The Weather Girl

If you imagine the furthest distance imaginable and then doubled it, you would not come close to how far away Amaurotum is. When I arrived, it was a small, snow-swept village and every house seemed deserted except one. When I knocked on the door, a girl answered.

“Who are you?” she asked.
“A traveller - I mean you no harm,” I said.

She showed me her dagger and I gave her mine. Happy with the balance of power, she welcomed me inside. It was bitterly cold outside and her hospitality welcome, but curiously, for all her benevolence, she wept all the time.

“Why are you sad?” I asked.
“I’m sad because it’s winter,” she said.
“You’re sad because of the season?”
“Yes, it’s cold. And lonely. Everybody left when winter came.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“This is the house of my late husband and I will stay here forever.”

It seemed strange that she was so affected by the weather, and during my stay with her I noted it was more than just seasons which changed her. At dawn, while the sky was warming, she became happy. When snow fell she was forlorn. As strong winds blew she turned angry. It was peculiar and I felt a sadness for her – the type of sadness one feels for the afflicted.

“Where are you travelling to?” she asked.
“I’m travelling to join the King’s armies,” I said, “I’ll be on my way once I’m rested.”
“Very well.”

As the days turned into a week, I found myself caring for her more and more when the weather affected her. There was a lightning storm one night and she had nightmares. I lay with her until the storms died down.

“The weather seems nicer today,” I said.
“It does, isn’t it wonderful?” she replied.

Spring started to show itself, finally, and a few plants poked through the blanket crust of snow.

“Maybe your friends will return to the village?” I said.
She beamed at me.

And sure enough, one by one, they did. After some weeks the entire village was bustling with people and summer was in full bloom. I would rise each morning and go to market, fetching all the materials she’d need to prepare our evening meal. While she worked on the food I’d work in the fields, now full of crops basking in the hot sun. And she was happy. It made me smile to see her that way, and made the fact I’d overstayed my welcome no great deal.

But I did have to leave.

“I’m afraid I have to go, now,” I said.
“But why?” she asked.
“I’m still travelling to join the armies of our Sovereign. I cannot forsake them.”
“I could come with you.”
“You would not stand the journey. I’m sorry.”

I will remember until my end of days, that at that moment a light rain broke out across Amaurotum. The first rain of the summer. She was crying. I went to wipe her tears but she pushed me away, smiling.

“It’s okay, really. I always cry when it rains.”
“No, it rains when you cry.”

She laughed. It stopped raining. She hugged me.

“Please don’t take away summer,” she whispered.

I hugged her back and left. Outside it was raining again. As I reached the market I heard thunder and children being rushed indoors. And as I reached the village gates, snow was falling.