Hope You'll Never Grow Old

3,224 WORDS - WRITTEN JUNE 7, 2024 - RATING: T (alcohol use, mentions of death, angst)

Marcille was the last one awake.

She laid on her bedroll, eyes wide open, tossing and turning, shuffling under her sheets as she tried to force herself to sleep. To no avail, though.

She huffed through her nose as she laid on her back, gripping her blanket and staring at the ceiling.

The eerie ambience of the dungeon — the sound of creaking and water droplets hitting the floor at a slow rhythm — it would all be rather disconcerting, were it not occasionally broken up by the sound of Senshi snoring, or Izutsumi groaning in her sleep (miraculously, Laios was silent).

Why was she so restless? It could be an easy answer, between Falin’s disappearance, eating monsters, and being threatened to be turned in to the authorities for her use of black magic. But surprisingly, none of those were the answer this time.

It was a different fear. One she knew well, as much as she’d turned it away when it crept up on her.

Loss.

She’s known it since she was young, the burden all long-lived races like elves face at some point. Some elves bide by the mantra “Never get too attached to someone you’ll outlive,” but Marcille knew she could never. Her heart was too big not to. And every resurrection performed was another stake in it.

What if they hadn’t been in this dungeon? What if they were on the surface?

Then, she thought, her friends would truly die, with no spells to bring them back.

She may have brought Falin back from the dead with her own blood, recomposing her from intricately laid out bones and arcane chants, but repeating the same exact process with every one of her loved ones after they perished would have Marcille wasting and wasting away until there’d be nothing bones of her left as well. Giving everything of herself, for every part of her friends, until it was all gone. 

Would it be selfish of her to reject such a fate? Would it be better than watching all of her loved ones drop like flies until she was the only one left?

She jolted upright, digging her fingers into her scalp and aggressively ruffling her own hair, hoping it’d kill the thoughts in her head.

Panting, Marcille looked around as she sat up from her bedroll, searching for something that could distract her until her eyes happened upon a faint glow coming from behind a wall around the corner.

Right. Night watch. Chilchuck had to be out there.

She doubted there’d be much he could do to reassure her but she needed the company.

Stumbling from nerves, Marcille pushed herself up onto her feet and, holding the skirt of her nightgown, walked forward and rounded the corner to find Chilchuck’s eyes already on her.

He took a swig of ale from a bottle. She figured he probably smuggled it from some previous floor when they hadn’t been looking. Considering her mindset, she didn’t have the energy to scold him for it.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked. “I thought I heard someone out there.”

She delivered a rather pitiful sounding “mhmmm” in response, lifting her skirt before she sat on the floor so as not to wrinkle it too much. She tried not to sit too close to him, knowing Chilchuck was a man that valued personal space.

“I’m just… anxious,” She says, twiddling her thumbs. “Or maybe… scared? I don’t know…”

“Those are pretty similar things,” He said back. “But either way, you can’t sleep because of it.”

“Yeah…” She trailed off. The awkwardness felt so palpable here, talking to him.

The two of them just sat there and stared at the candle, Chilchuck occasionally perking up from being half-asleep and looking around, towards sources of very subtle noises that Marcille would struggle to find were even there. He offered her some of his ale, but she shook her head no.

She looked at him — silent, thinking.

Of all the races, half-foots like Chilchuck lived the shortest amount of time. One full life, from birth to death, all in the same amount of time Marcille herself has lived so far. Marcille was a mere half elf, which changed some things about the way she aged in her life, but as it stood she was still a young adult, barely past maturity.

Chilchuck — as she’d learned very recently — had a wife. And kids. Not a single kid, but kids, plural. And if he was nearing 29, it’d put him around middle age for a half-foot. On some level she’d known that, but knowing he was married with children, along with seeing his appearance as a tallman put a lot into perspective for her.

When they’d been under the effect of changeling spores, as a tallman to Marcille’s half-foot, Chilchuck was twice, no, three times her size. He was gaunt, disheveled, and most clearly, old, as had been evidenced by the pronounced gray strands in his hair and stubble.

Now, he was a half-foot and she an elf again. But her previous perceptions of him had now been shattered like glass.

He wasn’t a kid, or even a teenager - he was a grown, adult, middle-aged man. And that being said, how long would it be until he passed away? How much time left did Marcille have with him as a friend?

He’ll be a lucky man to live past 50, but she’ll live far, far beyond that.

… She tightly gripped the fabric of her skirt in her lap.

“Chilchuck…?” She asked, her ears drooping as soon as he turned his attention to her. “Erm… if you were a tallman, how old do you think you’d be?”

“Marcille, that’s not something very easy to calculate,” He said amusedly, taking another swig of ale. “Mmm, I couldn’t give you an exact number, but Laios and Falin would be old enough to be my kids, I guess. Maybe in my 40s or 50s.”

Not only that, he’d be old enough to be her father, Marcille thought.

She looked down to her lap solemnly, idly stroking her hair. “I… I see…” Marcille raised again, but tried to avoid his gaze. “So… about as old as the average half-foot’s lifespan.”

Chilchuck scoffed. “Ha, I hope not,” He took another swig. “I don’t want to see what my actual 50s are gonna look like. I’ll be lucky if I live past 40.”

Marcille jolted at those words, turning back to look at him with wide eyes. “Wha… what are you saying?!” Furrowing her brows, she could tell by the look on his face that her concern was confusing to him, and that he couldn’t see it so made her all the more upset. “Chilchuck, don’t say something like that!”

He blinked, clueless, and set his bottle on the floor. “What? What did I do?”

She glared daggers at him. “You know VERY well what you just did!” She pulled at the ends of her hair. “Why would you wish such a short life upon yourself?!”

Chilchuck tensed, nervously looking away. “I’m not… wishing anything, but… I mean,” He eyes went back to hers. “I don’t care about dying. I don’t think it’d bother me.”

“WHAT?!” She yelled, her voice cracking. “Chilchuck —”

Before she could finish, he pressed a finger to his mouth, shushing. “Can it, idiot. The others are still asleep, you know.”

They stared at each other in silence, both bearing intense expressions.

... Until tears began to pool in Marcille’s eyes.

Immediately, Chilchuck’s expression softened. “Marcille, I –”

“I don’t get it,” She interrupted. “I really - I don’t get it.”

“Get… what?” He asked.

“How…” She spoke barely above a whisper, whimpering. “How can you say all these things?” Marcille balled her fists in her lap, hanging her head low and trembling. “You… you don’t care? What about your friends? Your family? And you have the gall to call me an idiot?” She hiccuped. “It’s… i-it’s awful.”

“Marcille, that’s not —” He tried to get a word or few in once more, before she spoke again.

“I’m not an idiot for caring,” She looked back up at him, emerald eyes shining with tears, pouring down her face. “I don’t want you to die.”

And it was that last part that seemed to give him pause.

His brows furrowed, looking at Marcille with concern. “Is… that what this is about? Why do you think I’m gonna die?” He looked himself over. “I may not be in the best shape ever, but…”

“It’s not that,” She replied, covering her eyes with her fists, and trying and failing to wipe her own tears away. “I… you know… e-elves live for hundreds years,” She tried to explain through her sobs, skipping over her words in the process. “A-and half-foots… fifty…”

It was there that Chilchuck seemed to understand. “You don’t want to outlive me,” he said with clarity.

Full on bawling now, Marcille weakly nodded.

Chilchuck scooted forward and got up on his knees, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Marcille…” He spoke, comforting but firm. “You know I can’t live forever. Nobody can. Everybody dies eventually.”

This seemed to only further upset her, and god, if Chilchuck was bad at comforting his daughters in times like this he wasn’t gonna be of any help to Marcille either. 

In this moment he could only be reminded of all the times Puckpatti came to him, crying her eyes out, inconsolable. Many times, but in this moment particularly, Marcille reminded him so much of her.

He wasn’t the most physically affectionate guy ever, and god he certainly preferred just not being touched to begin with. But with Puckpatti, something that always worked was…

… Slowly, he pulled Marcille in for a hug. It was a fairly awkward one, considering that even while sitting Marcille was notably bigger than him, but what mattered was just helping her feel better.

Between sobs Marcille let out what could almost be described as a surprised squawk when he embraced her. Though her bawling didn’t cease, she froze, shocked Chilchuck would even consider offering this kind of affection to her.

He started gently patting her back. “Shhhh… It’s okay…” He was trying his best ‘comforting dad’ voice, though he hadn’t needed to use it for years since his kids had all grown up.

Hesitantly, Marcille returned the embrace, sobbing as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“It’s okay…” He continued, keeping a gentle tone of voice. “Shhhh… you’re okay.”

It felt so awkward for him to be comforting a teammate like this, but the good thing was it seemed to be helping her. Marcille’s sobs were slower and quieter, her breathing evening out.

“Marcille,” Chilchuck gently told her. “I know this hurts you. I know it’s a sensitive subject. I’m... sorry.”

She sniffled a little. “It’s just… you said you don’t care. But everyone does. I do. I don’t want you to die… Not so soon… I... I don’t want my friends to leave.”

He stared off in thought. “Well, we might not leave.”

“Huh?” Marcille pulled away to look at him, confused.

“I mean… we could become ghosts,” Chilchuck mused, before donning an amused smile. “Pretty good chance I’d come back and haunt you. Then you’d be stuck with me ‘till you die. How's that sound?”

“Oh, stop it,” She lets go of him and wipes away the last of her tears. “Though I guess… it would be nice knowing you never truly left. Having a friend by my side like that…”

Chilchuck stared down at the floor, thinking. “You know Marcille, you won’t like hearing this, but… A lot of men in my family don’t live to see 50.” He looks at her again. “They either get themselves killed in adventuring or kill themselves by drinking their weight in liquor. The latter was what happened to my dad.”

“You… you lost your dad?” Marcille knew all to well what the feeling was like, and to think if Chilchuck lost his father at a young age like her... “That... that’s horrible…”

“Don’t feel too bad for me. I’m not broken up over it or anything,” He said, waving his hand dismissively. “I just wanted to be honest with you. I might not live as long as you want me to.”

“Well…”

“Well…?"

“Maybe, Chilchuck… you could take better care of yourself,” She advised. “If you did, you could extend your lifespan.”

“What do you mean?” He seemed almost offended by the comment. “I’m fine. I don’t need to do anything.”

“Chilchuck… I see how little you eat. The small portions you take,” She leans forward, concern etched on her face. “And with all the drinking you do... You know you’re not doing yourself any favors. It’s hardly anything.”

“I have to stay as light as I can to avoid setting off any traps in the dungeon,” He explains, rolling his eyes. He wasn't going to acknowledge the drinking comment, because there he felt the concern was a little valid. “God, you sound like Senshi.”

Marcille raises a hand to silence him. “Do you remember the time you got hurt? And Falin wasn’t able to heal you?”

“...Yeah,” He grumbled.

It'd been a terrifying day. Not too long after the party had first formed, he'd made a miscalculation and gotten himself seriously injured.

He could still remember the wide-eyed look Falin gave him, when it had dawned on her that her healing magic wasn't working. It'd been the first time he'd ever seen her like that.

He could still hear her hushed, horrified whisper — "I can't. There's... there's not enough..."

Eventually that day Chilchuck was successfully healed. Not completely so, but enough so that he wouldn't die.

And that day, he'd wondered multiple times, if he would.

"... I do. I remember."

"Then you'll also remember why she couldn't heal you," Marcille continued with a stern tone, pointing at Chilchuck in an almost accusatory manner. "You had next to no fat reserves — one of the most important things needed for healing magic."

"Marcille..." He sighed. "I didn't die —"

"But you could've."

...

The silence this time was deafening.

After a few minutes, Marcille piped up again. "Listen... I saved some leftovers from earlier. Granted, it's everything Izutsumi wouldn't eat, it might not be so good now, but... it's better than nothing," She stared at him pleadingly. "And you need it."

"... Fine," Chilchuck agreed, hoping maybe if he ate a little she'd stop fretting over him.

Hearing him agree, Marcille smiled sweetly and got up, fluffing the dust off of her skirt and rounding the corner, and just as quickly as she left, she came back with a tin of sautéed vegetables and mushrooms, swiftly sitting down again and handing it out to him with a wooden spoon for eating.

Gingerly, Chilchuck took the tin and fork. He didn't feel very hungry, he thought, until food was right here in front of him. He almost dug right in, but, he could feel Marcille's eyes on him even though he wasn't looking at her. "Stop watching me," He said, offering her an uncomfortable glance. "It's weird."

"Sorry," she said, turning to face away from him. "I just — I want to make sure."

Hesitantly , Chilchuck began to eat. It'd been a more than a few hours since the food was freshly made, and knowing Marcille, she didn't store it in an ideal way, so it was cold now, the sauce making the vegetables and mushrooms feel slimy. Had it been reheated it'd probably feel better to eat, but it was better than nothing.

"... Chilchuck?" Marcille began, turning her head ever so slightly.

"Mmm?" He couldn't reply properly with his mouth full, the most he could offer was a grunt.

"Can you promise me?" She asked, twiddling her thumbs.

He swallowed. "Promise you what?"

She turned to look at him with pitiful, but tired eyes. "To not die."

"Marcille..." His expression softened. "I can't promise that."

"Then live," She lifted a hand to reach towards him. "Or at least try to. For everyone that loves you, like — your kids. Your wife. Your friends... can you promise me you'll try?"

Chilchuck went quiet, looking from down at himself, to back at Marcille, her hand outstretched, her blond hair disheveled from restless tossing and turning, her emerald eyes wide and full of sadness. Her ears drooped the longer he withheld and answer, and it seemed like maybe she'd cry again.

There wasn't much to do for himself, the way Chilchuck saw it. But for his family, his friends, everyone he cares about — as much as he'd swear up and down he wasn't soft, that he didn't care, that everyone around him was an idiot — it was all only an exterior, and his core, for all of them he knew he'd do anything and more. To refuse her in this moment would deny the very foundations of his moral code, to deny everyone that needs him.

... He lifted his own hand to reach and grab hers, firmly shaking it. "I promise."

It was about an hour, maybe two later, and Laios woke up for his turn on night watch. Stretching with a yawn, he looked around and immediately noticed Chilchuck and Marcille's bedrolls were empty, the blanket from Chilchuck's roll oddly missing. Immediately concerned, Laios got up from his own roll and approached a groggy, grouchy Izutsumi who still laid across on Chilchuck's bedroll, fully taking up the space in the half-foot's absence.

"Izutsumi," Laios squatted down next to her and gently poked her to grab her attention, trying not to bother her too much. "Where's Chilchuck? And Marcille?"

Izutsumi groaned and smacked his hand away, stretching out with a fanged yawn. "Ughhh, leave me alone and check the hall or something. Those two woke me up with all their arguing."

Arguing? Uh oh.

The last thing Laios wanted to wake up to in the middle of the knight were party members arguing, especially temperamental people like Marcille and Chilchuck.

"What were they arguing about?" He asked her, oblivious to Izutsumi's further growing irritation.

"Don't know," She grumbled, waving to try and shoo him away. "And I don't care. Let me sleep."

Laios sighed and stood up, stretching one last time for good measure. He walked away from Izutsumi and rounded the corner to the hall she'd said the two of them went, hoping not to find them fighting. Immediately his mind conjured images of Marcille socking Chilchuck in the gut with her staff, or Chilchuck hopping on her back from behind and pulling on her hair. As much as he didn't want his teammates to fight, they were rather funny mental images that made him snicker a little. But he regardless had to be prepared to break the two of them up on the off chance they were fighting.

When he looked into the hall though, he found both of them asleep — Chilchuck sitting up against the wall and snoring lightly with an empty tin and wooden spoon next to him, a position Laios sincerely doubted was comfortable, and Marcille was there on the floor at Chilchuck's side, the blanket from his bedroll draped over her. The candle light in front of them had been snuffed.

Seeing the two of them peacefully asleep, by each other's side, Laios couldn't help but wonder what the argument had been about.