I’d wandered farther than I’d intended. The path, if path it was, wound between the mossy trunks of the trees and over small streams. It climbed steps formed by the roots of a venerable oak and narrowed in one spot to cross a dip by means of a plank less than a hand span wide. I paused, not sure I wanted to venture over, and that was when I saw her, coming the other way with a wee basket over her arm and her shawl drawn tight around her shoulders. I froze, not quite believing my eyes. A little figure hardly as high as my knee, clad in a gown and apron and shawl as I was, with her dark hair sticking up as if she had walked through a prickle bush without noticing. She had a basket over her arm and a good knife in her belt. Her errand was the same as mine.

So Grim’s wee folk were not a product of the curse addling his wits after all. They were real. Unless my mind too had been turned inside out by the screaming.

The little woman must have had her thoughts on something else; she didn’t see me until she was halfway across the plank bridge and looked up suddenly. There I was, a healer like herself, but giant-sized. No wonder she turned pale. No wonder she wobbled on her narrow purchase.

“It’s all right,” I said, as she regained her balance and stood glaring at me from the middle of the bridge. “I’m out gathering herbs, the same as you. Maybe you can tell me where I might find druid’s balm. It may have another name in these parts. It has leaves somewhat like peppermint, but red-tipped. Useful for warding off headaches. Do you know it?” I was babbling now, desperate to get her talking before she took it into her head to flee. “I wouldn’t need much, only a leaf or two.” I gathered my wits; reminded myself that there were rules for dealing with the fey. An exchange was easier to negotiate than a gift, always. “I managed to find some of these beetle-foot toadstools; I’ve found they work well in a poultice to draw out ill humors from a wound. If you could use some, I have enough to share. Or I can show you where they grow, back along this path.” When I turned to indicate the path behind me, I was disturbed to notice that it now looked rather different. Surely I had not come down a hill as steep as that, or walked between those massive oaks. I turned hurriedly back to find that the miniature healer had advanced over the bridge and was standing right in front of me. It seemed she was not afraid of the giant after all; not now she had taken my measure.

The creature in the tower screamed on. This little person might not have heard a word I’d said. On the other hand, when I’d whispered my offer of help, on the island, the creature had responded, if in a less than civil way. And Grim said he’d had a conversation with his wee man. So maybe she could hear me. And maybe she knew the old story.