Mellon opened his mouth to speak to Emris, but the lad was already gone; he wanted to smile, but his teeth chattered instead, and he turned to the kind woman.
"Yes, please, Miss Ruthven, and thank you. You are very kind. A cloak would be most welcome." She was already reaching out to him with the heaviest she had.
Relief shattered his defiance against the cold, and she tsk-tsked as she watched shivers convulse his slender frame. He cocoooned the cloak about him and clearly was not quite satisfied, wanting to burrow deeper into it. Ruthven tsk'ed again. "I'll not ask how you came here without a cloak, lad."
"Bless you, madam. And thank you again."
"Mulled wine can be had at the Inn, lad. And tea. And there'll be a fire going." She nodded in the direction of the Inn.
He could rejoin the children after a mug or two. Emdir had distracted the shieldmaidens, he noticed gratefully. He headed for the Inn, promising himself that he would return as soon as he was warm and dry.
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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