I've Hungered for Your Touch by oshun

Prologue

The room his mother had readied for him was spacious and comfortably furnished. The large bed had been turned-down already, revealing snowy sheets and three large pillows. Caranthir was exhausted—physically and emotionally—but he could not rest until he had read the entire book.

Someone had already lit an oil reading-lamp, but turned it down low. It was placed next to an upholstered chair with a matching footrest near the window. It made a perfect spot for reading. If what his mother had told him about preparing the room for him when she heard he was to be released from the Halls was true—and Nerdanel never lied—the room had been furnished long before she received the manuscript.

He sat in the chair, turned up the lamp, put his feet up, and opened the book. His heart pounded and he felt faint for a moment, but a few deep breaths stopped his escalating anxiety. His curiosity bit harder than his fear. He skimmed through several dozen pages of pontification, by a scholar with fair knowledge, about the history of the First Age in Middle-earth. When he reached the beginning of a series of maps and charts of comparisons among Quenya, Sindarin, and various Mannish languages and dialects, he nearly lobbed the book across the room. Then he did what they always did when they were boys. He skipped to the ‘good part.’ He leafed through the book until, near the middle, he found the words “Haleth the Hunter” centered on a page and began to read.