Chapter 1
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Notes/Disclaimer: "The Left Hand of
Darkness" belongs to Ursula K. LeGuin. And an excellent piece of
work it is. I am making no money from this work.
The title is supposed to be a kind of subtle reference to the fact that at the winter solstice, the daylight starts coming back, even though the story doesn't really take place around the winter solstice. ; Not that anyone would possibly come up with that on their own without me having to explain it. Ah well. Hooray for esoteric-ness.
Kharidish Glossary:
amha - parent in the flesh (mother)
(although I will occasionally use "father" in place of this
term)
kemmer - the stage in the Gethenian sexual cycle, when the
beings become sexually active and develop a gender for a set period
of time, generally a few days
kemmering - lover
secher - stage
1 of kemmer, hormonal release
thorharmen - stage 2 of kemmer,
establishing a sexuality
Handara - a religious
community
Handaratta - inhabitants of the Handara
I know I fudged the ages a bit in this. Technically, Korcha and
Sorve should be ten years apart in age at the VERY least, according
to the novel's timeline. But I'm choosing to ignore that and mess
with the ages a bit. I'm assuming that Korcha is around 17 or so.
Call it poetic license. :P
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It's snowing. Spring has come, supposedly, and the Thaw has already started in the neighboring regions, but not here. Here winter still clings to the city with claws, lingering behind, clutching hold for dear life, as though it is afraid to move on. I find myself as I often find myself these days, sitting in a chair by the window, watching the large white flakes float silently downward, burying the world.
I touch my hand to the cold metal of the golden necklace around my neck. It's been five years since it happened. In the three years before, even though we were apart, I still had him, in a way. I was true to him, the necklace of the Celibate adorning my throat. It was easy to be chaste, with the thought that one day, maybe, he would come back to me. Nevermind that I had been the one to leave him; that had only been a physical absence. He had been the one to leave in truth. In his eyes, in his expression, he was never there. Always far away, too far for me to reach. Maybe he had always been like that, and I simply blinded myself to it. But he loved me once. I know, in his own way, that he loved me.
It's so much harder now, these past five years, since he died. I try to live my daily life, but this necklace mocks me. I keep waiting for the healing to come, but it never does. Every night that I sit here and stare out the window it is as though it was only yesterday that I sat at his funeral, (held in Estre, of course, where they did not call him traitor) and watched as they put his body to rest forever.
Perhaps I should be mourning for more than that. Perhaps I should mourn the three years before, or the seven before that when we loved each other and were not one. There was always a piece of himself that he could never share with me. There was always a hidden pain, a former love, that was sacred to him, so sacred that not even I could tread there.
Oh Therem, how I miss you! I wanted to take that ache to me, hold it against my heart and take it from you, keep it to myself so that you could be free. Can you believe that I simply wanted happiness for you? We were happy, weren't we? If only briefly? Surely our two children attest to that. And... and even if it was a false vow, a second vow, you did vow to me, Therem. And I believed it. My heart was truly and will still always be yours.
"Amha?"
The soft, hesitant voice pulls me away from my reveries. Korcha. I hastily wipe away the few tears that have arrived to keep me company; I do not want my eldest son to worry about me.
When I turn to face him, however, I see that it is useless. He looks at me with mournful, pitying eyes. It is sad that such a young man as my son, who has not yet entered kemmer, should be exposed to such sadness. If only Therem were still here. If only...
"Yes, Korcha?"
"Amha, are you..." He is hesitant. "Are you alright?"
In spite of my sadness, his concern makes me smile. "I am fine, Korcha. No need to worry about me."
He does not look convinced. "It's late," he says. "You should probably be getting to bed."
"I could say the same for you." I raise my eyebrow at him. "Who exactly is the child here, Keercha?" It is my nickname for him, what I called him when he was a child. I can see that it works as intended when he becomes embarrassed.
"I'm just trying to look out for you," he mumbles, his face flushing.
I sigh and stand, kissing the top of his head lightly. "I know, child. Bless you for it."
I am about to assent that we should take to our beds when there is a knock at the door. Odd. It is a bit late for visitors. I call out, "Enter!"
The man who opens the door is a lean, handsome youth, about 24 or 25 by the look of him. He shakes the snow off his shoulders and ducks inside quickly to get out of the harsh weather.
"Greetings," he says. "I know it is late, but I would like to request hospitality of you."
"Of course," I say, then pause. There is something odd about him, in the way he holds himself, or in his particular energy... Oh.
"You are in kemmer?" I ask.
"Ah, yes." The stranger looks slightly sheepish, and I can't help thinking that there's something more to him that I feel, something beyond the kemmer state. He seems familiar somehow.
"I apologize," the stranger continues. "I had hoped that I would be finished with my kemmer by the time I arrived, but this modern transportation is much faster than I anticipated, and I arrived early. I will find a kemmerhouse tomorrow, but for tonight I would simply like to rest."
"Of course," I repeat. This does present a bit of a difficulty though. Normally I would simply lay out a bed for him in my own room. But I will soon be in kemmer myself, and I do not wish to create any awkward sort of situation. Even if he weren't far too young, I am a Celibate, and there is no way I could give him satisfaction.
Well, it's solved easily enough. "I will lay you a bed in Korcha's room," I say. "He is young, not yet entered kemmer. It should work out nicely."
"I thank you," he says, inclining his head in gratitude. Once again I catch a flash of something familiar, perhaps in a line of the profile, or the way he moves his shoulders.
"I don't believe you gave us your name, friend," I point out. "I am Ashe Foreth rem ir Osboth, and this is my child of the flesh, Korcha."
"Ah, yes." He looks back up and meets my eyes steadily. "I am Sorve Harth rem ir Estraven."
My breath catches in my throat. I recall him now. I saw him briefly at the funeral, though I did not speak to him. Therem's other son, his child of the flesh by his brother. Why is he here?
"I wished to meet you," he says in answer to my unspoken question. "But there will be time, perhaps, to explain everything tomorrow. It is rather late."
"Of course," I say once again, faintly.
Korcha has been standing beside me all this time, looking curiously between myself and our guest. Finally his curiosity gets the better of him and he asks, "Amha, who is this man? You seem to know him."
"Ah." How to explain? I look down at him, my dear son. "Korcha, this is Sorve. He is Therem's other child, your half-brother."
Korcha looks up at the newcomer in surprise. "Brother?" he asks.
Sorve smiles and nods. "Indeed. And apparently we are to share a room tonight."
"Oh!" Korcha takes the hint and plays the good host. "I'll show you to the room, then, and lay out your bed. Is that alright, Amha?"
I nod and wave them off. "Yes, please do. I will retire to my own room, I think. You are right, it is late." I nod to them. "Praise the darkness and creation unfinished," I say.
They nod in response and remove themselves to Korcha's room.
I feel suddenly weary, deep within my bones. My heart aches. It ached enough already without the past returning in the flesh to haunt me. I must sleep well tonight, for who knows what tomorrow will bring.
Next Chapter
Oh God, that was hideous. Take me back.
or
Oh God, that was hideous. Let me complain
to the author.