I do not own The Lord of the Rings or its characters.
Page 10
Serwen was trying to teach Kalin to bake lembas in the kitchens, but Kalin had only so far managed to burn both her fingers and the waybread, when Haldir burst in on them. "I have been searching everywhere for you!"
"Well, we are quite flattered, Haldir," cooed Serwen as he looked fearfully at the smoking contents of the baking stones.
"That is not dinner is it?" he asked warily.
"No, Haldir," Serwen snorted lightly, "Kalin is learning to recognize when bread is done by its aroma."
"I don't quite have it mastered yet," Kalin observed drolly, still sucking one injured thumb.
"So I see. Well," Haldir cleared his throat, clearly out of his element. "There is something I wish to ask you both, but perhaps we can speak outside, where the air is.cooler," he coughed, backing out of the door.
"Haldir the Invincible," Serwen grinned as both ladies followed him outside.
"Kalin, what was your occupation in Enedwaith?" he asked urgently.
"That really doesn't matter anymore, Haldir," Kalin said evasively.
Serwen, however, caught something of Haldir's direction and coaxed, "Then there's no harm in telling us, is there?"
Kalin was silent. She didn't want people to keep feeling sorry for her!
"You were an artist," Haldir said as she began to turn away.
"Why would you think that?" Kalin replied, twisting her cane around in her hand.
"I have seen the way you "see" things with your hands; how you "looked" at my face, and Serwen's. Your voice comes alive when you speak of the artisans; the jewelers, the swordsmiths, the carvers. How you explore the texture of fabrics; the skill with which you bound my hair. What did you do, Kalin?"
Kalin sighed. "I wove tapestries," she finally said. "Interpretations, like paintings, of great stories and deeds of renown, which were hung in places of honor in the halls of my people. So," she said dully, "you see why it doesn't matter anymore."
"But Kalin," Serwen said eagerly, "isn't art not only colors and shapes, but also form and sound, and texture to delight the other senses as well?"
"Well, yes," Kalin said hesitantly, "But."
"Serwen, have you taken Kalin to the looms of your weavers yet?" Haldir asked, his eyes glittering.
"No," Serwen replied, "I had not thought of it."
"Kalin, come with us."
"Alright," Kalin surrendered. "But you're not going to dunk me in the pond again, are you?"
* * * * *
Kalin entered the weavers' workshop with Serwen and Haldir. The sounds of the looms being worked were like coming home. She found and walked along the racks of spools, excitedly feeling the variety of cords and threads, some silky-smooth and fine, others thick and nubby. It would be a great challenge to create tapestries whose stories could be told by touch alone, she considered, by texture instead of color. It would be interesting to explore different weaves and threads to produce the softest blankets or the strongest canvases. The Elves would have knowledge of this craft spanning thousands of years; there would be so much she could learn!
But what of the looms, could she understand them? She followed the sounds of the nearest loom, where an elf allowed her to be seated and explore the mechanisms. She guided Kalin's hands and feet through a few passes of the flat shuttle. Kalin exclaimed, "This is familiar, it operates much like my looms at home. Serwen, I think I can do this! May I try?"
"Yes, Kalin, you can be an apprentice if you wish."
"Oh thank you Serwen!" she cried happily and jumped up to embrace her friend. "Haldir, thank you so much!" she said and turned, but realized that she had forgotten where he was.
"Oh he's gone dear," Serwen laughed. "He left some time ago, once he saw how happily you were engaged. But I don't imagine that he will be away from you long," she said knowingly. "Now, shall we get you started on one of the simpler table looms?"
* * * * *
During the next few weeks Kalin made great progress. Setting up the heddles was difficult for her, but once the loom was ready, the weaving itself was well worth the preparation. She tried several experiments on small table looms until she thought she had the direction she would need for her first project; she knew exactly what it would be. Sometimes she forgot to leave for dinner, she was so intent on her work. But this evening she stood up from the loom early. Tonight was not to be just a dinner, but a feast. The elves were celebrating tomorrow's departure of the company to meet King Elessar, with Haldir as their ambassador. Kalin smiled to hear the elves singing of it as she walked toward her talan to change clothes. Haldir would be so proud he might verge on the insufferable, according to Serwen. Kalin thought it an honor he richly deserved, and she was in awe of him for it. Even among elves, she could think of no one save Celeborn who would carry such a position with greater stature and grace.
She hoped that she would be able to speak to him before he left. He would be gone for many weeks, and they had spoken little of late. She ached to walk on his arm again and listen to his voice. Orophin had said he was in constant counsel with Celeborn, or drilling his company to perfection; he was planning to make a showing worthy of awe and long remembrance among Men and Elves. Kalin was sure they would be magnificent. She wished she could see them tomorrow, riding off tall and proud in the morning sun.
"Who's here?" she asked as she climbed up to her talan, hearing movement within.
"Good evening Kalin," Serwen's voice replied. "I have brought you something special to wear tonight."
"I thought I'd just wear my green dress. No one's going to be looking at me tonight."
"I thought that is what you would say, which is why I am here. We are going to make a certain elf think he has seen a vision when he glances your way."
"Serwen, you are incorrigible." Kalin gave in; she knew it would be futile to try and refuse. "Let's get ready together."
Page 10
Serwen was trying to teach Kalin to bake lembas in the kitchens, but Kalin had only so far managed to burn both her fingers and the waybread, when Haldir burst in on them. "I have been searching everywhere for you!"
"Well, we are quite flattered, Haldir," cooed Serwen as he looked fearfully at the smoking contents of the baking stones.
"That is not dinner is it?" he asked warily.
"No, Haldir," Serwen snorted lightly, "Kalin is learning to recognize when bread is done by its aroma."
"I don't quite have it mastered yet," Kalin observed drolly, still sucking one injured thumb.
"So I see. Well," Haldir cleared his throat, clearly out of his element. "There is something I wish to ask you both, but perhaps we can speak outside, where the air is.cooler," he coughed, backing out of the door.
"Haldir the Invincible," Serwen grinned as both ladies followed him outside.
"Kalin, what was your occupation in Enedwaith?" he asked urgently.
"That really doesn't matter anymore, Haldir," Kalin said evasively.
Serwen, however, caught something of Haldir's direction and coaxed, "Then there's no harm in telling us, is there?"
Kalin was silent. She didn't want people to keep feeling sorry for her!
"You were an artist," Haldir said as she began to turn away.
"Why would you think that?" Kalin replied, twisting her cane around in her hand.
"I have seen the way you "see" things with your hands; how you "looked" at my face, and Serwen's. Your voice comes alive when you speak of the artisans; the jewelers, the swordsmiths, the carvers. How you explore the texture of fabrics; the skill with which you bound my hair. What did you do, Kalin?"
Kalin sighed. "I wove tapestries," she finally said. "Interpretations, like paintings, of great stories and deeds of renown, which were hung in places of honor in the halls of my people. So," she said dully, "you see why it doesn't matter anymore."
"But Kalin," Serwen said eagerly, "isn't art not only colors and shapes, but also form and sound, and texture to delight the other senses as well?"
"Well, yes," Kalin said hesitantly, "But."
"Serwen, have you taken Kalin to the looms of your weavers yet?" Haldir asked, his eyes glittering.
"No," Serwen replied, "I had not thought of it."
"Kalin, come with us."
"Alright," Kalin surrendered. "But you're not going to dunk me in the pond again, are you?"
* * * * *
Kalin entered the weavers' workshop with Serwen and Haldir. The sounds of the looms being worked were like coming home. She found and walked along the racks of spools, excitedly feeling the variety of cords and threads, some silky-smooth and fine, others thick and nubby. It would be a great challenge to create tapestries whose stories could be told by touch alone, she considered, by texture instead of color. It would be interesting to explore different weaves and threads to produce the softest blankets or the strongest canvases. The Elves would have knowledge of this craft spanning thousands of years; there would be so much she could learn!
But what of the looms, could she understand them? She followed the sounds of the nearest loom, where an elf allowed her to be seated and explore the mechanisms. She guided Kalin's hands and feet through a few passes of the flat shuttle. Kalin exclaimed, "This is familiar, it operates much like my looms at home. Serwen, I think I can do this! May I try?"
"Yes, Kalin, you can be an apprentice if you wish."
"Oh thank you Serwen!" she cried happily and jumped up to embrace her friend. "Haldir, thank you so much!" she said and turned, but realized that she had forgotten where he was.
"Oh he's gone dear," Serwen laughed. "He left some time ago, once he saw how happily you were engaged. But I don't imagine that he will be away from you long," she said knowingly. "Now, shall we get you started on one of the simpler table looms?"
* * * * *
During the next few weeks Kalin made great progress. Setting up the heddles was difficult for her, but once the loom was ready, the weaving itself was well worth the preparation. She tried several experiments on small table looms until she thought she had the direction she would need for her first project; she knew exactly what it would be. Sometimes she forgot to leave for dinner, she was so intent on her work. But this evening she stood up from the loom early. Tonight was not to be just a dinner, but a feast. The elves were celebrating tomorrow's departure of the company to meet King Elessar, with Haldir as their ambassador. Kalin smiled to hear the elves singing of it as she walked toward her talan to change clothes. Haldir would be so proud he might verge on the insufferable, according to Serwen. Kalin thought it an honor he richly deserved, and she was in awe of him for it. Even among elves, she could think of no one save Celeborn who would carry such a position with greater stature and grace.
She hoped that she would be able to speak to him before he left. He would be gone for many weeks, and they had spoken little of late. She ached to walk on his arm again and listen to his voice. Orophin had said he was in constant counsel with Celeborn, or drilling his company to perfection; he was planning to make a showing worthy of awe and long remembrance among Men and Elves. Kalin was sure they would be magnificent. She wished she could see them tomorrow, riding off tall and proud in the morning sun.
"Who's here?" she asked as she climbed up to her talan, hearing movement within.
"Good evening Kalin," Serwen's voice replied. "I have brought you something special to wear tonight."
"I thought I'd just wear my green dress. No one's going to be looking at me tonight."
"I thought that is what you would say, which is why I am here. We are going to make a certain elf think he has seen a vision when he glances your way."
"Serwen, you are incorrigible." Kalin gave in; she knew it would be futile to try and refuse. "Let's get ready together."