Work Text:
It comes to Elliott's attention after the farmer moves in that he has, somehow, grown to achieve the reputation as the town's reclusive and enigmatic hermit. That doesn't seem quite right to the writer, somehow. Yes, he admits to himself that he is quite mysterious in that most days he has been known to simply exist in his little seaside cabin, often struggling for hours to find the muse he has lost in order to begin working on his first novel. Granted, yes, he has been keeping such strange hours, burning the midnight oil when a dash of inspiration strikes him. More often than not, he wakes only to scrap it all the next morning once he gets coffee or tea in his bloodstream and finds out just how appalling and bland the words he had written last night truly had been.
However, surely, anyone who has ever truly met the inhabitants of Pelican Town could honestly not think him to be more of a hermit than Willy and Linus.
If they truly could think such things about Elliott, had those people even met the town's fisherman and mountaineer? For, surely, those two men were much more deserving of the title of "town hermit", no?
Elliott finds himself quite put out at this notion that he has been delegated this role in the town despite there being much better candidates for that position, thank you very much.
This moniker of being the town hermit never used to bother him quite as much as it has now that she has moved into town. Now that the farmer has moved into town with her outgoing, bubbly personality, insistent to help all of her fellow villagers with any task that they can come up with, no matter how small or unusual, Elliott finds that reputation that was forced upon him is quite troublesome, indeed.
That would need to change.
Immediately.
One of the first times Elliott converses with the brunette farmer does absolutely nothing to negate the rumor circulating about his social habits, much to his chagrin.
“I know that I’m kind of an oddball," the words come tumbling heedlessly out of his own mouth before Elliott can stop them as he speaks with the farmer on the pier.
Sweet mercy above, why had that combination of words left his mouth?
Why in all the world had he thought that needed to be one of the first impressions he made on the beautiful woman before him?
Elliott contemplates running back to his seaside cabin that very instant, or at the very least burying himself in the sand at his feet in order to escape the embarrassment he has surely wrought upon himself.
Oh, goodness, how much time had passed since he uttered that phrase?
Was the silence as awkward to the farmer as it is to Elliott, the man who is supposed to compose dramatic ballads, not struggle to merely introduce himself?
"I hope you don’t mind,” he follows up with this phrase as quickly as he can once he notices the silence, hoping to salvage the conversation before the farmer should think the worst of him.
In the smaller beat of silence that passes, Elliott can't help but think of the old adage about never being able to make up for a first impression and he wonders if he has doomed himself from the start.
How many agonizing minutes pass by before she answers? In reality, less than thirty seconds pass before the farmer's lyrical voice reaches Elliott's ears.
"Elliott, of course I don't mind your quirks," she responds, her blue eyes locking onto his green ones, a smile overtaking her lips as she turns to gaze at the man before her. "And for what it's worth, I don't think you're an oddball or a hermit," the farmer continues, taking her fishing rod out of her backpack and casting the line into the water, that soft smile and a small crimson coloring appearing on her cheeks.
"I... Thank you," Elliott simply says, a blush coloring his cheeks as well before he turns quickly on his heel, hoping not to further metaphorically shove his own foot in his mouth. "You must excuse me. I forgot that I had something to procure from town this morning and I do not wish to break your concentration on fishing. Until next time, dear farmer!" he calls over his shoulder, long auburn hair blowing behind him in the breeze as he heads towards the bridge into Pelican Town's center.
Elliott practically runs to Leah's house, so excited to tell his fellow artist about the wonderful conversation, no matter how short, he had with the charming farmer. He absolutely needs her opinion on this matter, as Leah has always been the more social of the two creative minds of Stardew Valley.
Leah smiles nearly as much as Elliott does when he emphatically tells her the news, proud of her friend for branching out his social network.
When they marry the following summer and Elliott moves into the farmhouse with his beloved, he reverts back to his "town hermit" ways. It soon becomes apparent that Elliott's main reasons for leaving the farm are only to run errands for his wife or to go to the beach when he needs to listen to the calming rush of the waves or speak to Willy to check in on the fisherman. Otherwise, Elliott can happily be found about the farm, his sleeves rolled up as he helps water the crops, tend to the animals, hiking through the fields with Ace their beloved canine, or lazing on the front porch with a mug of coffee or tea in his hands. Elliott also of course devotes himself to writing his next novel, the muse striking him nearly every day thanks to the love he has for his beautiful wife and the idyllic scene of their ever growing farm.
Today is such a day where Elliott sits outside on the front porch with his pad of paper and a pencil in hand. The breeze blows through his auburn hair as he sways back and forth slowly on the porch swing. Ace sits atop Elliott's feet to keep the writer company, tongue lolling happily out of the German Shepherd mix's mouth. The door to the farmhouse softly opens as its owner appears, a hat perched atop her head to protect herself from spending hours on end in the fields to prepare them for the next season's crops. Her work boots thud heavily on the wood of the porch as she walks towards Elliott, their eyes meeting as she smiles widely at her husband.
"I'm off to the fields for the day, my love," she tells her husband, pressing a strong kiss to his lips, which causes Elliott to sit his paper and pencil down on the swing beside him.
He scoops his beloved farmer into his strong arms, folding her to where she is sitting in his lap, his favorite place for his wife to be. Elliott brushes a tendril of her brunette hair away from her face, his green eyes softening as he tenderly gazes at her. The writer then presses his own kiss to her lips before trailing his fingers down her collarbone, sending a pleasurable chill down the farmer's spine.
"You'll let me know if you need my assistance?" he sweetly inquires, not opposed to helping his wife around the farm in the hopes that he can lessen the burdens placed on her shoulders.
"Of course," she responds, appreciating all the effort that Elliott puts in to ensure that she is able to enjoy her life outside of the responsibilities that come with running the farm. "But I shall endeavor not to need any today since I know you are on the crux of a breakthrough with your novel, my love," the farmer continues, sneaking a peek at the paper beside her husband before he catches her looking it over.
Elliott turns the paper over quickly, hiding his current work in progress.
"It's not quite ready for me to share it with you, dearest. But I shall read it to you once I have had a chance to edit it down some," he promises, holding the farmer's hands in his own before reverently kissing each individual knuckle.
"A dramatic reading, yes?"
"But of course. What other manner of reading would there be expected from me?"
They smile at one another in their quiet bubble of happiness, Ace nuzzling up against their legs to ensure he receives affection from his two favorite people as well.
"Well, I best get started for the day before the cows start protesting that I'm late with their feed," she laughs, standing from her position in Elliott's lap, running her hand affectionately through his long auburn locks.
“If you go into town, make sure to say hi to everyone for me,” Elliott lazily says back, taking a sip of his coffee before taking his paper back into his hands, preparing to write the first draft of the next scene in his newest novel he has been working on the past two months.
"You do realize you're slowly slipping back into the town hermit lifestyle everyone accused you of having back when you lived on the beach that you were so adamantly opposed to, yes?" the farmer inquires, a quirk of a smile appearing on her lips as she teases her husband.
"I have found I don't mind so much as long as you're within my reach," Elliott honestly admits, a radiant smile shining on his face as he tenderly gazes at the love of his life. "I truly wouldn't need to see another soul as long as I have you, beloved," he swears, squeezing the farmer's outstretched hand gently in his own, conveying all the love he feels for her in one single touch.
"I think that Willy and Leah would miss conversating with you, Elliott," she scoffs, a blush appearing on her face at Elliott's kind words towards her that she knows were spoken with truth from the bottom of Elliott's heart.
"Their loss," he wickedly says, a devilish air hanging about those two little words.
If it meant he could stay wrapped in the simplicity and coziness of their farm for the rest of his days, Elliott thinks maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be known as the town hermit after all.