Love Like Winter, Hands Like Ice by Himring, Agelast

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Fanwork Notes

Originally written as a fill for a prompt of Elleth's (crossing the Helcaraxë changes people) for a Halloween comment ficathon on LiveJournal: From Beyond the Grave (http://moetushie.livejournal.com/611280.html)

Part I and II by Agelast (Moetushie), Part III by Himring.

Fanwork Information

Summary:

Summer, winter--some things change, while others never do.

AU: Maedhros and Fingon in Mithrim.

Mild Horror.

Major Characters: Fingon, Maedhros

Major Relationships:

Genre: Horror, Romance

Challenges:

Rating: Teens

Warnings: Character Death, Mature Themes
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1, 343
Posted on 20 January 2013 Updated on 20 January 2013

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Comments on Love Like Winter, Hands Like Ice

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It's very scary. Reminds me of the White Walkers in George R.R. Martin, which come to think of it, go very, very well with the Helcaraxë. Now you have me thinking of horror genre Silm fics and I do not DO horror. Runs screaming from the room.

Seriously, it might be AU in its factual details, but these guy really feel like your interpretations of Fingon and Maedhros.

Very nice story (OK, nice is not the word I want! but you get my point).

Thank you very much, Oshun, and thank you very much again for your recommendation of the story on LiveJournal!

I'm not very familiar with ASOIAF, so don't have any strong associations with the White Walkers, but the image you posted on LJ looked very convincing--and in fact, it rather resembles Sirielle's painting of the Noldor crossing the Helcaraxe!

(I don't usually do horror myself but Zeen is a lot more intrepid than me!)

I popped over here upon Oshun's recommendation, and a solid recommendation this proved to be.  Very subtle horror, this is.  Nothing horrid or in your face, but subtle, like ice crystals creeping out over the still waters of a pond or the sleepiness that takes over when one succumbs to the cold.  Beautiful prose and evocative images.  I have to say that this...

"But by the fire Fingon would not go, and instead, smiling, he took his place near the window, peering through the glass for the view outside. His breath did not fog up the glass."

...showed your cards, but did not detract at all from the fabulously strange feelings of loss and repulsion that this wonderful ficlet evokes.

Nicely done, both of you.

Thank you very much for the review--and sorry for the delay in responding!

We both feel very flattered by your praise, which itself is so beautifully phrased...

And I believe you are a bit of a connoisseur of horror stories or at least a fan of Lovecraft's, so we are pleased to have survived the comparison!

I really love ghost stories and it takes a lot to creep me out, but this really did. I love Fingon's melancholy and Maedhros feeling the numbing cold. There are a lot of nice touches here but I especially liked:

"For, of course, he had known all along: ever since the temperature in the room had plummeted when Fingon entered until it was colder inside than outside, ever since he had seen frost bloom under Fingon’s boots in midsummer, ever since the mere touch of Fingon’s fingers had been enough to cauterize the bleeding stump of his wrist."

Maedhros sees all the signs but denies it because he doesn't want it to be true.

And then this:

"it is a different sort of place, the Grinding Ice. It has an intelligence, a will of its own. I knew that well enough, even before...”

Makes me shudder. Great story.

 

 

I'm still beyond thrilled that my silly little spur-of-the-moment prompt yielded this gem. There was a lot of squee in Zeen's journal back then, I believe, so I'll confine myself here a bit more and say that yes, this was excellent - beyond excellent even - and still as good as the first time around. Squee! :D Thank you both!