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Poison: Gift Economy

Prompt: Gift

Summary: The gift cannot be given...


The dawn breaks grey as old men, bringing the cares of kingdoms down upon Poros: to southeast, a line of horsemen; to northwest, Poros lies behind a Gondorian shield-wall; and between them, the price of peace.

They say the peace of nations is a gift. In fact, 'tis a bargain, whose coin is another's blood. So the Haradrim scream Death to Gondor!, but slaughter their own; while Come on, you bastards! Gondorrim beg, and beat down fleeing men, because dammit, dammit, they won't come, why did you come?

One day they'll no more barter, but today, peace reigns in Poros.


Okay, I can be a two-trick pony: impossible gifts and proximity of gift to death = courtesy of Derrida.


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