So I was on the lookout for some writing prompts and came across the sentences Er wird heiraten/He's getting married and Wo ist dein Anstand?/Where's your decency? on a German prompt word side thing.
This was written in like fifteen minutes. I apologise for any grammatical errors.
"Ah, before I forget to mention it: I'm getting married," Maglor announced at last, but before any of his brothers could process what he had just said, he had already left the room, closing the door behind him with an almost silent click.
For a moment there was total silence in the conference room, all six remaining men too shocked to say or do anything.
Most of them stared at the seat where their brother had sat with them for the last four hours, discussing strategies and protocols without even seeming like he wanted to break news that big to them.
Maedhros was the only one staring silently out the window where the night was fading into another day. A frown had formed on his forehead, but whether it meant anger or confusion could not be deduced from his expression.
It was Curufin who then said, "He's getting married."
"He's getting married," echoed Celegorm, "his poor spouse. They probably don't know what they've gotten themselves into."
"As if you were any better ..." muttered Caranthir, "At least Káno still has some common sense."
"I never said I was a good choice," Celegorm retorted, "just.... argh forget it. I'm probably only mad because he didn't tell us. Even you told us when you started courting Calairie and you used to talk even less than now."
"And you proceeded to make fun of me and tried to be a good older brother by 'helping me out'. You know I can understand Káno all of the sudden. Dealing with you during my courtship was annoying enough."
Curufin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an agreement while the twins looked rather irritated.
Maedhros sighed. Once again he was glad that besides Káno, Mother, Anairë and grandfather nobody knew about his engagement and marriage.
But then again he wished his brother would've trusted him enough to tell him he was courting someone.
~
"Please tell me you didn't just leave them there without any further explanation!"
"I might have..."
Cellin sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I had to sit down with my parents and explain to them why exactly I was marrying a high elven prince, a Feanorian to boot, and you just said 'I'm getting married' and left? Where is your decency?"
"Did your parents agree?" he asked as if he did not hear the anger in her voice. She looked up to him into his stupidly handsome face. The smug smile told her everything she needed to know about his thoughts. He rather enjoyed what he had done. She should scold him more but alas she knew he wouldn't listen.
"Of course they did. They know I act with reason - unlike my future husband apparently. Are you all like this?"
If so she had to prepare for a lot of headaches in the future.
Maglor raised an eyebrow, which only increased his smugness, "Were you not present when I told you about my family's escapades?"
"Regrettably yes. I just assumed you were different," she admitted.
"Never assume anything with us, we're much worse than you'd think."
The ships burned as Feanaro laughed as one fey. His eyes reflected the flames, or was his eyes already ablaze with the flames of madness? It was hard to tell with the Spirit of Fire. Fire doesn’t have a master, it isn’t controlled by anyone, it will burn anything in it’s path and it will bow to no one. This is what Feanaro had become. He wasn’t only the spirit of fire anymore, he had become the fire.
...
Ambarto was still in the ships when it happened. He smelled the smoke before he felt the harsh heat on his back. Before he even stepped foot on the deck, he knew what had happened. The ships were being burned. On the deck, he saw fire everywhere. It closed in around him. Ambarto desperately looked around for an escape route. Just past the flames, he could see a figure laughing with a torch in it’s hand. Though he couldn’t see the figure’s face, he knew who it was. After all, whose eyes could burn that brightly?
Looking around, he could see no escape. He could feel the fire on his back, on his arms and his legs. The flames were eating him alive. A cry of pain escaped his lips. It didn’t go unnoticed. Tyelko met his eyes. Ambarto pleaded with him, asking for Tyelko to release him of the pain of being burned alive. Horror filled Tyelko’s eyes, horror and then resignation. He let a single arrow fly from his bow and it struck Ambarto straight in the chest, finally bringing him peace at last. His last thoughts were how his father should have stuck with the name Umbarto after all.
...
Pityo thought he had seen it all. The blood all around him in Alqualonde, the Teleri being mercilessly slaughtered, his own arm bringing down a sword on someone’s head. After kinslaying the Teleri, they then proceeded to steal their ships. The crossing to Arda had been filled with dismay. The skies had opened up and let forth the tears Manwe had for the slain Teleri. The seas rumbled and churned with the roars of outrage from Ulmo. But through it all, Pityo had Ambarto by his side.
Ambarto was always by his side, through thick and thin. They came into the world together and they would stay together. Until they weren’t. Amidst the chaos at Losgar, Pityo had been frantically searching for his other half, his younger twin. In the corner of his eye, he saw Tyelko become stiff. He followed Tyelko’s eyes and met the eyes of Ambarto. He vaguely remembers what happened next. He tried to reach his hand out but he fell short. Tyelko had his bow out and then Ambarto was no more. The last to come was the first to go.
...
Curvo would copy his father, even from a young age. Everyone would comment how much he looked and acted like his father. Father would then laugh fondly and ruffle Curvo’s hair, making him frown a bit but secretly feel warm inside. As he grew older, he grew to look more and more like his father. He loved it and hated it. He loved it because he wanted to be like his father and do what he did. He hated it because he also wanted to be his own person. He wanted to outdo his father and make him proud.
Now, at Losgar, Curvo is following his father, not to impress him, but because he was overwhelmed with hopelessness. Hopelessness because his father was lost when those Silmarils where stolen, lost when he found that Finwe had been killed. Curvo followed his father because at this moment, he didn’t know what to do. So when he’d heard that he had accidentally caused the death of his younger brother, he cursed himself. He couldn’t bring himself to curse his father though. He couldn’t because despite all that had happened, he still loved his father. The father that loved him, laughed with him and taught him everything he knew. Though that elf was long gone, a memory of him still remains and Curvo is determined to hold onto that memory for as long as he had breath in his body.
...
Carnistir had always been the quiet one. The one that nobody sees, who’s always in the shadows. It was always his brothers who were in the spotlight, not that he minded. He actually preferred it that way. Unlike some of his brothers, fire scares him a little. It illuminates all of his insecurities.
Like his brothers, though, he still burns the ships at Losgar. But the moment the boats caught alight, he regretted it. As always, he saw in it his true self. He may show a cold front the the world, but fire always melted that. Right now, Carnistir can see a monster in the fire, so different from him yet so similar. Is this what he had become? A monster who burns so brightly with the flame of his father? Well so be it. When the ships burned, a little bit of Carnistir went with it.
...
Tyelko has always loved hunting, the thrill of the chase, the arrow flying through the air as time slows down for him. He would always rise up at sunrise to go hunt. His brothers always joked that it was the reason why their mother had named him ‘hasty riser’.
As the ships burned around him, Tyelko truly looked like a hunter. A predator, with the light of the fire reflected in his eyes. Briefly, he thought of Irisse, and how she would cross. If she’s smart enough then she won’t. Amidst his thoughts, he saw a pair of eyes on the ships, bright with fear and suddenly, all thoughts were forgotten. No. That can’t be. Ambarto was still on the ship. Ambarto, his baby brother, who’d always hound Tyelko to take him hunting. Ambarto was now looking straight at him, his eyes pleading for him to end this. Horror filled Tyelko. That couldn’t be the only way to end this. The he saw how much pain Ambarto was in and he realized that there was nothing else anybody can do. So he drew a single arrow into his bow and then he let it fly. Time seemed to have slowed down for him, as he watched the arrow pierce Ambarto’s heart. Now, Tyelko thought grimly, he was more of a kinslayer then his brothers will ever be.
...
Makalaure was the most like his mother out of all of his brothers. Even though he looked more like his father, everyone would comment how similar Nerdanel and Makalaure were. It was his mother that gave him advice on how to woo his wife. It was his mother that cheered the loudest when he won his first music competition. Even though he knew that his brothers will always be by his side, his mother always had his back. Until she didn’t.
Watching the ships burned, Makalaure wondered what Nerdanel would think of them now. What would she think of him and his brother, and the elf she had married? Thinking of her now gave Makalaure a pang in his chest. He could now never see her again. He focused his mind back on the fire. He saw the flames twisting into silhouettes of people, of things, of monsters. Tearing his eyes from the fire, he looked beyond it and saw something, no, not something, someone. With a startling horror, he could see that the someone he saw was Ambarto. Then he was gone. No, not gone, but lying there, crumpled on the deck of the ship with an arrow through his heart. It was at this moment that Makalaure realized that they could never go back.
...
Maitimo had always put on a brave face. It wasn’t easy living with six brothers. Even so, he couldn’t imagine living without them. No matter how annoying they were, they were still his family. So just imagine how devastated he was when his family was torn apart. It was his mother first. His father drove her away. Then, it was his father. He became detached, with eyes only for his Silmarils. Then it was his grandfather Finwe. Now, Ambarto was gone.
At Losgar, Maitimo had refused to burn the ships. His family was already torn apart, so why break it more? (Another reason he didn’t want to burn the ships is so Findekano can cross. But he won’t admit this to himself. After all, what does his happiness matter?) But the ships still burnt. And Ambarto with it. Ambarto, his littlest brother, so bright and cheery was no more. After hearing this news, Maitimo didn’t know what to do. He had to stay strong for the others. He won’t show any weakness, not now. (Later though, when he’ll be alone, he will cry and scream and rage, before going off to meet Morringotto’s embassy.) His remaining brothers needed him. So, with a grim determination, Maitimo walked away from the fire, never looking back.
...
Standing on the other side of the sea, Nolofinwe saw the flames and the smoke rising from the ships and in that moment, he made an oath to himself. He promised that he would get to the other side, no matter what it took. After his words were uttered to wind, he walked. And his people followed.
Language Day so here's another french prompt. Still abstract. Thats how I write in French 😅
Findekáno à Alqualondë:
Et ce n'est peut être qu'à ce moment, comme suspendu entre deux souffles qu'il comprend. Que l'amour est brutal dans sa splendeur, qu'il détruit et reconstruit, que la sagesse s'éclipse face à l'immensité de l'émotion portée comme une flamme à bout de bras, bout de souffle et qui perdure même sous la pluie; cette flamme qui même si elle vacille, jamais ne s'éteint.
Il tient debout, frappé par l'horreur de sa conviction que jamais plus rien ne pourra venir freiner cet élan, qu'après tout il se doit d'être vivant, si cruellement vivant et sentir son cœur battre à tout rompre sous le martelement de son envie, la dictature de sa candeur face à une peur de ne plus être en la compagnie de l'être aimé.
L'épée est légère, son éclat létale, le cri presque sauvage. Findekáno regarde le Teleri s'effondrer et prie pour son âme, pour son destin, pour l'horreur de son amour aussi écarlate que le sang glissant du métal brûlant sous les torches, aussi vibrante que la chevelure de Maitimo.
Alors Findekáno s'élance de nouveau et tue, et tue encore, et lui même, par amour, par crainte, par tout ce qu'il façonne et ruine les hommes.
