Chapter Text
“Miss elf! Please! Can you please help heal my momma?” The little boy cried out. “My mama’s really sick and I don’t want her to die…” He sniffled. The thought of his mama dying was terrifying. It was why he was out in the woods, after all. Even though his mom had told him never to go out into the woods by himself, the best herbs often grew out here. He had to get some so his mama can get better! Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed upon the elf.
The elf in question barely turned back, hearing his cries. However, as she was about to leave the clearing of flowers she’d made, she froze. A memory, long long ago. Not quite the same, no. She mused. She turned back, reaching her hand out to the little boy. But I suppose this is close to what you felt back then, Master. “Let’s go, then.”
He looked at her in disbelief. But as he reached out to grab her hand, he couldn’t stop the hope from blooming in his heart. He got up and grabbed his tattered, somewhat ripped basket full of the herbs he’d so carefully collected. Clutching her hand tightly, he looked into her eyes. Before, they were cold, emotionless, even. Now, he thought, I can almost see a hint of warmth in her eyes… Earlier feelings of loneliness forgotten, the boy smiled brilliantly at the elf. Together, the unlikely pair made their way out of the woods. If anyone were following the two, they would have seen small, colorful wildflowers growing along the trail.
3 weeks after that fateful meeting
Himmel’s tears cut through the somber mood. He stood next to Frieren, clutched onto her white cloak. He watched, with tear-filled eyes, as they lowered his mother into the ground. “M…momma…” He furiously wiped his eyes to no avail, as the tears kept falling. As the priest spoke the final words, he finally let go of the elf’s cloak. He ran to the grave, sobbing, “Mama… miss you… Please don’t go…” After a bit of time, he felt a hand on his back. Expecting Frieren, he was a bit surprised to see the face of the priest’s apprentice.
“Do you… do you want to pray?” The other boy stumbled over his words a little. “I’m sure she’s with the Goddess, now…” He gave Himmel an attempt at a comforting smile, then moved to pray in front of the fresh gravestone. With one last sniffle, Himmel dried his tears. He looked around, and seeing a single, lonely blue flower, he plucked it to place on the grave.
“Momma… I-I hope you can enjoy the flower wherever you are… I know Blue Moon Weed flowers were your favorite…” He whispered. “I…I wish the herbs were able to help. I wish the priests had made it here on time… I wish Miss Frieren was able to help… I miss you so much!” Once he got started, he couldn’t stop. He cried for a while longer, leaning slightly on the young priest.
Frieren watched, face blank. She remembered losing her master, but as an elf, she had been expecting it. She was, after all, over a thousand years old. She’d long learned to harden herself against getting attached to humans. Besides, she hardly knew the woman. As sick as she was, it was a miracle that she’d lasted as long as she did. It was sad that she wasn’t able to do anything to help her, but she was no priest. At most, diagnosing minor illnesses was all she could do. Even the best of medicines that she could make only lessened the woman’s symptoms.
“Please, watch over my child. Himmel’s a good kid.” A cough. “Please… I don’t want him to be alone, after I die…” The woman’s voice echoed within her mind. Me? Taking care of a child? She thought in reply. The life of a mage is not safe, and a child who cannot defend himself is only going to be killed. Frieren looked at the child, clutching that small, blue flower like a lifeline. The young priest in training looked to be around the same age, and he had a hand on the child’s back. She vaguely remembered the elder priest saying something about how he’d found an apprentice in the orphanage in the next village over, and that was where the child was likely to go, since the current village was too small to have its own.
“Miss Frieren…” A tug on her cloak pulled her out of her thoughts. “C… can you please make it so that this flower stays fresh forever? It is-” The blue-haired child cut himself off. “...Was my mom’s favorite flower.” He held out that same blue flower with great care. Frieren took it, analyzing the flower. She’d never seen one quite the same color, the blue petals delicate and thin. She cast a quick spell on the flower, making sure that it could not easily be destroyed, and handed it back to the child. “Th-thank you, miss!” He sniffed. “Now momma will always have a flower at her grave.”
She looked at him in slight surprise. She’d expected that he wanted to keep the flower with him, as a keepsake. That’s what humans did, did they not? Hesitating for a moment, she walked past the child, who was replacing the flower at her grave. Focusing on the spell, she made the area around the woman’s grave lush, full of the beautiful blue flowers. “Keep that one on you. That’s what humans do, isn’t it?” She turned away, not looking at the two children by the grave.
==========
Himmel looked at the mage in awe. Magic was so pretty! He knew that he’d seen it before, since that was how the pair of them had met, a few weeks prior. But this… These were for his momma, and that meant the world to him. He didn’t know where he was going to stay, now. His mom had told him about the orphanage in the next village over, but it had sounded unpleasant. Lots of kids living in a church? He knew he couldn’t stay at his home by himself, though. He looked down. I wish… I wish I could stay with Miss Freiren. She’s so nice! He quickly ran to catch up with her, grabbing her hand.
Arriving back at his house, everything felt… cold. He could feel the tears coming again, but pushed them down. I’ve already cried so much today… He didn’t know what to do now, though. Normally, at this point, he would be helping his momma with chores around the house, like watering the plants. Since his momma had been sick, though… a lot of his time had been spent taking care of her, like fetching her water and food from the next house over. He drifted from one corner of the house to another, memories of him and his mom playing at each spot.
He was distracted by a hand coming to rest on his head. He looked up at Miss Frieren. He could not read a single bit of concern nor pity on her face. “Come on, dinner is ready.” She said. He followed, silently. Just as they were about to settle into the stew she’d made, someone knocked at the door. He ignored Miss Frieren, instead being lost in his memories of eating at the table with his momma. Her laugh, her smile. The taste of his favorite food, a Ruf-omelette, made with so much love, for his birthday. “-mmel? Himmel? Shh… just let it all out.” Warm hands pulled him close. However, he tore away from them. “Oh!” He ignored the voice of his neighbor, a kind, elderly miss. Himmel trembled, leaping desperately at the one person who had been with him the past few weeks. He clutched onto her cloak desperately, crying out in huge, weeping sobs.
Frieren looked at the young boy in mild surprise. She’d thought that someone, a human, that the child had known from a young age, would have been the better choice in comforting the kid. And yet… The old lady smiled sadly. “That young boy doesn’t trust easily, you know? I’m glad he’s got you to rely on now.”
“I cannot take a small human child on a journey. Demons are still everywhere, after all.” The elf argued. The sound of said child’s cries loud in the small house. She continued, softer. “I do not know how to take care of a human. He would be better off in the care of another human.”
“And yet it is in your arms, where he’s crying.” The old lady countered, nodding at the sight before her: the child, crying into her cloak. Frieren’s hand, resting on his head. The child’s sobs started to die down slightly, and he peeked out from behind her cloak, eyes rimmed red from tears.
“Please, miss. Can’t I stay with you?” The young child’s tearful voice rang out. “I wanna stay with you, I don’t wanna go to the orphanage!” He clutched her cloak tighter, trembling. Frieren sighed, kneeling down next to him to look into his eyes.
“I am a wandering mage. If you come with me, you are likely to get killed. I cannot assure your safety. And I am sorry, but I have no wish to get an innocent killed on my watch.” She patted his head in an attempt at comfort. Himmel whimpered slightly, throwing his arms around her neck. He refused to let go of her, clutching on even harder as he felt a pair of hesitant hands hugging him back. It wasn’t as warm as his momma’s hugs, but Ms Frieren’s hugs were secure. At some point, he fell asleep there, still holding on to the pure white cloak.
Frieren sighed. She thought back to over a thousand years ago, holding one of the younger elves in her village. The memory was dim, names and faces lost to the sands of time. She could hardly remember her own mother, her remaining memories of the village forever tainted by the violent end she had been unable to prevent. When she thought of comfort, she thought of Flamme. The person who took care of her, the one who protected her, the one who taught her how to defend herself. The problem? Frieren was much older than the child in her arms was, even accounting for the fact that she was an elf. While Frieren was the strongest mage of her village, the child’s mana was weak and tiny. At best, his magical talents were mediocre. It would be best that he stayed at the orphanage, she decided. Something in her hurt, slightly at that decision, but she did not back down from it. It was in the child’s best interest.
The old lady coughed slightly, startling Frieren from her thoughts. “He’s such a pure soul. I know you said you cannot take him with you, but I beg, please, reconsider. He never met his father, poor thing died when Himmel was just a babe. And now his mother is gone too, little ones need stability.” She looked at Himmel, still clutched onto Frieren’s clothes. “We in the village would take him in ourselves, but with how small the village is, we simply aren’t equipped to help a child.” She moved closer, and seeing the little blue moon weed flower still gripped in Himmel’s hand, she tucked it behind his ear. “If you really are unwilling to take him… I heard the priest and his kid will be leaving tomorrow. Please… at least make sure he’ll make it to the orphanage alright.”
Frieren looked down at the child in her arms as the old lady left to go home. She tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to let go. It seemed that the events of the funeral had wiped him out entirely. She put the barely touched dinner under a charm she’d learned to stop food from spoiling before heading to the child’s room. Entering it, she took in the sight of it. Some blocks and toys were scattered around, a small child’s bed sat right next to the window, alongside a single photograph of the parent and child duo. She looked at the happy child in the picture, and looked again at the child clinging to her cloak. I cannot bring a literal child with me! She reminded herself. He would simply get in the way, and I refuse to bring a child with me to their death.
The elf gently pried the child’s hands open so that she could put him down on his bed. And yet, the moment she let go of him, he whimpered, reaching out blindly to try and grab on again. Frieren hesitated, watching him for a second. It would not be good for him to get more attached than he already was. She turned away, but as she was about to open the door to the bedroom, she heard a small, “It’s so cold… I don’t wanna be alone again…” coming from the bed. She turned back quickly to see the child still asleep, but fitfully, tossing and turning. He had the beginnings of tears in his still shut eyes.
Giving in, she sighed, took off her cloak, and laid it gently over the child’s tiny form, tucking him in. Almost instantly, he calmed down, no longer tossing and turning. He snuggled into her cloak, tears gone from his eyes. Frieren stood there, watching. She plucked the flower from the kid’s hair, putting it on the windowsill next to the photograph. She gave him the barest hints of a smile, before turning around and leaving the room. The kid will be fine, she thought, shutting the door silently behind her.