I am Turin

 I am Turin, eldest son of Hurin and Morwen, brother to my late sister Urwen, formerly known as Lalaith. I am no stranger to loss. Being only a young man, I have experienced countless deaths of people I love. It all started with my sister, Urwen, taken by a strange sickness caused by Morgoth. I was only 5 when I lost her; she was the apple of my eye, my pride and joy, and now she’s gone. My father was inconsolable, my mother was distant, and I had no one to help me through the pain; I didn’t understand it. Enter Sador, a one legged carpenter; he was like a father to me when mine was distant. While Hurin spent time leading armies and fighting in wars, Sador was there; he was my mentor. It killed me so much to leave my home and my family, or what was left of it. My father never returned, so really the only family I left was Sador and mother; oh, how I weep for them. I had to go to Doriath, to be the foster son of the king Thingol, but living in Doriath

wasn’t bad at all. Thingol and Melian treated me as their own, and it's where I met my greatest friend Beleg. Beleg was a strong warrior and one of the few people who saw me for who I really am; a strong and brave young man, although only being 12. He taught me well while we were together, taught me how to fight, how to lead, calmed my fierce temper, and helped me face my demons. The demons I’ve carried since I lost my sister, the demons that grew stronger when my father did not return home, the demons that made me feel worthless and lost when I had to leave my mother and closest mentor at only 8 years old. The demons that overtook me when Saeros insulted my mother, and I couldn’t let that slide. I chased him into the woods; I never meant for him to die, but that didn’t stop it from happening. I could never return to Doriath now; Thingol would have my head, and I don’t think I could take letting another father figure down, disappointing another person, had I not done enough damage already. So I fled. I lived among outlaws; they became my family; they bestowed upon me the name of Gorthol, The Dread Helm. Little did I know what was to come. Beleg found me! He really did, and, better news than that, I was pardoned; yet I will still not return to Doriath, not yet; I won’t let myself. We captured a dwarf named Mim; we forced him to bring us to his cave, and it is there where my band of jolly outlaws become one of the strongest resistances against the orcs Middle Earth has ever seen, with Beleg’s assistance, of course. After that came horror; Mim betrayed us, and led the orcs straight to our headquarters. My men were slaughtered, my closest friend and mentor left wounded, fighting for his life, and I was captured. Thankfully, Beleg escaped, met up with an elf named Gwindor, and tracked me to the orcs camp to free me. Oh, how I wish they didn’t. I don’t remember much that followed, but when I came to, I was holding Beleg’s sword, Anglachel, and Beleg laid at my feet, slain, dead, bloodied. I hate to speak of this day, and forever more will know it as the day I swore to slay every orc in the land. I was overcome with grief; the only person who could help me fight my demons and he’d become one of them, another person to the long list of those I had let down, another body to the pile.

But no, he’s more than that; he was my best friend, he can’t just be another one of my victims, and for this reason I will avenge him. Gwindor led me to a hidden kingdom to forget my grief. I didn’t care to learn the name; they call me Agarwaen or Bloodstained, some even call me Gúrin, Man of Doom. I serve the king here; I’ve become one of his most trusted, but it will never fill the hole I’ve dug myself into. I surround myself with pity and loss, but something keeps me going; the drive to avenge my sister Urwen, my father Hurin and my best friend Beleg. I will never give up.