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crack_van2004-10-30 07:35 am
espresso-addict.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-10-30 07:35 am
Entry tags:
Giving Gifts by Dwimordene (PG)
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Pairing: None
Author on LJ: None
Author's Website: Dweller in the Underground
Why this must be read:
Like my last recommendation, this is an OC-focused story that takes the enemy PoV and features an outstanding evocation of the Haradric culture. Despite its brevity, Nharadh and his family flicker into life in a way that many longer pieces fail to achieve. Dwimordene is one of the veteran LotR authors, and I think this little vignette is among her best yet.
Right over middle, left over right, middle over left... one, two, three. Outside, someone is singing—the old woman wailing to the growing shadows: "Gone long to dust, gone long to dust—down, down, down in Dûrthang, gone down to dust!" And the young women who are not wed keen above her as they move through the town, lamenting. Nharadh bites his lip and concentrates. Right over middle, left over right... I am not a girl. I do not cry! His sister, Behi, is with the mourners today, wearing that lock of hair she cut from her own head for her betrothed. And she had said she would weep, though Nharadh had wondered how, until she had showed him. Holding out her hands beneath his nose, she had said, "Do you smell it? Soap left on your hands, and I've more in my purse. You wipe your eyes to bring the tears."
Giving Gifts
Pairing: None
Author on LJ: None
Author's Website: Dweller in the Underground
Why this must be read:
Like my last recommendation, this is an OC-focused story that takes the enemy PoV and features an outstanding evocation of the Haradric culture. Despite its brevity, Nharadh and his family flicker into life in a way that many longer pieces fail to achieve. Dwimordene is one of the veteran LotR authors, and I think this little vignette is among her best yet.
Right over middle, left over right, middle over left... one, two, three. Outside, someone is singing—the old woman wailing to the growing shadows: "Gone long to dust, gone long to dust—down, down, down in Dûrthang, gone down to dust!" And the young women who are not wed keen above her as they move through the town, lamenting. Nharadh bites his lip and concentrates. Right over middle, left over right... I am not a girl. I do not cry! His sister, Behi, is with the mourners today, wearing that lock of hair she cut from her own head for her betrothed. And she had said she would weep, though Nharadh had wondered how, until she had showed him. Holding out her hands beneath his nose, she had said, "Do you smell it? Soap left on your hands, and I've more in my purse. You wipe your eyes to bring the tears."
Giving Gifts