Charms of Wisdom and Grace

In the early days I had done all the weaving, of course; the loom set in the corner by the fire. We had to carry it in in pieces, because we had not thought to set the door wide enough. After a time, a family of weavers moved into our community, and I was glad to exchange wool for cloth. I almost miss those days, now.

Faramir would sit next to me on the bench to watch. The first time he asked for a turn I thought he was jesting , but my husband surprised me yet again, telling me of how, wandering the city as a boy, he had discovered the weaver’s street, and spent hours watching those quiet folk. When he found his mother’s loom, abandoned in a storeroom, he taught himself, relaxed by the rhythmic sound. He finished a fine length of damask wool, deep ruby and black, and had it made into a cloak, wrapping his brother in love for his journey. When the halflings told of how Boromir had held them close on Caradhras, saving their lives, I could see the tears glistening.

So when I started to hear the thump of the loom at odd times, I knew what it was; and one night I joined him in the workroom. He was weaving a length of soft blue-green wool; under his breath, he sang the old weaver’s song:

“No, but perhaps just a coverlet? Something light but warm to keep the chill off. I remember how drafty those rooms can be. We can wrap some lavender with it when we send it, for the scent. Lavender clears the mind, he’ll find that helpful, while he’s studying. And rosemary, too, to strengthen the memory….”

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A companion piece to A Triolet: The Weaver's Song

2007 MEFA Award Winner Honorable Mention in Genres: Drama: Ithilien