If you try and fail, try again

I got up, after making absolutely sure that the hands of the moron were not only clean, but dry as well, and tilted my head towards Ingrid.

I also grunted.

Truly a perfectly polite greeting.

“Very polite, thank you Vic.” Ingrid chuckled at me, one single nod at my direction.

And it was as I thought, polite, she said so herself.

“So, what did you do, oh holy Alfar, to make Vic this annoyed?” Ingrid asked, her grin now firmly in place, while the elf continued to look down to the ground.

That was annoying me.

“Let me guess, you just started to punch and punch without any kind of mind for the craft, and expected to be good with that? Why didn’t you ask Vic to plead, beg and be made poor by the spirits so they could help you?” She looked down, something she was not used to, and raised a brow at the elf, even tapping her foot to add to the effect.

But the elf didn’t answer, and simply hugged her knees.

“Hmmm.” Ingrid looked up to me, and tilting her head she described clinically: “I think you broke her, Vic. Mayhaps you ought to learn how to speak to women, should you not?” She tilted her head up, showing her nose in a haughty display.

I simply answered back, raising my own eyebrow: “So you are saying you aren’t a woman. Good to know, dwarf In-”

She tried to stomp on my foot, but I avoided it immediately.

“See;” Ingrid started, trying and trying again and again: “This is the moment when you, as a man, ought to take the punishment, instead of weaseling out like a viper!”

I continued to weasel out like a viper, and she continued to try stomping said viper, her smile now wide.

Then we both heard a loud exhale, something between a wheeze and a laugh.

We stopped and turned towards the elf, who now was looking intently towards the valley, in the opposite direction from which we were.

Truly inconspicuous, above all when her ears, white even with the cold December, were now beet red.

A few beats followed, then she spoke up, continuing to look towards the valley, while her ears returned to their normal colour: “The gods have crafted this place.” She stopped for a moment, her hears lowering minutely: “But I am not able to give them back the view they created.”

Her ears went so low to touch her shoulders now, her blonde hair not hiding them in the slightest, while I could almost feel the spirits cooing at the sad scene.

I, instead, was stone faced, as much as Ingrid turned towards me with big eyes and mouthing “help her”.

“Look.” I started, the elf barely rising her ears while staring at the foggy valley: “I did my own stone.”

She minutely turned towards me, but not more.

“I will let you visit it, Ingrid already did, many times, but that’s not the point. The point is, I asked Ivan to help with the tools, and I also asked the spirits to help. It’s not the best, but it’s better than it would be if I had done it alone with just my nails.”

The elf turned completely this time, dragging the earth and stones with her feet, still sitting, still hugging her knees, her blue eyes waiting for something.

So, I offered my hand, and I waited for her to grasp it.

Ingrid, with a smile, a true one, did the same and waited.

First her left hand slowly let go of her knees, then, like a wolf jumping, she took my wrist.

She took my wrist, with enough strength to almost make me shout in alarm, but I did not.

She was strong, but was in control.

Then she let go with her right, and she quickly did the same to Ingrid, who did hiss at the sudden movement but did not do much else.

Then we helped her up.

“I…” The elf spoke up, looking somewhat lost, then she thumped her chest with her right hand, her eyes straight ahead, trying to be as stoic as possible despite her own voice wavering slightly: “I humbly d-demand for your h-help, Peregrino and Nana, to b-build an altar for my gods!”

We…did not say anything for some moments.

There would be many words to answer this, and not good. If it had been possible to talk to an expert, I would.

The eye ticks were not helping my own outlook, above all when I was getting them all in this one month.

But Ingrid, far better at this than me, just smiled and answered with her own impertinence, putting her hand on her hips and leaning back, trying to look bigger than the belly height she was: “Only if you call us with our names, alfar!”

The elf was taken back by that, her eyes becoming wide and her ears shooting up.

Then she nodded, her eyes serious and her tone calm: “I will do so. Ingrid.”

Then she turned towards me, her eyes just as serious, while I saw with the tail of my eye that Ingrid was fist pumping.

I just exhaled loudly and said, somewhat exasperated: “If you want to call me Peregrino still, you can, but I am Victor. Not just Vic.”

The elf hummed, her eyes focused on me in particular, mumbling something about “winner” and “strange”.

Noticing she had been, yet again, rude, her ears rose up and became the colour of ripe tomatoes, then she, after a breath, re-introduced herself: “I am Lucrezia, as you are aware, of the gens Iunia and the family Bruta. Now, will you aid me?”

I rolled my eyes at that, but mentally I already was feeling the spirits clamoring to help.

We want to see.

Strangely orderly, but it was a kindness I could give to someone so similar to me.

Even if she was annoying.

I turned towards Ingrid, and she made a thumb up.

“Well, miss Lucrezia, you got two helpers.” I said, making a small bow, hoping this would not drag too much out.