Silversmith
Elowen Hale is a human craftswoman of quiet precision and enduring patience. Once apprenticed in the House of Craft, she left before ever claiming title or name — disillusioned by the rigid perfectionism and ornamental detachment of the noble workshops. She took her tools, her skill, and the memory of their methods into the woods at the fen’s edge. She still lives there at Elm Cotes, on the slopes of Grimbles How.
Her silverwork is renowned in whispered circles: not grand or ceremonial, but intricately alive, shaped like creeping ivy, twisted roots, the branching curves of water and growth. Commissions arrive quietly, often through intermediaries. She works slowly, deliberately, and only when the design calls to her.
Elowen shows affection through teaching. Her warmth is steady, not spoken — a lesson shared at the workbench, a correction of form rather than words.
Part of her quiet is the way her mind moves — through pattern, texture, and weighted pause. She is autistic, shaped by a deep sensory intelligence that favours form over flourish. Her attention settles where others glance: the tension in a curve, the honesty in an unfinished edge. Conversation may falter, but her work speaks — precise, resonant, and full of care. What she cannot always voice, she leaves in the metal.
[Unspoken Thread – Discovered Later]
Only later does Lowen begin to uncover the truth of her mother’s quiet rebellion. After meeting Old Foss, Elowen had begun incorporating subtle runes into some of her pieces — symbols he suggested, drawn from a quiet tradition unfamiliar to her. Not for the Fae, but for humans. These were not spells or sanctioned enchantments, but personal, instinctive glyphs: memory marks, grounding loops, old protective shapes whispered down through lore.
They were quiet offerings of connection — reminders that magic didn’t always look like light and power. Sometimes, it was just remembering.
Notes
She was born far west of the Fens in Kellack Wheal and ended up there not by heritage but by choice, following Orris to his home region. Her past before meeting Orris is deliberately quiet, almost guarded.
She’s a craftswoman, known especially for her silverwork, and deeply skilled with her hands. What she makes seems to carry not just beauty but intention — almost a whisper of magic, though she’s not a mage.
She is calm, watchful, and not especially prone to displays of emotion. But she’s not cold. There’s a strength in her silences, a confidence in her making, and a sense that she doesn’t need to prove or declare herself.
Her relationship with Orris was full of gentle, shared respect. They moved around each other like two people who listen deeply — not just with ears, but with bodies and craft and time.
She teaches by example, and her love is often folded into small things — food, mending, noticing.
She is not overly involved with the wider politics or power structures of the Evergild, but she has a quiet resistance in her — seen in the way she makes, where she lives, what she doesn’t say.
The silver ring Lowen wears is her work — and she taught Lowen more than anyone else, without ever framing it as teaching.