A crown of fire and a robe of ivy; a strange visitor, seeking solace.
You don't see too many crowns of fire, even in my line of work. Their robe hung by a hook on the door as if it had grown there while we sat. I don't have much to offer, really; a few different blends of tea, clean water, a warm hearth. I don't know why people keep coming to me, but they do. We sat and talked - well, they talked. I listened. All their burdens, laid out on the table between us. The crown of flames over their head cast a flickering light on the table. They told me how they worried it would one day consume them, leave their fine robe a pile of ashes to be blown away in the wind. That kind of responsibility must be very hard to bear, I thought. I offered them more tea, some directions, and a space to spend the night before the hearth. They declined the last and left, taking their troubles with them but leaving a solid gold coin for my trouble. My trouble! As if I had done anything of note! But, I will use it to buy more tea, and be ready for the next person who visits. I can only hope their burdens are slightly lighter for being able to put them down, even for a short time.
