Characters: The Rohirrim at the time of the first harvest of Éomer King's reign.
For the Harvest challenge - Thresh.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
The threshing floor is Yavanna’s sacred space; that is why women thresh.
It was a glorious harvest, a golden harvest. Thank Yavanna there were women enough to thresh it all – from girls, whose bodies had yet to feel the pull of the moon, to women whose bodies were bent, whose hair was white. Beating, beating, rhythmically, singing the age old songs.
Aye – women enough – but tired before the threshing started; for first they had worked, beside the few fit men, bringing the harvest home.
The threshers sang a new song now of husbands lost, wombs forever empty.
I hope notes are permissible!
I do not know exactly what Rohirric threshing songs might sound like – but I was thinking of a slightly faster version of a Scottish waulking song when I wrote this.
The only version I can find on You–tube of the particular song (Ic Iain ic Sheumais) is this one - sung by my favourites Runrig, even though the song was written for, and by, women. (Ignore the Japanese gentleman in the opening few minutes – it really is the right song!)
The song is in Gaelic – but the lyrics are very much as I envisaged the ‘new songs’ – here is a rough translation(without the 'air fa ra lo lo's and the repeats!):
Son of Iain, son of Sheumas
News of you weighs heavy
The Day of the Battle of the Ceith
my nursling was needed.
The Day of the Battle of the Runnel
Your shirt was blotted
The blood of your sweet bosom
Was soaking through the linen
The blood of your noble body
On the surface of the country
How were you not broken
On the day of the blood-letting?
Since the day you took to the ocean
darkness has lain on the mountains
The skies look gloomy
The stars have grown murky
News of you weighs heavy.