(no subject)
The girl was made into a king very, very quickly. It was because of the ring, and the girl reflected that this was much like Tolkien-- except she was a girl, not a hobbit, and intermittedly pregnant.
Because she was king, she was allowed into the men's restroom. All of the men, their armor pieces hanging dirtily across stall dividers, looked up at her from their pissing: simultaniously respectful and full of doubt. How could a young girl like this rule them, command them? But the ring, which they had followed for years, said so, and the crown, which they had waited to follow, responded. The girl wore the crown loosely on her choppy hair. It was too big, but somehow it just fit.
The woman led her to a stall, past all the manly urinals. It was probably because she was so pregnant, but the girl felt wise at the moment, and resented such protection. She pulled down her pants ably though, and the woman, in a black jacket, looking very modern and very worried, stood by the paper-dispenser as the girl sat upon her porcelein throne. She was very pregnant. It occured to her that the woman was there in case the baby came. It could. She was so pregnant, but she couldn't remember that part. She couldn't remember much, except that she was exhausted, and the part where she became king.
That was fairly exciting. She remembered the prophecy-- Drop the coin through the two rings three times, so that it bounces upon the crown, and in that moment, the king is found.
She found the rings. The crown, the coin. She had all of that. She was small and female and pregnant, but she had it all, and however she'd gotten it, the soldiers respected her. She had one of the women hold the two rings. One was a weak ring, brass maybe. Worn and not so shiny. The other was THE ring, the circlet that reminded her of Frodo and Sam-- but she didn't have a Sam. Just her, and she felt strong. Just full of child. The two rings clicked and linked together, at the insignia in the brass ring. Not side by side, but on top of each other, so they formed one ring, one circle to pass through.
She stood inside, above a metal seal on the floor. This made her think of manholes, because although it was beautifully shined, it was a metal circle in the ground. It was decorate, not too elaborately, but nicely enough. In the very center was the insignia again-- the same as on the brass ring. A crown circling a heart. "Like a sign of God," the girl thought distantly. But that wasn't right, so she put it away.
The women held the rings-- they had to be perfectly centered-- and the girl held the coin. A funny coin, no currency she knew. Serated around the edges like a thick quarter, but there the sameness ended. This was not round-- it was shaped like a crown, or a potato. The front silhouette of a crown. Heavy, thick metal that fit neatly into her hand. Small. Small enough to fit through the rings, though their space seemed to stretch open a little. Dialating like she would soon, for the baby/the crown/the empire. The soldiers watched with studied concentration, gathered all around her, but far enough to be safe.
She said the words, recanted the prophecy. Held aloft the crown-coin, and then with her thumb and finger held it above the rings. Drop! Down it fell, just a short way to clink prophetically upon the metal seal. Had she hit the insignia? She had to have. Act with total confidence, she'd learned that in whatever journey had brought her here, that she still couldn't recall. Oh well. Act with total confidence. If she was wrong, the soldiers would carry her away and say, "you are a little girl. Go have your baby."
But now they watched her hand as she picked up the coin. Held it up again. Dropped it, again. Another klink. A heavier klink. As though some strong magnetism called the pieces together. The woman holding the rings-- not old, but almost older-looking women. Women who would be the mothers of children in elementary school. Caring women who went home at night. These women trembled, but did not move. What would her child be like? How would it be to be child to a new girl-king?
She picked up the coin, and dropped it one more time.
KLUNG.
The ring hit and did not bounce. It landed with the hard resounding toll of a thick and ominous bell, and where it landed, it aligned with the insignia. The coin sat immobily and glowed. The women fell back, gasping, and the soldiers shifted in awe. The hard noise rang through all of their bones, and in her belly, the baby heard. The Enemy was defeated. The people all wanted to run. In the moment of impact, the girl could understand everything in their heads, and she saw them unanimously envision the fleeing: a stampede of frightened people, led by the women, who instead fought off this longing, and did not drop the rings.
The King must be crowned, said a voice, which might have reminded her of the sword in the stone, if the human voice didn't pale sadly next to the ring fo the coin and crown.
Out of the metal seal twisted a crown. The women handed her the rings to wear, and placed the corwn upon her touseled hair.
And then she was tired. Some of her, all of her-- this was a bttle inside of her, not of the baby, but the baby helped. She remembered someone saying once, about the power of a woman with child-- but she was a girl.
She walked around the seal, over the rolling counter the soldiers all hid behind. No one wanted to touch her. The women stared at her, looking for what to do. She leaned on the counter, exhausted and feeling a little apart. The coin was on the floor. She knew then it hadn't been so far from her in months. But it must stay there now. It was burning white-hot, and it could not leave the crown now. The crown, the floor, the coin. On her head, the metal band weighed oddly. It occured to her that it was the same metal as the coin. It was thick and slightly heavy. The crown and the baby weighed her in opposing directions.
And now she strained in the stall. Birth pains, or just her tired bowels? She had no embarrassment, and the women only tended her with reverent, patient frankness. Another woman came into the stall, closing the door carefully around herself, so the curious men could not look in. There was a part of these women that unconciously mothered her. She dind't know if it was nice or annoying. She didn't remember real mothering. She tried to ignore her stomach, which reminded her she would need to learn soon.
"Well," she said. "Sauron is dead."
The women trembled in fear. The Enemy had reigned long and harsh before this foreigner or ignoramus came and blindly put him to his end. They shrunk away from the name.
"No," said the girl, looking at them with strong eyes. She was right in this. "Saying something's name takes fear from it. If you avoid his name, he will have power over you. Say his name!"
They stared, still frightened, but seeing and knowing she was wise.
The funny thing was, she couldn't remember its name. The name of the Enemy. It wasn't Sauron-- that wasn't even what she had said. She had said its name, that is why they shrunk. But she did not know what that name was.
Part of her acknowledged this was slightly bad. She could be defeated by an unknown name.
They said the name, fearful of calling it to them, but the girl didn't hear because they said it while she was thinking.
Because she was king, she was allowed into the men's restroom. All of the men, their armor pieces hanging dirtily across stall dividers, looked up at her from their pissing: simultaniously respectful and full of doubt. How could a young girl like this rule them, command them? But the ring, which they had followed for years, said so, and the crown, which they had waited to follow, responded. The girl wore the crown loosely on her choppy hair. It was too big, but somehow it just fit.
The woman led her to a stall, past all the manly urinals. It was probably because she was so pregnant, but the girl felt wise at the moment, and resented such protection. She pulled down her pants ably though, and the woman, in a black jacket, looking very modern and very worried, stood by the paper-dispenser as the girl sat upon her porcelein throne. She was very pregnant. It occured to her that the woman was there in case the baby came. It could. She was so pregnant, but she couldn't remember that part. She couldn't remember much, except that she was exhausted, and the part where she became king.
That was fairly exciting. She remembered the prophecy-- Drop the coin through the two rings three times, so that it bounces upon the crown, and in that moment, the king is found.
She found the rings. The crown, the coin. She had all of that. She was small and female and pregnant, but she had it all, and however she'd gotten it, the soldiers respected her. She had one of the women hold the two rings. One was a weak ring, brass maybe. Worn and not so shiny. The other was THE ring, the circlet that reminded her of Frodo and Sam-- but she didn't have a Sam. Just her, and she felt strong. Just full of child. The two rings clicked and linked together, at the insignia in the brass ring. Not side by side, but on top of each other, so they formed one ring, one circle to pass through.
She stood inside, above a metal seal on the floor. This made her think of manholes, because although it was beautifully shined, it was a metal circle in the ground. It was decorate, not too elaborately, but nicely enough. In the very center was the insignia again-- the same as on the brass ring. A crown circling a heart. "Like a sign of God," the girl thought distantly. But that wasn't right, so she put it away.
The women held the rings-- they had to be perfectly centered-- and the girl held the coin. A funny coin, no currency she knew. Serated around the edges like a thick quarter, but there the sameness ended. This was not round-- it was shaped like a crown, or a potato. The front silhouette of a crown. Heavy, thick metal that fit neatly into her hand. Small. Small enough to fit through the rings, though their space seemed to stretch open a little. Dialating like she would soon, for the baby/the crown/the empire. The soldiers watched with studied concentration, gathered all around her, but far enough to be safe.
She said the words, recanted the prophecy. Held aloft the crown-coin, and then with her thumb and finger held it above the rings. Drop! Down it fell, just a short way to clink prophetically upon the metal seal. Had she hit the insignia? She had to have. Act with total confidence, she'd learned that in whatever journey had brought her here, that she still couldn't recall. Oh well. Act with total confidence. If she was wrong, the soldiers would carry her away and say, "you are a little girl. Go have your baby."
But now they watched her hand as she picked up the coin. Held it up again. Dropped it, again. Another klink. A heavier klink. As though some strong magnetism called the pieces together. The woman holding the rings-- not old, but almost older-looking women. Women who would be the mothers of children in elementary school. Caring women who went home at night. These women trembled, but did not move. What would her child be like? How would it be to be child to a new girl-king?
She picked up the coin, and dropped it one more time.
KLUNG.
The ring hit and did not bounce. It landed with the hard resounding toll of a thick and ominous bell, and where it landed, it aligned with the insignia. The coin sat immobily and glowed. The women fell back, gasping, and the soldiers shifted in awe. The hard noise rang through all of their bones, and in her belly, the baby heard. The Enemy was defeated. The people all wanted to run. In the moment of impact, the girl could understand everything in their heads, and she saw them unanimously envision the fleeing: a stampede of frightened people, led by the women, who instead fought off this longing, and did not drop the rings.
The King must be crowned, said a voice, which might have reminded her of the sword in the stone, if the human voice didn't pale sadly next to the ring fo the coin and crown.
Out of the metal seal twisted a crown. The women handed her the rings to wear, and placed the corwn upon her touseled hair.
And then she was tired. Some of her, all of her-- this was a bttle inside of her, not of the baby, but the baby helped. She remembered someone saying once, about the power of a woman with child-- but she was a girl.
She walked around the seal, over the rolling counter the soldiers all hid behind. No one wanted to touch her. The women stared at her, looking for what to do. She leaned on the counter, exhausted and feeling a little apart. The coin was on the floor. She knew then it hadn't been so far from her in months. But it must stay there now. It was burning white-hot, and it could not leave the crown now. The crown, the floor, the coin. On her head, the metal band weighed oddly. It occured to her that it was the same metal as the coin. It was thick and slightly heavy. The crown and the baby weighed her in opposing directions.
And now she strained in the stall. Birth pains, or just her tired bowels? She had no embarrassment, and the women only tended her with reverent, patient frankness. Another woman came into the stall, closing the door carefully around herself, so the curious men could not look in. There was a part of these women that unconciously mothered her. She dind't know if it was nice or annoying. She didn't remember real mothering. She tried to ignore her stomach, which reminded her she would need to learn soon.
"Well," she said. "Sauron is dead."
The women trembled in fear. The Enemy had reigned long and harsh before this foreigner or ignoramus came and blindly put him to his end. They shrunk away from the name.
"No," said the girl, looking at them with strong eyes. She was right in this. "Saying something's name takes fear from it. If you avoid his name, he will have power over you. Say his name!"
They stared, still frightened, but seeing and knowing she was wise.
The funny thing was, she couldn't remember its name. The name of the Enemy. It wasn't Sauron-- that wasn't even what she had said. She had said its name, that is why they shrunk. But she did not know what that name was.
Part of her acknowledged this was slightly bad. She could be defeated by an unknown name.
They said the name, fearful of calling it to them, but the girl didn't hear because they said it while she was thinking.