Tehanu (Earthsea Cycle, #4)

by Ursula K. Le Guin

“Well,” she said, “which bed shall I sleep in, Ged? The child’s, or yours?” He drew breath. He spoke low. “Mine, if you will.” “I will.” The silence held him. She could see the effort he made to break from it. “If you’ll be patient with me,” he said. “I have been patient with you for twenty-five years,” she said. She looked at him and began to laugh. “Come—come on, my dear—better late than never! I’m only an old woman. . . . Nothing is wasted, nothing is ever wasted. You taught me that.” She stood up, and he stood; she put out her hands, and he took them. They embraced, and their embrace became close. They held each other so fiercely, so dearly, that they stopped knowing anything but each other. It did not matter which bed they meant to sleep in. They lay that night on the hearthstones, and there she taught Ged the mystery that the wisest man could not teach him.