I was tagged by @deckofmanymore for the WIP game, thanks! And by the way I know I missed other tags - sorry about that, I'm terrible that way.
Here's a bit from the current one, then, all very raw and terrible, especially so because I've been thinking about this one for so long and yet I am struggling with it. It's Children of Húrin but very AU but that's the fun part. I've no idea when I'll manage to wrangle it into any sort of readable thing, if ever, but ah well.
Gwindis leads the mortal to the shore. The sand is damp and cold underfoot, through the strips of leather and cloth she has tied around her feet - counting herself lucky, too, that she managed to make them, for the Orcs wanted them barefoot, even down in the mines. With a sting, she remembers Nellas's shoes - pretty shoes of red leather, the ends curling up. Impractical, she had thought then, too easily seen in the woods, yet perhaps better than the rags she had; and Nellas, seeing her feet cut and bruised, had offered them to her. She had refused; now the red shoes remain on Nellas's dead feet.
She bends down and drinks. The water is cold but pure, bracing. She closes her eyes, and could almost weep. The mortal stands behind her, unseeing, unmoving. She takes a little water in her cupped hand, brings it up to the girl's lips. 'Drink,' she says. Her voice is a rough, crackling bark. The woman obeys.
She obeys; she drinks. She closes her eyes too, and stands there shivering; then she opens her eyes again, and they are red-rimmed and full of tears.
The mortal moves, now; she kneels on the sand, recking little of the water that seeps into her clothes; she kneels and drinks and drinks and drinks.
Then she looks up, and looks at Gwindis, and sees her.
'Neithan,' she says. 'Gorthol.' A rough croak, and then she wipes at her tears, kneels there red-cheeked and red-eyed. She smiles, somehow. 'Lalaith, but you must not call me that. Many times, you asked me for my name, and I could not answer you. Yet now I tell you: all these are mine.'
'Which shall I use?'
'None,' says the girl. 'Call me Urwen, Húrin's daughter.'