a/n- this is a companion to my other story scars...which, like this one, i dont have a clue where i am going with...so any ideas, thoughts, concerns, critisicisms would be greatly appreciated.
Shiona cursed her luck as she crouched over the worn side of the iron tub, her knees chaffing of the hardwood floors through her light underdress as her hands, the knuckles red raw from constant scrubbing, repeatedly pushed and pulled the deadweight of the moisture-heavy linen along the board. Trust her to be stuck with the laundry while her brother rode off to market to trade for supplies, trust her to be ensconced in the stifling air of the kitchen in the oppressive, humid heat while the other girls her age would be gallivanting around the countryside, swimming in the cool waters of the glacial streams that flowed down form the heights that surrounded the vale. Trust her mother to see the clear blue summer sky as an opportunity not for leisure and pleasure, but for a "rewarding" day's hard graft. The only reward that Shiona could see for herself was water scalded fingers and bruises on her still too knobbly knees.
But despite all her grumblings, she set about to her task with much fervor, using the anger to fuel her work, her eyes squinting in the dingy afternoon light to better see the stains that she was determined to remove.
She was no stranger, despite her young years, to hard work, and although she did not relish her lifestyle, she never the less devoted herself to it, and not once vocalized her complaints. In her heart of hearts she knew that her mother was right, it was a perfect day, the weather being unseasonably clean and breezy, and that if they could finish all the laundry before the sun sank below the hills then they would not have to do it tomorrow.
She paused for a moment, sitting back on her bare heels and using her little hand to rub the area of her lower back which had begun to ache from crouching forward for such an extended period of time. The material clung transparently to her sweat streaked skin where she had placed her hand, the underdress being the only thing that was not either being violently scrubbed or drying slowly in the whispers of the breeze on the line in the back courtyard. And she let out a yawn which she didn't know she had been holding back, her small respite all of a sudden causing her weariness to seep over her.
Her mother, unbeknown to her, watched from the doorway, smiling at how catlike her daughter's features appeared when she yawned, her small milk teeth a startling white against the pink of her tongue, her little nose scrunched up in her face. Her eyes, a deep green like her own, but still bright with the light of youth, not yetdimmed by the struggle of survival. But she could see that shadow lurking at the corners, that her little girl was no longer naïve spectator, but well aware of the work involved in having to live day to day. And she mourned that loss of complete innocence, the need to ask her baby girl to help her, to work as supposed to play, for there would be time enough throughout Shiona's life for scrubbing and sighing, and plenty more besides if all that was told came to pass, what she wished more than anything that there would also be plenty of time for those laughs and smiles which so defined her child, and were the joy of her long days. Shiona lit up her mother's world with her smile.
It appeared her presence had not gone unnoticed, for her daughters little rounded ears twitched slightly and her eyes swiveled towards her mother, her face cracking into a small, almost apologetic smile as they beheld her form leaning against the doorjamb, noting, without some guilt that her hands and her arms, which were bare to the elbows, were red raw from her work.
And then as if a dream, Shiona's mother saw. The eyes were there the same, still wide and deep and green, but the face was different, full grown, without the rounded cheeks and alabaster tone of youth, gaunt, hollowed, strained, adult, the lips full and pink and hidden behind a veil which clung to her clammy cheeks like a second skin, as huge teardrops rolled silently down her cheeks. Her mother knew that veil; it was hers, and those of her ancestors, although she never thought to see it in her lifetime. Never wanted to.
But all too quickly she realized that her selfishness, her avoidance of her duty, would mean her daughter would need to fulfill it.
And then another image, fire and smoke, Shiona within it, her teeth bared in a snarl of triumph, the flames seeming to lick at her red raw skin, her arms streaked with black and red blood, none of it her own. Her deep smoke filled breaths, sucked in to relieve the pressure of the fray, the black bladed sword….her sword, the one that rested in the bottom of her old wooden chest clasped comfortably in her daughters hand, the grasp making the sinewy muscles that ran along her arm more prominent against the stretch of her skin. And then her eyes, no longer were they the deep green of glacial lakes, now they were blind with fury, blind but all seeing, and completely black.
Oh, Eru. What have I done?
Valar be praised take me, please take me instead.