Remembrance Is All by Agelast

A Whisper on the Wind

Curufin + Amras. Gen. A lonely stretch of beach is all that remains. Vaguely horror-shaped.

His brother was a ragged shadow, a suggestion of rust and smoke, charred bone and cold water.

Whatever clever words Curufin had crafted to to expel Amras’ spirit from this place died in his throat. Instead, he stalked up and down the beach, occasionally shooting glances over his shoulder. He was glad that he had sent his men away, so they could not see their lord seemingly so undone by plain stretch of sea and shore, all bathed in the weak, northern sunshine.

Unremarkable in every way.

Except for the ghost on it.

Amras took his brother’s distress with curious dispassion. His bare feet made no sound as he followed the crunch of Curufin’s boots on the pebbly shore.

After being followed for what seemed like an unbearable length of time, Curufin turned and said sharply, “It was your own fault! Am I to blame for your cowardice? For your disloyalty?”

His voice was loud, but still the roar of ocean drowned him out.

Ghosts didn’t laugh, and so what Amras did then wasn’t a laugh. It was only the wind that picked up, and whistled shrilly against Curufin’s ears.

Amras’ voice was a both light as a whisper and as deep as the bowels of the earth, every word was clear. “I only ever did what I was told. Is that what loyalty means to you?”

Curufin halted, and jerked up his chin, a gesture he had inherited from their father. He spat out, “What happened to you was not my fault.”

Gently now, Amras said, “Curvo, I forgive you.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness!” But then Curufin was alone, shouting to himself on a deserted beach.