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Short, Occasionally Sweet - Gwynnyd's Drabbles  by Gwynnyd

Feet dance over treadles and the shed accepts the shuttle at last. Gently beaten, the taut warp shifts. Weft builds bridges, over and over. Easily finding the rhythm of the patterns, Arwen smiles as her thoughts fly to all that went before. Times alone, twisting fragile strands into unity strong enough to bind, hair fine, but enough to spread from north to south. Dipping again and again into murky depths, to confound Shadow with its own shades. Coaxing, firmly leading the unruly into place. Untangling, beginning again. Adamantine gems await their place.

Our tasks are not so different, my love.





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