Boardom
Spending too long in Imladris with nothing much to do does not profit an elf maiden, especially one as necessitous as Isoldis and no amount of new hobbies or learning seem to curb the lady’s ennui. Since her return to the vale and more importantly, her promise to stay put, she had sewn an entirely new wardrobe, stuffed her own room with soft furnishings, bedecked Elrond’s halls with tapestries and finely embroidered cushions and even learnt Quenya. Not once, but twice!
Not all elves bother to learn this ancient language especially young ones, but learning it twice was probably a unique experience. Not that the lady would be entirely forthcoming in providing reasons for the reiteration, although rumour has it that the first version was so erroneous as to be laughable. Thankful for small mercies, Isoldis’ gut instinct lead her to investigate the first version at Elrond’s library and she quickly repeated the classes with a qualified tutor to save herself public humiliation, for the time being at least.
Desperate to keep her sanity, Isoldis found herself treading the boards. A forthcoming play required volunteer actors and although the rehearsals were a welcome relief to her chronic apathy, her role was turning out to be very demanding! Method acting it was certainly not! Of course she was required to look the part, yet she could not recall any time in her life when she had let her hair grow much beyond the nape of her neck, yet here she sat in the wigmaker’s chair, adjusting the fit and length of a wig made from the finest, long velvet-black hair.
The sensation of hair lying upon her shoulders felt like wearing moving epaulettes of silk, her carriage exasperatingly restricted around her long white neck whilst her face battled against the constant tickle of loose strands.
“How ever does one suffer this a day?”
Of course the lady complained, and the wigmaker proffered wisdom that Isoldis should try to wear the wig as much as possible to accustom to its touch and weight, preening much until an arrangement between Isoldis and her new long hair could be found. It wasn’t easy but eventually the wigmaker smiled with satisfaction and passed Isoldis the looking glass. The lady prepared herself for self-mockery before lifting her heavy lids and shining her gelid grey eyes upon its reflective surface.
And then she gasped.
