My blankets were uncomfortable and scratchy, the air was hot and stuffy, my hair was in my face and I could not sleep. Late at night had long past and it was now early in the morning, too early to get up, and for some unknown reason I had taken a fit of insomnia and could not sleep no matter how hard I tried. I rolled over yet again, pulling the corner of a blanket over my head. How I was supposed to fall asleep in the awkward position I was in, arms and legs tangled up in old, itchy blankets, was unknown even to me but I stayed stubbornly where I was, trying not to suffocate as I breathed shallowly, face down in my little nest of blankets.

Finally I could not stand it and stood up rather quickly, almost falling back down as the blood rushed to my head. I leaned against the cool wall to regain my equilibrium, and breathed slowly. I envied my grandmother and sister with a passion at that moment, both lying completely still on the rickety narrow bed with peaceful expressions as their chests rose and fell in regular unison. Miarka was curled in a little ball like a cat, and I leaned over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly.

I was now completely awake, much to my annoyance. I wound a shawl around my shoulders and stepped outside, careful not to shut the door too loudly.

Though we could not afford windows, the inside of our house was rather musty at night with the curtains drawn, the lingering smell of smoke from last night's fire and the rich scent of candlewax not helping this. Every morning I would draw the curtains and hope the breeze would make the air a little fresher. It was a relief, then, to step outside into the street and breathe in the cool air, almost shivering with the shock of it.

No sign of dawn was there, no streaks of pink or orange on the horizon, though if I squinted slightly there was a definite greyness to the black of the night sky to the east. Stars twinkled comfortingly as I strode through the streets, making no sound in my bare feet - I had forgotten to slip on shoes. The houses and stalls that were so familiar were shrouded in an eerie sort of shadow, and it was all so quiet that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a small, scruffy dog dashed across my path, chasing a small creature that looked suspiciously like a rat, barely paying me any heed.

I had no set destination in mind, but I found myself in front of Mother's stall. My stall, I corrected myself vehemently. Even in the dim starlight - the moon was such a mere sliver that it was hardy visible - the golden embroidery on the awning looked majestic, out of the ordinary, compared to the dull oranges and beiges of its neighbours.

In a way it reminded my of Lady Túrien. She stood out without even trying - I had seen her mother and sisters firsthand, they were all so different and yet so astonishingly alike, so beautiful it almost hurt. I sighed, suddenly tired, and trailed home, deep in thought.

•●•●•●•

"Good morning!" Thekla's voice rang out cheerfully some hours later as I stood on tiptoe, arranging my displays.

"Oh, hello, Thekla. You're up early," I remarked, careful not to lean too hard against the stall as I turned around to smile at her, squinting in the sunlight. I tiptoed gingerly around it and stayed standing - the only high stool I owned had been taken apart to repair the stall. As Thekla began her usual spiel of gossip I began mentally preparing myself for a long day of standing on cool, shaded flagstones while squinting into the bright, sunlit square. Little pieces of grit managed to wedge themselves into the gaps between the soles of my flimsy leather sandals, and I sat down carefully to remove them, the high table entirely obscuring me from view.

Thekla's disembodied voice suddenly stopped abruptly, and I hopped up, wondering what the matter was. There, in front of my stall, stood a customer - the sight was so rare I would have been delighted even if it was a young girl, grubby and barefoot, even poorer than me wanting a cheap shawl after her only one had been worn to literal rags. But there she stood, Lady Túrien, the very same woman who had flown among Mûmakil and was now married to our Ramyah's son, like a fierce storm in all its glory.

"I wish you a good morning, ramyahani," I said politely, and held my palm to my face in respectful salute. Thekla looked astonished at my calm exterior - so was I, though my heart was thumping wildly against my chest. I gestured unsubtly for her to do the same.

"Good morning.... Jeddah?" she raised an eyebrow and I nodded silently in confirmation. "I came to thank you for the wonderful work you did on my bridal shawl last month. In fact I apologise for not doing so sooner." There was something hesitant about her voice - something was holding her back. To the average eye she would seem totally confident and trustworthy, but I had plenty of experience when telling if there was something on someone's mind. It didn't seem to be the language barrier - even though her pronunciation wasn't quite perfect she still spoke quickly and fluently. Perhaps, even after nearly a year of living in Harmindon, a few people still did not accept her presence. Perhaps she felt as though her every movement was being watched, for an excuse to spread rumours. I felt a rush of pity for the poor woman, but did not let it show, as that would probably offend her spirit more than hurtful comments.

"You're very kind, my lady," I said serenely, though I was still trembling inside. "I told you I would love to have you as ramyahani, and I meant it." 

Túrien genuinely smiled then. I thought that was it then, but she hadn't finished. "I used to think the best seamstress I knew was my sister Eruthiawen, she loves it and has made some very lovely things in the past. But your skill surpasses even hers, even I can tell that." She looked admiringly at the ridiculous awnings and the brightly coloured variety of shawls I had on display. I was experimenting with different dyes, mixing the colours and marble-dying red and orange and yellow. They looked like fiery sunsets, and I was secretly rather proud of them. I beamed with pride at her praise.

"Could I buy one of them? How much are they?" She fingered the nearest one lovingly. I blinked in surprise.

"Are you being serious, my lady?" 

"Why ever not?" Túrien asked me. I shrugged, unsure how to explain. Thekla beat me to it.

"It's hard to get custom here if people don't know you, my lady. Jeddah's mother died four years ago and she was a popular seamstress, but when Jeddah took over Talia's business some women bought some items out of charity, then left her alone. It's been hard for her, because all the women wanting their sewing done would not even dream of asking someone so young and new to the trade," Thekla explained, too quickly for me to press my hand over her mouth and shut her up, but clearly and slowly enough for Túrien to understand. She frowned, and I flushed.

"Don't listen to her, I'm getting along fine," I said, glaring at Thekla. Túrien was about to make some remark when a squeal behind me made us all jump.

"Miarka! Do not sneak up on me like that," I began to scold my little sister but she was too excited to listen to my scolding. Her eyes were wide, and she tugged at my skirt, babbling and smiling at Lady Túrien, who was watching this interaction with a bemused air. "My lady, I do apologise for my sister who has no manners at all," I hissed, frowning at her with such vehemence that she subsided to brimming over with silent glee. I shoved her behind me, angry at the interruption.

Túrien did not seem to mind. "Oh, I know what little sisters can be like," she winked at Miarka, whose dark eyes were peering curiously around my waist. Seeing the ramyahani's eyes on her, she shrieked with delight and ducked behind me shyly. 

"Are you Jeddah's friend now?" Miarka asked brazenly, voice muffled by the thick fabric of my apron strings. Mortified, I tried to usher her away but Túrien laughed prettily, not minding in the slightest, adjusting her pretty amber necklaces with a quick flick of her dainty fingers. She took a handful of silver coins from the leather pouch at her waist, and held them out to me.

"Why, I hope we can be. Take these for payment for now, I hope it will suffice," she said. I stared at them in amazement. At this point in my pitiful career I would have gladly accepted even one of those beautiful silver coins, or anything else of the same value. The coins were evidently very valuable, glinting brilliantly in the sunlight like gemstones. I almost asked if she was being serious again, but I took them, and managed to stammer out a hoarse thanks. They were heavier than I expected I could feel their cool roundness against my hot palm. My imagination was running riot with what I could do with such riches - replace the sagging roof on our house, make myself a proper dress, buy beds, needles, material.... I was in such a daze that I almost didn't hear what Lady Túrien asked me next.

"Do you make dresses?" I nodded, tears shining in my eyes.

"Can you make me a dress?" She asked eagerly. "It would be marvellous if you could make me something traditionally.... Haradrim. It would be so lovely to wear something made by Harmindon's finest seamstress. Sawda says I must be respected, and how would I ever be respected here if all I wear are my ridiculous Gondorian corsets and hastily altered dresses. Harmindon is my home now and I do so want to fit in."

I almost laughed. "Everything I make, my lady, is traditionally Haradrim. I will do my best for you, my lady."

•●•●•●•

"I take it back," Grandmother said solemnly that evening. "If she was kind to you she will be kind to everybody. Kindness, fairness, honesty, enthusiasm - these traits are respected in everyone, not just the Ramyah. And to her credit, from what you have told me, she seems to possess all these qualities. She will make an excellent leader." 

I raised my eyebrows at her sudden change of opinion, but I was glad of it. The moment Túrien had waved at us and turned the corner onto the street leading to the Ramyah's house, the three of us - Thekla, Miarka and I - first shrieked, then danced about happily, then cried. She was our literal saviour, for her silver was desperately needed no matter how often I grumbled about independence and not needing help. Thekla hugged us both and said how happy she was for us, and my sister and I rushed home to tell Grandmother. 

I went out later to buy a full bolt of the finest quality red silk I could find when I shopped for food, as well as matching thread and strings of tiny painted beads - beadwork always had been my forte. I wanted to make Lady Túrien the best dress I could in gratitude for her kindness and generosity.

She had brought us hope.