Once upon a century, in a town where a river weaves itself through rows of cobblestone cottages, there lived a girl named Adala. She was a small girl with smoky grey eyes, olive colored skin and even though she was only in her early twenties, her hair was white as snow. She was a weaver by trade and her skill as such was extraordinary. She got her threads from a small shop in town and wove them into the most intricate, beautiful patterns you could possibly imagine. She used soft blues, rich purples, lively oranges and vibrant greens. But it was not the colors or intricate patterns that made her fabrics so special. You see as Adala would weave the different colored threads to make her beautiful creations she would sing a soft, enchanting melody and as she sang something magical would happen. Each note of her song would settle into the different colored threads and give them a special quality. When she would weave a garment made of the blue thread, the low notes of her song would sink into the fabric and anyone who wore it as they slept would sleep the most beautiful sleep, as if a lullaby was sung in their dreams. The orange threads picked up the more lively notes of the song and anyone who wore stockings made from them would be able to dance as if the music was alive inside of their soul and they would never get tired! High notes in the melody were captured by green fabrics which, when worn, would give the wearer the ability to make anything grow like they could hear the songs of nature itself. Finally, the rich purple threads would soak up the steady rhythmic notes and the wearer of such fabrics was able to sing with the voice of an angel.
Well as you might imagine, such a talent was highly sought after, but Adala was not one to seek fame or fortune and preferred to keep herself hidden as much as she could. Most of the village people protected her because she was kind and generous to all who were in need. She gave many blankets made of blue thread to the elderly and the sick so that they may find rest in their sleep. To the farmers who struggled to grow crops in hard times she would give green coats or vests and at weddings she would give orange stockings or purple scarfs for dancing and singing. So the people loved her and as time passed they convinced most of the outside world that the rumors of a magic weaver were only legends, allowing Adala to live mostly in peace. Now there was also crusty old dwarf named Jinx who lived with Adala in a very simple cobblestone cottage just near the river. He would buy the colored threads and take finished garments to the market or wherever they were meant to go while Adala spent hour after hour in the attic of the cottage weaving and singing her enchanted song. But Jinx was not only her closest friend and helper; he was the only father she had ever known. He had found her sleeping under some bushes near the river when she was just three years old and even though he was the sort of man who liked to be alone he took her in, raising her as his own. Adala had no memory of her parents so Jinx was really all she had to call family. He was a bit rough around the edges but Adala loved him very much.
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