Prologue

The Maiden Urðra frowned as she reached into her box of raw threads and discarded handful after handful. 'Too dark!' She muttered, mostly to herself, as she drove her hand into her spinning box yet deeper, to find something newer and brighter ... or at least something different.

"Yes indeed." The Matron Veránda muttered in concurrence. "The weaving has been much too dark, as of late, and my next panel could do with a bit of brightness."

"Quite so!" The Crone Skúlda rasped with annoyance. There has been nothing, of late, but doom and gloom woven on your loom. Perhaps it's time for you to take a rest, assume my shears, for awhile, and let a new cycle begin.

"Perhaps ... it is nearly time for the end of the age," The Matron agreed, "but not just yet. Let me complete the weaving of this era with something bright and colorful; a cheerful note to continue into the next great panel of the story, if my dear Veránda can spin us one last new and cheerful bit of thread, worthy for this undertaking."

As the Maiden delved deeper into the remnants of her raw unspun fiber stock, which she had earlier gathered from the Great Tree of Life, she finally clasped her hands onto something new, and maybe perhaps, worthy. Carefully with her long age of experience, she spun this rather singular piece of thread. It was indeed quite bright and colorful; well suited for detailing this last great end panel, but as she extracted the long spun thread from her spinning wheel, to give it to the Matron, she paused and reexamined it. While lovely to behold, the thread was defective ... actually being a long pair of distinctly different threads, tightly interwoven that she found could not be separated. This was not at all correct or proper, and the Maiden was about to discard the thread as unworthy, until the Matron stayed her hand.

"It is ... different, but not unattractive." Veránda murmured. This is not the color or feel that I had in mind, but it will do; perhaps for a slight corner decoration over here near the end of this final panel."

Skúlda nodded her head in agreement. This alone was worthy of mention as the old Crone was normally of a decidedly ornery disposition and often disagreed with the current patterns of the weaving. Her time at the loom had passed an age since and it would be another age before her turn at the Loom of Creation came yet again and she was already impatient.

The new, oddly intertwined thread was strung into the loom, and, nearly from the start, a new and brighter pattern began to appear in this final panel of a dark age; filled with much sadness and misery. The Maiden gathered the last strands of thread from her gathering box, ready to hand to her older sister, as needed, as the Crone stood ready to cut the strings, as they were completed. She was in no hurry and her two younger sisters thought they saw her smile, as the final weaving of this last great panel neared completion.

The Matron, enjoying this final piece of weaving, even began to sing a little as she worked the loom. This odd double thread was tricky to work with, but she already liked the results!