When it comes to the subject of plants my thoughts are somewhat ambivalent. Ellyana of course loves them as she does all good things in nature. The Ni shrub intrigues me, festooned as it is with berries which look so much like the bud roses on her cloak that I feel there must be some bond, some connection, between them. Many flowers and herbs have their uses I'll admit. My lady uses them for her healing salves and potions, while I seek those with more toxic properties, to use on my blades. As I commented a couple of turns back while we were being treated to a most delicious meal, often Ellyana and I will both find a use for the same plant - the poisonous or beneficial properties demonstrated being dependent on the strength of infusion made or the manner of its production. Flowers can be decorative as well as providing a source of food for bees. And without the bees, we'd not have the sweet dainties and drinks so beloved by many.
On the other hand, I have to say I've seen far too many plants this last cycle, and not in a pleasant way. I've spent marc after marc training in the greenhouse. The air is warm, and heavy with the reek of vegetation. It's not always too easy to see, and the aggressive inhabitants are quick to tear their roots free from the ground to launch an attack on any who walk past. I lost count of the numbers as I hacked away at the lumbering brutes, but eventually I reached my goal. And all the time my dearest Ellyana was beside me, offering blessings and healing, smiles and support.

And after the greenhouse - the maze of tunnels beneath the volcano on Kili. It's a terrible place down there. The air is tainted with choking fumes, so tainted that you can hardly breathe and your eyes stream. The passages twist and turn, so much so that even the most capable reader of charts might go astray. Certainly my own small ability was sorely taxed as I sought the way out, coughing and half-blinded, Ellyana's hand grasped firmly in mine. And sometimes not only her hand. The darkness and the foul air affect Ellyana deeply, her steps slowing as the heat and stench bring on a blinding headache leaving her incapable of movement. And in those times I'd not hold her hand in mine, but carry her in my arms through heat and darkness, searching for a way up to light and air that though filled with a rain of ash is somewhat sweeter. And then on to the beach where a soak in the water would cleanse and cool us.
It's no load to carry the one you love, no imposition to give help if needed. Can we quantify the help we give? I think not. It's a calculation that can not, and certainly should not, be made. I recall, vaguely, that very subject being discussed long ago, and my own response. My thought has always been, when it comes to protecting and assisting the one who holds your heart and your very soul, that you freely give whatever is needed.

Ambivalence about plants, yes. But not when it comes to the well-being of my lady. I always have tried, always will try, to do all I can for the one who holds my entire being in her hands. And as so many have discovered, that is no labour, no burden. And it brings its own joy.