Black and grey realism tattoo on the upper arm showing a man's portrait above two armed warriors in a forest scene.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Male portrait with warriors on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A large portrait of a man with swept-back, long hair fills the upper part of the arm, with two figures carrying weapons in a misty woodland scene below. The work uses fine, soft shading with strong contrast in the face and hair, and the background fades into dark grey. The composition wraps around the arm, with the portrait as the focal point and the smaller figures set in the lower section.

Realism Upper arm Portrait Man Long hair Warrior Forest Tree

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Up at Bwlch Ddu, where the road gave out and the mist sat on the heather like wet wool, a shepherd named Owain Tallis kept counting sheep that were no longer there. Nine ewes gone since Candlemas. His neighbour, a long-haired drover called Morgan Vaughan who had come up from the valley with a face like weather, said the thieves came down through the pass at dusk and went back the same way.

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Owain did not argue. He took his father's spear down from the rafters, rubbed it with mutton fat, and asked his sister Nest to pack bread and a flask. She said he was a fool. He said the ewes had names, and she could not argue with that, because she had named half of them herself.

They went up at dusk with Morgan leading, his grey hair tied back with a strip of red wool. Trees bent over the path like old men listening. Halfway through the wood they heard a bleat, then a whistle, and then nothing at all. Morgan put a hand out. Two figures stood in the path, one with a bow and one with a hooked staff, and they were no more than shadows until the mist parted and Owain saw they were only boys, thin as rakes, sent up to graze.

Owain lowered the spear and gave them half the bread. The boys led him to a fold in the rock where the nine ewes stood with their heads down, and they said the thief was their uncle, who had been dead since the autumn. Morgan laughed until he coughed. Owain drove the ewes home himself, and every year after, when the mist came up off the lake, somebody in the valley left a loaf on the stone at the top of the pass.