#umbrato

[eccentricmya]

The Fated One

Amrod wonders if this is what his name had foretold.

Umbarto.

The first kinslaying eldar.

He hadn't meant to. But he'd been the one standing on the edge of the pier, closest to the boats they'd been trying to claim for themselves. The one too eager to prove himself to their father that when the arguments between their factions had escalated, he'd spat one too many insults at the Teleri blocking his way himself. It was inevitable that a few of those hit their mark—for if in nothing else, Amrod took after Fëanor in this, his creativity with barbs. Thus it was highly probable that a Teleri sailor would lose his temper, Amrod had been counting on it, to provoke them into offence. But that which Amrod had not calculated, yet Fate did, was the presence of a drawn sword in their tight corner.

'It is for intimidation', Fëanor had told them, more a general commanding his soldiers than a father assuring his sons. 'Our swords will do half the negotiating for us.'

Amrod, never fond of bandying words when fists would do with his brothers, had decided to let his naked blade do most of the talking—a sentiment shared by the brother who had taught him hunting. Yet it turned out that their swords held even lesser sway than reminders of friendship over the Teleri. Until.

Until a silver-haired sailor, outraged at Amrod's audacious mouth, had charged at the Fëanorion, intending to throw him over the low railing of the pier and into the sea. Amrod, surprised, had brought his hand up to block him, forgetting the unsheathed sword in his hand (much like he had forgotten his name).

It had ended with blood twisting into rivulets down the nameless Teler's throat, staining Amrod's hand. He had watched it drip onto his clothes, down his sleeve—the pattern too deliberate to his disbelieving eyes. 'Kinslayer' it painted.

Kinslayer.

Kinslayer.

No. That is the Teleri shouting. Condemning him for drawing first blood.

More voices join in the cacophony of chaos, Noldorin voices.

Amrod looks up. They have moved far beyond first blood now. He's not the only kinslayer anymore.

The noise of the clashes around him blend into one never-ending choked-off gasp of the dying. Or maybe that's the last breath of the Teler lying at his feet echoing in his ears.

It never returns to their bloody corner, the fight. So Amrod is left standing guard over the body of the only kin he would ever slay. This he knows. For the prophecy of his name has been fulfilled.

Fated he is no more.

Hated he would remain forever more.

Umbarto—the first kinslayer.

[authormarialberg]

#Writober Day 12: Ghosts of Forest Future

#Writober Day 12: Ghosts of Forest Future #photography #poetry #amwriting

Slipping Through the Ether by Maria L. Berg 2022 Tourmaline .’s Halloween Challenge Today’s prompt is ghost. Ghosts by Maria L. Berg 2022 OctPoWriMo I didn’t see a prompt today, so I’ll write a ghosts poem. That Shiver Out of Nowhere Specters flow through time and spacelike chilled memoriesarriving uninvited These ghosts come and gogrowing from ethereal umbrato fully encompassand fill with…

[ccyotras]

Umbrato y su ADV

Hoy, en Facebook, estaba hablando con el chico que me gusta y me ha declarado de manera contundente su amor, yo sorprendido y entusiasmado le he dicho que también lo quería. Minutos después me dijo que el mensaje no era para mí. ADV