Living and Dyeing
Challenge: Plants
August, Year 3014 of the Third Age
The Eastfold of Rohan
The fields lay like a carpet of gold glistening in the sun, and all the land was abloom with the healthy glow of summer. Scattered here and there, either in solitude or grouped together in small copses, grew leafy trees full and wide like billowy clouds of foliage against a sky of bright blue. All around lay the endless meadows and fields of the Riddermark, the tall, rippling grass shorn close to the ground after the hay harvest the previous month. The weather had been kind and the season had been a pleasant one - neither too hot nor too rainy - and the wheat and rye harvests were proving to be as bounteous as the hay harvest. Later that month, it would be time to harvest barley and oats.
Toiling beneath the hot summer sun, twin sisters Elfhild and Elffled weeded the family's garden under the supervision of their grandmother. The family's ancient gray dog, Gamolfeax, lay beneath a nearby tree, groaning every now and then in his sleep. The two little girls smiled as they heard distant strains of laughter and song wafting over from the fields and glanced over to see their parents and older brother, Eadfrid, hard at work. Other relatives were helping out with the harvest - Leofgifu and Athelstan, their aunt and uncle on their mother's side; several cousins on both sides of the family; and a few neighbors. The men cut the rye with sickles and scythes, while the women gathered up the stalks into sheaves and bound them with twine. The sheaves would sit in the field for a time until they dried, and then they would be gathered up and threshed and winnowed.
The twins were too young to do much work in the fields, so they weeded the garden instead. Their grandmother worked nearby, hoeing between the rows. Every now and then, she would scold the twins for pulling up a plant instead of a weed. Everyone had to do their part to ensure that the crops did well, both to keep the family from going hungry and to pay rent to the local thane. If the crops failed and a peasant family could not pay their rent, the thane might show them leniency if he was a kind and generous lord, or he could always evict them from their home. If such a calamity occurred, the family might have to give up their freedom for a time and do even more labor for the thane in order to pay off their debts.
When at last the garden was weeded, Grandmother disappeared into the thatched-roof cottage that the family shared to check upon the cauldron of soup that was simmering upon the brazier. With their mother busy in the fields, Grandmother often helped out with the cooking and watched over the girls and their younger cousins. The twins were not sure who was a better cook, their mother or their grandmother. Each woman cooked in her own unique way, and sometimes one would make a certain dish better than the other, but Grandmother's soup was always the best.
Elfhild and Elffled had only one grandmother - the mother of their father, Eadbald. Their grandmother on their mother's side had died in childbirth long before the twins were born. Grandmother was like many other Rohirric women in their early fifties: sandy blonde hair darkened by streaks of gray, bright blue eyes punctuated by a few crow's feet, and tan skin made leathery by working for hours under the hot sun. Her body was muscular, but in recent years she had become somewhat thick in the middle, for taking care of her two young granddaughters was easy work compared to toiling for hours in the fields. Grandmother liked tending the earth, and under her watchful care, the family garden flourished and the flowers bloomed. Often she would hunt through the woods in search of beneficial plants which she could use to make medicines. She had gained much of her knowledge of plants and herbs from her own mother, who had learned from her mother before her. The girls were always impressed by Grandmother's skills as a healer, for under her tender care, the hurts of both man and beast were quickly assuaged.
Yet despite her talents in the healing arts, Grandmother had not been feeling well lately. She often had dizzy spells and headaches, and lately she felt winded when doing strenuous tasks. Taking care of the children was making her soft, she often complained, good-naturedly, of course. The twins were young and did not know the exact nature of their grandmother's ailment, but they did know that she ate a lot of garlic in an attempt to remedy it. Garlic was good at driving away evil spirits, but it certainly made one's breath smell gruesome. The girls much preferred the aromas of Grandmother's medicinal teas which filled the house with wholesome scents that calmed both body and mind.
Soon Grandmother emerged from the dim recesses of the house, two large baskets held in either hand. "I need to dye some more yarn to sell at the next market day," she explained, gesturing with her baskets. "I sold all of my dyed wool and dyestuffs at the Lammas fair, and with the grain harvest going on, I have not had time to gather more."
"Let us help, Grandmother," Elfhild exclaimed as she took one of the baskets and a pair of scissors from her grandmother's hand. Though she had seen her Grandmother dye yarn many times before, the whole process always seemed mysterious to Elfhild, and she was convinced that the woman possessed some arcane knowledge. The women in her father's family were often intuitive and talented in many things, well-favored by the ancestors and on rare occasions blessed with particular knowledge.
"I wonder what shades you will make this time," Elffled remarked, her voice filled with interest. Although the peasant dyer had a good idea what color the finished dye would impart, sometimes the tint which appeared upon the fabric could come as quite a surprise. Grandmother was an adventurous lady when it came to the textile arts. Though she raised certain plants for dye, she would also make dyes from random plants, just to see what color she could get. Over the years, the twins had found out that strawberries could produce a brownish pink dye, while dandelions could impart a pale yellow.
"Living is like dyeing," Grandmother chuckled, quoting a saying of her own creation of which she was especially fond. "You may have a vision in mind, but the result may be something entirely different. What you thought would be beautiful might turn out to be a murky muck, and what you thought would be ordinary can be a thing of extraordinary beauty." Reaching into her basket, she handed Elffled another pair of scissors. "Come, girls. The weld does not harvest itself!"
Grandmother had several plant beds around the house where she grew herbs, medicinal plants, and dye weeds. A patch of sandy soil behind the chicken coop was reserved for weld, for this plant favored dry places such as roadsides and waste places. Weld, commonly used to create yellow dye, was a tall weed with long spikes of yellow flower clusters. Using various plants, Grandmother made dye for the yarn which was used to weave clothing for the family. She always made an abundance of dye so that she could keep a goodly supply for family and friends as well as sell colored yarn and pigments at the village markets. Though the whole dyeing process could take some time, selling the colored yarn was easy coin, for the plants were free, and the mordants which she used to bind the colors were easily available. There would always be stale urine, salt, vinegar, wood ash, and metal filings - all of these things were used as mordants, substances that would both alter the hue of the dyes and keep the pigments from fading as quickly.
"How did you learn how to make so many different kinds of dye?" Elfhild asked as she held out her basket so that Grandmother could drop a stalk of weld into it. They did not cut down the whole plant, for the lower parts of the stalk did not possess much pigment.
"Well, that is quite a story," Grandmother laughed as she worked.
"Oh, please tell us!" Elffled begged, her innocent aquamarine eyes wide and pleading.
"Very well, but you must work whilst you listen," Grandmother admonished them and then began her tale. "When I was a young girl, one of the women who lived in the village could create the most beautiful pigments just by making the slightest alterations in the traditional dye recipes. Her name was Meldes and she had dwelt in Gondor once upon a time. She was the daughter of a wealthy dye merchant from the city of Bangadost."
"Bangadost!" the girls exclaimed in unison. They had never been to Bangadost, but they had heard much about the city. Bangadost was a small city in Anorien, located just a few leagues beyond the border of Gondor and Rohan. Many of the Rohirrim did business there, trading with the Gondorians for goods from the south. The city was the second largest settlement in Anorien, with Minas Tirith being the first. The girls always imagined it as being a place of excitement with bustling markets filled with all sorts of exotic and fascinating goods. Perhaps someday they would get a chance to visit the city, but probably not. The life of a peasant was far too busy for frivolous journeys; there were crops to raise, animals to feed, rent to pay, and little time for travel.
"What fortuitous chance brought Meldes to the Mark?" Elfhild asked as she scratched an insect bite on her arm. She looked up at the flowering plants that towered over her. They were so tall, and she was yet so little!
Elffled snorted in derision. "Why would anyone leave a big city like Bangadost to live in a wretched little village like Grenefeld?"
"Elffled!" her sister gasped in astonishment. "You should not say such things! Grenefeld is our home! All of our family and friends live here!" A very traditional sort of girl, Elfhild's main goal in life involved getting married and having children and raising lots of turnips and carrots. Though she fantasized about far away places just like her twin, her home was in Grenefeld, and she did not want to leave.
"It matters not who lives here. Grenefield is still the most boring place in all of Middle-earth," Elffled muttered, resentfully shoving a handful of weld into her basket. She often dreamed of leaving the plains of Rohan behind and visiting faraway lands and great cities made of stone and palaces filled with gold and silver. She did have difficulty imagining what these grand and wondrous places would look like, however, for the most lavish building she had ever visited was the hall of the local thane, and it, like all of the structures built by the Rohirrim, was naught but a glorified barn.
Grandmother cleared her throat, the sharp noise recapturing the girls' attention. "Girls, I think both of you will enjoy hearing this tale." She smiled, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. The baskets were half filled by now, but there were still plenty of weld flowers left for the picking. "As you know, there are some men whose feet are compelled to wander, who feel the road calling to them. My youngest son, your Uncle Eadgar, is a man of such persuasion, and I wonder sometimes if little Elffled here might not share the same sentiments." Grandmother chuckled as she glanced towards the younger twin, who blushed under her suntanned cheeks.
"I do not think I would like to be a wandering minstrel like Uncle Eadgar, but I would like to travel and see the world someday," Elffled remarked with a coy little giggle. Uncle Eadgar had always been the black sheep of the family. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of unpaid debts, broken hearts, and jaunty little tunes which were difficult to purge from the memory. The twins probably had several cousins whom no one knew about, not even Eadgar, who had fathered them. He was a good musician but he lived in the bard's realm of myth and legend and seldom stepped foot in the real world. Still, every now and then, he would remember his humble origins and come back home to see his family. The twins always loved his visits - their uncle had been to so many places and had so many tales to share.
"Not all men who suffer from wanderlust become minstrels," Grandmother continued. "Many become drovers, and drive livestock to distant markets. Once upon a time, there was a man named Coenred who lived in the village, and in his younger years, he drove cattle from this part of the Eastfold to the markets in Bangadost. When he was in the city, he met Lady Meldes, a fair young lady who was from a very old and traditional Gondorian family. Her father was a wealthy dye merchant who sold dyes which would adorn the robes of noble men and women. Both the drover and the noblewoman fell in love with each other the moment their eyes first met. But Lady Meldes' father would not hear to a marriage with a simple drover, no matter how much his daughter begged and pleaded."
"What happened to Coenred and Lady Meldes?" Elfhild's voice was tense with anticipation. "Did the lady's father finally allow her to get married?"
"Ah, that should be enough weld to supply half the village," Grandmother remarked, looking down at the two baskets of yellow flowers. "Come, girls, let us go back to the house so that I can get these flowers ready to boil. I prepared some woad earlier this morning, but it has to settle for a while so that the pigment will be stronger."
"Please, continue with the story!" Elffled begged, almost whining. "Do not torture us so!"
"I would hardly call such a brief wait a torture," Grandmother laughed as she led the girls towards the house. "I will tell you what happened to Coenred and Meldes while we prepare the weld."
It took a second or two for their eyes to adjust to the inside of the cottage, for though the windows had been opened wide, the room was still dim when compared to the bright, sunny outdoors. The home where the twins, their parents and grandmother lived was like most other peasant dwellings in Rohan: two rooms, one for the animals and the other for the people. A brazier had been built in the center of the main room with vents in the gables allowing the smoke to escape. There was a small loft on the far end of the cottage; this was where the twins slept. Two shelves held the girls' possessions: a collection of dolls made by their mother and grandmother, small treasures found in the woods, and small baskets containing their sewing supplies.
Rummaging around in a small chest along the side of the house, Grandmother fetched a spool of twine and gathered some of the weld into bundles, which she hung from the rafters to dry. The rest of the plants she spread out over a cutting board on the battered old work table which stood near the brazier. Reaching for a pitcher of water, she poured it into a pot which she reserved for dye-making. She took a moment to stir the cauldron of soup which hung from the rack suspended over the fire, and then set the pot of water closer to the heat of the brazier so it would start to boil faster. As she began to chop up the weld flowers, seeds and leaves, she continued her story, occasionally interrupting herself to ask the twins to fetch her certain ingredients and supplies.
"As I was saying, Meldes' father was appalled that his daughter wanted to marry a peasant, and so he forbade the marriage. Even if Coenred had been a nobleman instead of a drover, he still would not have been considered an acceptable husband, for he was not of Gondor." When she was finished chopping up the weld, she dumped the plant matter into the boiling water and then pulled the chain back up so that the pot would simmer. Taking a second pot, she filled it with water and a goodly amount of salt; into this mixture she placed several skeins of yarn. The salt would act as a fixative to keep the dyed yarn from fading as quickly. Putting the the second pot on to simmer beside the pot filled with the weld, she turned back to the girls, wiped off her brow with a kitchen cloth, and smiled. "There, now we can rest a bit."
"I do not understand, Grandmother," Elfhild remarked, a confused expression upon her face as she followed her Grandmother over to one of the benches which sat on either side of the family's well-worn trestle table. Several large barrels were stored nearby, and Grandmother went over to one and poured out three cups of weak ale. Setting the cups down on the table, she took her seat upon the bench and took a long drink. Elfhild resumed speaking, asking the question she had meant to ask. "What did Lady Meldes' father have against our folk? All the Gondorians who have visited the village have been nice."
Grandmother looked thoughtful, her cup held between her hands. "Though most Gondorians are honest, simple folk like us, many of the old families are very proud of their noble bloodlines and want to keep them pure. They only marry into other wealthy families and refuse to allow their sons and daughters to marry folk from other lands, or even other Gondorians whom they deem as having impure blood." She scratched her chin thoughtfully for a moment, and became momentarily distracted by a wild hair which her tweezers had missed. She would have to remedy that matter later… "'Tis a wonder that King Thengel, Théoden's father, married a Gondorian noblewoman, but I would say if a man is the son of a king, he could do just about anything he pleased."
"So what happened to Coenred and the lady?" Elffled took a sip of her ale, not really caring about the marital traditions of highborn Gondorian families.
"Well, Lady Meldes begged and pleaded with her father, but still he would not relent. She was heartbroken, for she loved Coenred greatly. Since her father would not consent to allow the two young lovers to be together, Meldes and Coenred decided to run away and marry in secret. When Meldes' father found out what they had done, he became so enraged that he disowned his daughter. No longer welcome among the nobility of Anorien, she had no choice but to move to Grenefeld with her new husband. He felt that the road was no place to raise a family. Coenred decided to turn aside from his wandering ways, and settled down to be a sheep farmer with his lovely new bride."
"Oh, what a beautiful story." Sighing, Elfhild clasped her hands over her heart and closed her eyes. A sentimental girl, she always liked romantic tales, although most of the tales of her people dealt with war and glory rather than tender emotions such as true love. The stories which passed over the border from Gondor tended to be far more romantic than those of the Rohirrim.
"I think both of them were rather foolish," Elffled muttered, crossing her arms over her chest sullenly. "Of all the places they could have lived, why did they choose Grenefeld? I would have chosen Aldburg, or Edoras… or even Mundburg. The Gondorians may be haughty, but I would wager their city is far more exciting than Grenefeld could ever be!"
"Whether or not you agree or disagree with the decisions of Coenred and Meldes, they happened in the past and we cannot change them," Grandmother pointed out, distracting the two children from quarreling. "By the time that I was a little girl, Meldes was an old lady, and Coenred had been in the halls of the dead for many years. The Gondorians, you see, live much longer than most men, and do not age as quickly."
"Why is that?" Elfhild asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Many in Gondor are descended from the Númenóreans, an ancient people who were very long lived," Grandmother explained, and then let out an unexpected chuckle. "Oh, my, this conversation is indeed as wandering as a forest trail! The whole reason why I told you the story of Coenred and Meldes was to explain how I learned to create so many different dyes. Lady Meldes was well loved and respected by the folk of Grenefeld, and many sought her out to hear tales of Gondor and her life in Bangadost. When I was a young girl, just a few years older than the two of you, she taught me how to make dyes using techniques which had been kept secret by her family for many years. Of course, in Gondor, the dyes which color the clothing of the wealthy are much brighter, for they use expensive mordants imported from the South. Peasants such as we must suffice with what we have."
"Like the contents of our chamberpots." Elffled made a face.
"Yes, even old urine does have its purposes." Grandmother laughed. "Oh…" Suddenly, she slammed her cup of ale down on the table and pressed her hand to her chest, a pained expression upon her face.
"Is something wrong, Grandmother?" Elfhild gasped in alarm.
"Are - are you well?" Elffled and her sister rushed to their grandmother's side, uncertain what was wrong or what to do.
"Yes, yes… it is passing." Grandmother's smile was strained, her breath ragged. "'Twas just a bit of... indigestion... that is all. I am feeling better already." Her body relaxed and her smile became more sincere. She took a drink from her cup; the twins noticed that her hands were trembling. "Soon the family will be coming in from the fields, so we must finish up the rest of the chores and get supper ready."
"Are you sure that you are not ill, Grandmother?" Elfhild asked, trying to catch the older woman's gaze.
"I am quite well," Grandmother assured them. Taking the corner of her apron, she wiped up the spilled ale as though nothing had ever happened. "Something I ate must not have agreed with me. Now there is work to be done."
After cleaning the cups and stacking them back on their shelf, the twins followed Grandmother out into the warm sunshine, their youthful joy and sense of wonder quickly banishing their fears.
NOTES
The first two paragraphs of this story were written in 2005 for Book Three of "The Circles." This memory of better days came to the girls as they traveled through war-torn Anórien and saw fields, gardens and villages left scorched and barren by the orcs. However, this section of "The Circles" was rewritten, and the scene was edited out. However, I kept it around because I always wanted to do something with it. After almost eight years, I finally found a use for the scene!
The wayward uncle was another concept from the first drafts of "The Circles" as well. I had originally planned to write a lot about the twins' family, but Book One of "The Circles" ended up becoming a fast-paced tale of war and sorrow, too epic in its scope for very many peaceful scenes of peasant life. By writing "100 Nights and Days Within The Circles," I can finally explore some of the concepts which I had to shelve for the main series.
A lot of research went into this story. Special thanks goes out to the Real Elvish Forums, Wild Colours Natural Dyes, and Jenny Dean's Wild Colour Blog.