My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

831 Sharing, Part “My grandparents used to stay here. When I was little, every summer, weekend, pretty much anytime my parents were too busy to take care of me – my dad would drive the three-hour journey, and I’ll spend whatever free time I had just wandering around here all day long.”

There was almost an almost calming effect stirring, walking along these quiet avenues.

As if everything – from the stonewashed paints flaking off nearly every outlet and residence we passed to the posters and promotions plastered onto most of the lampposts who knows how many decades ago – were all stuck frozen in a particular period of time.

A time that was much less hectic, a time far more simpler, and a time just utterly rife with nostalgia.

Not my nostalgia, of course.

“You see that place? Way, way over there? Up the hill? On the right of that red sign there?” Amanda pointed upwards, flinging my eyes way over in the distance to an oblique-looking building obscured by rows and rows of dilapidated rooftops and smaller snowy hills. “That’s where my grandparents lived. My home away from home. Had that old people smell and everything too. Good times.”

As we continued to roam these sleepy narrow streets, Amanda would continue to interject every now and then with a little piece of history for every nook and cranny, and there was certainly a lot of history she had available to share even with the most mundane of things… like a curator to a living museum of her own childhood.

And she was so good at it, and having so much fun with it, that I didn’t really mind listening to every one of her rambles. The more she talked about the town, the more I learned about her too.

The first time she got lost, the first time she skinned her knee, and the first time that young little Amanda bought a candy bar all by herself. She had me fully invested in everything from start to finish.

.....

“There’s also a lake near here somewhere, if I remember,” Amanda said, scouring around as if hoping it’d suddenly pop up in the next corner. “Whenever they had the time, my grandparents would take me to go fishing.”

“You fish?” I asked.

“God, no – I suck at it actually. I also hated getting my clothes wet. And the fishes were all so gooey and… yeuch, slimy,” she said, speaking a little less fondly. “But it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes, I manage to make some pretty good catches too. Those were awesome.”

“I know what you mean. I used to go fishing with my dad sometimes too,” I said. “You never forget your first perfect catch.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she said in a whispering breath, swinging herself around and bumping into my arm. “As if I’ll ever forget catching you.”

“We were talking about fishes.”

“Now we’re talking about catches,” she said, staying clinging onto me from that point onward, hooked, reeled, and ensnared. “And as far as my catching skills go, you’re the best it’s ever gonna get.”

“You’re selling yourself way too short. I’m pretty sure there are millions of fishes out there just waiting for you to cast your net.”

“Point still stands,” she said, hooking, reeling, and ensnaring further intensifying. “You’re the best it’s ever gonna get.”

We kept going, and along the way, encountered quite a number of residents out and about that we on our stroll, most of which were quite elderly-looking folks; Amanda would wave at them as we passed, and they would all almost usually wave right back, their kind faces wrinkling with intimacy at the sight of her. I mean, how else would they even be able to recognize her right away in her current getup otherwise?

Girl was practically a social butterfly fitting for all ages.

“Hey, you thirsty?” Amanda asked, and I looked around, spotting the flickering glow of a vending machine just off to the side, illuminating the inquiring in her eyes.

“A little bit, now that you mention it,” I said as we drew closer. “Let me just check first if – ”

Right before I could delve my hand into my pocket in search of spare change, Amanda went on ahead and turned her next saunter into a hard kick slamming hard against the side of the machine.

“Ow…” she hissed out, slowly pulling back her leg, eyes watering in a tight grimace. “Sick… I forgot… owie…”

In turn, the machine whirred and rattled back in agony, an entire cacophony of bangs and thuds ensuing, and just when I thought I was made complicit in an act of vandalism, out it spat a little soda can clunking onto the ground limply rolling toward our feet.

“I was quite the chubby little girl way back then if you can believe that,” Amanda said, plucking up the can, brushing away the snow, and promptly stuffing it into my empty hand that was still reaching for coins. “Care to take a guess why?”

“A fisher and a felon,” I sniggered, fizzing open the can and sipping the gratifying buzz of zero costs. “Just what aren’t you, really?”

Amanda swiped the can from my grip, pulling down her scarf to reveal a cheeky grin hiding underneath before gulping down a heavy swig.

“Careful, that’s what,” she exhaled loudly, passing the drink back to me which now felt considerably lighter. “Luckily, I’ll always have you watching over me.”

“And apparently also doing a very, very poor job at it too,” I muttered, continuing our walk while holding the can far from her reach. “Bad. Bad Amanda. No. Take another sip, and we’re going straight home, understand me?”

The girl had the gall to laugh at my face while I was in the middle of a reprimand… and I really couldn’t decide whether she was more of a masochist or a sadist for doing so.

“Whatever, fine by me,” she said, undismayed, and evidently more than satisfied. “Not like I needed the drink anyway.”

Yet she went swigging away like a barmaid anyway, why? I really don’t get this woman sometimes.

For a long while after, it was me, her, and a peaceful evening’s quiet. I noticed the more we traveled, the higher we were. Looking back on where we started, it became more obvious then that the entire town was sat on a slight incline; give it ten more minutes, a few more blocks, and we’d probably wind up with a bird’s eye view of the whole area… painted soothingly with the warmth, light, and darkness of the winter sunset.

That actually sounded quite nice. It also sounds like something she’d plan as an elaborate surprise.

Who knows…

“Oh – woah – stop! No way, they’ve closed down?! Why?!” Amanda suddenly cried out, nearly tearing my arm off its socket in her haste, and an inch away from planting my face right into a bright, bold foreclosure sign hanging over the entrance of a small shop. “Poor uncle Jeb, aww… he used to make me all the bacon and eggs I could ever ask for. Everyone loved his style too – how could they just shut down? And since when?”

Then like a blond great dane on the prowl, Amanda quickly skirted off to the side of the building, and when I followed her around, I found her trying to tiptoe her gaze up one of the windows for a closer look.

“Wow, it really is empty in there,” she wheezed, stepping back and stumbling a little. “I wasn’t expecting this. Hmm, now I feel like I just lost a small part of myself for some reason.”

“The growing pangs of adulthood. You’ll live,” I said, comforting her with a patting hand on the shoulder. “And going by your howl of anguish just now, sounds like you haven’t actually visited here in a while.”

“Not really, no…”

“When was the last time?”

“Fourteen, fifteen-ish?” she recounted, cocking her head in uncertainty. “In any case, the last time I dropped by was actually for my grandfather’s funeral.”

I felt my hand freeze on her shoulder.

“Oh, I… I see…”

“Yeah, bet you weren’t expecting that, were you?” she said, her eyes leering back at me in slight amusement.

No, I was not.

“And your, uh… grandmother? Is she still…?”

Amanda shook her head.

“Died the year before he did. My grandfather was never really the same after her passing. He was old, but he was always as fit as a fiddle. You go fishing every other week – how can you not be, right? So it was a bit of a shock when we got the call – died in his sleep. I don’t know; they’ve been together for so long… I suppose he just couldn’t wait to be with her again, you know?”

All I could think to do was grunt and nod along with her. I couldn’t really gauge well how delicate a topic this was for her, whether she wanted to talk more about it, or just leave it, either way – the wheel’s in her hand, the ball’s in her court.