The Dark Beneath the Stars by Ithilwen

On Names

The Dark Beneath the Stars

Chapter 1 – On Names

All but one of our brothers prefer to be called by their mother-names. I know this irritated Father, and honestly, I can understand why. Though they may disagree, our younger brothers' father-names are for the most part well-suited to them. Turkafinwë is indeed the strongest and most enduring of any of us; he is tireless in his pursuit of game, and presses on long after the rest of us have dropped from exhaustion. Morifinwë is all darkness: dark of hair, dark of skin, and dark of mind. He holds his thoughts close, and few are those privileged to share them. Even with us, his brothers, he is taciturn. As for our brother Curufinwë – well, what needs to be said? He was Father's favorite for a reason, for he is a near-perfect image of our sire in looks, temperament, and talents. No wonder he alone of us has embraced his father-name. Besides, what choice did he have? His mother-name Atarinkë is to all practical purposes the same: "little father". I suppose there is little point in a reflection trying to distinguish itself from the object which has cast it.

The twins' father-names, Pityafinwë and Telufinwë, while not especially creative, are also accurate enough. The two of them are after all the last of us – and therefore the littlest as well, though they've now grown taller than I am. Try though they might, the rest of us are always going to see them as the babies of the family. Perhaps they resent this, but I really think the reason the twins do not use their father-names is that their father-names are different, while their mother-name is shared. I'm not sure they even see themselves as separate persons – and perhaps they are not. Who am I to say what is shared between twins?

But you, Maitimo, never thought your father-name Nelyafinwë at all apt. I agreed with you in part; Father should not have named you "Third Finwë." "Second Finwë" would have fit you far better, for you were very like our grandfather in mind (if not in looks), while Father could not have been more different. But you were always sadly blind to the resemblance, though, and I know the dynastic implications of your father-name long placed an unwelcome burden on your shoulders. I think to you your mother-name represented a safe retreat; being remarkably handsome imposed no impossible obligations on you.

As for my own name… There is no question that of all of us, I have the least fitting father-name: "Commanding Finwë." I am the least commanding of any of us! Oh, I draw attention when I go onstage to perform, but that is an entirely different thing: I'm seducing, not compelling, my audience. I know how to beguile, but I have no idea how to command. Until now I have always left that role to others. My younger brothers may love me, but I suspect they do not truly respect me. Father, and to a lesser extent you, Maitimo, have always been the ones in charge, and I was content with that arrangement. I was happy to embrace my mother-name and forge gold with my voice, and leave the messy business of leadership to others. I have no desire to rule.

Father is in Mandos now, though, and you… My heart hurts when I think of your likely fate. If the Valar are merciful, Maitimo, which I now doubt, you will soon be freed by death. If not… In either case, you are lost to us as well. Our surviving brothers and those Noldor who followed our family into this exile now look to me for leadership. Protesting that is futile. I do not know if I can live up to my father-name of "Commanding Finwë," but I have to try.

And so I pray you will forgive me for what I am about to do.