Combs, spindles, and hooks [Solo]

[Marlow]

17th of Summer, 511 AV

Marlow woke up to the sound of soft singing. He tried to open his eyes, but they seemed to be stuck shut. He tried to move, but pain shot through his entire body like electricity causing him to moan.

"Ah! Awake are ye?"

Marlow cracked his eyes open and through his blurred vision saw an old woman sitting on a stool with what appeared to be an elongated top with yarn wrapped around it.

"Who are you? Where's the old man?" He croaked through parched lips.

He tried to sit up despite his muscles telling him to stay put. After a couple of tries he even managed to make it without crying out too much.

"He's out fishing and he asked me to watch over ye." the old woman replied. "And ye should be resting."

Putting down her yarn the old woman stands up and walks towards Marlow's sick bed. Taking a pitcher from the small table beside the bed she pours some water into a mug. "Here. Sip! Don't gulp. I don't want ye to be sickin' out on the floor."

Marlow takes the mug from her hands and sips the water. He licks his lips to moisten them before talking again. "Thank you."

The old woman grunts in approval before shuffling back to her chair. She picks up her elongated top and after sitting down proceeds to spin it. Watching her carefully between sips of water Marlow notices that she had a short piece of wood wrapped in what appears to be wool dangling from her wrist. She teases tufts of wool from this and the spinning top somehow turns it into yarn.

"You're making yarn." he says. Quickly realizing how lame he sounded he opened his mouth to add something, but couldn't think of what else to say.

This elicited a chuckle from the old woman. "A master of the obvious aren't ye?"

Marlow had the grace to blush and laugh at his own obtuseness. "Do you want any help with that?" he replied after his bout of laughter.

"Ye should be resting." the old woman shot back.

"I've been resting for over two weeks. I need to do something or I fear I might crack. I'm not strong enough to go out and about, but I think I can handle something like what you're doing."

"Huh. Maybe ye are at that. And I do be needin' more roving." the old woman replied after a moment of consideration. "All right, ye can help me."

Marlow gave her his best smile. It has been over two weeks since the old fisherman found him half-drowned on the shore and he's been stuck in this sick bed all that time. Worse than not remembering his past is not being able to do anything other than lie on his bed.

The old woman stood up and got some items from a large bag lying near her chair.

"Now pay ye mind. These..." she said holding up two items.

"...be wool combs. They be used to comb the fleece and separate the long fibres from the short. It makes the fibres go in one direction and makes for a flat bundle we call a batt."

Putting aside the two wicked-looking wool combs she picks up another pair of instruments that looked liked short paddles with short spikes.

"And these..."

"...be wool carders. Ye use them on the lumps of wool to make the fibres go in the same direction as well. Mostly we use these on fleece that has short fibres. The result of carding, as it be called, is a rolag. Did ye get that?"

Marlow nodded his assent. "Wool combs. Batt. Wool carder. Rolag. I think I got that."

"Good! But before we can comb or card wool, we have to make sure it's clean first. Here. Sift through this...

"...and remove the dirt and nettles and other stuff that isn't wool. After that I will teach you how to comb and card."

Grateful to be doing something, anything, Marlow puts the basket of wool on his lap and starts cleaning the fleece.

[Marlow]

Right off the bat Marlow had to say something about his current task. "Why does this wool feel... waxy?"

The old woman cackled. "Greasy be the word ye be lookin' for lad. And that wool already be washed once since the shearin. Just enough to remove most of the dirt, sheep sweat and what not off it ye see. What ye be doin' is additional scourin'. To remove the stubborn stuff like nettles and such. If ye wash the fleece too much the grease washes right off. Most of them rich folks be wantin' that, but I says makin' yarn 'in the grease' be better. Cloaks, gloves and the like be able to shuck off water a great deal better that way. Them yarns that the grease be totally washed off soak water like any other cloth."

"I didn't know that! So that's why a lot of wool cloaks seem to shed water better." replied Marlow as he tugged off another nettle. "So wool straight from shearing is greasier?"

"Aye. And ye can tell how old the wool is by the feel of the grease. Old wool be sticky to the touch. Don't you worry none 'bout the grease lad. Take a look at me hands. The old woman stopped her spinning to extend her hands towards Marlow.

Marlow expected the old woman's hand to be dry, wrinkly and full of callouses, the marks of a hard life. What he saw and felt was not what he expected. "Your hands... They're smooth and quite soft.

The old woman smiled her gap-toothed grin at Marlow. "Comes with spinnin' yarn in the grease lad. Everyone says that me hands belong to a much younger woman. Your hands, however, they be like the hands of a fisherman or sailor. Full of callouses they are."

Marlow returned to the task of scouring the fleece. "So the old fisherman tells me. I can't remember anything though. Nothing beyond the time I woke up on the beach."

"Aye. The old blighter did mention that ye can't remember anythin' o' your past. The will of the gods I say. Are ye almost done with the fleece?"

Marlow cast a critical eye on the basket of fleece the old woman gave him to scour. "I'm not really sure. I can't really see anything else except fleece."

Sniffing, the old woman took the basket from Marlow and took a look at his handiwork. "It'll do lad. Now take one of those wool carders and place it atop your left thigh. Mind the spikes lad."

Marlow took up one of the wool carders by the handle. Examining it closely he notes that the paddle is curved slightly with the spikes on the convex side. He places the carder atop his left thigh and adjusts it a bit so that it settled as comfortably as he could make it.

"Good lad. Now the next step is to take some of this fleece, not too much mind, and place it on the spikes closest to the handle of the carder."

Marlow takes a small clump of wool and places it where the old woman directed. "Is that the right way?"

"Not much of a right way to start lad, it'll do. Now hold that carder firm and watch what I do."

The old woman takes the other wool carder to hand and positions herself in such a way that the handle of her carder points to Marlow's right, the opposite direction of the carder Marlow was holding in his left hand. The woman then places the side of her carder nearest the handle over the clump of fleece and gently pulled while slowly easing her hand up. The result was that the two spiky sides of the carders rubbed against one another their whole length.

When the woman lifted the carder there were some bits of fleece stuck to it's spikes and the leather backing underneath just like Marlow's carder.

"Now ye see these fibres that stayed on the carder? They go straight, don't they? What ye do is you flick them off. The old woman plucks the straightened fibers from the leather backing of her carder and places the fibers in between the spikes of Marlow's carder. "Then ye place them like so. Then ye take the other fibers that didn't straighten out and place them where you placed the original clump of fleece. Ye can also add more fleece assumin' the clump has gotten too thin for ye."

Marlow nodded in understanding. "So I continue like that until what? The carder in my left is coated with straight fibers? How do I remove them?"

"Ye have a sharp mind lad. Aye, you continue until yer carder is filled up. As for how ye remove them... The old woman holds up the other carder and flicks at the leather backing, which rose a bit from the wood. "The leather backing be called a card lad. That be why a carder is called such. Just flick the leather off the wood, ease it off the spikes and you have yerself a wool rolag. Now ye try it."

Marlow took another small clump of fleece and lined the side of the carder on his thigh. Taking the other carder in his right hand while keeping a firm grip on the other, he scraped the two carders against each other like the old woman showed him. Unlike the old woman's smooth pull, however, Marlow's was jerky as the spikes tangled in the fleece and snagged against other spikes.

"I think this will take some time to before I get it."

"Keep at it lad." The old woman said as she returned to spinning yarn. "Later I'll be teaching ye how to comb wool."

[Marlow]

After about an hour of carding wool Marlow felt that he has gotten the hang of it. Or at least he wasn't mangling fleece anymore, which was a start.

Flicking the rolag off the carder, Marlow lifts it up so that the old woman can see. "What do you think? It's a tricky thing making sure those spikes don't keep snagging against each other, but I think I figured out the right amount of pressure."

The old woman stops spinning yarn and reaches out for the wool rolag. "Mmm. It be a sorry looking rolag it is, but a rolag nonetheless." Putting the rolag on her lap she strokes it until it flattens. "Aye. This will do for yer first try at it. If ever ye do this again ye should distribute the fleece more evenly when you're carding. Makes the rolag more even. See here?" she said pointing at a bump on the flattened rolag. "Ye placed a bit more fleece here makin' this part o' the rolag thicker. It won't matter much for what I be needin' it for, but sometimes it does matter."

"I'll try to remember that." Marlow replied while nodding in understanding.

"Good. Now combing be much the same, but ye don't have cards. It be best if ye have a piece o' leather though to be sure. Those tines are sharp. Ye just lay the fleece as flat as you can, hold on to one end and comb through it. The short fibres will be carried away by the comb while the long fibres will stay. Ye can comb like ye carded, on your lap, or you can do it on a table."

"How do you do it?"

"On me lap, but I've been doin' it fer years lad. If ye try to do it that way, make sure ye do it slow. I dinna want you do bleed out to death if ye stab your thigh."

"I'll be careful." Marlow says as he reaches for one of the leather cards. As he places it on his thigh the way the wool carder sat earlier the old woman clucks at him.

"Na' that way lad. Ye'll be wantin' to move that around."

Marlow looked at the leather card on his thigh and thought about what the old woman said. "You mean the length should run across my thigh instead of along it?"

"That what I be sayin'." the old woman nodded sagely.

"Ah right! I'm looking to get longer fibers." Marlow moves the leather card so that its long length lay perpendicular to his thigh rather than parallel. Then he takes a clump of fleece and one of the wool combs. "So I just do like I did when I was carding? What do I do with the short fibers?"

"The short fibres ye set aside. They can still be o' use. You can add 'em to rolags while ye're carding."

Marlow again nodded at this comment. "Let nothing go to waste eh?"

"Wool be not free lad. At its cheapest it be a gold nilo for a twenty pound bundle. Now go about yer combing."

Marlow bends down to his work. He places the clump of fleece atop the leather card on his thigh and held on to it. He gingerly inserts the tines of the wool comb through the fleece near his hand until he felt the slight pressure of the tines through the leather. Slowly, but with constant pressure he moved the comb away from his other hand, keeping a constant tension on the fibers.

After his first pass there were long fibers left in his hand along with a small clump of raw fleece while there were a bunch of fibers hanging from the wool comb.

"What do I do now?" he asked, looking up at the old woman.

"Ye turn that batt around, get the fibres from the comb and then ye comb through it again. Ye repeat that until ye get all the long fibres and then you add more fleece. Ye'd like yer batt to be about an inch or two thick."

"I'd best be going to work then." Marlow says as he bends back to his combing.

[Marlow]

Combing was easier than carding, at least that's what went through Marlow's head. You just had to run the comb through the fleece and get the long fibers.

"This seems much easier than carding." he said voicing out his thoughts.

"Tha' be only because we are na' using a drum carder. It be much faster and easier tha' way."

"Ah. So, what use is the other comb? I've been only using one."

The old woman once again stops her yarn spinning and motions to Marlow. "Tha' be because ye normally use two. Give them over lad."

Marlow hands over the wool comb he had been using and then picks up and hands over the unused one.

After placing the two wool combs on her lap with the tines pointing up the old woman reaches for a clump of fleece."Now pay ye mind land. Instead o' holdin' on to one end o' the fleece ye can just place them on one of the combs like so." She proceeds to lodge fleece on the tines of one of the combs. "Then ye pick both combs up and ye comb the fleece usin' this other one, makin' sure ye comb away from yer body."

"So why didn't you teach that way to me instead?"

"Heh. I figured ye'd find it easier that way. Less tiring too. I be thinkin' tha' be enough carding and combing fer today. Lemme teach ye how to make roving. No need fer tools, just yer hands." The old woman says as she hands Marlow a batt.

"All right.' Marlow says as he takes the wool batt in hand. "How do we go about this?"

"This be pretty simple lad." The old woman said as she takes up a batt. "Ye start by layin' the batt out flat. Start at one end and just gently pull a strip o' wool off the batt until ye get to the other end. Mind that ye don't pull the strip right off. Then ye pull a strip down from tha' end. Ye just keep on doing tha' up and down the batt until ye get a continous rope o' wool. Now ye try it."

Marlow lays the batt flat on his bed and tries to copy what the old woman did. He starts pulling a strip off the batt applying a gentle pull at first. When the batt resists his first efforts he gradually increases the pull until the fibers start parting. Then, using the same amount of pressure he gradually pulls the strip up the length of the batt. He repeats this up and down the batt six more times until he got a continuous strip of wool.

"Now what do I do?"

"Well, ye can just roll it up as is. Or you can draft it a bit to make it easier later when it be needed fer spinnin'. Either way be good."

Marlow's hands moved as if they had a mind of their own. He takes the roving in hand and wraps it five times around his index and middle finger. Then he slips the wool of his fingers and turns it on it's side and proceeds to wrap the roving around it in a ball. He repeats this several times, turning the ball around every so often, until the entire roving has been rolled into a ball. When he's done he looks at the finished ball of roving in surprise.

"Now that be interestin'." says the old woman. "Seems yer not a stranger to ballin' up. Yer way of doin' it reminds me of the old blighter when he's ballin' up a fishin' line. Could be that ye know yer way around ropes and such."

"Could be." Marlow replied looking at his calloused hands.

"Well, I guess that be enough fer now. Ye had better rest up a bit. I'll wake ye when it be time to eat."

"Heh. You're just trying to get rid of me." Marlow says with a grin.

"Hah! Quit flashin' yer baby blues at an old woman. Ye need rest. If yer feelin' up to it later then I'll teach ye some more."

"I'll hold you to that old woman."

Marlow then proceeds to lie down and was asleep almost as his head hit the pillow.

[Marlow]

When Marlow finally woke up it was past noon if the light streaming in from the outside was any indication.

"Awake again? Good." The old woman stood up and shuffled over to the wood-burning stove, picking up a bowl on the way. She ladled some soup into the bowl and moved over to Marlow. "Here. Get some food in ye."

"Fish soup with kelp. Why am I not surprised?" Marlow muttered.

"Yer in Zeltiva. What'd you expect?" the old woman cackled. As she sat down to continue her work.

"So..." Marlow said in between gulps. "What are you going to teach me next?"

The old woman eyed Marlow speculatively. "Are ye sure ye want to learn more?"

"Like I said, I've got nothing better to do and there's only so much sleeping a body can do."

"All right then. Finish yer soup and then I'll teach ye how to spin the roving into yarn."

After finishing his meal and performing his ablutions Marlow hobbled to his cot and sat down. "Time for my lesson?" He said smiling.

"This here..."



"...is a wrist distaff. Now, what ye do is take a bit o' your roving, an arm's length should do. Then ye draft yer roving like so... and wrap it around the distaff. Now ye try it."

Marlow takes the wrist distaff from the woman then he takes some of the roving he made earlier and measures an arm's length from it before separating it from the rest of the ball. Then he drafts the roving, not strong enough to break it, but enough to loosen up the fibers. He then wraps the resulting drafted roving loosely onto the distaff.

"Good. Now this here..."



"...be a spindle. It be a high whorl spindle to be more precise. There be other types o' spindles like the low-whorl, centre whorl, and supported spindles, but I find usin' this one be the easiest fer me. Here, take this spindle and this piece o' yarn and copy what I do."

Marlow takes the spindle and yarn from the old woman and picks up the roving he made earlier. Copying the old woman he ties the two ends of the yarn to make a closed loop. Then he ties the yarn into a strap hitch below the whorl of the spindle twice and wraps the rest of the resulting strap twice around the hook at the top of the spindle.

Holding on the the spindle with his left hand he takes the distaff and puts his right hand through the loop on top to secure it to his wrist. Shifting the distaff and spindle around, he unwinds a bit of the yarn from the distaff and threads the end of it through the loop formed by the yarn atop the spindle. He pinches the end of the roving against itself using his right hand and allows the spindle to hang free. Using his left hand he gives the spindle a spin to twist the yarn.

"Aye. That be how. Now slowly unwind the roving while ye spin the spindle and the result be yer yarn. When tis long enough ye just stop spinnin', unhook the yarn and wrap it around the shaft o' the spindle under the whorl leavin' enough yarn to be able to wrap it around the hook again."

"What do I do when the roving runs out?"

"Ye just draft some more, wrap it around the distaff, pinch the remainin' roving against the new one and just spin 'em together. Now you go spin that roving 'o yours."

"All right. Then what?"

"Then we'll see what else ye can handle won't we?" said the old woman with a smile.