"Countdown." The year-long-written twinfic. Here 'tis, completed.

I thank llembas in the author's notes, but want to do so here as I post the story because she has been such a tried and true beta for me. Before linking to either my website or skyehawke (while it's not novel-length like geoviki's well-known H/D and other exceedingly long stories it does clock in around 75 pages printed out, and I didn't want to splice it for LJ), I want to give her virtual hugs for this. I'll be cross-posting to weasley_worship, though I don't really know where else to put it since it's not slash and focuses on the twins.

Anyway... many of you have been kind enough to read several of these chapters in piecemeal. For you, and for those of you who (probably rightly) avoid Works In Progress, here's the whole thing; beta'ed, spellchecked, and spellchecked again. The one thing it isn't is Britpicked, and if anyone notices something atrocious, feel free to let me know. I do so hope that you enjoy. It's rated PG-13 for language only. I've been to Scotland and walked like a salmon against the current of uniform-clad young'uns far less mature than these two, and I've never heard the "f-word" so much in casual conversation. I just feel that the twins and their fellow 7th-year Gryffindors might have had potty mouths, especially outside of class.

So, here're the links:

Countdown, at my website
(pretty, though if you run into HTML stuff, let me know; I hardcode all of these stories myself)

and at skyehawke; slightly less pretty because they won't allow you the < ul > capacity, nor can you link to other sites, so you can't see George's signature in the font I chose, lol.

Aside from a couple of my Ardaverse stories, and "The Essence of Black," I do believe that I am most proud of this telling of OotP from George Weasley's POV. Oh! Summary:

A filling-in of The Order of the Phoenix from George Weasley's point of view. What kinds of conversations did they have with their roommates Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler (and the other 7th-year Gryffindors) while Harry whines and Ron tries to figure what's going on? Who did they talk to before securing rent on their shop in Diagon Alley? Backstory for the twins, hopefully adding a 3rd dimension to two HP characters usually given short shrift and fairly flat descriptions. I wrote this over 9 months, and if you've read OotP, I hope you'll appreciate all of the canon references (and a few quotations interspersed when the twins show up in the book from Harry's POV). Feedback and concrit most welcome.

And for my Tolkien fanfic friends...

... Faramir's POV of day three of meeting. These are so compelling to write. Glad you're enjoying them, albeit in as piecemeal of a fashion as they come to me. :P

Day Three: Fraternity

Faramir tried to bring a gleam to Éowyn’s eye by addressing the differences in tack between horses of Gondor and Rohan. After a stifling polite and brief discussion, he recognized his futility. Silence enshrouded them, a well-worn garment that he was tired of wearing.

He had led her to a lower level of the City where quiet brooded in windows abandoned by their inhabitants. Faramir was thoughtful by nature - perhaps to a fault - but now, near the end of all things, he wished almost to jabber away. Though, of course, he did not.

The inside of his cheek knew that price well.

Éowyn stood straight, birch-like, eyeing an archway before them. With her good arm she fingered a talisman, soldered to a chain.

“Have you kin?” The words escaped his lips, triumphant on the air.

She turned and examined him, the resolute granite eyes keeping her secrets.

“A brother,” she said simply, though Faramir sensed the world of regret behind it. “And you, my lord?”

“A brother,” he echoed as they sat on a nearby broken bench. “I did have.”

“Older?” She twisted at the bit of gold at her neck.

“He was.”

She nodded. “Did he die in battle? For that’s worthy of pride indeed.”

Faramir bit at his tongue before seeing a telltale blush of shame creep at her throat.

“Forgive me, Steward.” Éowyn stared at her feet. “I know neither you nor your kind well. I must seem like an untamed, brutish creature.”

Through his heart’s pain of recollecting Boromir and the shock at her frankness, Faramir gently placed a hand on her knee. “He did, though to this day I wish it were I who had gone in his stead.”

Éowyn turned and stared. Faramir saw the shock of recognition unhinge her shuttered composure. “For love of brother, uncle and leige, I lied, I feigned manhood, and I deserted my kingdom,” she said harshly. “Who kept you caged?”

Faramir debated a diplomatic answer before his teeth ground on the bitter truth. “My father, whose hope was never set on me.”

“One more shadow we share, then.” A wry, melancholy smile tendered across Éowyn’s lips. “We stand ever behind our brothers.”

He could think of no reply.