And the Lady smiled, and that was beautiful. But there was blood upon her hands, and that was bad. But then the Lady looked upon her blood, and laughed, and sang. And there were berries bright as blood, and that was good.
The Lady spoke to Holly, which was good. The Lady told to Holly, which was good. She sang and sang and sang to Holly, which was good.
The Lady was afraid, and that was bad. She watched the water of the stream. She looked into the sky. She listened to the wind, and was afraid, and that was bad.
The Lady turned to Holly. The Lady laid her hand upon his trunk. The Lady spoke to Holly. Holly bent, and that was good.
The Lady drew a breath and sang a song to Holly. She sang a song and Holly burrowed deep into the earth. She sang a song and all along the stream there sprung new holly from the ground. She sang and all around the tower climbed new holly. She sang and up the tower grew new holly.
The Lady sang and they were both. Around them both there grew new holly. New holly spread and stretched and wrapped the tower. New holly grew and opened groves of leaves against the sky. She sang until no tower could be seen, and that was good.
The Lady stood beside Old Holly, smiling. They looked out at their new-grown holly grove, and it was good.
Old Holly stood beside the stream and watched the land below. He stood beside the edge of his new grove and felt the earth below and knew that it was good. He felt the sun upon his leaves and knew that it was good.
The wind brushed up against him. The wind was bad. He bent. He bent his boughs against the tower window.
The Lady came to stand beside him. She looked upon the land below. There was a hint of smoke upon the sky. Far away were shapes that moved across the hills.
There were great black wolves, with mouths of fire. There were men who had been bent halfway into birds. They were both, and bad.
Worst of all there was a shadow bent to look as if it were a man. Old Holly felt the ground beneath the last grow sick, and try to pull away.
The Lady stepped behind his trunk. She was afraid. She peered out at the land below. The shapes came closer, which was bad.
Old Holly bent. Old Holly bent toward the Lady.
The Lady looked at him. The Lady looked upon the land below. The Lady laid her hand upon his trunk, and that was good. The Lady asked. Old Holly bent again.
The Lady sang. She sang Old Holly. She said to him. She said her words. She said.
Old Holly bent and he became a man. He was both, and it was good.
The Lady sang, new holly bent and it became a spear, and it was good.
Old Holly bent his boughs and took the spear. Old Holly stretched his roots and strode across the stream. Old Holly struck the wolves and pinned them to the earth. He bent his boughs and brought another spear. They bit at him, and that was neither. He clutched the men bent into birds, and pulled at them, and tore them all apart.
And last there came the shadow thing, and it was bad. When it moved across the ground he felt the earth attempt to crawl away. It sickened and it shrank away from contact with the shadow thing.
Old Holly bent his boughs again, and brought a spear, its wood of living green. Its blade as bright as berry blood. This he drove into the shadow thing, and held it to the earth, and watched it howl and burn and die, and this was good.
Old Holly came back to the tower, and it was good. The Lady smiled and sang to him, and it was good. The Lady looked upon his wounds. She wept, and sang to them, and then he bent, and that was good.
The Lady said that she must leave, and that was bad. She said she would return, and that was good. She said that it was dangerous, and Old Holly stretched his roots to stand across the stream.
The Lady shook her head. She said to stay. She said to stay here with the tower. She said to keep it safe for her return.
Old Holly stretched his roots until he stood beside the tower. His Lady went inside. She came outside. She said goodbye.
Old Holly bent, and from a branch, he made for her a walking stick of green wet wood. Old Holly bent, and from his boughs, he wove a crown for her, all bright with berry. Old Holly bent, and as he was a man, he brushed her cheek with his own bark-rough hand.
The Lady wept, and laughed, and left. And that was both and neither and all and other.
Old Holly stayed. The tower stayed. Old Holly stayed beside the tower. Old Holly all around the tower.
Old Holly stayed, and that was good.
The summer left.
The winter left.
The garden left.
Old Holly stayed, and that was good.
The bones of the wolves left.
The roof of the tower left.
The glass in the windows left.
Old Holly stayed, and that was good.
The stream left.
The tower left.
Old Holly stayed.