Y'all, I am PROCRASTINATING! Isn't that totally something that has never happened before? (Please note the sarcasm in that statement.) That being said however, so sorry for the wait on Twin Stars, but I do think that I'm going to wait until I have more of it written before I post it, so...yeah. Also, there's a good chance of me continuing Dare to Dream soon, so maybe that can be my redeeming factor? Maybe?

Disclaimer: even though Caranthir is one of my favorite characters in TS, I sadly cannot claim any rights to him. And as for Tyelko? Eh, I probably wouldn't take him if they gace him to me for free.

I hope you enjoy!

I love my brothers dearly, all of them, I truly do, but that doesn't mean I don't want to throw them headfirst at a Balrog sometimes and hope that it whips some sense into them.

Actually, no, Turko's the only one who's ever elicited that particular wish. As of yesterday, in fact, since that's when he and Curvo decided to show up out of the blue at my fort's doorstep in what turns out to be a not so out of the blue evacuation from Nargothrond, for trying to force the daughter of Elu Thingol to marry him? (Did that just come out as a question? I don't even know.)

I guess that would make Curufin a culprit, too, seeing as he's always the mastermind behind all of Tyelko's more...substantial escapades. I don't think I've come up with a fitting punishment for him yet, though.

Tyelkormo fancies himself in love, but I call his fancy folly, for what he feels towards Tinúviel is not love but lust. He looks to force her into submission, thinking she will submit to his affections in time, when Love sees that the recipient of its rays does not return its fervor, and lets them go, however painful it might be. For what is love if it is not reciprocated? Empty, I suppose, is what most people would say, like a cave hollowed out by the elements, so that when your heart calls out for comfort, all you get in reply is—an empty echo. I, who have been degraded to exile and kinslayer, have been fortunate (or unfortunate, I think) enough to have found love twice, when many don't find it at all. Yet both times that Love forsook me, leaving the cavern in my heart to be carved out by the winds of rejection. Both times were in secret, and only one was returned, and that was the love of a Telerin embroideress whom I met on accident on a trip to Alqualondë with Atya. Telpelencallë. Silver Starlight. Our love would have been forbidden had we courted openly, given Atar's open distaste for Hanotarindissë Eärwen and all Teleri who would dare dilute Finwë's noble line, so when it came time for our Blood Union, the only one I trusted to be present was, not one of my brothers, but Findaráto. Findaráto, who had no room to judge because he himself had Telerin blood. Findaráto, who was closely related enough, but far enough removed for me to feel comfortable confiding in, petty family feuds aside. Findaráto, who I hated to hate whenever I watched him interact kindly with the people, but who I was obligated to despise to keep in good graces with my father.

(Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it, in the end.

Always I decide that it was not.)

So, Findaráto was our elven representative at our fusion of fëas, after being sworn to secrecy. And in our own twisted, hidden sort of way, we were happy, Telpelencallë and I. I oftentimes look back on those years as some of the happiest years of my life. The only happy ones, maybe. The nights where I would braid her silver hair and she would curl mine around in her fingers, the days filled with secret notes and hidden smiles. It was as close to a perfect life as I had ever come.

And then came the Oath and with it, the First Kinslaying at Alqualondë.

Findaráto was the one to find her body, pierced through the heart by a sword, lying on the floor in her father's shop. He came to me crying, hating me in that moment, and I couldn't find it within myself to confess that I hated myself too. I think that a part of me, the softer part of me, died that day, when Finrod led me to where my wife's body lay broken and cold and devoid of any light on the marble tiles sof a net shop. I can still remember perfectly her scarlet blood, streaked across the white stone and thinking how similar it looked to Nelyo'shair.

The second time Love taunted me was with a mortal girl, and it was the most unexpected thing that ever happened to me. She was so fiery, so alive that I didn't stand a chance. She lit up my dark thoughts with her presence alone, and once she smiled...it felt like a torch had been lit in the hollow of my heart, lighting up the scarred walls and healing them with the glow of her spirit. She never even knew, though—never even imagined—that I harbored feelings of any kind towards her. In truth, I think she may have hated me. She only ever laughed when she thought I wasn't listening and only ever smiled when she thought I had left the room. 'Insolent tyrant' I heard her call me once. (Not to my face of course, to an elder across the campfire. She just didn't know how attuned elven hearing was...and no, I was not eavesdropping.) Honestly, even then I couldn't help but think she was wrong. That I don't rule over anything. Quite the opposite, in fact, for something more terrible than taxes rules over me, and my brothers, and my father before he died, and not a day goes by that I don't wish I hadn't sworn that wretched Oath.

Haleth hated me, though she hid it well. So I let her go.

If I had to choose one word to sum up Love, I would choose 'sacrifice'. It's as simple as that, yet it hurts worse than the amputation of a limb. If I had known what I know today centuries ago, I would have done things different. I would have held on to what I had with Telpelencallë with all of my strength, and stood up for what I actually believed at the square in Tirion. I would have gone straight to my wife's house once we arrived at the Telerin capital instead of fearing discovery should my father find out where I'd gone.

I would have—and maybe my wife would still be alive, and maybe we would have built a life together here in Beleriand.

But I was a fool instead, and I will forever loathe myself for that.

So believe me when I say that what Tyelko believes to be Love of Tinuvíel is anything but, for Love and I are very intimately acquainted—

For Love hollowed out my heart with silver braids and vibrant smiles, ripping them away and replacing them with nothing.