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crack_van2006-11-02 05:47 am
keerawa.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-11-02 05:47 am
Entry tags:
"Forging the Blade" by MacGeorge (NC-17)
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
macgeorge1
Author Website: MacGeorge's Madness
Pairing: Duncan/OFCs
Why this must be read: This novel-length exploration of Duncan MacLeod's attempts to create a life for himself after his exile from his clan is a compelling read for dedicated fans or those new to the fandom.
My name is Keerawa, and I will be your Highlander crack van driver for the month of November. I thought I would start us off with the origin of the Highlander himself, Duncan MacLeod. This story skillfully weaves a rich plot in and around the few bare facts canon provides about Duncan's years as a young Immortal. MacGeorge's characterizations of Duncan and Connor MacLeod are a delight to read. Her prose is fluent and the story has gorgeous illustrations.
Hours passed and still he walked, the steady movement the only thing he knew to do until light began to show the shapes of hills and valleys, and he saw he was only a few miles from home - a place he was no longer welcome. His feet were sore, he was thirsty and tired and cold. His shirt was in bloody rags, his cloak was gone, his weapons lost. There was a small creek up in the hills where he used to take the sheep when he was still a lad. There was also a small shelter up there, built so the herdsman would be protected in sudden bad weather. They were the first rational, practical thoughts he had had since…since he’d died.
But...but...if he had died…was dead…why was he hungry? Why was he so cold, footsore, thirsty and tired? Why had he been abandoned, somewhere between life and death? Was he truly a demon, as his father had proclaimed? If so, why didn’t he feel any different? He had no desire to harm anyone, no sudden evil yearnings.
He stumbled, his foot striking a rock he had been too tired to see and he fell, scraping his hands and knees on the rough stones. His throat closed and a tear escaped, cooling instantly as it rolled down his face. He swept it away, his face hot with shame. He hugged his knees, and put his head down, too tired to rise and not certain any destination was worth the effort.
He sat for a few minutes, feeling numb and lost, but some stubborn urge pushed him to his feet again. Whether his father acknowledged him or not, he was still Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. A destination, a goal, was a fundamental part of his life. He would keep going. He would find an answer.
Forging the Blade is available through MacGeorge's website with pretty pictures, or through the delightful new Highlander Fiction Archive.
Author on LJ:
macgeorge1Author Website: MacGeorge's Madness
Pairing: Duncan/OFCs
Why this must be read: This novel-length exploration of Duncan MacLeod's attempts to create a life for himself after his exile from his clan is a compelling read for dedicated fans or those new to the fandom.
My name is Keerawa, and I will be your Highlander crack van driver for the month of November. I thought I would start us off with the origin of the Highlander himself, Duncan MacLeod. This story skillfully weaves a rich plot in and around the few bare facts canon provides about Duncan's years as a young Immortal. MacGeorge's characterizations of Duncan and Connor MacLeod are a delight to read. Her prose is fluent and the story has gorgeous illustrations.
Hours passed and still he walked, the steady movement the only thing he knew to do until light began to show the shapes of hills and valleys, and he saw he was only a few miles from home - a place he was no longer welcome. His feet were sore, he was thirsty and tired and cold. His shirt was in bloody rags, his cloak was gone, his weapons lost. There was a small creek up in the hills where he used to take the sheep when he was still a lad. There was also a small shelter up there, built so the herdsman would be protected in sudden bad weather. They were the first rational, practical thoughts he had had since…since he’d died.
But...but...if he had died…was dead…why was he hungry? Why was he so cold, footsore, thirsty and tired? Why had he been abandoned, somewhere between life and death? Was he truly a demon, as his father had proclaimed? If so, why didn’t he feel any different? He had no desire to harm anyone, no sudden evil yearnings.
He stumbled, his foot striking a rock he had been too tired to see and he fell, scraping his hands and knees on the rough stones. His throat closed and a tear escaped, cooling instantly as it rolled down his face. He swept it away, his face hot with shame. He hugged his knees, and put his head down, too tired to rise and not certain any destination was worth the effort.
He sat for a few minutes, feeling numb and lost, but some stubborn urge pushed him to his feet again. Whether his father acknowledged him or not, he was still Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. A destination, a goal, was a fundamental part of his life. He would keep going. He would find an answer.
Forging the Blade is available through MacGeorge's website with pretty pictures, or through the delightful new Highlander Fiction Archive.