Atanatari: Of the Three Houses of the Edain by Himring

The Chair

Sador Labadal, Turin's childhood friend with the crippled leg, on the chair he was set to carve for Hurin, with the knife Turin had given him.

Teens (PG), with warnings for allusions to the canonical outcome of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and implied ableism.

I carved it well, with my new-gifted knife. The well-seasoned wood I was granted for the task responded like a dream. Each time the knife met wood and did what I wanted it to, my confidence rose. I might be self-maimed, but I was not wholly marred or useless. Eager to continue, I was no longer accused of wasting time. Such high hopes! I already saw him sitting in the finished chair, that winter, my lord, raising his cup on the dais—my own small contribution to the celebration of our great victory, even though I could no longer fight.

Such high hopes dashed. There was no great victory, we know, even though there is no news. My lord has not returned. The chair remains unfinished, abandoned for less rewarding but more pressing labour, as hands are few. Now my lady depends on those like me, but I falter again.

My lord will not return. The chair will never be finished now. We are defeated and oppressed. No longer the time or place for such things, useless now, when other needs are more pressing! Yesterday, I told young Turin I would break it up for firewood.

Yet he said nay.

Chapter End Notes

In MS Word, the word count is 100 + 50 + 50.