Five Times Caranthir Fought With His Brothers (And One Time He Didn't) by grey_gazania

I

He's frowning over a complicated theorem when Tyelkormo slouches into the room and kicks the door shut.  "I can't believe you," he says.  "You're barely grown and you're already leaving for some girl."

Two, he thinks as he inhales, three, five, seven, eleven.  He lets his breath out in a sigh and says, "I'll still be right here in Tirion. It's not like I'm moving to Taniquetil."

"Yeah, but now you'll spend all your time with her," he says with a scowl.  "What's so great about her anyway?"

Carnistir turns his gaze away from his brother, focusing on the crooked gouge on the desk that's been there as long as he can remember, so long that the edges have been worn smooth.  Thirteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty-three.

"I mean, she's pretty, I'll grant that," Tyelkormo continues, "but she can barely string a sentence together."

"She's shy," he snaps.  "And you glowering across the table the whole meal didn't help anything.  You were even worse than when Makalaurë brought Cuinessë for supper!"  No. He breathes in again, loosening his fists, and counts.  Twenty-nine, thirty-one, thirty-seven.

"Cuinessë wasn't stealing my brother," Tyelkormo snorts.  "Your girl isn't shy – she's stupid. And you're stupid for wanting to marry her."

Forty-one, forty-three, and it's no longer enough; he feels the heat rising in his face, and his fist crashes against his brother's jaw.  They tumble to the floor, the lamp shattering beside them as blood runs from Tyelkormo's mouth and Nerdanel's footsteps pound down the hall.