“What are you going to do?” Edwina asked.
“I carry what he needs. You will see.”
“Do you think it wise to keep meddling?” Mary retreated from the bed, pleading with her sister to stop the creature from doing any more damage. “The man will end up in an institution.”
Edwina considered interfering lest the poor man’s mind be harmed beyond repair, but her intuition made her hold back. She was curious about the hearth elf and what sort of magic he was capable of. “Maybe there’s something he can do,” she said, nodding her consent. “Go on, then.”
The creature sat on his haunches atop the pillow. There, he patted his long, slender fingers against Ian’s shoulder before digging in his satchel and pulling out a strip of tartan cloth. The weave was a muted green and gold with thin lines of purple and red crisscrossing through the fabric. The combination put Edwina in mind of winter fields of heather and gorse blooming in the north. The creature draped the cloth over Ian’s chest, tucking it in under his chin, as if putting a child to sleep. Satisfied, he made a slight smacking noise with his mouth before crouching and resting his chin on his knees. He reached one hairy arm out, laying his hand against the man’s forehead, then closed his eyes. A slight humming noise emanated from deep in the elf’s chest.
At first, Edwina couldn’t be sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her as a faint golden light appeared to radiate between the creature’s hand and the man’s skin. Loving and tender, really, the way it circulated between them. Of course, she’d never seen it done before, but she’d lay odds the exchange was a form of tutelary magic the imp was performing. The notion calmed her, thinking of how softly the spellwork between them glowed. What creature—man, woman, or beast—didn’t long for such a connection to another living soul? After all he’d been through, she hoped the light would prove a balm for the unfortunate man and ease his suffering. She would very much like to see his eyes open to the world with less anger toward her than before, though she fully admitted the act would require a double dose of forgiveness on his part.
Another two minutes passed before the little fellow came out of his trance and broke his connection with the man. “It is done,” he said, opening his eyes. The cost of performing the magic reflected in his tired voice.
“What’s done?” Mary asked, fidgeting with the washcloth in her hands.
“Don’t you see?” Edwina said. “The little one is a guardian of some kind.”
The creature nodded. “He will remember again.”
Mary shook her head, not fully convinced. “He couldn’t truly restore the man, could he? Certainly not without his original memories intact.”
The creature cast a sharp look at Mary. “Guardian magic runs deeper than your scavenger witch magic that only knows how to take. He will recover. Memories are not only held in the mind.”
Edwina took a small measure of satisfaction at her sister’s rebuke and sat on the bed again beside the elf. A trail of golden light overspilled from the sprightly magic that had taken place so that her hand felt a dusting of warmth. “But how does it work?”
“Memories have memories.” The little fellow rubbed his nose with his sleeve and moved to the man’s side so he could better see his features. “Like a man’s shadow when he walks in the sun. Only they form inside. Sometimes stored in the heart, sometimes in the bones, sometimes in the aura. And they gather inside me.”
“And you were able to restore his memory from these shadows because you’re a sort of guardian to him, is that it?” Edwina asked. “Yes, I think I’m beginning to get the gist of it.”
“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Mary said, slipping the dull memory stone into her apron pocket as she hovered near the stairs. She looked like she wanted to get as far away from their visitor as she could.
“It’s a symbiotic relationship, if I’m right,” Edwina explained. “There’s a connection between the two. It’s as if they share the same experiences and memories. You must have been devoted to him from an early age.”
The elf beamed until his eyes teared and his ears poked up through his tangle of hair. “I’ve known my mister since he was a wee babe in swaddling cloth.”
The image tickled Edwina and she beamed as well, though she half suspected the happiness she felt flowed as much from the overspill of the elf’s magic as anything else. She was not a woman who readily experienced giddiness, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t stop smiling at the hairy little elf and the snoring man whose life he’d presumably just saved. After straightening the strip of tartan on Ian’s chest, she and the elf waited diligently for him to wake, while Mary studied the hard coal stone from her pocket, clearly regretting the loss of one of her precious orbs.