“Wait.” She blinked.
“Was that your incredibly weird way of confessing your love to me, or what?”
“That’s for you to decide.” I smirked, only fueling the suspicion already written across the cute elf’s face.
“I really am still young.
You, on the other hand…”
“Your little jabs about my age stopped bothering me five winters ago.” She waved the comment away, though her fingers twitched ever so slightly.
“I know.
Shame, really.
You used to react so adorably.” I said bluntly.
Once again, I couldn’t have been more different from my fellow elves.
For all my claims about being straightforward when it came to relationships, I was conducting a slow, methodical siege.
Slow, but steadily closing in.
And really, what was the point of waiting any longer?
Holding out for The One—the woman who’d make my heart race and all that sappy, pink nonsense?
Especially when this cutie had been right beside me for years?
Particularly when you factored in the physiological and psychological effects of staying celibate for a full forty-nine years.
Sure, translated into my own perception of time, that was only about a decade…
but that’s still a hell of a long time!
“You little, snarky, shameless provocateur…” She was supposed to be scolding me, but…
a faint blush colored her cheeks.
Only a little, yet against her pale skin, untouched by even the slightest hint of a tan, it stood out perfectly.
Excellent.
My bet that adorable Vaisy wasn’t nearly as cynical or demanding as twenty-first-century women continued to pay off.
Not that I didn’t understand why women in my own era had ended up with those expectations, but…
Things were simpler here.
Not quite “smile, tumble into the hay, and start a family” simple…
Not quite to the level of smile, hayloft, baby…
But still.
“That’s what gets us through, mein Fräulein,” I replied with a mischievous grin, having long since noticed that the Snow Elves’ language bore more than a passing resemblance to German.
It was also sprinkled with a handful of words that sounded vaguely French, and the form of address I’d used—albeit in a slightly different form—was reserved exclusively for the highest ranks of the nobility.
“If you can’t pronounce it properly, don’t use it…” she began to chide me, only to be cut off by the thud of an arrow burying itself in our observation post.
Elven hearing was no exaggeration.
Even in the middle of a conversation, I instantly recognized the sound for what it was, feeling my ears twitching ever so slightly.
Vaisy and I exchanged a quick glance.
I’d practically insisted on having her assigned as my partner for our mission to keep an eye on the humies…
damn it, my first thought was Warhammer!
We didn’t bother putting on our armor, but we each cast Stoneflesh instead—an improved version of the Oakflesh spell I’d used during sparring.
Then we leaped through the concealed exit of the observation tower, which stood at the edge of the forest overlooking the plain separating us from Saarthal, nestled beside a modest hill.
“…Haaah…” I let out a long breath.
Instead of an armed band of angry Vikings clad in animal skins, standing beside our post was… a group of children.
Judging by the way their eyes had gone wide, our sudden appearance had startled them just as much.
To be fair, Vaisy and I weren’t exactly a reassuring sight, with a rapier and a one-handed flamberge at the ready—not to mention the magic gathering in our free hands.
“Are those…
their children?” my adorable companion asked curiously, looking over the frozen youngsters before turning back to me.
“I’ve never seen them this close.”
“Let’s see…
how did it go in the human tongue…” I racked my brain, trying to recall the few lessons in the human language I’d picked up from my fellow watchers.
It was definitely something from the Scandinavian language family…
“Ah, there it is…ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚾᛟᛏ ᚦᛖ ᛖᚾᛖᛗᚤ.
ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚨᚾ ᛖᛚᚠ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛋᚾᛟᚹ.
ᚠᚱᛖᚨᛞ.
Assuming I hadn’t butchered the pronunciation, I’d just introduced myself as a friend—an elf from the snow.
Or… something along those lines.
Sheathing our blades and letting the magic dissipate, we became the very picture of friendliness.
Judging by the fact that the children didn’t immediately scream and run away, they’d understood me well enough.
Still, seeing that they were far too awestruck to manage a conversation, standing there with wide eyes and mouths hanging open, I exchanged a glance with my partner.
“Head back?” I suggested with an amused smile.
“Let them get back to playing.” That arrow that had landed in our post had turned out to be nothing more than a test shot from a remarkably well-made, but still very much childish, toy bow.
“One second.” She gave a small wave of her hand, casting some sort of spell on one of the children.
“Poor kid.
You’re cruelty incarnate.” I couldn’t resist delivering the line in my usual overly dramatic fashion, drumming my fingers against the hilt of my flamberge.
It was a fine weapon, and it caused the local wildlife no end of trouble.
If I remembered correctly, the only real weakness this type of sword had on Earth was that its wavy blade made it more prone to breaking.
But honestly, for elven smiths who also wielded magic, that wasn’t a problem at all.
“I only cast a burden spell for a couple of minutes,” the elf replied with a small shrug, watching as the boy who’d shot at us suddenly found his bow impossibly heavy, while he himself began breathing much harder.
“By the time they get back to their people, it’ll already have worn off.
But maybe he’ll think twice before daring to bother me again.”
“Well, if you look at it that way…” I scratched the back of my head.
“I guess that makes you a great child educator.”
“Oh, be quiet.” she muttered, sounding just a little flustered.
Watching the group of children run off, supporting their wheezing companion between them, I merely shook my head.
Neither of us could have imagined that this fleeting encounter would end up changing so very much…
May Auri-El watch over your path, and may your support keep this tale alive.