The hearts hung, dripping just a little, from the limb.
“They give them up so easily,” the little man said, as he sat on the ground and looked up at the hearts. “Well, the young ones do,” he clarified.
“What about the old ones?” The woman was perched above him in the tree.
“The old ones, well, they know what they’d be giving up, so they almost never make a deal.” The man picked up the staff sitting on the ground beside him, and poked at the heart on the end, causing it to turn gently.
“You get the hearts, what do they get out of it?”
“Well, they think there’s something wrong with their hearts. They claim the hearts are broken,” he poked at another heart, causing it to turn as well. “But look at them! They’re perfect!”
He was silent for a moment staring at the hearts. “They’re relieving a moment of pain in the now, and giving up all possibility of future happiness. It’s madness, truly.”
“I still don’t understand how they could make such a deal.”
The man leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “Tis the nature of mortality I suppose. Life is fleeting and short, so they want happiness now.” He looked up at the woman. “They have a phrase that explains it as much as anything, I suppose.”
He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.”
“I don’t get it,” she said. “It’s possible they could die on the morrow, but if they don’t, how can they be merry without their hearts?”
“Ah,” the little man replied, “that’s the rub. They can’t. ‘Course being as I’m the one collecting the hearts, I find it in my best interest to keep that part quiet.”
“So you do trick them,” she looked down at the little man accusingly.
“Some might claim that. But they should know what they’ve giving up, before they make the offer.”
“You mean they come to you?” She was incredulous.
“Yes, they do.” He opened the bag lying at his side and poured out a handful of golden coins. “They willingly trade cold rocks for their hearts.”
“Willingly?”
“Oh yes,” he replied, “eagerly even.”
She climbed down from the tree, her skirts flowing around her as she moved.
“Well, if it’s willing…”
“I thought I could convince ye lassie. These three are promised out, but I’ve two left. One for you, and one for me.” He plucked a heart from the branch and handed it to her.
She held it delicately in her palm, staring at it. “How long does it last?”
“About a fortnight, more or less.” He reached out and plucked the largest heart for himself. “Are ye ready?”
She nodded, and then pressed the bloody mass to her chest. After a second she gave a gasp and stared a the man, who had pressed his selection into his own chest. He walked over towards her and lifted her chin with his hands, leaving a smear of blood on her jaw. “Did I not tell you?” And with that he took her in his arms and lead her back to the tree.
(Inspiration here)
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