Órenya linda tyë-cenien! How do you fare, my dear friend? Have you come to hear the tale of my life? Well then, take a seat and I will tell you as I play my harp.
My name is Kanafinwë Makalaurë, and I am the second son of Curufinwë Fëanáro and Nerdanel Istarnië. I was born only five years after Maitimo my eldest brother was born, for my parents worried he would be lonely while they were busy with their work. Early on I grew a great love and attachment to my brother, and to my mother as well. Many have told me I was more like her than any of my brothers.
I found a great love for music at a very young age while playing with the tapestry loom (upon which I was trying to make a tune) that once belonged to my grandmother Miriel. My mother and father argued over my interests, for Atar felt I would be wasting my life away writing poetry and singing. But Ammë calmed his spirit and told him that I too could create things like his jewelry, but it would be sound instead of metal that I could invent. And thus Atar agreed to me to study music under the guidance of the most prestigious minstrel of Valinor at that time.
Ammë and Maitimo were my biggest source of encouragement and love during my training, to them my heart holds them dearest. Without them I do not think I would have come to grow so much as an artist. My talents grew quickly, and soon I suppressed even that of my mentor. My harping and songs grew me a wide audience from an early age, to the unfortunate envy of many. I learned quickly, and many elf-lords and even the Valar requested me to sing for them at their banquets.
Proud though Atar was at my ability, he still saw it fit for me to learn in the military. Maitimo was my primary mentor in this, and from him I learned to be a deadly killer. I did not think I would ever have to raise my sword upon another’s throat, but I had learned that while I, unlike my father and brother, was like water and gentle and calm, I would be turbulent if I was disturbed. If ever Atar worried having too soft a son, this discovery of my dark side certainly pleased him.
You may have read about me in legends, and perhaps you have come across the words “may have been married.” The accounts are confusing where that is concerned. I did desire to be married, ever since I watched Atar feed my baby brother Curufinwë (who was the only child to refuse being breast-fed.) The image of my Atar so gentle with a tiny elfling brought in my my own desire to become a father, and from then I was in love with love. I found her too, the woman I would marry, though I kept it secret at first from my family. In time they got to see deeper into my heart, and I could not deny that I was in love. But it was then that I learned that my heart’s affection was deeply in love with another: my cousin Finrod, Artafinde.
Soon after the two trees had lost their light, my grandfather Finwë was slain, and I found myself being whisked away from my home and my beloved mother in a hasty and ill-thought war. There I lost my father, and it seemed my brother was dead as well, and my world became dark. When Maitimo was returned to me I was ever glad, and eagerly I sought to make amends with our cousins. Though I do not think myself jealous, I was slightly glad Artafinde was also in Endor with us, for that meant he would be far away from Amarië.
When Maitmo had recovered (as best as he could) and sought to pick up where our lives had left off, he asked me again about marriage and love. And from then I gave my brothers mixed messages, that perhaps I had married, or my love had died during our exodus to Middle-earth. Thus the records are left in confusion. But you know part of how the story ends. When Artafinde was slain, I heard the prophecy that from his great deeds he would be soon leave the Halls, which meant he would be reunited again with Amarië. Perhaps I deserve such cruel fate, for none did I ever love since. But I am happy for them. Artafinde deserved her more than I did, and she would undoubtedly be glad to be with him again.
My tale does have one good chapter. Though I could not marry Amarië, I found myself raising twin elflings who adopted me and loved me as though I were their own father. In those years I was happiest, for I got to fulfill a deep desire in my heart to be a father. But even elves grow up too fast, and the Oath that chained me to sin soon dragged me to commit more bloodshed until the last of my brothers had died.
Maitimo, my dearest friend and brother. I can still hear his cries as he fell into the chasm, and his shrieks were like the jolts of agony that shot through my body as I held the cursed Silmaril in my hand. At last the madness of the Oath left me after I cast the damned jewel into the sea, but at what cost? I was far from Ammë who supported me in all I did. I lost my father and my brothers and I lost what little chance I had left of seeing Amarië again.
I still roam these lonely shores, though I travel a lot. They all are the same to me. They are the gateways to a huge Sea from which beyond I can see no sign of Valinor, nor hear the Valar calling me in forgiveness. In the ages that passed I got to cross the sea, but in my silent horror it was to find another mortal land in the far west of this world. Valinor had become invisible to me.
I have seen much of the history of Mankind evolve. I may have had a role, though never was it my intension. I can tell you that, during the early years of the Seventh Age, that a lament I sang of Amarië was picked up by a young man, another music prodigy, and a few years later I heard my own lyrics twisted into an upbeat song he titled “I’m Happy Just to Dance With You.” I still weep whenever I hear it. It is lovely in its hidden tragedy.
Perhaps you are wondering if I enjoyed listening to this peculiar band of modern-day bards, and indeed I do. I enjoy listening to music that the race of Men have created, because at times it appears to be the only thing still alive in this world.
I hope I have not saddened you with my tale. Feel free to speak with me. I hope I can take this time to finally speak with my mother and father.
I hope you have a lovely life, dear reader. Even if I do not know you nor may never get a chance to speak with you, know that I love you. Harya alassëa cuilë.
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