Cúcuc

[dragonlady7]

Have puttered much and accomplished little. Much is cleaned off and organized, much is simply cleaned off with the junk from it simply dumped elsewhere. I did a bit of my version of tanning, where I lie in the sun doing something for precisely long enough (a measure of time I don't know, but I know exactly when I can't tolerate any more sun, and it's more like fifteen minutes than anything more ambitious) and then scurry indoors. I set up the hammock but lay on the ground on my face instead, writing myself lists.
I have partially cleaned out the garage, so I could put the snowblower and lawnmower and so on back into it (they spent the summer on the sun porch), and then I cleaned the sunporch and set it up for summer. Dave needs to call his aunts about that round table that they told him to call about before Christmas. We could use it. The card table is wobbly.
But no, I haven't done much of great value. Except, perhaps, start defrosting chicken for dinner.

Oh yes, and the title of the post was because during the excavations in my room I uncovered my copy of Kinsella's Tain and was wistfully thinking that if only there were any room in my head for any more totally unmarketable fanfiction that Cuchulainn and Ferdiad need badly to be slashed. Come on! Hawt young Celtic warriors with an ending of tragic betrayal! How could one say no?

I loved the noble way you blushed
and loved your fine, perfect form.
I loved your clear blue eye,
your way of speech, your skillfulness.

(Kinsella, p. 200)

Comments

[tehta.livejournal.com]

I think you should write it! Sounds like fun.

You know, someone could use this idea for a story about two friends--one Noldo, one Teler--fighting at Alqualonde.

[dragonlady7.livejournal.com]

I don't think Alqualonde has the same heavy, long-term inexorable inevitability as the single combat of Ferdiad and Cuchulainn at the Ford. Have you read the story?
(At risk of repeating the episode where I-- what was it? Did I inform you who Theodwyn was, or something along those lines?-- I'll summarize my understanding of the story, just in case you haven't.) They were foster-brothers, tutored by the same teacher in the arts of fighting, and Cuchulainn was one by one killing every champion of the invading host of Connacht (in ritual single combat) to defend his native Ulster, and the Queen of Connacht coerces Ferdiad into agreeing to be the next to fight Cuchulainn by lying to him, by threatening to take away his good name, and by promising him ridiculous riches. Ferdiad isn't the only old friend Cuchulainn was forced to fight. But Ferdiad is the only one who lasts three days, and who Cuchulainn nearly dies in slaying.

Alqualonde doesn't have the formality, the ceremony, the ritual quality-- you knew this was going to happen from the time Fergus and his rogue faction, among them Ferdiad, left Ulster in a rage and joined the army of Connacht: it was inevitable that Fergus was going to come back to Ulster, and that Cuchulainn was going defend it, and that he and Ferdiad would have to face one another, being counterparts and equals on opposite sides. (And the deal is that Cuchulainn has to face one man of the army in single combat every morning-- it's complicated, but it's ritual. Inevitably they're going to run out of champions, because Cuchulainn is supernatural and can't be defeated.)

I have read a novelization of parts of the epic-- it was indifferent, kinda romancey, but did convey Ferdiad's dread of having his name mocked quite well, if I remember. But there was nothing slashy in it at all, and Cuchulainn's wife wasn't at all as awesome as she is in the old tales.

I think the best one could do at Alqualonde is to have the friends come across one another-- but as I understand the Kinslaying, it's much more confused and chaotic, and many of the participants had no idea how the thing had started.

It might be feasible in the second Kinslaying at the Mouths of Sirion, where the sons of Feanor fall upon the descendants of Luthien and the survivors of Gondolin-- but that as well lacks the ritual inexorability. Perhaps one of the sons of Feanor vs. someone who isn't, both knowing the conflict was coming, could have a similar quality to it. The oath is ritual, after all, and they can't stop what they feel they must do. But the opposing side doesn't know they're coming, is the thing, so you can't get that.

And, the combat at the Ford takes three days in most of the surviving versions. The first night, they embrace at the end of fighting, and share healers and food to make sure the next day's fight will be fair. But the second night Ferdiad is cold to Cuchulainn, and the third day Cuchulainn is nearly killed but kills him instead, and then spends so long lamenting him he is nearly killed in turn by the enraged Connachtmen (and when his charioteer drags him away he claims not to care if they kill him, he's so upset at what he's done).

[tehta.livejournal.com]

I know it's not the same, I was just relating it to a more popular fandom...

[dragonlady7.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I know, I was just thinking about whether it translated, and thinking that the crucial ingredients don't make the transition.