Short Stories from Middle-Earth

Fëanorian Week 2023: The Ambarussa

What fools they were to hope they could escape their Oath, the Oath they were the first to swear.

The Ambarussa were young when the Trees fell, barely old enough to be regarded as adults. They were full of mischief, and laughter, and the bliss of childhood. While their brothers matured into noble, wise Noldorin lords, the Twins were overlooked enough to grow up as whatever they wanted to be without the scrutiny of their people's expectations. They frolicked in the forests, they invented contraptions that burst in showers of colorful sparks, they wore bright colors and dyed their hair with berries so their parents could tell them apart: Amrod was indigo, Amras was violet.

Yet their freedom came from being the last sons of Fëanor, the overlooked sons. As their father and brothers rose to great heights and were revered by the Noldor, Amrod and Amras danced the line between invisible and irritating. Their creations were not as astounding as Fëanor's or Curufin's, their witty banter not as wise as Maedhros's speeches, and their songs were too odd to please anyone but themselves. Celegorm sometimes went hunting with them, but became frustrated because they were better than him. Caranthir was ostracized because of his temper, but the Ambarussa were hardly regarded at all.

Still striplings they were when their father roused the Noldor into their frenzy of war and called upon his sons to take back what was his, what he loved as much as he loved any of them. Stirred by the blind passion of his words—and feeling that this one moment was going to finally raise them from the depths of obscurity—Amrod and Amras were the first of the seven to swear the Oath. No one remembers this—no one truly remembers them, either—but they remembered it for the rest of their lives as the moment that defined them. The moment when their lives went wrong.

They asked themselves later: was such a rash action worth the first—and last—look of utter pride their father gave them? The answer to this question was the only thing the Ambarussa ever argued over.

They were no longer children when they stepped onto the stolen ships at Alqualondë, their swords and their hands stained with the blood of Elves they had known since childhood. Though their consciences screamed with agony when they crept into the hull of the Teleri's Swan-Ships to sleep, they were still so desperate to be recognized and included by their family that they went along with their father's madness. The names of the Ambarussa would be forever carved into the pavement of fate.

All of their hope was shattered the moment their father set fire to the boats, not realizing—or caring—that Amrod was still on board the burning ship. The horror their father felt at this realization was not as great as his indifference, and he had said it was only right that Amrod had been named 'the fated' by their mother.

Ignoring his father's forbiddance to go after him, Amras leapt into the raging inferno and—against all odds—rescued his brother. They no longer were identical twins; more than childish berry juice stained into locks of russet hair separated them now, as Amrod's face was marred and mutilated by the flames of his father's betrayal. Their childish hopes now were also dead. They knew exactly how much Fëanor loved them.

Disgusted, angry, and hurt, the Ambarussa left it all behind—their brothers, their people, their father, the Oath—and sought a new life, a life of peace.

The Greenwood was peaceful and secluded, and the Ambarussa loved it. The Silvan Elves did not know their family, and only the Twins could see the blood forever splashed across their faces, and so they finally found a real family among those who lived in the Greenwood.

They were once again full of mischief, and laughter, and though the innocence of childhood had abandoned them forever, they could still fabricate it as easily as they could their smiles. They frolicked in the forests, they invented contraptions that burst in showers of colorful sparks, they wore bright colors and dyed their hair indigo and violet once more. They still went hunting—and smiled knowing they were still better than Celegorm—but they never slew the animals they caught.

Yet they knew, deep in their minds, that they were not free. Amrod and Amras had drawn their swords and sworn an Oath that could not be broken by hiding in the forest. They would never be forgotten again.