A Numb Tongue for Half a Day

"It'll numb your taste buds for half a day, right?"

"Hey, darling."

"Yeah."

"My ear's right up against your chest."

"So it is."

"But I can hear your heartbeat and your voice so loud."

Elma poked my solar plexus with her tiny finger.

"It feels better than the movie sounds."

"Good to know. Better than a theater, then?"

A light tease.

"..."

This time, Elma didn't play along. She just stared up at me, unblinking.

The soft glow of the mood lighting. Her cheeks flushed pink. Those moist almond eyes shimmering.

"For real."

Her lips quivered.

"I really prepared properly this time, to make you feel good, darling."

"..."

"But in the end, I ended up owing you again."

Her small hands clutched tightly at the fabric over my chest. Gratitude and guilt mixed on her face. And that blind devotion toward me.

I folded my hands over hers. Smiled lightly and replied.

"Owing me? We're married."

I reached out, gently brushing back her tangled bangs.

"Just having you in my arms like this."

"Ugh..."

"That's the most fun, happiest place in the world for me."

"...!"

Our breaths mingling so close. My voice full of certainty.

Elma's ear tips flushed red-hot like a thermometer. Her lips trembled.

"What the—?!"

Tiny fists pounded my chest.

"For real! Stop saying such cheesy stuff all the time?!"

A whiny tantrum. But she was grinning ear to ear, like she owned the world. Couldn't hold back her leaking smile. Finally buried her face right in my chest.

"It's all your fault... My face is burning up right now..."

"Shall I check?"

"No! Don't look!"

I hugged her squirming form tight. The air inside the tent grew warm and fuzzy. Our own little kingdom.

A moment later.

The tablet screen. The probe drilling underground engulfed in an explosion. Cockpit shattered. Crew sacrificed. A brutal, tragic scene.

"Kyahaha!"

Elma in my arms burst out laughing.

"Those idiots! They half-ass the digging and boom! Humans are so stupid!"

...This was supposed to be a serious scene, right?

And hey, I'm human too.

I swallowed my retort. Glanced between the tragic screen and Elma's innocent glee, shaking my head.

I'll never understand her tastes, not even in death.

Still.

She wriggled comfortably, shifting position on my chest. That sticky, pleasant sensation pressing in. Her contented hums.

'Well, if she likes it, that's fine.'

I wrapped my arm firmly around her waist. Sank deeper into the fluffy wolf rug.

The movie's ending didn't matter. As long as my little queen in my arms was happy.

The next morning.

I opened my eyes.

"..."

It felt empty.

I took a deep breath. The scent that always tickled my nose each morning—the damp forest smell mixed with nutty aroma—was faint.

I groped under the covers. Empty.

'Where'd she go?'

Normally, she'd be plastered to me. Without that heavy, sticky warmth, it felt all wrong.

I sat up.

That instant.

Clatter. Rattle. Sniffle.

Sounds from the kitchen. Dishes clinking. Loud nose-blowing.

I bolted out of the tent.

The kitchen.

I froze, dumbfounded.

"A, achOO—!"

In front of the gas stove. Tiny back on a step stool. Thin strings tied around her neck and waist.

'Naked apron...'

Her usual getup. But the vibe was totally different.

"Sniff! Snuuuurgh..."

Nonstop sniffling. She stretched her short arms, struggling to wield the spatula. The scrambled eggs in the pan were charring black.

And that wasn't all.

Pssshhh—

'Burning smell?'

Black smoke rising. Culprit: the toaster. Must've set the timer wrong.

"Elma!"

I rushed over. She whipped her head around in surprise.

"AchOO! D-Darling?"

One look at her face, and my heart sank.

Cheeks beet red. Beads of cold sweat. Almond eyes half-lidded, unfocused.

A bad flu. Severe.

"What are you doing?! Get down now!"

I scooped her waist in panic.

"N-No...!"

She flailed her short arms in resistance. Forced her eyes wide, trying to look dignified.

"Hmph! Sniff!"

The snot ruined any majesty.

"A-A proper dwarf wife...!"

Gasping roughly.

"Wouldn't skip her husband's breakfast over some snot...!"

Full of bravado. But her body trembled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like a leaf.

The reckless mine expedition. Last night's drenching. Cumulative fatigue had finally hit.

"Who asked for breakfast? You can barely stand!"

"I'm fiiiine! It's almost dooooone, go sit...!"

Confident shout. She set down the spatula. Grabbed the pan handle.

That moment.

Wobble.

"Huh?"

Her short legs buckled. Body tilted.

Clang—!

The slippery pan hit the floor, rolling. Eggs scattered everywhere.

"Elma!!"

I dove. Thud. Caught her light body just before impact.

Bare skin against my chest.

'She's burning up...!'

Dwarves run hot normally. This was double. Like hugging a boiling pot.

"Ugh..."

Ragged breaths from my arms.

"Did I... get too wet yesterday...?"

She whimpered spoiledly. Burrowed deep into my neck. Limp pale-barley twin tails draped.

Then.

Ding!

Two slices of toast popped. Charred bricks.

"..."

Breakfast was wrecked.

But who cares. I scooped up the melting Elma.

Living room.

The tent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was as we left it last night.

"Phew..."

On the crumpled wolf rug doll. I gently laid Elma down. Removed the apron. Dressed her in fluffy bear pajamas. Tucked the blanket to her chin.

"Uh... ugh..."

Even her breaths boiled. I wiped the cold sweat. Placed a cool damp cloth on her forehead.

'Gotta get medicine quick.'

As I stood.

Tug.

Pajama hem yanked tight. I turned.

"..."

Tiny hand sticking out from the blanket. Gripping my clothes hard.

Fever-flushed face. Dazed almond eyes. Tears welling.

"Hic..."

Pitiful sniffle. No trace of the haughty queen. The prideful genius professor gone. Just a whimpering hamster on the bed.

"Darliiiing..."

"I'll be right back from the pharmacy. Quick."

I tried to pry her hand loose gently.

But her tiny fingers whitened with grip. Like she'd never let go.

"Don't gooo..."

Tears plopped, soaking the pillow.

"It hurts so much... Don't leave me aloooone... Please...?"

Desperate plea. Voice cracking wetly.

My heart plummeted. I plopped back down. Cupped her hot cheeks in both hands.

Mwah. Kissed her fevered forehead.

"Where would I go? I'm not running."

"Hic... uwoong..."

"Ten minutes. Medicine and straight back."

I soothed her forever. She finally nodded through sniffles. Grip loosened slowly.

"Hey! Tin cans!"

The little golems rushed over from the corner.

"Keep changing the cloth. Wipe sweat thoroughly. And..."

"Darling's smell... hic..."

"The pajamas I took off? Haven't washed them? Put those next to her."

Full sprint. Shoes crammed on haphazardly. Bolted outside.

Near the school, bustling street. Heterorace pharmacy.

Jingle!

I shoved the door open. Breath ragged to my throat.

"Hah, huff...! M-Medicine, please!"

Pharmacist looked up from the counter. Long pointed ears. Elf.

"Calm down, sir. Who's the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠patient?"

"Dw-Dwarf! Burning fever, coughing, stuffed nose...!"

I babbled symptoms. She nodded.

"Flu. Got it."

She rummaged the back shelf. I fired questions desperately.

"Any other way?"

"Other way?"

"She's a high mage. Can't she use magic to heal quick?"

"Ah."

She shook her head with a faint smile.

"Magic doesn't work on colds."

"What? Why?"

"Magic targets clear 'damage' like curses or wounds."

She turned back.

"Colds are different. To magic, it's just a biological process... recognized as 'normal state.'"

"Normal?"

"Yes. Even in the human world, they say no cure for colds, right? Same for us heteroraces."

"I see..."

"Pour recovery magic on it? Immune system overreacts, worsens things."

"Ah..."

"So colds mean medicine and rest. Like this."

Thud.

Item on counter. Small brown glass bottle. Murky, viscous liquid sloshing inside.

"Cold medicine?"

"Yes. Dwarf-specific concentrate."

"No pills?"

Elma's appetite was picky even healthy. She'd freak at this. Worry piled even while sick.

The pharmacist chuckled at me.

"Dwarves have high body density, slow absorption. Gotta chug high-concentrate potions for effect."

"Right."

"It works for sure, don't worry. But."

Elf pharmacist adjusted glasses. Odd pity in her eyes.

"One issue."

"Side effect?"

"No. The taste."

"Taste?"

"Awful. Not just bitter... I tried a sample, tongue curled up? Taste buds numb for half a day?"

She shuddered, "Ugh."

"So, coax her to swallow it nicely."

I dashed out. Head spinning.

'She lives for food. Will she down this willingly?'

No way. She'd throw a fit even bedridden.

Still, had to make her.

'Somehow... gotta get it in her!'

Grimaced, sprinted back. Brown bottle sloshing ominously in my pocket.

Blasted open the front door. Raced to the living room.

"Hey! Tin cans! How's Elma?!"

The little golem shouted energetically.

No time to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reply. Zipped open the tent.

"...."

On the wolf rug. Mounded blanket trembling. Tiny lump shivering inside.

Elma.

"Ugh...."

Sensed me? Head poked from blanket gap. Face flushed crimson. Bangs soaked in sweat and tears. Almond eyes flooded with relief at me.

"D-Darling...."

Wriggled closer like a caterpillar. Climbed my thigh with effort. Collapsed limply into my arms.

"Hic... Why so laaate... I waited foreveeer...!"

"Sorry. So sorry, Elma."

I'd run like hell, but it felt eternal to her.

Heart tore. Gently wiped sweat with cloth. Pulled out the potion.

"Take this and sleep. You'll be better soon."

Whispered soothingly, like to a child. Gripped cap, twisted.

Pop—.

That instant.

"Hah...."

I gasped involuntarily. Horrific bitterness. Like burning rubber amplified a hundredfold. Face twisted in hellish stench.