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The girl was at it again! Laios watched as her hand slipped over the fence to pluck at the bright flowers in his mother’s garden. She took some of the blue forget me nots and a bright red tulip. Only three, but Laios watched with narrowed eyes and burned with resentment as her golden head proceeded to bob away along the top of the fence line. The garden was his mothers pride and joy. Every year he had helped her plant new seeds in carefully turned and fertilized earth. They watched the buds come up together. If she didn’t feel good he would go and look at their garden, bringing her reports on the progress of the plants and whisper if he felt any might begin to show the color.
But this girl!!! She stole flowers the same day every week. He had only recently caught her at it. The Touden family’s home on the northern continent boasted the best gardens in the entire village. Laios was certain they were the best in the whole wide world. Glancing to the window above his head with its open shutters. He picked three flowers himself and carried them inside.
His mother was still in her bed, but the warm spring air had brought some color back into her cheeks. He settled the flowers in the customary vase by her bed.
“She took some again Mother. The girl with the golden hair and the funny ears…” She hushed him gently, weakly brushing soft hair out of his eyes. “Don’t call her ears funny Laios she’s elven.”
He wasn’t in any mood for placation. All the time the two of them spent together in the garden was precious. Especially now that his mother couldn’t do it anymore. Laios huffed. “Why is she taking them? They aren’t hers!” His mother reached up to turn his face to hers. “Well why don’t you ask next time?” She tweaked his nose fondly. “Make sure you are kind.”
The next time the girl came he was waiting. When her slim hand reached over the fence to pluck at a few bright red tulips and errant white daisies, he grabbed it.
“Gotcha!” The girl screamed and he wanted to cover his ears but didn’t dare let go. Fiercely his golden eyes found hers over the top of the fence. They were green as the leaves on the tree or the bright spring grass. He glared, but the girl looked scared and a part of him was suddenly ashamed even though anger spurred him on. “These are my mothers flowers! Hers and mine! She said she doesn’t mind you having some, but we want to know where you take them!” He released the girls arm which she rubbed, the scant bounty of three flowers still clutched therein. Her voice was haggard when she finally spoke gulping air to calm herself.
“If that’s all. I…I can show you? Where I take them. Would that be ok?” Laios nodded and walked around to open the gate. Seeing her full for the first time he realized she was taller even than him. Her hair was golden in a shade richer than his own ash blonde by far. Plaited it hung in twin braids that framed her face. Pretty face for a thief. Her wide green eyes took him in and narrowed. He huffed and crossed his arms. “Well. Lead the way. You said you’d show me.” She took him in up and down once more. Then she ran.
“HEY!” He yelped tripping as he went after her. The girl was fast her longer legs giving her an edge but Laios managed to keep her in sight. Barely. She rushed through the village dodging carts and people going about their day. He followed doggedly ignoring the shouts as he bobbed and weaved. His dad was the village chief he was sure to catch an earful later, but those were his moms’ flowers! And the girl had said she would show him what she was doing with them.
For a moment he pulled up short of breath having lost sight of her, but a flash of gold in the woods on the path ahead called him on. Forward with renewed fervor he dashed on, but the route she was on made him slow thoughtfully.
Perhaps her destination was different and the path would turn in a new direction, but at the top of hill he caught up with her.
She was standing quietly in that place of rest. When Laios crashed into view the green eyes that flickered back at him were full of tears. All his anger dimmed and died as all who lay in the hallow place they now stood had. He came up beside her and stared down at the grave. The name at the top of the stone read Donato. He glanced at her and asked. “Who were they?”
She laid the meager bundle before the memorial picking up an older one. Slim fingers brushed the leaves from the top and traced the graceful carved curl. The dried flowers in her hand crumpled to dust as she gripped them. “My Papa.”
Thoughts of his own father distant and fierce flashed and Laios wondered if he would shed tears for the man who’d sired him. Surely not as easily as the young girl before him who sobbed softly.
Her broken weeping touched his heart, and he knelt beside her babbling. “Its. Its ok. I think. My mom won’t mind sharing our flowers.” He patted her shoulder gently and almost got knocked over when she grabbed him in a hug.
She wiped snot and tears on his vest, but the wracking sobs slowed and stopped. They sat there together quietly. He awkwardly patted her back unsure of how to offer comfort. “I’m Laios by the way.” Sitting back the girl nodded. “I know. I’m Marcille. Marcille Donato.” She stood and stuck out a damp hand to help him up. “I’m sorry for taking the flowers without permission.”
Laios shook his head. “Mom wasn’t mad. I think she knew somehow. Moms are like that. She just wanted me to make sure.” He glanced at the grave with its earth so fresh no grass had grown over it. “Do you visit at the end of every week?”
Marcille nodded. “I tell him how my studies are going and and that I miss him.” They walked back through town together far more slowly than before and talked. He learned she studied magic. “Wow!” and that she lived not too far from them. Her mother was a retired court mage for the local reagent who his father served. They said goodbyes at the gate. Laios dashed upstairs to watch out his mother’s window as Marcille disappeared from view.
When He climbed down from the window seat and told his mother the story she smiled and gave him a hug. Her gentle hand stroked his head. “I’m proud of you Laios, for helping her feel better.” He burrowed into her because everything was right in the world when his mother was happy.
When Marcille visited the next time Laios was waiting for her again. This time when she peeked over the gate he popped up. She jumped but he grinned and held up a small bouquet.
“Mom taught me how.” It was a small arrangement, but her grin as she took it was its own reward. To his surprise she took his hand as well. “Would, would you come with me?”
And he did.
The months and seasons changed. Laios learned all about making bouquets on top of what his mother taught him about caring for them. He practiced drying and saving flowers. In the winter months he brought the wrinkly offerings on their weekly visits, usually including a fragrant herb in the bundle. Sometimes Marcille would bring a canteen for tea and snacks to share. The two of them would sit on the roots of the great old tree and tell each other stories. Time flew by when they shared it.
But one day when Marcille came Laios wasn’t home. The yard was bare in the snow thaw, spring just around the corner. Marcille waited a bit nervous. Her timid knock on the door went unanswered.
She wandered then, the path they’d walked together so many times before. Her feet taking her the familiar way. But at the graveyard’s edge she paused, a soft sound reaching her ears in the quiet before spring. Laios was already there slumped on the ground before a bare brown mound. Her heart knew the reason. Carefully she took the red ribbon from her neck and knotted it with artful twists. A sob escaped her control as she finished. At the small noise Laios sat up and turned towards her. His face dirty, golden eyes full of tears unshed.
He only let them fall when her arms came about his shoulders to hold him. She pulled the young man into her chest as the silver cascade came crashing down. His shoulders shook beneath her hands in the heartbroken way she understood. Marcille bent her head over his and cried with him for the kind woman whose flowers had brought them together.
They left a red ribbon rose upon the stone.