“Not by magic. Have you got a spade?” And shortly afterward he
had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Bill had shown him at the end
of the garden, between bushes. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work,
glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a
gift to the elf who had saved their lives.
Monday, August 20, 2007