Healer's (un)rest

Naturally it hadn’t been one spar and then simple running around the hamlet, or punching trees or something.

Grandpa had said as much, but I had hoped, in my hearts of hearts, that Grandma would have led him to some kind of better judgment.

It was a fool’s hope.

So I decided to plead with Ingrid, using friendship and, above all, spices to get what I wanted.

She laughed in my face.

Not only she laughed in my face, but she also patted my back in mock pity, and started invading my house while her Grandpa was recuperating there.

Because yes, going from zero to one hundred, above all for weeks, during the last days of autumn, when the first snow had fallen and had melted?

Made quite easy to slip.

“You are lucky, Grandpa. It’s just a bruise.” I spoke after yet another clay doll had to be used, alongside some honey and milk for the spirits, which had become rather needy in their exchanges.

“Exchanges”, more like hidden demands, those damned brats.

“I apologise, teacher. I was too forceful in my attack, I abused my blessings.” The foolish, and strong as hell, elf spoke behind me, Grandpa’s metal cane in her hands; while I put some low grade paste for the pain on the bruise, just enough so that it would not spread too badly and that it would not need to also have bandages to cover it.

I would not add something to make it heal faster, maybe a moment of rest would be enough after a month of this.

I had touched wrinkled and hairy skin too many times, I was a veterinarian, damn it, not a geriatric!

“Don’t worry, young alfar! I needed my blood pumping, and the wife is happy too that I ain’t just being annoying with them kids!” Grandpa laughed all the while, and I felt one of my eyebrows twitch.

“You are getting better as well!” He continued, getting his long tunic, and sat up, stretching and popping his joints like they were bubble wrap.

“Stop doing that.” I grounded out while I put away my instruments, and Grandpa, reluctantly and pouting, did so.

I would underline the fact that he was four hundred years old, if some has forgotten this little fact.

“But,” He continued, getting up and taking the offered cane from the elf: “You are still abusing your blessings. They may not be like our magic, but they still use some of your internal energy, do they not?” He asked, raising a brow and waiting for an answer, tapping his cane on the floor.

I somewhat pitied Ingrid, who had suffered it first, and then this elf, who was suffering it now, but I had gotten something similar when I started studying my abilities by Grandma.

And there was also to add that these two had been on and off in my house healing.

So, well, I would call this schadenfreude at the very least.

“They don’t drain much.” The elf answered immediately, and I could see the twinkle become almost luminous in Grandpa’s eyes.

“Much. Interesting. Well, now that we got some core, I may have more personalised training for you to do. I will not have someone unprepared for a fight, above all when Victor here has done so much to keep you up..”

Oh, was this a compliment? I would have loved this if it wasn’t given by someone who was making me work even more.

This were the weeks where I didn’t have animals and people asking for help, because they were preparing the mess that would be the Summer, damn it!

But I didn’t voice it, and the elf nodded, serious and stoic: “That it is. I will make sure to come to the village in the morning, in two days as usual, teacher.”

She even bowed to him!

She still called me “Peregrino”, whatever it meant!

I could hear the spirits laughing while I loudly exhaled from my nose, and even the crows outside, those that used the under roof of my house as a home during the winter, laughed!

But I remained stoic other than the loud exhale, and just advised, keeping my eyes closed and my tone sweet: “Please do not injure yourselves again, or I will use the leeches next time.”

See, sweet.

I would not use those sickness carrying, scary looking, blood sucking things, but it was the thought that counted.

Which is why I felt betrayed when Grandpa simply patted my lower back, chuckling all the while, and spoke in a jolly tone: “Yeah, yeah, Victor. I will send Ingrid with honey and milk, she has been cooped inside with the last snow and is bored out of her mind, I am sure she will be happy to be here.”

The elf perked up beside me.

She liked Ingrid, for some reason, probably because they were both rather…tomboyish.

And they both liked, in their own way, to mess with me at their own expense.

“Sure.” Ah, as if it was their own expense, even in my mind it sounded stupid: “I will prepare something for Grandma, at least one of you isn’t overextending their body.”

Grandpa simply chuckled again, like it was normal for an old dwarf to fight every two days, and went for the door, letting a small chill enter with a “goodbye” and a wave.

I shuddered for a moment, and went for the fire, a chair already in front of it with a warm infuse, and an open notebook alongside ink and a good goose’s feather.

It was a slower time, or at least it ought to be, so putting down more and more memories-

“Peregrino.” The elf spoke behind me, not letting me have even a moment.

“Yes?” I answered, internally crying because I knew that tone was of someone requesting my own time.

“The Saturnalia…should have been in around two weeks. I want to have an altar ready. I will need you to help me find a good tree for it.” She spoke curtly, but I could hear, even without looking at her behind my back, the tension of the possibility of refusal.

And I understood what she felt, damn it.

I sobered immediately and, with a sigh, I answered: “Sure. Tomorrow we will go out, if the weather permits it. What kind of wood do you need?”

Me and my bleeding heart.