"Mirror, Mirror, of circled wall, do pray tell, where is the fairest of them all?"
"Shalott does not cater to your every whim anymore. Shalott has a new lady," came the voice of the mirror, firm and adamant.
"A—a—you cannot!"
"But we do. Now I would ask of you to leave."
Evadne could tell Lady Addelin was not happy.
"And tell me of this lady," Addelin said.
"Not of her choice, she came to stay. Content is she, to weave and weave, delighting in rain, and charming birds."
"Hmmph!" came Addelin's indignant reply. She came out swiftly and and stomped towards shore. Evadne followed her.
The lady was just to get into her boat, when she must have heard Evadne's step. She whipped her head around to see her.
"You, Evadne?" Lady Addelin seemed highly amused. "Don't tell me you are the Lady of Shalott?"
Evadne said nothing, just stared at her with head held high.
Addelin snapped her finger out; a fireball came roaring towards Evadne. Before it hit her, it stopped, midair, shuddered and died out.
"You cannot hurt me here, Step-mother," Evadne said.
Lady Addelin's eyes narrowed. "I see," she said coldly. "You are a fool, Evadne. Curse be on you, if you stay here." She turned back to her boat.
"One more thing," Evadne said. "Don't ever come back here."
Lady Addelin glanced at her, frowned, and pushed her boat into the river, then jumped into it. In a moment, she was gone.
Evadne watched her go. "A curse?" she whispered, but only to the birds. She shrugged. "What can she really do to me? Nothing."
She smiled and skipped around. She was the Lady of Shalott. It had a nice ring to it.
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It was early morning and the sun was shining down brightly. The earth still smelled like dew and the grass was damp. It was intoxicating. Delicious. Delightful.
Morning doves cooed softly, slowly awakening the world. Evadne walked slowly, just taking it all in. She reached the circle mirrors and stepped inside. For a moment she said nothing, and just looked at herself. Her hair was very long, down to her hips in buttery tones and flat waves. Her eyes were light and clear blue. Well, it seems that being on a deserted isle hasn't ruined my youth, she thought with a laugh.
"Mirror, Mirror, of circled wall, show me something to weave!"
"That wasn't a very poetic command," the mirror answered, rather dryly.
"And that wasn't something very magical of you to say," Evadne in turn observed.
A picture appeared in the mirror, of young shepherd boy with curly hair and many freckles. He was surrounded by fluffy, white sheep. Evadne smiled. It was such a sweet, innocent scene. It seemed to be reflecting on the dew drops that covered the mirror. It stood out, like it was right in front of her. She felt like a part of the scene, herding the sheep as well. She could sense the iridescent threads in front of her. She let her hands move to them, and weaved, quickly, steadily.
Evadne was lost in the world of blue skies and white sheep. She was little aware of the actual weaving process, her hands just moved rhythmically, as if in time to some song that played. A sheep-herding song. Of lazy clouds, soft breezes and slow-moving sheep.
After a time it was over, she woke from her dream-like experience, with yet another tapestry in her hands. It was perfect, the picture was exactly as it had been. She would soon be filling up her tower with all of them.