Bard of the Rings - Caranthir, The Dark

Описание: Caranthir, one of the Sons of Fëanor, was bound by the Oath of Fëanor to reclaim the Silmarils from Morgoth, leading him to Middle-earth during the First Age. He scorned the House of Finarfin, particularly Angrod, deepening divisions among the Noldor. Caranthir settled in Thargelion in East Beleriand, becoming the first Noldor to ally with the Dwarves, gaining wealth through trade.

He rescued the Haladin from Orcs in F.A. 375 but was refused allegiance by their leader, Haleth. After the Dagor Bragollach, he retreated south and later allied with the Easterlings under Ulfang, who betrayed the Elves during the Nirnaeth Arnoediad in F.A. 472. Caranthir died in F.A. 506 during the Second Kinslaying while trying to seize a Silmaril from Dior in Doriath.

Lyrics -

He swore by fire, eyes like coal,
Bound to gems that cursed his soul.
In halls of smoke, he raised his cry—
A prince too proud to bend or die.
He spat at kin, denied their name,
Drenched in scorn, not love or shame.
Words of peace he mocked as weak,
A heart too dark, a tongue too bleak.


Caranthir, flame and spite,
Crowned in ash, no star, no light.
Bitter prince with poisoned breath,
You found no glory—only death

In eastern waste he built his keep,
Where lake and shadow whispered deep.
He met the Dwarves with grudge and sneer,
But gold could buy what hate kept near.
He traded blades, he dealt in dread,
The oath the only voice he fed.
No joy, no love, no dawn inside—
Just wrath and ruin as his guide.

Caranthir, flame and spite,
Crowned in ash, no star, no light.
Bitter prince with poisoned breath,
You found no glory—only death

He saved the Haladin with sword,
Then offered rule they all ignored.
Haleth stood and turned away—
Two flames too proud to ever stay.
The fire rose in northern skies,
He fled with steel and empty cries.
The West was still, the sky was red—
He walked alone where all lay dead.

He trusted liars, traitor’s grin,
Let Ulfang’s whisper draw him in.
In Nirnaeth’s night, the sun was slain,
And all his fury died in vain.

He rode to Doriath for war,
And shattered Menegroth’s last door.
With brothers dead, his fate was cast—
The curse fulfilled, the die fell fast.

Caranthir, flame and spite,
Born to rage, condemned by right.
Bitter prince with poisoned breath,
You found no glory—only death
No tale of honor carved in stone—
Just pride that died, unloved, unknown.

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