It was after they'd gone riding again. Every time Caranthir watched his two brothers leave, he didn't take his eyes off their back, until they faded in the distance. He would play with his dice, frown to himself, wander over to Pityo's tent when Turco and Kurvo were out of sight, and he would uselessly throw the dice in the pail, over and over.

"You should say something, Moryo," Amrod would say, every time. "He won't listen, Pytio," Caranthir would reply, unfailingly.

Every time, they had this conversation. Every time, it ended in grumpy silence.

Eventually, they all separated. Caranthir found a home in Thargelion, but he always brooded, always worried about his brothers. Sometimes he would go on long, very long rides, on his own.

It was then that he came across Celegorm's party, on the road to Thargelion. He grinned, widely, then, and clasped arms with his brother. He didn't ask why he wasn't in Himlad. It didn't matter, then. Brothers were all that mattered to Caranthir, ever, and this time was no exception. If the Edain woman Haleth had considered things differently... perhaps... but he never quite fit in, he knew.

That night, Caranthir feasted his brother generously. There was Naugrim ale, there was pheasant and boar, there were lovely girls to pinch and play with, but Celegorm's heavy demeanor did not ease.

"You should come visit more often," Caranthir offered, carefully.

"I would, but Kurvo considers hunting a stupid sport," he said, tiredly.

"Kurvo's words aren't the be all end all, brother," Caranthir offered, lightly, boastfully, perhaps. "I think hunting's fun. We'll go hunting, you and I. Let's go on the morrow, stay, as long as you like. Huan can teach a thing or two about the dogs in my kennels. Stay. It will be fun."

Celegorm stayed. They spoke, a lot. About women, about life, about war, about their father and their brothers, about the cousins, about hopes and dreams. Caranthir insisted that he was his own man, that brothers mattered, but it was alright to have one's own opinions. Celegorm insisted that Kurvo was his brother, that his advice could never be wrong.

But I'm your brother too, Caranthir wanted to say. How can I always be wrong, if Curufin is always right?

The answer came in the form of a letter, months and months later. It was unbearably short.

She came, the letter said. If you hadn't kept me, I would have been able to go home to find Irisse, but she waited to long and left. Eru knows where she is now.

Caranthir frowned, sighed, sent search parties to try and atone for his mistake.

Just for once, he wanted to do something right. Somehow, he never managed to do so.