Mother Winter

Pieces of Metal

She led me through the forest, treading lightly on top of the snow whereas I had to slog through it.  My feet were growing numb and I was getting quite tired when we broke from the trees and came alongside the shores of a lake.  The lake stretched as far as the eye could see, and it was completely frozen over.  The witch led me wordlessly down to the rocky beach, her skirts swirling slightly in the cold wind.  I shivered and followed her down, my eye catching on a glint of metal that peeked out from behind an outcropping.

"Behold, that which thou camest here to seek," the witch intoned, standing beside the outcropping.

I peered around it and saw to my astonishment the largest pile of gold and silver that I had ever seen.  At first I thought that it was mainly gold and silver coins, but as I looked closer, I saw that they were scraps of pure metal, jagged at the edges, as if they had been shattered into pieces by some mysterious force.

"What is this?" I asked, reaching over to pick up one of the pieces.

"Something I have spent many long winters trying to recover," the witch replied.  She gestured to the forest.  "Three hundred winters ago, nothing grew here.  One hundred years ago, there were brambles and bushes starting to sprout.  Fifty years ago, trees started to come up, and now a forest lies where there once was nothing but snow."

I picked up a piece of gold.  It was warm in my hand, warmer than it should have been out in this cold weather.  I could see my reflection on its surface, a thin face pinched by hunger and cold.  "It's magic," I whispered.

She nodded grimly.  "Magic," she said.  "It was made for me by the greatest smith to ever walk the lands.  It fed my people for generations, gave them wealth to survive in this frigid land, the dark Northland where little grows."

"What happened?" I asked.

Her face immediately darkened.  "That is not for one like thee to know," she snapped.

I put down the piece of gold and looked at her defensively.  "I don't understand why you're blaming me and my kin for something that happened so many winters ago that it passed out of memory," I said, wondering at the words that were coming out of my mouth.  Even three days ago, I wouldn't have dreamt of this situation.

"Thy people are thieves," the witch stated, her eyes as cold as the landscape around her.  "They stole my daughters and murdered my husband.  This that thou hast before you was once a magical artifact, a thing of great power.  Thy people tried to take it from these lands and mine tried to get it back.  There was a great battle, and the artifact flew overboard and broke on the waters, sinking to the depths in pieces.  I spent many long years searching for all the pieces so I could put them back together again.  I know not if I have them all.  Time has broken it up even more.  Once I found recognizable bits - pieces of the walls, the lid.  Now what flakes I find, I know not where they belong.  Only its maker would know."

She was now gazing off into the distance, her black and silver hair moving in dark waves in the cold breeze.  Her voice had changed from coldness to sadness once again, and I felt guilty for calling her a witch when she was no cold-hearted practitioner of evil magics.  But what else to call her?  I didn't know her name, and I doubted that if I asked that she would tell me.  So I decided, after looking around the landscape, that I would call her Winter.  It seemed fitting, considering the circumstances.

"Why can't we find the one who made it?" I asked cautiously.

"I knew not where he lived," she said.  "It was his brother whom I ran across by chance; it was he who sent the smith to me to forge this magic."  She then sighed.  "And if what thou hast told me is true, then I doubt that they still live in the Southland.  They were workers of great magics, the sort of folk thy new god would not tolerate."

"What do you plan to do, then?" I inquired.  "Could you melt it down and begin anew?"

She shook her head.  "I do not possess the magic to reform the artifact in that way.  What I wish is to find all the pieces and put them together with magic.  But there is no way for me to know that I have gathered all the pieces and if there are little flakes that are still lost in the waters beneath."

I looked at her helplessly.  "What am I to do?  I don't think a flake of magical gold will feed my family over the winter."

Winter stared out over the lake, her gaze immeasurably sad.  "It will make your land more fertile, but it will not bake bread for you."

Desperation tightened my throat.  "What can you do?" I asked, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.  "You say you are a shaman, a person of great magical power!  What use is this magic if you can't save anyone?"

"Thou thinks I am not aware of that?" Winter hissed frostily, the temperature around her dropping several degrees.  "Dost thou think I didn't try to get my daughters back?  Dost thou think I didn't try to use my magic to feed my people when the artifact was lost and broken?  It is not in my nature to save, descendant of Kalevar!  I am a creature of destruction.  My magic is that of ice, snow, and death, not one of life or new growth.  I did not lie when I said that thou wouldst not find help from me."

I felt something akin to pity stirring in my heart - but it wasn't quite pity.  Sympathy, maybe?  Whatever it was, it moved me to speak.  "I'm sorry," I said softly.

Winter immediately deflated, a spark of warmth in her eyes visible for the first time since I had met her.  "Dost thou truly mean it?" she asked querulously.

I nodded.  Then, she gave me a small smile, her eyes crinkling up slightly at the corners.  "Never once has a descendant of Kalevar said such things to me," she said, somewhat sadly.  She then regarded me with interest.  "What sort of magic dost thou possess?"

I stopped.  "Uhhh..."  What should I say?!