[littlemanpoet]

After breakfast, Marigold came over to the fire where Aeron sat, and settled her old bones down beside him. She said nothing for a long time. Aeron stared into the fire, and scooted an inch further away from Marigold.

"Have you made your choice yet, Aeron?"

What choice? Aeron could not remember.

"Will you stay or go? Have you made your choice?"

"No."

"Think on it a while then." She was silent a long while again before she asked him another question. "Would like to help ready your sister's body for burial?"

Aeron shook his head violently, but said nothing.

Marigold rose and set Erundil and Ravion the task of making a coffin. She had the aid of Argeleafa and Bella in preparing the body. They took Gwyllion into another room, and brought her back some time later, her old dirty shift exchanged for a gown the color of sun drenched wheat.

"Is there a sheet to wrap her in?" asked Leafa.

"She needs no more cover than that," Marigold replied. Leafa lovingly combed her black tresses and Bella cut her nails.

Aeron watched, fascinated, and wiped at his eyes more than once.

At last, the readying was done, and Gwyllion lay near the fire again, alone with Aeron. He stared at her face, her hair, her hands resting at her sides, the flatness of her gown where one lower leg was missing, and back to the face, seeming as if it only slept. When her eyes blinked open, Aeron sat mute, and staring. When she turned her head and saw him staring, she smiled.

"Silly boy," she said, "did you think I'd leave you?"

His mouth dropped open, his heart leaped, and his eyes watered. She sat up and looked around, then at the gown she wore.

"Where are we? Who gave me this gown? How are the others?"

"Gwyllion? You're alive?"

"Silly boy."

"Aeron!" The voice echoed. It sounded like Ravion. "Aeron! Wake up!"

Aeron opened his eyes. Gwyllion lay on the hearth bricks.

"Aeron," said Ravion, "it is time for the burial." Aeron moaned. Ravion knelt beside him. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Aeron gulped down the painful lump in his throat. "Is there anything that is not wrong?" His words came out angrily. "My sister is dead."

"I am sorry. The readying is almost complete. Marigold sent me in. She asked for you to go to her while Erundil and I lay her in the coffin."

Aeron got up and walked stiffly out of the cottage. Marigold was surrounded by the others. He stopped when he reached the edge of the gathering, but she motioned to him to come to her. Reluctantly, he trudged through the beaten snow and stood beside her.

Ravion and Erundil carried the coffin between them, slipping a little in the snow. Aeron was afraid they would drop the coffin, and his feet itched to run to their aid, his fingers itched to hold the coffin steady. But they did not drop it, and finally they laid it carefully beside the square, gaping wound in the earth that the Elves had dug.

"Have you made your choice yet? Or would you wait until after the burial?"