The Roots of the Mountains: Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale, Their Friends, Their Neighbours, Their Foemen, and Their Fellows in ArmsMorris, William
Science
The Roots of the Mountains: Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale, Their Friends, Their Neighbours, Their Foemen, and Their Fellows in Arms
Morris, William
Fantasy fiction
‘Gold-mane, my dear, sorely I wonder at thee and at me, how we are
changed since that day last autumn when I first saw thee. Whiles I
think, didst thou not laugh when thou wert by thyself that day, and mock
at me privily, that I must needs take such wisdom on myself, and lesson
thee standing like a stripling before me. Dost thou not call it all to
mind and make merry over it, now that thou art become a great chieftain
and a wise warrior, and I am yet what I always was, a young maiden of the
kindred; save that now I abide no longer for my love?’
Her face was exceeding bright and rippled with joyous smiles, and he
looked at her and deemed that her heart was overflowing with happiness,
and he wondered at her indeed that she was so glad of him, and he said:
‘Yea, indeed, oft do I see that morning in the woodland hall and thee and
me therein, as one looketh on a picture; yea verily, and I laugh, yet is
it for very bliss; neither do I mock at all. Did I not deem thee a God
then? and am I not most happy now when I can call it thus to mind? And
as to thee, thou wert wise then, and yet art thou wise now. Yea, I
thought thee a God; and if we are changed, is it not rather that thou
hast lifted me up to thee, and not come down to me?’
Yet therewithal he knit his brows somewhat and said:
‘Yet thou hast not to tell me that all thy love for thy Folk, and thy
yearning hope for its recoverance, was but a painted show. Else why
shouldst thou love me the better now that I am become a chieftain, and
therefore am more meet to understand thy hope and thy sorrow? Did I not
behold thee as we stood before the Wolf of the Hall of Shadowy Vale, how
the tears stood in thine eyes as thou beheldest him, and thine hand in
mine quivered and clung to me, and thou wert all changed in a moment of
time? Was all this then but a seeming and a beguilement?’
‘O young man,’ she said, ‘hast thou not said it, that we stood there
close together, and my hand in thine and desire growing up in me? Dost
thou not know how this also quickeneth the story of our Folk, and our
goodwill towards the living, and remembrance of the dead? Shall they
have lived and desired, and we deny desire and life? Or tell me: what
was it made thee so chieftain-like in the Hall yesterday, so that thou
wert the master of all our wills, for as self-willed as some of us were?
Was it not that I, whom thou deemest lovely, was thereby watching thee
and rejoicing in thee? Did not the sweetness of thy love quicken thee?
Yet because of that was thy warrior’s wisdom and thy foresight an empty
show? Heedest thou nought the Folk of the Dale? Wouldest thou sunder
from the children of the Fathers, and dwell amongst strangers?’
He kissed her and smiled on her and said: ‘Did I not say of thee that
thou wert wiser than the daughters of men? See how wise thou hast made
me!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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