An (annoying) good morning

“You need to eat.” I put the wooden spoon full of porridge in front of her mouth, warm and not too hot.

I had done it myself, while Ingrid prepared to go out and bring Grandma here.

She would have known more than me about this, after all.

Now, if only this one wasn’t picky on food as well!

“Where is the wine? Or the cheese? If you want me to get up faster, I will need more than…that slop.” She haughtily said, even turning her nose up, not deigning to even eat what I had.

In that moment I really would have wanted to do what the Parisians did, and used the helm I had put beside her bed to hit her on the head..

“Mister Listener, if she won’t eat it, can I keep it for mama? I think she gives too much to me.” The cub, who was watching us while curled, growled from her own bed, the bandages changed due to how affectionate her mother was in leaving.

Saliva may be somewhat an antibiotic, but it’s not that good, and she had dragged away the bandages, and also touched the swab!

More cotton I had to use!

“No, Lis. She needs to eat, and she will eat this, and after this, she will eat fruits.”

I would like to be able to have the fancy food, or if I could, after racking my brain, remember the doses of each nutrient a patient needed, both animal and not, reverse it by using the food a hamlet of ninety people would have.

But I wasn’t an alchemist, I only spoke well to childish spirits, animals and childish elves.

No gold, no immortality, and no potion to cure anything and everything.

Only qualities of garlic, chamomile and willow for me!

And about the willow…

“Look, if you don’t eat you will just stay here longer. And no, I cannot make you eat cheese and wine, I don’t have that much of those.”
Above all wine, and it was a sad life indeed when I could not find good wine.

I had to give ten grams of silver for what they considered a good bottle.

And that good bottle was practically vinegar.

Vinegar!

My internal struggle against the disgusticity, and yes, it’s not a word but it was that disgusting, of that wine made me miss the thoughtful look of the elf, alongside the slight, veeeery slight shame that passed in her eyes, such was the repugnance it caused on my tongue.

What I did notice was her opening her mouth and taking the spoon, something that surprised me due to its suddenness.

“Nyooo” The cub lamented this, while I gave to this fool the food needed for her to survive.

She glared all the while.

I did not care. I had to work with Chihuahuas.

When I said it was better to work with animals than people? Those rats of Satan were the exception.

And so, spoonful after spoonful, accompanied by herbal tea and water, she got all the food in her stomach.

Making grimaces, glaring, gnawing on the spoon, but ate it nonetheless.

Small wins.

Then, from the outside, I heard Ingrid shout delicately as always: “Vic, Grandma is here! Open the door!”

I sighed and got up, making sure that Lis would remain on her bed, noticing now that the sun had already moved quite a bit, and opened the door.

The dark blue eyes of Grandma greeted me, far less forgiving than Ingrid’s, but a placid smile was on her face, at least the parts not covered by scarf and heavy clothes.

So I hadn’t done anything wrong, good to know.

“Well, boy? Will you let me in? It might not be winter, but it’s still cold.” She quipped, her wooden cane hitting a puddle covered by thing ice with its metal point.

Immediately I made way, even making a small bow, letting the two Dyrgie in, letting the red-headed one snicker at how subservient I was being.

Well, her Grandma was a scary one, like all grandmothers, and she was centuries old, and I knew that because the old ones in the hamlet had said that they had seen her as old when they were children.

And because the Spirits had said so.

With a sigh, I closed the door, and turned towards the inside, watching the old Dyrgia going silently towards one of the rough chairs I had put in this clinic of mine.

She watched the elf, for a moment, that then became two and then three.

Then she spoke, her voice suddenly older and far more serious: “So, you did find this one. Who are you, young lady?” She asked, her tone losing its warmth despite being cordial.

The elf, maybe due to pride, maybe due to foolishness, pushed her chin forward and spoke, her tone sure and full: “I am Lucrezia Iunia Bruta, Legate by oath and by merit of the Res Publica, Citizen of the Urbe, Guardian by training and merit, Peregrina. Who are you, instead, old woman?”

Grandma did not say anything, but her smile became somewhat amused, her eyes crinkling slightly.

That did scare me a little.

“May I ask.” I interjected, while Ingrid started to put myself between the fool, the smiling sadist and the reaction both would have between each other: “To not injure her too much? She is likely to be bed-ridden for at least a month.”

“Oh, that may not be necessary, young boy.” Grandma spoke, the very air echoing.

Lis was silently watching, the spirits were observing, and Ingrid was hiding a bit more behind me, but her head was poking out.

I felt very much like an offering, instead.

But Grandma continued to speak, her tone calm as the mountains, her smile as peaceful as the Queen bear: “I understand that you are a noble one. The ears say that, Alfar. But your behaviour, that one is strange.”

She took the site beside her, and tapped armour that resounded like a gong, an eagle with two lightning bolts on its talons proudly in front of it.

“Why not give us a story, young alfar?” she asked, tilting her head.

Ingrid eeped at that tone, and I really wanted to follow suit.

Problem is, she took my arm, and she was strong.

That made me unable to run.

Damn it.