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 — John Shaqi
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
Then he arose and clad himself, and went forth into the hall and gazed
about him, and at first he deemed indeed that there was no one therein.
But at last he looked and beheld the upper gable and there underneath a
most goodly hanging was the glorious shape of a woman sitting on a bench
covered over with a cloth of gold and silver; and he looked and looked to
see if the woman might stir, and if she were alive, and she turned her
head toward him, and lo it was the Friend; and his heart rose to his
mouth for wonder and fear and desire. For now he doubted whether the
other folk were aught save shows and shadows, and she the Goddess who had
fashioned them out of nothing for his bewilderment, presently to return
to nothing.
Yet whatever he might fear or doubt, he went up the hall towards her till
he was quite nigh to her, and there he stood silent, wondering at her
beauty and desiring her kindness.
Grey-eyed she was like her brother; but her hair the colour of red wheat:
her lips full and red, her chin round, her nose fine and straight. Her
hands and all her body fashioned exceeding sweetly and delicately; yet
not as if she were an image of which the like might be found if the
craftsman were but deft enough to make a perfect thing, but in such a way
that there was none like to her for those that had eyes to behold her as
she was; and none could ever be made like to her, even by such a
master-craftsman as could fashion a body without a blemish.
She was clad in a white smock, whose hems were broidered with gold wire
and precious gems of the Mountains, and over that a gown woven of gold
and silver: scarce hath the world such another. On her head was a fillet
of gold and gems, and there were wondrous gold rings on her arms: her
feet lay bare on the dark grey wolf-skin that was stretched before her.
She smiled kindly upon his solemn and troubled face, and her voice
sounded strangely familiar to him coming from all that loveliness, as she
said: ‘Hail, Face-of-god! here am I left alone, although I deemed last
night that I should be gone with the others. Therefore am I fain to show
myself to thee in fairer array than yesternight; for though we dwell in
the wild-wood, from the solace of folk, yet are we not of thralls’ blood.
But come now, I bid thee break thy fast and talk with me a little while;
and then shalt thou depart in peace.’
Spake Face-of-god, and his voice trembled as he spake: ‘What art thou?
Last night I deemed at whiles once and again that thou wert of the Gods;
and now that I behold thee thus, and it is broad daylight, and of those
others is no more to be seen than if they had never lived, I cannot but
deem that it is even so, and that thou comest from the City that shall
never perish. Now if thou be a goddess, I have nought to pray thee, save
to slay me speedily if thou hast a mind for my death. But if thou art a
woman—’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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