“Iell nîn, what do you wish to do with your life?”
Mother and daughter sat under the branches of a tall mallorn, the silver-green dappled light dancing over their weaving. Lothuialwen’s hands stilled and she nearly snapped the delicate golden thread as the unexpected question hung in the air.
“You are of age now,” her mother continued. “And I know that sitting and weaving is not the life you desire. There is a fire in you.”
“You know me too well.” Loth let the threads hang, gazing up at the dancing leaves overhead. After a long moment of silence, she sighed. “I long to protect our home, guard its borders. To live in the trees and keep watch from the flets.”
“To follow in your adar’s footsteps.” Her mother’s voice was quiet.
“Yes.” She turned to look at her mother. “If I could be happy sitting in peace making pretty weavings and singing songs, I would. I do not wish to bring you any sorrow.”
Green eyes filled with love met her own. “Lothiel-nîn, I would not ask if I did not know the answer. I have already spoken to the Lord Haldir, and if you wish to become a Marchwarden, I will support and encourage you with all my love.”
Loth felt tears fill her eyes. “Thank you, Naneth. Gi mellin.”
She embraced her mother for a long moment, tears of joy threatening to overflow. Her mother held her tightly, an embrace of love and letting go at the same time.
Then Lothuialwen sat back and picked up the threads of her weaving. “I will speak to him on the morrow. But today, I will weave with the best mother in all of the Golden Wood.”
Under deft fingers, threads formed images of golden trees on one loom, and a portrait of leaf-green eyes and dark hair on the other, and two voices joined in peaceful song.
Translations of Sindarin words used:
Iell nîn: my daughter
Adar: father
Lothiel-nîn: my little flower
Naneth: mother/mom
Gi mellin: I love you
