Caranthir, Pharoh of Beleriand by Cirdan

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Chapter 1

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Caranthir, Pharoh of Beleriand

 

The Pharoh's High Priest leaned over to speak to him as the servants arrayed him in ceremonial garb. "Divine One, last night an evil star entered into the House of Feanor."

 

"Meaning war?" Feanor raised an eyebrow. "From the mountains of Ered Luin to the shores of the Falas, what nation would dare draw sword against us?"

 

"The enemy to fear is in the heart of the Noldorin kingdoms."

 

Pharoh frowned. "What?"

 

"Among the Sindar, there is a prophecy of a deliverer who will lead them out of bondage. A star proclaims his birth."

 

Feanor laughed. "How can a single person bring down the Chosen of Eru? Since this deliverer is among their newborn, only their newborn need die. So let it be written. So let it be done. So speaks Feanor."

 

"Yes, mighty Pharoh," Annatar said and bowed to hide a little smile.

 

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The screams of mothers and infants filled the night air, and those who did not have a newborn still hid for fear of Pharoh's soldiers. They slew the babies where they were found, leaving blood on the ground and walls and mothers to wash the blood clean with tears.

 

Anairë despaired. Without Fingolfin present, even her child would be murdered in the name of the Pharoh. She hid him in a basket and stole her way to the house of the Pharoh's father-in-law. There, she set fire to the basket and rushed out of sight. As she'd expected, the baby was quickly rescued. The baby was brought before Nerdanel, who named him Curufin. He looked so much like Feanor that she asked that he be adopted as a second son. Pharoh agreed. In time, he took a great liking to Curufin above even his own son Caranthir.

 

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"Curufin! Curufin!" Curufin's name could be heard from miles away, and the cheering crowd never seemed to tire. Rose petals and dancing girls graced the path leading up to the throne, which was currently absent.

 

Feanor refused to make an appearance unless he was totally satisfied with his looks. "He proclaims his coming from afar, does he not, my son?"

 

Caranthir stood nearby as Feanor was painstakingly prepared for the ceremony to welcome Curufin home. "Such favor with the people can be dangerous, Great Pharoh."

 

Feanor snickered. "To whom, Caranthir? To me or to you?"

 

"It would not be the first time that fame has turned a prince against his Pharoh." And Curufin was exactly the type of person to use underhanded means to get what he wanted: power.

 

"Or that envy has turned brother against brother," Feanor said casually as he notices the look on Caranthir's face.

 

Caranthir's scowl deepened. "Envy is for the weak."

 

"And beauty is for the strong." Feanor raised his hand so that his servant could slide his royal rings on his fingers. "That is what you have in mind."

 

"If you mean Nefretiriel, yes, my father." There were other women, of course, but…

 

"Is it the princess' beauty that attracts you, Caranthir, or the fact that she must marry the man I choose to follow me on the throne?"

 

Caranthir scoffed at this. "I am the son of your body. Who else could be your heir?"

 

"The man best able to rule the Noldor will follow me." Inheritance should have gone immediately to the eldest son, but Feanor was willing to bend the rules in Curufin's favor.

 

"Then I shall follow you," Caranthir said firmly.

 

"Shall you?" Feanor said with a touch of amusement in his tone. "I sent Curufin to destroy the Falathrim. He returns in triumph. I sent you to build a city. Where is it?"

 

Caranthir scowled. At times, it felt as though his father was purposefully goading him on to anger. "It will rise when I have put fear into the stiff-necked Sindar who build it." A servant brought Pharoh's crown upon a pillow, and Caranthir took it to place on his father's head. "But this I know, my father: no pretended brother will ever have your crown or Nefretiriel."

 

"Indeed. Whoever I choose shall have my crown and Nefretiriel." Feanor rose and gestured for Caranthir to follow.

 

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Feanor sat in the seat of the Pharoh with Nerdanel to his left and Nefrtiriel to the right. Caranthir stood with his prince's scepter resting along his arm. Meanwhile, the High Priest rambled on to announce Curufin and his accomplishments.

 

"Old windbag," Feanor grumbled. He liked showing off but wasn't one for long, extended ceremonies.

 

"I agree with him," Nefritiriel said in a breathy voice. She made no secret of her love for Curufin.

 

"May your name be exalted on earth, O Conqueror, even as the sun is exalted in the heavens," the High Priest finally said in conclusion. Curufin bowed and kneeled before his father.

 

"Welcome to my adopted son," Feanor said formally.

 

Curufin kissed his father's hand and before standing said, "May my arm stay strong in your service, Great Feanor."

 

"Who is this fair young god come into the House of Feanor?" Nefretiriel said coquettishly.

 

Caranthir's face remained impassive. "No need to tell you how I share her joy at your return."

 

"No need, my brother." Curufin showed none of his ill feelings for Caranthir in public. "Great One, I bring you the Falathrim!"

 

The Lord of the Falas came forth. Beside him was a woman of surpassing beauty, her face perfectly symmetrical, skin fair as milk, and hair raven black. All the people in the throneroom murmured about the young lady.

 

"Command them to kneel before Pharoh," Caranthir said.

 

"Command what you have conquered, my brother," Curufin said sharply. "I bring the Lord of the Falas and his kinswoman in friendship, as an ally to guard our west.

 

"My son has dealt wisely with you, Lord of the Falas," Feanor said. Like everyone else, Feanor appreciated the woman's unmatched beauty. If he did not, perhaps he would indeed demand fealty from these Dark Elves. "Welcome as a friend."

 

The woman courtesies. "Great King, I will ask but one favor of your friendship. That I may give this precious pearl from our seas to your Prince of the Noldor, for he is kind as well as wise."

 

Feanor smirked. This was certainly not the kind of treatment Caranthir ever received. "It is pleasing to the Valar to see a man honored by his enemies."

 

"And such a beautiful enemy," Nefretiriel noted. She was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in all of Beleriand, not this barbarian woman.

 

Feanor smirked again. "What is the name of the Lady of the Falas?"

 

"She is Luthien Tinuviel."

 

"See to their comfort," Feanor commanded his servants.

 

Curufin claps and many scantily clad women come to show off their wares: lovely cloths, feathers, furs, pearls, gold and silver, perfumes, and some items that are unknown to the Noldor. "I am sending caravans of such wealth as you see here, logs of ebony, trees of myrrh, silks and spices, all for your new Treasury City.