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littlemanpoet · 11-23-2004, 09:16 PM

Marigold sat Mellonin by the fire, and still singing, opened a cupboard and pulled an earthen jar from it. She brought it with her and sat next to Mellonin. When she spoke, her words still carried an echo of her lilting tune, like slow moving, reed strewn waters.

"Let me see to the wound on your face, dear one, or else it will leave a scar." She dipped her hand into the jar. What came out in her hand was mud. So it seemed to Mellonin; her brow furrowed in worry. "This will cool the wound, and deaden the pain. Fear not." She raised her mud covered hand and waited. Mellonin nodded and held still. Marigold pressed the mud into her wound, from brow to lip.

"I - I - cannot feel my face!"

"Fear not! Sleep a dreamless sleep tonight, and in the morning we shall see. Lie back." She rose and brought bread to Mellonin. "Eat, my dear one. Rest and be at ease this night." Mellonin looked up at Marigold as if with a child's trusting eyes, and nodded, and ate.

Marigold was humming again, and went to Ravion and Aeron, whose head was buried in his knees, muffling deep sobs. She knelt before the boy and waited. Slowly his heaving shoulders subsided and he rose up a little, and saw her kneeling by him. He looked at her through half closed eyes, his face suddenly closed and distrustful.

She looked at him kindly and said, "Will you go with me to your sister?"

"What use? She is not there. She is dead."

Marigold took a golden flower from her hair. Aeron had not seen it there before, but it lay in her hands, as real and fragrant as if it had just been plucked. "I plucked this marigold today. It still holds a little of its life and much of its fragrance. It reminds me of the fields of marigolds that flourished in the marsh this past summer. Is it not beautiful?"

Aeron nodded dully. He had a notion of why she was talking about the flower this way, and what she might say next, and did not want to hear it; but deep down, he needed to hear her words, with a need he could not name. He waited for her to say more.

"Today your sister's life was plucked like this marigold. I have done what I could to keep her fragrance strong. Is she not beautiful?" Aeron looked, and nodded slowly. The tightness around his eyes loosened and the hardness in his face softened, ever so little. "Will you go to her with me?"

11-23-2004, 09:16 PM	#584
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Ministrations Marigold sat Mellonin by the fire, and still singing, opened a cupboard and pulled an earthen jar from it. She brought it with her and sat next to Mellonin. When she spoke, her words still carried an echo of her lilting tune, like slow moving, reed strewn waters. "Let me see to the wound on your face, dear one, or else it will leave a scar." She dipped her hand into the jar. What came out in her hand was mud. So it seemed to Mellonin; her brow furrowed in worry. "This will cool the wound, and deaden the pain. Fear not." She raised her mud covered hand and waited. Mellonin nodded and held still. Marigold pressed the mud into her wound, from brow to lip. "I - I - cannot feel my face!" "Fear not! Sleep a dreamless sleep tonight, and in the morning we shall see. Lie back." She rose and brought bread to Mellonin. "Eat, my dear one. Rest and be at ease this night." Mellonin looked up at Marigold as if with a child's trusting eyes, and nodded, and ate. Marigold was humming again, and went to Ravion and Aeron, whose head was buried in his knees, muffling deep sobs. She knelt before the boy and waited. Slowly his heaving shoulders subsided and he rose up a little, and saw her kneeling by him. He looked at her through half closed eyes, his face suddenly closed and distrustful. She looked at him kindly and said, "Will you go with me to your sister?" "What use? She is not there. She is dead." Marigold took a golden flower from her hair. Aeron had not seen it there before, but it lay in her hands, as real and fragrant as if it had just been plucked. "I plucked this marigold today. It still holds a little of its life and much of its fragrance. It reminds me of the fields of marigolds that flourished in the marsh this past summer. Is it not beautiful?" Aeron nodded dully. He had a notion of why she was talking about the flower this way, and what she might say next, and did not want to hear it; but deep down, he needed to hear her words, with a need he could not name. He waited for her to say more. "Today your sister's life was plucked like this marigold. I have done what I could to keep her fragrance strong. Is she not beautiful?" Aeron looked, and nodded slowly. The tightness around his eyes loosened and the hardness in his face softened, ever so little. "Will you go to her with me?"