Kindness For My Love – October 1419

Estella shut the still blue eyes with a gentle hand.  He had called for his mother at the last, searched for her in the gloom that filled his sight, and she could only hold his hand past his final breath.  Another lad, not yet thirty winters old.  He ought to have been dancing, not fighting, not dying in her arms.  The ruffians had spoken of war and hopes of Merry’s return dimmed in her heart.  Estella sent up a forlorn prayer that far away, some kind soul might close her love’s blue eyes and hold his hand into the dark.