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crack_van2004-12-18 08:28 pm
lastrega.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-12-18 08:28 pm
Entry tags:
Krieger's Ahnung, by MacGeorge (NC-17)
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
macgeorge1
Author Website: MacGeorge's Madness
Why this must be read: MacGeorge has been one of the leading writers in Highlander fandom since the early days with good reason. She has a great talent for plot and characterisation and brings a maturity and intelligence to all her stories. This is one of her newer stories and one of my favourites, first published in the wonderful 'Futures Without End IV' zine.
Krieger's Ahnung (Warrior's Foreboding) is set right after the third Highlander movie, Endgame and brings Duncan and Methos together in a way that works on every level. It moves from the aftermath of Connor's death in New York to its climax in Duncan's birthplace, Glenfinnan, from pain and grief to acceptance, understanding and love. It's Duncan's journey out of Endgame's darkness, with Methos where he belongs - right by his side.
It's beautifully written, literate and true to all the characters. And it has one of the best written sword fights I've ever read.
"Fight me, God damn you!" Mac yanked Methos off the wall and threw him towards his blade.
Methos stood his ground. "You need to know if you can be beaten, and you figure if anybody can, it's me. Well, anybody on any given day can be beaten, MacLeod." He yanked the broadsword out of the ground, and with a quick twist of a wrist that had been handling blades for ten times MacLeod's lifetime, flicked the blade into the air, caught it, and hurled it like a javelin. Mac twisted, lifting his sword to deflect the missile. While the combination of moves managed to avoid a fatal stab to the chest, the long blade pierced his side and dug deep into the wall behind him.
"Are you so sure?" Mac gasped. He grasped the sword that pinned him like an insect and pulled. It cost him more blood as the sharp edges sliced deep into his hands, but at last the blade came free with a jerk, and he gasped in pain. He wavered for a minute, then stood, dropping his own heavy blade to the grass, and took possession of Methos' familiar broadsword. He took a deep, uneven breath as the wound healed almost instantly, leaving another bloody rip in the white sweater. "Now you don't even have a blade." He stalked Methos once again, and Methos danced back, putting the wooden table between them.
"Yes," Methos nodded slowly. "I am sure." The throwing knife that he produced from the folds of his clothes whipped through the air. It was clearly only intended to be a distraction as Methos dove over the table and rolled, taking up the claymore in both hands. Mac just negligently batted the throwing knife away, but now both men were armed once more.
"How much stronger was Kell?" Methos asked, circling back around the table. "And you defeated him because of a drive that had nothing to do with strength."
"You're only making it worse, Methos," Mac replied. "I shouldn't have been able to defeat Kell, but I did. I shouldn't have been able to defeat Grayson, but I did. I shouldn't have been able to defeat Kronos, but I did." He lunged, then feinted to the right, drawing Methos out, only to feint back again to the left, slicing low. If Methos hadn't pushed himself past his normal limits, he would have had his hamstrings sliced open, crippling him.
"Oh, you're good, Mac," Methos stepped back, disengaging for the moment. "I'll give you that. And you're a contender for the Prize, nobody would deny that. But nothing is written," Methos insisted. "I've been alive for five thousand years, MacLeod. And yes, history makes men, but that does not mean that any individual is pre-ordained to any fate. And...that," Methos suddenly attacked, swinging the heavy sword and forcing Mac back and back again, "includes...you!"
Methos swirled, slamming the claymore from the left with all his strength, then daring to move in close in the split second of unexpected numbness in Mac's grip afterwards, using the momentum of his body to jam his hilt straight into Mac's face. Mac's head snapped back, and he almost blacked out, toppling over. Some remnant of self-preservation made him roll to his side, and he tried to push himself up again, but his arms gave out, and he crumpled back to the ground, giving Methos time and opportunity to plant a boot on his chest and hold the tip of the claymore to MacLeod's throat.
"Checkmate, MacLeod," Methos gasped.
Krieger's Ahnung
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Author on LJ:
macgeorge1Author Website: MacGeorge's Madness
Why this must be read: MacGeorge has been one of the leading writers in Highlander fandom since the early days with good reason. She has a great talent for plot and characterisation and brings a maturity and intelligence to all her stories. This is one of her newer stories and one of my favourites, first published in the wonderful 'Futures Without End IV' zine.
Krieger's Ahnung (Warrior's Foreboding) is set right after the third Highlander movie, Endgame and brings Duncan and Methos together in a way that works on every level. It moves from the aftermath of Connor's death in New York to its climax in Duncan's birthplace, Glenfinnan, from pain and grief to acceptance, understanding and love. It's Duncan's journey out of Endgame's darkness, with Methos where he belongs - right by his side.
It's beautifully written, literate and true to all the characters. And it has one of the best written sword fights I've ever read.
"Fight me, God damn you!" Mac yanked Methos off the wall and threw him towards his blade.
Methos stood his ground. "You need to know if you can be beaten, and you figure if anybody can, it's me. Well, anybody on any given day can be beaten, MacLeod." He yanked the broadsword out of the ground, and with a quick twist of a wrist that had been handling blades for ten times MacLeod's lifetime, flicked the blade into the air, caught it, and hurled it like a javelin. Mac twisted, lifting his sword to deflect the missile. While the combination of moves managed to avoid a fatal stab to the chest, the long blade pierced his side and dug deep into the wall behind him.
"Are you so sure?" Mac gasped. He grasped the sword that pinned him like an insect and pulled. It cost him more blood as the sharp edges sliced deep into his hands, but at last the blade came free with a jerk, and he gasped in pain. He wavered for a minute, then stood, dropping his own heavy blade to the grass, and took possession of Methos' familiar broadsword. He took a deep, uneven breath as the wound healed almost instantly, leaving another bloody rip in the white sweater. "Now you don't even have a blade." He stalked Methos once again, and Methos danced back, putting the wooden table between them.
"Yes," Methos nodded slowly. "I am sure." The throwing knife that he produced from the folds of his clothes whipped through the air. It was clearly only intended to be a distraction as Methos dove over the table and rolled, taking up the claymore in both hands. Mac just negligently batted the throwing knife away, but now both men were armed once more.
"How much stronger was Kell?" Methos asked, circling back around the table. "And you defeated him because of a drive that had nothing to do with strength."
"You're only making it worse, Methos," Mac replied. "I shouldn't have been able to defeat Kell, but I did. I shouldn't have been able to defeat Grayson, but I did. I shouldn't have been able to defeat Kronos, but I did." He lunged, then feinted to the right, drawing Methos out, only to feint back again to the left, slicing low. If Methos hadn't pushed himself past his normal limits, he would have had his hamstrings sliced open, crippling him.
"Oh, you're good, Mac," Methos stepped back, disengaging for the moment. "I'll give you that. And you're a contender for the Prize, nobody would deny that. But nothing is written," Methos insisted. "I've been alive for five thousand years, MacLeod. And yes, history makes men, but that does not mean that any individual is pre-ordained to any fate. And...that," Methos suddenly attacked, swinging the heavy sword and forcing Mac back and back again, "includes...you!"
Methos swirled, slamming the claymore from the left with all his strength, then daring to move in close in the split second of unexpected numbness in Mac's grip afterwards, using the momentum of his body to jam his hilt straight into Mac's face. Mac's head snapped back, and he almost blacked out, toppling over. Some remnant of self-preservation made him roll to his side, and he tried to push himself up again, but his arms gave out, and he crumpled back to the ground, giving Methos time and opportunity to plant a boot on his chest and hold the tip of the claymore to MacLeod's throat.
"Checkmate, MacLeod," Methos gasped.
Krieger's Ahnung