Nobody expects the hillish Taxmen

One more week passed.

The grass during the night would become white, until the day arrived at least, while during the first hours of the day a low fog would rise up, and then come down,

If I was a poet, I would maybe put down some words about how the last leaves were falling, nature itself slumbering with the animals.

But I was not, and didn’t care much about that.

Still don’t, the only books I wrote are any kind of knowledge of medicine I could cram on paper, and after that how to do potions or what runes would do, alongside effects of some particular spirits to others.

I am sure that, if doctors back home were to read those, they would be…quite cross with me.

Along with medical engineers. And biochemists.

And a lot of other categories.

Why was I thinking about my journals?

“Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.”

Because the moron had broken the cast to get it off.

Again.

“This is wholly your fault.” I spoke, while putting away my saw.

And I put it away calmly, without sparing a glance behind me, or rushing to get a salve to numb her pain.

“Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.” It was amusing how it was monotone, and how she didn’t look at me.

I wasn’t even angry. Much.

I was amused at this moment.

I should have put the Elisabethian around her hands, but it had been a good week, all in all, after that night.

Not that she stopped being rude.

“Peregrino! Ouch! Move!” She stopped her monotone for a second, just to give me an example of said rudeness.

Quite polite on her part.

“I need to put away the instruments first, it would be dangerous to leave them around. Stay put, if you please.” And, while somewhat against my Oaths, she needed to learn this lesson.

But I had some cloves, which were good for anesthetic use if its active ingredient, eugenol, was strengthened by the use of spirits.

Which is something I did immediately, it was good to have as many sources of medicine as possible.

…The fact that I was now using natural oils made me want to cringe, but they did work, unlike anything they run back at home around “omeopathy”.

“That’s a lie, Peregrino.” But at least she stopped moving her arms, if the lack of moved air and pieces of chalk behind my neck were of any clue.

I got the salve immediately after that, good behaviour ought to be rewarded after all, and, with a cleaned hand I lightly started to put it on her hands.

It was a very low strength salve, just to avoid her starting to scratch it, but she sighed when it was put on.

Also, her ears started to wiggle ever so slightly.

Interesting.

Ingrid, and dwarves in general, usually started to tap when they were happy, maybe it was something similar to that?

Humans had similar muscles to the ears, but not so strong to have them react to stimuli and emotions, not like I had seen this one do in the last weeks.

I would have to write this down, luckily there didn’t seem to be much of a difference in anatomy, not as far as medications went.

But still, interesting.

“So, Peregrino.” She asked, while clenching her now free, both from casts and pain, hands, looking up at me with her glacial eyes: “Will I be able to train again soon? I do not wish to lose my edge, above all when I accepted to remain here for the winter.”

And she had been a pot of beans all the while about that, even if she had accepted that.

When she wasn’t whinging about that, she was looking at the night sky, or making me describe the road towards the closest city.

Even making me draw a map, after she found out I could draw, and dragging Ingrid into this as well.

I had to give her a day of mead to be forgiven by the dyrgia.

A dwarf day of mead.

I lost three liters of the stuff that day.

So, giving myself a way to make her lose her energy, while also making sure she would not make too much of a mess?

“Sure, just do not put too much strain at first.” I answered immediately, smiling all the while.

Her glare became flat as her voice when she spoke: “I know you are thinking foolishly, Peregrino. I will forgive this behaviour for the services you gave, but don’t expect more.”

Every day I questioned why the spirits asked, both through me and Grandma, to save her.

I didn’t say those words aloud, but, sighing, I turned towards the small pouch of silver I had prepared for the tax-man.

Ingrid had passed saying she had seen him coming up, with his small squad of guards, on slow horses, so I just got some of the silver moles dug up.

Just enough to see like I had traded it, like the last times, instead of being able to command animals.

I didn’t want to have too much scrutiny, Grandma had strongly advised against that and I agreed with that.

“Oi bro!” Little Nut voice came from outside, and the squirrel launched himself inside, on the table: “There are five hornless big nose with the same number of tall ones! Now give me the nut in exchange!”

Also, I had put him as a sentry, just in case I was doing something more…esoteric.

“Thank you Nut, here is a hazel.” I threw it at him, and he hollered happily before launching himself out.

I turned towards the elf, who had watched the exchange with a stoic curiosity, and, while putting away the salves, I asked quietly: “May I ask you to not do too much ruckus? I do not want to have to pay more due to your…behaviour.”

“I have always been at my best behaviour, Peregrino. If your barbarian culture cannot see it, it’s your own fault.” The haughty elf rebutted immediately, her ears pointing up and her lips showing her teeth.

I…hadn’t expected much, and it was probably going to be even lower than that.

Damn it, spirits.