[ Once, he would have called her foolish. But now, as he lies by her side, the word is the last to come to mind. Slowly, he lets his eyes close, shoulders rising and falling in a quiet sigh. ]

No, never, [ he murmurs, knowing that the exhaustion that colors his features is but one of many ways in which his age shows. ] With our wits combined I should think it an easy task. Or, if not that, at least not out of our reach. [ Besides, he would not once in a thousand years wish upon their child the sort of troubles that had plagued the parents. And what good would their suffering have been if they could not keep it from the baby? As if to say so, he shifts to push himself to lie properly next to her, the bridge of his nose pressing to her cheek as he wraps an arm about her. (Still, their circumstances amaze him. They have borne their share of woes in the process, but the point remains. Just months ago, had he thought this kind of bliss possible?) ]

And I would never think you a fool.