Comments

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This was really lovely! Eris! And so very sad.

*The loom sits idly for several months before a few of the skeins are carried away. The tall man returns later with the circlet in his hands, his eyes roving over the space for a very long time before he sighs and shuts the door.

The years began to pass, slowly at first with the teetering steps of a child outside the windows, but the curtains are drawn and the loom shrinks from the darkness, remembering those magic hands and wondering where they were, and why.*

It was great to see the loom was given a second chance at life. Instead of being forgotten.

Thank you for sharing.

I like how this resonates with your earlier fic about Caranthir and how it reinforces the idea that Caranthir's skill connects him with Miriel, not only in the eyes of Feanor but also more profoundly.

The description from the point of the view of the loom is an interesting idea and you make it work, especially the description of Miriel's weaving.

 

Your description of Míriel at work, the colours and the sense of movement and the dissolution of her projects, was beautiful and evocative. And I love the idea that one of Feanor's sons would inherit Míriel's skill - and her loom and studio, too! And Carnistir in particular!