As I grew older, I took to wearing my curly hair loose and thick around my face in the vain hope of concealing it. Írissë laughed when she saw it for the first time and thought I was silly. "You look like a lion, Carnistir." Atar still tried to keep us from interacting with our cousins, but Írissë would not give up easily. She kept coming over until Atar grudgingly allowed her presence. All my brothers loved Írissë, but Tyelko and I especially enjoyed her company. We would take long rambles in the fields outside Tirion on our horses, though I had to content myself with sitting astride Felenor and watching Tyelko and Írissë chase each other.

One day, Írissë and I went out by ourselves. We rode slowly through the woods and down to the river where we stopped and gazed at the rushing water tumbling over stones. Írissë spoke, not looking at me. "Tyelko told me you don't ride fast with us because you hurt your head when you fell off a cliff when you were three."

"Tyelko talks too much," I burst out, shaking with anger. "It was his fault." Írissë turned toward me, her dark eyes calm, and I reddened.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

Shame flooded my heart and I looked aside, my hair blocking her from my view. "I thought you wouldn't like me otherwise."

She didn't speak for a long time. A bird landed on a rock in the middle of the river. It tilted its head at us, reminding me of Írissë when I first met her.

"Morifinwë Carnistir," Írissë said, smiling crookedly. "You need to stop telling yourself lies."

I lifted my head, pushing back my hair, and stared at a tree on the opposite bank. "I'm sorry. I do that a lot, I suppose."

"And stop being so serious." I blinked at her and she threw her head back and laughed. "Come now, let us return."

Relieved, I followed Írissë back to our house. As we went, I admired her dark tresses, her curves shrouded in the white silk edged with silver she so loved. When we arrived at my father's house, Írissë made no move to dismount her horse. I slid off Felenor and grasped the reins of her horse. "Won't you come inside?" I begged her. "The noonday meal will be served soon."

"I spend too much time here, Carnistir. I must return to my own house, or Atar will be angry with me."

I nodded, already missing her. "Tomorrow then? We can climb the trees by the river."

She laughed. "Yes, Carnistir." She galloped off over the hill, and I stood there a long time, still staring at the horizon where she disappeared when Makalaurë came out to fetch me for the meal.

Once inside and seated at the long table in the dining hall, I noticed Ammë's seat was empty. Looking down the other end of the table, Atar was gone as well. "Where's Ammë?" I asked Maitimo, who sat next to me.

"Atar said she wasn't feeling right and took her to the infirmary a little after you left with Írissë."

I wasn't fooled. "Why wouldn't she feel right?"

"For Eru's sake, Carnistir, why do you ask so many questions? All I know is what Atar told us."

I didn't believe him, and glared at him and tossed my hair in a haughty manner I had recently adopted, but inside, I felt frightened for Ammë. We rarely went to the infirmary. Had she had an accident like me? I couldn't finish my venison; every bite weighed heavy on my tongue. I excused myself from the table and retreated to my room. I lay on the bed and gazed up at the ceiling, counting the painted stars until my vision blurred.

About an hour later, Tyelko entered, grinning slyly. I sat up and glared at him. "Go away, Tyelko. I want to be alone."

"I know why Ammë's at the infirmary."

I forgot about glaring at him. "Why?"

"She went to the infirmary just before you came, Moryo."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He sauntered over to the bed and leaned on it, his head in his arms, grinning wickedly. "The infirmary's where you get babies. We're going to have another brother!"

My anger returned. "You're lying, Tyelko."

"I'm not. Just ask Nelyo. He said that Ammë went to the infirmary just before Kano came, and before I came, and I know just before you came."

"Go away!" I screamed, and threw a pillow at him. He jumped aside and it landed on the floor a dozen feet away from him. Still grinning, he turned and left the room, leaving the door open. I lowered myself into the blankets on the bed, shaking, tears slipping down my cheeks. I could not place a name or a reason upon my anger and fear. All I knew was that I did not want another brother.

Tyelkormo proved to be correct, for Atar and Ammë returned from the infirmary with a tiny person wrapped in blue silk. Ammë laid him in the cradle I slept in when I was small. "Carnistir, this is your brother, Curufinwë."

"Isn't that Atar's name also?" I asked, though I wanted to show as little interest in this usurper as possible.

"Yes. He named your little brother that because he looks so much like him."

The pride in her voice irritated me, but I felt a sense of responsibility like I had never experienced before when she said "little brother." I was now a big brother, someone to take care of this small one, someone to be an example for him, someone for him to look up to. I gazed into the cradle again. The baby lay on his belly, head to one side, tiny hands balled into wrinkly fists. Wet, black hair lay plastered on his pasty white forehead. My repulsion returned, but I was determined to be a good big brother.

Quenya/Sindarin Names:

Nelyafinwë (Nelyo) - Maedhros

Kanafinwë (Kano) - Maglor

Curufinwë (Curvo) - Curufin (also sometimes Fëanor)

Last edited: 5/17/18