[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard did not know how it chanced, but he was first to enter the cottage of the old woman; except for the dog, Jorje. Ædegard held Leafa's hand in his good hand, and she followed him, staying close behind him. It was cozy and warm, and smelled of freshly baked bread. Ædegard felt the warmth enfold him like a soft blanket; the cold left his bones. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Ædegard!" Leafa whispered urgently, nudging him. He turned to her; her eyes were big as sky blue saucers, and she pointed. Ædegard looked, and saw a woman standing before them. Her face was the same as that of the old woman's. Her daughter? Her hair flowed in yellow, brown, and even green waves over her shoulders, shining in the light of a hearty fire. Her dress had the sheen of willow leaves, green and gold, and as she moved it shimmered like the sun on windblown willows. She held a large wooden tray with bread, still steaming. The others hand entered and were all gaping at her, except for Aeron, whose eyes were downcast. He went to the nearest chair and sat down, and the woman handed him some bread; he did not see, but she looked upon him with pity.

"Are you the daughter of Marigold?" Ædegard asked.

The woman laughed but shook her head. "I am Marigold. I wander often as the old woman, but this is the form I wear most times. Come in, come in! Be at rest! Eat and be filled!" Then she became grave. "And bring in the youngest one. She should not rest outside."

"But she-" Ravion began.

Marigold shook her head. "Bring her in. She does not belong outside." She set the tray on the board and bid the rest of them to eat.

Ravion nodded and took Erundil with him, and between them they brought the body of Gwyllion in with them. She came to them and held out her arms to them. Bemused, they placed the body in her arms, and she carried it as if it weighed no more than a toddler. She took Gwyllion to a bed near the hearth and laid her out. She kissed the dead girl's forehead, and it seemed to Ædegard that Gwyllion was merely sleeping.

Marigold turned to them and said, "You have been wounded in body and heart, and need rest. Take rest here, all of you, and receive what healing you may." She began to sing, and the song reminded Ædegard of cozy nights at home with his family; or of soft afternoons sitting by a calm stream in the warmth of summer. He sighed and ate, sharing his bread with Leafa. To him, Leafa seemed a cousin of this woman, for her face glowed with quiet joy, and her eyes were alight. And he thought that maybe it did not matter that he had lost one hand. Maybe there would be a way to have Leafa to wife, and to thrive and have children, and to make a life after all. He smiled at Leafa, and she returned his smile, looking at him in a way that made him feel as if they belonged together.