have brought you time.

But no, in your foolishness, you chose to follow me. Well, you have proven your point, to Thingol and whoever else was listening. Elven-words are not lightly spoken. Are you happy, Beleg?

But you would not be. You would insist on doing more, more than you can. You always flew for the stars. And, what is more, you rose back up when you fell to the ground.

But I am not you, Beleg. I am not even like you, and this is too much. My life is too much. Love, respect, dignity—all have been stripped from me. And now only my sword and my earthly form remain. And I shall lose them, too, soon. For my sword is slipping out of its sheath, and my hand is as firm as it was the day I dealt you your death-blow. I hear my words with detachment, as if a stranger speaks them

"Hail Gurthang! No lord or loyalty dost thou know, save the hand that wieldeth thee. From no blood wilt thou shrink. Wilt thou therefore take Túrin Turambar, wilt thou slay me swiftly?" **

And the blade answers, glittering in the starlight***, condemning me in its cold, cold voice: "Yea, I will drink thy blood gladly, that so I may forget the blood of Beleg my master, and the blood of Brandir slain unjustly. I will slay thee swiftly."**

And all I think, Beleg, is that your death was my fault.

Then Túrin set the hilts upon the ground, and cast himself upon the point of Gurthang, and the black blade took his life.

—The Silmarillion, Of Túrin Turambar

*The B2MeM13 prompt. (From The Silmarillion, Of Túrin Turambar)

**Both quotes are form The Silmarillion, Of Túrin Turambar. They have been altered and cut short where necessary.

***I don't really know whether it was night or day when Túrin committed suicide, but night seems more…dramatic.