The Magic Mirror

To Pour The Milk

Mr. Lout fell in and out of fevers for the next day but Mrs. Pllow was glad to see it. Mr. Lout would not be dying, after all. But he did not wake up either. Occasionally he murmured incoherently or shook his head but he stayed lost in his unconscious, watching things that she could not see. For all that Mrs. Plow kept herself busy, what with cleaning the windows and bringing order to the house's chaos, she still found herself pausing to look at the frail man in the kitchen chair and wonder what went on behind those lids. Unfortunately there were some things that Mrs. Plow would never know. More unfortunate yet there were some things that Mr. Lout would never be able to forget. Here is what Mr. Lout recalled of a life some 18 years prior:

A dead child. he would never forget it. Haryn kept the child in her arms and rocked him sadly. She did not cry and he did not either. Their eyes had been cried dry, and so the saddest sight he had ever witnessed only managed to fall over Mr. Lout like a lead weight of resignation and defeat.

"We have to bury him," he said, at one point after hours of rocking and not crying. Haryn continued to watch the cold, pale child in her arms, and hum.  Mr. Lout looked away, because he did not want to see it. Haryn- who had seen so much promise and joy in their future only weeks ago- now succumbed to looking at a dead thing in her arms with her stony brown eyes and not seeing it at all- looking beyond to a son that was no longer theirs, to a life that would never be.

He tried to think of some comfort. But what could he say? At least the child no longer suffered? At least it was over now?

No. He couldn't say a thing. At last he could no longer take it and he pried the motionless baby from her arms.

"I'll take care of it," he assured her, grimly.

"...him," she said. "Don't say 'it'. It isn't right."

"No," he agreed, and went on his way.

Their home was one squat cottage right where Evodos bordered the spanning Forest of Lore. He took a spade still stuck in the carrot patch of the vegetable garden and headed into the trees. He would make this quick.. he just had to take it away, far away- and perhaps then they could try to move on... perhaps they could forget. He followed paths he didn't know, and paths that led to new ways and through streams and over mossy hills... the sun slipped away, dimming the sky further and further until it was a star dappled black over head.. ever present was the weight of the bundle in his arms. No heavier than a child's doll and yet... heavier than anything he had ever had to carry before. Mr. Lout knew he had to stop, and eventually he did. He found a clearing in the forest and struck his spade in quick- but there the spade stayed. He found that he didn't have the will to dig. So he sat and held the bundle close and wondered.

How could he return to Haryn? How could the two of them return to life as usual? How could they ever try? For a brief span between losing their own child and finding this one the both of them had foolishly allowed a sliver of hope to creep in. Little Fritz's life had gone on for weeks as opposed to the mere days it was said he would have.. and somehow- even though he ate very little and lost his color.. and became very thin and fragile- they had believed he might make it, just for them. Oh to be crushed like this once had been bad enough- but losing this child marred them twice.

There was nothing for it now...unless...

No!

He reached for the spade again. That was forbidden. A man like Mr. Lout, so close to the name of Parsimum himself, would put the great wizard to flames if it was ever known. He couldn't. He wouldn't. And yet... the bundle still weighed something... and something was not nothing. Besides, what did he owe Parsimum the great? Why should he possibly care about a man who was cruel enough to take their child and leave this one for dead? Parsimum the great? What a laugh! More like Parsimum the Greedy, Parsimum the Heartless. Mr. Lout folded back the blanket and looked at the lifeless child.