Oneshots of the Fourth Age

The Bride's Shawl

There was a knock at the door.

It woke me up from my first proper, long sleep in weeks, and was annoyed at having it interrupted. I took a moment to mutter some angry curses to the Golden Serpent before going to answer the door.

The knocker was getting urgent. Evidently there was some sort of emergency, but I stood at the door for some minutes, relishing in this disturber's urgency.

I waited a little too long. The knocking woke the rest of the household- my grandmother and little sister. "What's going on, Jeddah?" She asked, peeking her head through the curtains that separated our living area from the workshop. Her dark eyes were anxious, but still heavy with sleep. "Go to bed, Miarka," I hissed, making flapping motions with my hands.

"Jeddah, what is that noise?" Grandmother demanded croakily from her bed. It was the only proper bed in the roughly built sandstone house. Grandmother shared it with Miarka, but I slept on the floor. In a pile of blankets, of course- I'm not that work-hardened.

"By the Stars, Grandmother. I'll deal with this. Please get some rest." I shooed Miarka away and lit some of the window candles. The door was not very sturdily built, prone to breaking off its hinges entirely when someone knocked too desperately. I didn't particularly want this to be the case in the middle of the night, so I opened it. Whoever I was expecting, it was not this.

A young man, quite a bit taller than me, but that was not surprising. Most young men are taller than me. Those high cheekbones, the way his dark hair curled above his ears- I knew this young man.

Sufyan, the son of the Ramyah of Harmindon. My eyes went as wide as Miarka's. I knew him by sight, of course- everyone in Harmindon knows the Ramyah's son.

"Talia? Are you the seamstress?"

I shook my head. "Talia was my mother. She is dead. I am seamstress now. My name is Jeddah." He looked disappointed, and made to turn away, but I called him back.

"Wait, does your mother need some embroidery done? If so, I can do it as well as my mother. I did the awnings above our shop."

Sufyan nodded in recognition, and seemed satisfied. "Mother said Talia is the best in Harmindon, and only she would do. However, I have seen the awnings above your shop, and I believe you." I gestured him in, and he held out a package tied hurriedly in brown paper.

"I cannot stay. This is not for mother, but my betrothed, Princess Túrien of Gondor."

I had seen the Gondorian princess several times before. I secretly thought she was beautiful, in a foreign way. Pale skin, glossy black hair, and piercing blue eyes. There had been a rumour circulating that her mother was an elf, and everyone that had been on the main street of Harmindon yesterday and had seen with their own eyes the bride's family approach knew these rumours were true. I was in the workshop, but Miarka had been playing out with her friends, and she told me. The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow.

"What is this?" I asked, glancing at the paper.

Sufyan explained that the princess had been trying on her wedding shawl, showing her sisters. Miarka had told me about these sisters too- her descriptions were of princesses so magnificent I was a little dubious, but when I went to see for myself they were already in the Ramyah's house.

As it turned out, this princess of Sufyan's had tripped over an earthenware pitcher and in an attempt to regain her balance the shawl had fluttered to the ground. It had been promptly stepped on, and quite badly ripped. Sufyan was grinning at this part of the story, and so was I. These Gondorian princesses seemed a little less ethereal when so accident prone. I unwrapped the fragile silk and assessed the damage.