Winter was announcing its approach with a dark and chill evening. There were no colors left in the dim world, and away from the firelight, I groped like a mole as I searched for wood. At last I gave it up and sat down on a stone by the creekside to wait for my eyes to adjust. But sitting there alone, feeling the cold press in around me, I had lost all ambition to find wood, or indeed to do anything at all. I sat and stared, listening to the sound of the running water and letting the night fill me with its gloom.

The Fool came to me, moving quietly through the darkness. He sat down on the earth beside me and for a time we said nothing. Then he reached over, set a hand on my shoulder, and said, “I wish there were some way I could ease your grieving.”

It was a useless thing to say, and he seemed to feel that, for after those words he was silent. Perhaps it was the ghost of Nighteyes who reproached me for my surly silence to our friend, for after a time I groped for some words to bridge the dark between us. “It is like the cut on your head, Fool. Time will heal it, but until it does, all the best wishes in the world cannot make it heal faster. Even if there were some way to disperse this pain, some herb or drunkenness that would numb it, I could not choose it. Nothing will ever make his death better. All I can look forward to is becoming accustomed to being alone.”

Despite my effort, my words still sounded like a rebuke. Worse, it seemed a self-pitying one. It is a tribute to my friend that he did not take offense at them. He only rose gracefully. “I’ll let you be, then. I think you are choosing to mourn alone, and if that is your choice, I’ll respect it. I do not think it is your wisest choice, but I’ll respect it.” He paused and gave a small sigh. “I perceive something about myself now; I came because I wanted you to know that I knew you were in pain. Not because I could heal you of it, but because I wanted you to be aware that I shared that pain through our connection. I suspect there is an aspect of selfishness to that; that I wished you also to be aware of it, I mean. A burden shared not only can lighten it; it can form a bond between those who share it. So that no one is left to bear it alone.”

I sensed there was some germ of wisdom in his words, something I should consider, but I was too weary and wracked to reach for it. “I’ll come back to the fire in a little while” was what I said, and the Fool knew it was a dismissal. He took his hand from my shoulder and walked away.