Elfëa
01-16-2003, 01:22 PM
And I still haven't come by to read your fic Rav - but if it's edited as you say, would you like to be so nice and send the non edited version to me? :) *pretty please*
Thanks Ravenclaw! :D :D
I really liked your review... :) (if anyone's interested reading my original stuff, there's loads of it at KD's Rivendell - Our Writings thread... I think I'm too lazy to post some original stuff for while... I'll see after I've finished my portfolios.. might post that stuff :))
Hero's daughter
The evening sky burned red over the sea. Slowly a silent crowd moved to the shores, in long hooded robes, their heads down. They hid under their hoods, mourning. The last rays of the sun lingered in the air, which was heavy to breathe. Not a single voice spoke a single word; the seagulls lay dead silent on their nests; the waves did not hit the sand. The footsteps of the crowd of hundreds hung and died in the air. They reached the shores, led by a slender figure, trembling yet holding her head up high and facing the burning sky. The light that painted her face laid heavily on the crowd, turning them crimson before the night won the battle and the light turned blue darkness. An ever-beautiful voice sang… A phoenix song. The flaming bird flew through the parting crowd.
*****
Before he had left they had made love for the last time. She had been as desperate to hold him close as he had. It had been fast, furious and unsatisfying, he had to leave come nightfall. The day had come and gone and he left with it, kissing her goodbye. A soft, gentle kiss on her lips, Harry's speciality, had left them tingling.
She had watched him go, her hand on her lips, flying up, up, away, until he was but a small spot in the darkening eve and she couldn't tell him apart from the stars.
Later she wondered if she should have told him.
*****
The white cloth levitated on the air. Nothing carried it; it carried him. Floating through the parted crowd on the whiteness lay his body. His dark hair ever so wild, his young face marked only by the lightning scar on his forehead, his eyes closed. The Peace Bringer so peaceful.
The phoenix sang and his body floated on the stacks of wood. His pyre.
*****
His pyre was the most magnificent and beautiful she had seen these days. Only Dumbledore's pyre had been one to match. But now they were both gone. For greater deeds, said the people who built the pyre. Greater deeds. They always kept him from her. He had never been hers completely, as she had been his. Nor had he ever been completely himself; people, wherever he was, knew him and yet knew him not. He didn't even get a chance to have himself.
******
The phoenix rested beside his head on the pyre. Its tears ran down his face, but he sleeps the eternal sleep. The song was mournful; the bird knew.
The song ended. Golden flames leapt up and the phoenix burned with his body.
*****
For greater deeds, they said and light the fire. And his body is consumed to colourless ash. She watched his body burn but didn't feel the heat. It lingered on everyone's faces, they dare not step back, but they turn their heads away, as if ashamed. As if it was their fault. It was their fault.
He never belonged to himself. Always for greater good. They kept him away from her. She wanted to scream. But she didn't. He wouldn't have wanted to create a scene. He never did.
*****
The flames reach high; the air fills with heat. Red light burns on everyone's faces. Blood red. His blood on their faces, on their hands. The heat burns.
*****
They spoke about him. In the silence their words hung in the air. The things he did. The good things. How he fought him again. How Voldemort was defeated this time. How he gave his life for them. The Boy Who Once Lived.
The Peace Bringer.
The fire died, leaving but a smouldering pile of hot ash. The eastern sky lightened with the approaching dawn. The red dawn. She didn't feel the wet tears on her cheeks; they've been running too long. Hands pressed protectively against her belly she walks through the crowd; it parts before her.
Somewhere in her heart she hoped he knew.
This fic was edited by Ravenclaw whom I'm thankful for correcting the grammar and such :) (btw, the tense change in the middle was intentional, even if it's something that really shouldn't be done... I dunno why I wanted it to be so... but I like it like this - differs from the "original" I'm working on too... wonder how it'll turn out :))
I'll hopefully have time and memory for reading your fic tomorrow :)
Thanks Ravenclaw! :D :D
I really liked your review... :) (if anyone's interested reading my original stuff, there's loads of it at KD's Rivendell - Our Writings thread... I think I'm too lazy to post some original stuff for while... I'll see after I've finished my portfolios.. might post that stuff :))
Hero's daughter
The evening sky burned red over the sea. Slowly a silent crowd moved to the shores, in long hooded robes, their heads down. They hid under their hoods, mourning. The last rays of the sun lingered in the air, which was heavy to breathe. Not a single voice spoke a single word; the seagulls lay dead silent on their nests; the waves did not hit the sand. The footsteps of the crowd of hundreds hung and died in the air. They reached the shores, led by a slender figure, trembling yet holding her head up high and facing the burning sky. The light that painted her face laid heavily on the crowd, turning them crimson before the night won the battle and the light turned blue darkness. An ever-beautiful voice sang… A phoenix song. The flaming bird flew through the parting crowd.
*****
Before he had left they had made love for the last time. She had been as desperate to hold him close as he had. It had been fast, furious and unsatisfying, he had to leave come nightfall. The day had come and gone and he left with it, kissing her goodbye. A soft, gentle kiss on her lips, Harry's speciality, had left them tingling.
She had watched him go, her hand on her lips, flying up, up, away, until he was but a small spot in the darkening eve and she couldn't tell him apart from the stars.
Later she wondered if she should have told him.
*****
The white cloth levitated on the air. Nothing carried it; it carried him. Floating through the parted crowd on the whiteness lay his body. His dark hair ever so wild, his young face marked only by the lightning scar on his forehead, his eyes closed. The Peace Bringer so peaceful.
The phoenix sang and his body floated on the stacks of wood. His pyre.
*****
His pyre was the most magnificent and beautiful she had seen these days. Only Dumbledore's pyre had been one to match. But now they were both gone. For greater deeds, said the people who built the pyre. Greater deeds. They always kept him from her. He had never been hers completely, as she had been his. Nor had he ever been completely himself; people, wherever he was, knew him and yet knew him not. He didn't even get a chance to have himself.
******
The phoenix rested beside his head on the pyre. Its tears ran down his face, but he sleeps the eternal sleep. The song was mournful; the bird knew.
The song ended. Golden flames leapt up and the phoenix burned with his body.
*****
For greater deeds, they said and light the fire. And his body is consumed to colourless ash. She watched his body burn but didn't feel the heat. It lingered on everyone's faces, they dare not step back, but they turn their heads away, as if ashamed. As if it was their fault. It was their fault.
He never belonged to himself. Always for greater good. They kept him away from her. She wanted to scream. But she didn't. He wouldn't have wanted to create a scene. He never did.
*****
The flames reach high; the air fills with heat. Red light burns on everyone's faces. Blood red. His blood on their faces, on their hands. The heat burns.
*****
They spoke about him. In the silence their words hung in the air. The things he did. The good things. How he fought him again. How Voldemort was defeated this time. How he gave his life for them. The Boy Who Once Lived.
The Peace Bringer.
The fire died, leaving but a smouldering pile of hot ash. The eastern sky lightened with the approaching dawn. The red dawn. She didn't feel the wet tears on her cheeks; they've been running too long. Hands pressed protectively against her belly she walks through the crowd; it parts before her.
Somewhere in her heart she hoped he knew.
This fic was edited by Ravenclaw whom I'm thankful for correcting the grammar and such :) (btw, the tense change in the middle was intentional, even if it's something that really shouldn't be done... I dunno why I wanted it to be so... but I like it like this - differs from the "original" I'm working on too... wonder how it'll turn out :))
I'll hopefully have time and memory for reading your fic tomorrow :)