Forms of Water by Lferion

Forms of Water

Nerdanel looked at the pile of pale-colored fabrics heaped up and scattered about the studio and sighed. Why had she agreed to do this challenge again? Fabric was not her strong point at the best of times, and pastel colors were not either. And what was she supposed to do with them? Sew? Drape? Piece together shapes? Cut them into ribbons and make a fantastically long rope? The pieces were different sizes and weaves, textures and patterns. Some of them were more than one color -- subtle stripes, or warp different from weft -- but most were one dye, and the texture achieved in the weave, or the weight of the thread, or some other technical aspect of how the cloth was made. And they were different materials too: wool, linen, silk, nettle and bamboo, things she did not know if they were olvar or kelvar or mineral -- or a combination! -- in origin.

Laurelin was beginning to wane, Telperion soon to wax. The light from the windows shifted the colors and textures in nearly imperceptible degrees as it changed. Shadows moved in the weave, picking out a fold here, a drape there. Mysteries. Possibilities. What ifs.... Maybe this contest was not hopeless; certainly she was going to give it her best effort.

"The Waterfall' turned out to be a great success, The variously soft and stiffened drapes creating the sense of water, carefully careless juxtapositions of shade and texture making depth and movement, the tiniest pieces of mica-cloth, silver and gold samite, pearl netting making for the flash and glitter of spray in Treelight. More than up to the challenge, and she was quite pleased with it, though fabric would never be her most favored sculptural material.

Many years and much grief later, she revisited the concept, shaping water in cloth. But this time, it was the fury of the storm, the ravening flood, the scoured desolation of water-whelmed land. She had never seen Beleriand, yet she caught the truth of it's drowning in cloth and metal and light, an agony and extravagance, entirely over the top and yet -- intentionally, deliberately -- only a fragment, a scrap, a torn shred of the reality of the cataclysm.

Much later again, long ages of the world, her sons returned to her one by one, clothed again in flesh, she learned that Vairë herself had recognized the truth Nerdanel shaped, and woven it into Her song.

Chapter End Notes

Prompt 1 -- Deus Faber: In the god-as-creator archetype, the universe is constructed
by an artisan. Make sure your fanwork features an artisan at some point,
whether in a major or minor role. Write at least 200 words before you
open the next prompt.

Prompt 2 -- Great Flood: Around the world, cultures have myths where the world is
destroyed by flood and then renewed. Allow a character in your story to
experience renewal or a second chance.