Jan 16
@tolkienwomensweek day 3: creation (late, oops)
Threads
Despite her illness, Théodwyn undertakes a new project.
Picking apart threads by candlelight, her cough rattles. Midwinter closes in as the tapestry unfolds outwards. Fields of gold stretch out beneath a pale steed. When spring comes, she hopes to unfurl it in the great hall of her fathers; history made real by the clever movements of her hand. She is history too, part of the story of her people, stretching out like thread on a loom into eternity. She is but a single thread, frayed as she was now, but part of the tapestry all the same and her work remains, ever a reminder that she was here.