Chapter 19 Pansy
Pansy
Even the most immaculately kept burrows are not immune to the occasional stubborn stain. In such cases, one need only turn to our staunchest allies: vinegar and baking powder. And though they are potent tools alone, the moment they come together is when they truly shine.
ELLA MERRYWEATHER, HOME IS WHERE THE HEARTH IS
All Pansy could think about as she gazed upon Ren’s supine form, pale and motionless atop a ring of sodden earth, was the fact that they were dying. The person she loved most in the entire world was dying, and there was nothing she could do.
“Please,” she said, desperate in a way she had never been before, as Blossom continued applying pressure to Ren’s side with both hands.
“Please save them. I know I haven’t been a good friend to you lately.
I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault and unjustly punished you for them.
I shouldn’t have done any of that. I’m sorry, Blossom. I—”
Blossom cut her off with a gentle shake of her head. “It’s okay, Pansy. Consider it all forgotten. Water under the bridge, yeah?”
She nodded, the lump in her throat bobbing with the movement, refusing to unravel.
Because Blossom’s face was ashen, even in the golden light from Agvaldir’s abandoned lanterns, flecked with sweat and blood. She swallowed. “I want to save them. I really do. If I had my supplies, I could make a healing potion, but—”
“Ren has herbs,” Pansy said quickly, hope squeezing hard around her ribcage. “Down the hall. Take a right at the first fork.”
“I don’t—” Blossom started to say, her expression creasing.
“I’ll take her,” Thorn said, his expression, for once, serious.
“I have a pretty good idea of where it is. Hard to hide the smell of all those herbs from this nose.” He tapped it.
“Though,” he added after a beat, his gaze resting meaningfully on Blossom, still crouched in the vastness of his shadow with something like wonder reflected in her wide blue eyes, “it’s surprisingly easy to get distracted by that lovely perfume of yours. Do I detect a hint of honeysuckle?”
Blossom blushed. “Freesia, actually.”
“Stop… flirting…” Ren mumbled, their eyelids fluttering weakly. “At least, wait… till I’m dead…”
Pansy seized Ren’s hand in hers, giving it a near bone-crushing squeeze.
“You’re not going to die,” she said firmly, as if she hadn’t been convinced of the opposite just a moment ago.
“Don’t joke about that.” Somehow, speaking the words out loud helped, made them feel true.
And this was something Pansy would give everything to make reality.
Thoroughly jolted back to earth, Blossom said, “I’ll be back soon. Keep pressure on Ren’s side until then. As much as you can.” She waited until Pansy was in position, then removed her hands. “Lead on,” she said, gesturing to Thorn, a hint of her earlier flush still clinging to her cheeks.
Thankfully, neither one dallied after that. They sprinted down the tunnel, the crowd of concerned halflings and goblins that had gathered around Ren swiftly parting to provide them passage.
“What are you doing?” Pansy asked, horrified, when Ren’s hands scraped across the earth, moving as if to push themself upright. “Stay still! Didn’t Blossom already tell you that?”
Ren ignored her. “You… defended me,” they murmured, the sweetness of their words undone by the wet gurgle that had preceded them. “You tried to fight a wizard for me.”
“And I’ll fight you too, if I have to!” she snapped, pressing her elbow to their chest in the hope that she could persuade them to abandon whatever nonsense they were trying to accomplish, without removing her hands from their present position.
The movement was ungainly, awkward and, most frustratingly, ineffective.
“What’re you—” Ren looked almost offended, their eyes, still glassy and unfocused, narrowing. “I’m trying to kiss you!”
“Well, do it later! Preferably at a time when I’m not trying to keep you from bleeding out.”
“But I want to kiss you now.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t always get what we want!” Pansy huffed. Then, because she was nothing but a big pushover – especially where Ren was concerned – she let out half-grumbled “Fine” and briefly pressed her mouth to theirs. At least, this way they would stay down.
“All right, lovebirds. Make some space,” Thorn said, grinning from ear to ear as he returned with Blossom. “Miss Blossom has a potion that’ll fix Ren right up.”
No sooner had Ren finished draining the contents of the narrow flask Blossom raised to their lips – a thick, milky-white liquid that, judging from the way their nose wrinkled, wasn’t exactly pleasant on the tongue – the torn, seeping flesh beneath Pansy’s palms began knitting together.
Within seconds, it was like Ren had never been injured at all, with only a thin, barely visible line of puckered skin to serve as an enduring reminder.
They let out a grunt as they sat up fully, one hand flying to their side, the skin there evidently still tender. After palming it for several moments, they asked, “Did you use bloodthorn?”
Blossom nodded. “With a touch of butterbloom, to try to mask the taste. You’ll need to eat well in the coming days.”
“To replace the nutrients the bloodthorn pulled to heal the wound. I know.” Ren paused, their lips pressing together, as if reconsidering their words. “Thank you,” they said at last. “For saving my life. I’m not sure how I can repay you.”
Blossom smiled. “Think nothing of it. But if you’d really like to repay me, you can start by teaching me about every one of the herbs you’ve got stashed in that room of yours. I didn’t even recognize half of them!”
“How about we leave that until after we’ve fixed up the cottage,” Pansy interjected, her hand once again finding Ren’s.
Given that she’d come so close to losing them, it was hard to deny the urge to keep them in her grasp.
“I know we made do with a pretty bare-bones arrangement when we first moved in, but I do have standards. If I have to contend with splintered bits of wood in bed tonight along with those icy toes of yours, I fear I’m going to lose my mind. ”
Ren blinked at her, seemingly surprised. “You want to continue living here?”
“Of course! I admit it’s in rather rough shape right now, but this is our home, Ren. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else – not without you.”
A beat. Then, their voice soft and fragile, they said, “I don’t want to live without you either.”
This time, when Pansy leaned in to kiss Ren, the crowd around them erupted into hoots and cheers. Granted, that could have just been Thorn. Honestly, it was hard to tell; the man was loud enough to constitute a crowd all on his own.
“I suppose there’s nothing left to do but get this place fixed up,” Blossom said, clapping her hands together with a decisive nod.
“That being said, I’m certain if we had a big, strong goblin”– her eyes flicked pointedly over to Thorn as a whisper of a smile crept across her lips – “around to help, we’d finish in no time. ”
It took Thorn a moment to realize she was talking about him, even though she was anything but subtle.
Pansy barely managed to stifle a laugh as he pointed at himself – eyebrows rising as if to ask, Me?
– his cluelessness not so much embarrassing as haplessly charming.
Blossom certainly seemed to think so, eyelashes fluttering as she confirmed his silent query with a nod.
Suddenly it was like Thorn had never had any doubts to begin with, his chest puffing up in the most self-assured swagger Pansy had ever witnessed. Ren, however, seemed all too familiar with this behavior, judging from the way they rolled their eyes.
“Brace yourself,” was all they said, keeping their voice low, when Pansy cocked a curious eyebrow at them.
“Let’s get started then!” Thorn declared, all bright-eyed, wild enthusiasm as he (not-so-subtly) flexed his biceps.
Still, there was more on Pansy’s mind than just repairs to the cottage, and the matter that sat right at the forefront weighed the heaviest of all.
“I’m worried about Pig and Mushroom,” she murmured.
“There’s been no sign of either of them at all.
Blossom, did you and Thorn happen to see them on your way to get the potion for Ren? ”
Blossom shook her head. “Sorry. No. But four sets of eyes are better than two. If we all look together—”
“Make that six,” said Pansy’s father, stepping forward alongside her mother. “And, of course, we’ll help with the repairs, too.”
“No, seven!” called out another halfling, whose voice was quickly followed by a chorus of further numbers, shouted by halflings and goblins alike. Not one person remained silent.
“And we’ll pull together whatever we can to replace the garden that Agvaldir destroyed,” said Pansy’s mother.
“No one will be going hungry this winter. Isn’t that right, Councilor Millwood?
” She shot the elderly councilor a weighty look, one forged of unbending iron, inviting only acquiescence – not debate.
But Mrs. Millwood, still pale and shaken from the events that had come before, didn’t seem to even want an argument on the matter. She gave a quick, jerky nod, sparing Thorn one last glance before announcing, “Haverow will always be there to help its… friends.”
Warmth swelled within Pansy’s chest at the councilor’s words.
Yesterday, at the Harvest Festival, she had been so sure that unity between halflings and goblins was nothing but a far-flung fantasy, relegating her relationship with Ren to more of the same: disapproval masked as grudging tolerance – not just from her side, but Ren’s as well.
How glad she was to be proved wrong! Pansy only wished someone like Agvaldir hadn’t needed to serve as the catalyst – even if it was rather poetic.