Aglanthol 1 - The Legend of Khaalindaan - 21. Chapter 21

Gwyn stood outside and looked up at the sky. Heavy gray clouds covered it and an icy wind was blowing. Gwyn wrapped her wooden cloak tighter around her shoulders. Yet her cloak, her cap and her thick scarf barely warmed her. The old woman looked down the street. It was covered with snow that had fallen the previous night. Her neighbours had come out and had started to clear the places in front of their houses of the snow.

Gwyn felt helpless. She was too old and too weak to clear the place. Gwyn kept standing in front of her house. She thought of the horrible day one year ago when she had put on snow shoes and had climbed the snow-covered hill on the back of her house. Gwyn shook her head in disbelief. She wondered how she had even been able to make it to the top of the hill. Gwyn refused to think of what had happened in the forest. Neither she nor Magath had spoken much of it. Dran, who lived on the other side of the hill, had entirely forgotten about it. Gwyn thought that the man was lucky. The wizard Neldor’s drink had cured the poor man who had accidentally stumbled across Norlorn’s sword in the forest. The man had retrieved the sword from the ground and thus had released Khaalindaan’s spirit. Gwyn shuddered at the thought of what she had witnessed in the wood. She shuddered at the thought of what she had done. And she froze even more at the thought of how it had felt when Khaalindaan’s destructive energy had entered her body and had tried to seize her very life force. Gwyn had often tried to push aside her memories, but she had not been able to. Gwyn remembered every single detail.

The old woman was distracted by a voice. Someone called out her name. Gwyn turned her head and spotted Magath. The man had cleared the place in front of his house and now walked through the snow towards her.

"Mistress Gwyn," he called out.

Gwyn raised her hand and waved at him. She smiled warmly. Gwyn was grateful. Magath always saw to her. He came over to her house at least once a day. He often brought her a rabbit and sometimes a duck that he had caught in the woods or somewhere. Gwyn had chicken and she was a good baker. She always offered Magath eggs and loafs of bread in exchange for the game. In previous years, Gwyn had often told Magath old tales and legends. She knew many stories and Magath had been an attentive listener. The incident in the forest, however, had changed this. They only rarely exchanged old tales and stories now. They talked about current affairs instead. Gwyn felt a little regret. She had enjoyed the story-telling. But, after what had happened, they could not just go back to normal. It was simply not adequate.

"How are you doing, Mistress Gwyn?" Magath asked.

Gwyn sighed. She pointed at the snow-covered place.

"It will be snowing again today. Why clear the place of the snow?" she asked.

Magath smiled. His face was red and covered with sweat. The work had heated him.

"I must clear the place. Else your house would be entirely covered with snow within a few days," he said.

Gwyn sighed resignedly.

"Thank you, Magath. Please, come in for tea afterwards, will you?" she asked.

Magath nodded.

"I will," he said with a smile. "But now I need to clear the place of the snow."

Magath started to work. Gwyn went inside. She felt grateful. What would she do without Magath’s help? Gwyn fanned the fire in the fireplace. She poured water in a pot and put the pot on the fire. Then she took a wooden box from a shelf. The box was filled with numerous small cotton bags. The bags contained the herbs that Gwyn used for making tea. Magath finally entered the house. He took off his cloak and his scarf. His face looked even more heated.

"Take off your boots as well," Gwyn said. "Your feet must be cold and wet. Don’t catch a cold. Wrap your feet in a blanket while we are having tea."

Magath did what she said. It was one of their winter rituals. Magath sat down on the bench in front of the wooden table. Gwyn brought mugs and poured tea. She brought slices of bread, a plate with butter, and a small pot filled with honey.

"Eat, Magath," she said. "You must be hungry."

Magath nodded. He took a knife and spread the butter on a slice of bread. Then he took a wooden spoon and spread honey on the bread. Magath took a bite.

"Delicious," he said.

Gwyn gave him a warm smile. She was very grateful.

"How is Dran doing?" she asked.

"Fine," Magath said with his mouth full. "I saw him two days ago at his place. He won’t need help. He’s surprisingly strong for his age."

Gwyn nodded. She had seen Dran a couple of times in summer. Her thoughts shifted again to the day in the forest one year ago.

"Is anything wrong, Mistress Gwynn?" Magath asked.

Gwyn shook her head. She poured Magath more tea.

"I was thinking of the day in the forest," she said. "The snow reminds me of the day."

Magath nodded.

"We never talked much about it. But I have not forgotten the day. And neither have you, Mistress Gwyn, have you?" he asked.

Gwyn shook her head.

"How could I forget? I felt it in my body. I felt it seize my soul. I can deal with it, mind you. I don’t even have bad dreams. But I certainly will not forget," Gwyn said.

"Neither will I," Magath replied.

He looked aside for a second. He hoped Gwyn had not seen the look in his eyes. Gwyn, however, had. She had lived so long and she had seen so many things. Barely anything escaped her eyes.

"You are missing him," she said kindly.

Magath’s cheeks blushed. He did not reply for a second or two. But then he nodded.

"I do," he said. "But I must overcome this feeling, however. I fear Qildor will not return. He has been away far too long now. He is roaming the country. He’s restless. I cannot exactly say what he is looking for."

Magath looked at the wall. Gwyn waited patiently until Magath turned his eyes back to her. He smiled in embarrassment. Gwyn gave Magath a nod and a warm smile.

"Khaalindaan stands between you and him like he stands between you and me. But time is a healer. So it is said. And it is, indeed, I know, Magath. I have lived so long. I know from experience. We must trust in time," she said.

"Time is a healer," Magath said in a low voice. "You mean just as time moves on, we will be cured from our tormenting memories and our depressing thoughts?"

Gwyn nodded.

"Yes, Magath, but of course we must allow ourselves to be healed. We must not sit and wait forever. There is a time for this. But then comes a time to act and undertake some efforts," she said.

Magath gave her a questioning look.

"You must focus your energy on a new goal," Gwyn said.

"Like Khaalindaan focused his energy?" Magath asked.

They both winced. Then Gwyn shrugged.

"In a sense, Magath. It is true. Else you get bitter. As bitter as Khaalindaan. The man wasted his energy. We must not do the same," she said.

"So what do you suggest, Mistress Gwyn?" Magath asked.

"I for myself will resume knitting. It is a simple task. A pair of socks is a simple goal. But it will distract me from my memories. It is a useful task also. I need a pair of socks. I will knit you a pair, too. And a scarf. I saw yours is torn," Gwyn said.

Magath looked at Gwyn for a while. Then he smiled.

"You’re right, Mistress Gwyn. We are still in a state of shock. Dran forgot. He’s lucky. But we did not. It’s really about time that we change this state of mind," he said.

He took another slice of bread and ate with new appetite. Gwyn watched him. She felt kind of relieved.

"I’m happy, Magath, that you do not take my words as an offence. What will you do? Do you have a plan already?" she asked.

"I ought to do a lot in and outside the house. But this must wait until spring. I can’t repair the walls and the roof in winter. I’m not yet sure. I always wanted to carve something. I could start with a bowl or so," Magath said.

"This is just wonderful, Magath," Gwyn said. "How about we exchange gifts at the feast of Winter Solstice? A pair of socks for a bowl. Thus we won’t give up on our plans."

Magath gave a laugh.

"All right, Mistress Gwyn. Winter Solstice is in three weeks. A bowl. I can certainly do this," he said.

Magath was grateful. Gwyn had distracted him from his depressing thoughts. The old woman never let him down.

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