Willingness and cost

Ingrid Erikdottir; year 1032 Ab Teoria Magica; Hamlet-nested-between-mountains-and-river;

When I left Vic’s house, my smile faded, the sounds of the forest now greeting me.

The crunches of the leaves, the branches creaking against the wind, the birds and the insects…

They had finally calmed down, since yesterday, but it would be annoying to hunt, I knew that.

Uff.

Also, it was still strange to have that biggity big bear’s cub, and being able to touch it.

It was fluffy, and I will be in debt before saying it was not, and, above all, I knew when I ought to stop thanks to Vic.

“Ingrid, little rock, slow down. This ancestor of yours is old, not a spring chicken anymore.” My Grandma reprimanded me, her voice amused, which made me turn towards her, preparing for it.

Only for the cane to hit my shin instead of my head -ninety nine parts of silver, half parts of gunk, half part of strange metal- and I had to keep any curse out of my mouth, if not I would get more of that metal baton against my poor body.

“Oh, come on, you big baby, it was just a love tap.” Grandma argued, continuing to walk, her grey hair swayed by the wind.

And her weight far more on the cane than usual.

“Grandma,” I asked, putting myself beside her so I could help her if needed: “Did you use too much energy for the light show? You know that you are not young anymore. Maybe Vic was right for the wrong reasons.” I chided.

Vic was too kind, but if it had hurt Grandma, then it was better to just try to slowly ease the noble stuck-up instead of using her energy.

“Don’t worry, little rock, it’s just my age. I hadn’t used that in a long time, I have grown too used to your Druidic friend and his spirit. You will have to bear me for a long time more, little rock.” her rough hand started to tussle my hair, and I let her.

I knew what a losing fight was, after all, and Da could not do much against her.

“How is the village, by the way?” I asked, both out of curiosity and as a way to stop the tussling: “Not too much damage, right?”

“Hmmm. Just some scared children and a lot of broken windows. It’s an easy work, the worst will be to get the fragments. Easier to make something remember what it was than transforming it.” She chuckled, in one of her moods.

I rolled my eyes at that.

“You know that I could help with that. I do know what’s in the glass, I could replicate it.” I chided, trying to be as charming and sure as I possible.

Grandma just bonks my head again, slowly: “You are young, and I won’t teach you magic. It’s dangerous.”

It was always like that.

“Then why Vic? Why did you let him learn it, or use it? And the alfar as well, even if she looks young, she used her own magic.” It was an old argument, but maybe, maybe now that there was a new situation, I could use it…

“The alfar there may be different from our own alfar, and just the fact that she was as humble as she was should have tipped you off on that, little rock.” She didn’t even turn, her slightly wobbly steps now as sure footed as the mountains we were on.

“And you already know why your Vic is able to do what he does. We need to use our own energy to bend the world, he just needs to ask and listen. It’s far less dangerous, and not just for the body.” She didn’t turn towards me, but I could her the haunted tone she had everytime she spoke about that.

“Why not? It’s not like it would be bad, right? I am strong, you say that as well.” I asked, trying to puncture her arguments.

“For what? You are already doing enough, and magic, the one I know, is simply a burden for the fool and the desperate.” She didn’t care, stopping for a moment to take a breather.

“To help you all, that’s what I would do!” I stomped on the ground, angry, annoyed, furious at myself and my childishness.

That was the main reason why I wanted to take the burden

Not for the ancestors, if both Grandma and Grandpa relegated theirs, it meant they had done something wrong.

Not for the knowledge, I knew already enough and if I stayed in this Hamlet, with the small idiots growing up and the bigger one in the forest and his stories I would be content.

The hamlet was already self-sufficient, or close to it, thanks to what Vic did with the spirits, and I felt like I was slipping more and more, my eyes less useful and my knowledge less.

I couldn’t even look at him when I hunted, I knew and know that it was-

“Little rock. Stop overthinking. That boy has passed you that trait of his, something that you ought to control. It’s not your duty to make everything in this world right, thinking otherwise is foolishness and pride at its height.” Grandma continued to walk down the road, unheeding to my internal struggle, and making me run to reach her: “Let the old people be grouchy and overthink. You are young, you don’t need to be like me. You are just as good, if not better than me, as you are.”

What an ugly lie it was. I didn’t have the charisma to even help my friend, while Grandma had founded and lead this Hamlet for more than a hundred years.

What I could only do was smile, be foolish, and try to make those around me happier.

Not much more.

I didn’t pay attention to my Grandma, watching me, her blue eyes becoming much less vibrant and sadder, the weight on the cane becoming more and more.

“What happens if they find out about the otherworldly Alfar?” I asked, trying to find something I could be of use to, and above all knowing Grandma’s stories.

“Hope they don’t. We have one of the order as our liege, and knowing how old they are, finding one of their…brethrens.” She muttered venoumously.

I gulped, before following her to the hamlet.