Returning to Litera After Fifty Years
Horn had a past. A past he kept buried deep in his heart, never sharing it with anyone. It was a past that hadn't changed from fifty years ago right up to the present, always leaving the old dwarf in solitude.
For a dwarf elder who had slipped out alone from his own territory into human lands, everything felt alien and difficult. The customs were different, the culture was different. The food was different, the lodgings were different. They were so foreign to each other that there was hardly any common ground to be found.
A year passed like that, then ten years, and by the time the landscape had changed a couple of times over, Horn set off for a small village said to bring precious things flying in, a faint spark igniting in his deeply sunken eyes.
There, he met all sorts of people. They had all come seeking something precious, just like the old man, all gazing at the sky with their hidden reasons tucked away.
How long did Horn spend in that place where decisions came within a week? Ten days, maybe a hundred. Perhaps even a year just drifting by.
In that time, familiar faces began to appear one by one. There were a few fools as dumb and stubborn as the old man, endlessly hoping for those precious things to descend from the heavens.
Around the one-year mark, Horn finally gave up and left Litera. But fifty years later, when he returned, there was still a woman standing by the fountain, staring up at the sky.
The vibrant young woman in her twenties, who should have been in the flower of youth, had somehow become a wrinkled old granny. The bittersweet scene once filled with familiar faces had faded into a distant memory, with only her remaining.
And so, Horn paused to take in the sight, clicking his tongue with a tsk, before stepping inside.
"Hey, long time no see."
"…."
Horn's gravelly voice reached even the woman blankly gazing at the sky by the fountain, but she just kept staring upward with hollow eyes.
"…, Tersi. You've gotten old. In that short time, you've ended up looking just like me."
When he called out the name he hadn't forgotten despite the long years, her hollow eyes turned toward the old dwarf.
"Horn-elder…?"
"Yeah, it's Horn."
Her voice cracked harshly, as if she hadn't spoken in ages, and Horn gave a bittersweet smile as he listened.
"Really… it's been so, so long…."
"…, Exactly fifty years."
"Ha, ha…. I never thought you'd say that, elder…. You always said dwarves don't give a damn about…, cough…, time…."
"That's dwarf discrimination, you brat."
"…, Haha. Still the same, as ever…."
For a dwarf who lived well over a thousand years, fifty years meant nothing—just time slipping by. But for this old man living among humans, it had taken on a different meaning.
Even if time brought no change to him, he had learned that the humans around him grew old and faced death in the blink of an eye.
So as Horn looked at the woman before him, the emotions bottled up inside began to trickle out.
"…, Did the others all give up and leave?"
"Give up… well, if dying first and returning to the earth counts as giving up…, then yeah, probably…."
"…, I see."
Thinking of those familiar faces who had returned to the earth before him over those fifty years brought a bitter taste to his mouth, forcing him to spit on the ground.
And the woman with hollow eyes, harboring her doubts, finally spoke to the old man who had returned to Litera after all this time.
"You gave up long ago, elder… so why…, did you come back…?"
"…."
"Cough…. Come to pray again…?"
The reason Horn had returned wasn't by his own will, nor was it what he wanted.
Just….
"Nah, I didn't come for my own letter. Just… for some young punk's dream."
"…, You, elder…?"
"Yeah."
It was the wish of a certain human that had pulled the old man, who was sinking deeper into his past, back to the surface.
"Ha, ha…. Same as always, you're terrible at lying…. You never gave up either."
"…, What're you on about."
"You look so different from back then… it's nice. Your speech has gotten smoother too…."
And saving the woman before his eyes was also that fool human's wish. The old dwarf rationalized it that way as he continued the conversation, hoping something other than despair would take root in her.
Now living under new names, there was a pair of twins. Orphans whose parents had died in the strife between nations. Abandoned children. Tiny kids who had only each other left to cling to.
For children collapsed on the roadside with nothing to their name, did the word "hope" even mean anything?
No merciful soul came to add fresh kindling to their dying embers, and in their own struggles to survive, no one could afford to look after kids too.
The twins had huddled together like that, waiting only for the day they would die.
But now, they harbored hope. Now, they wanted to move forward.
"Tori, should we go talk to those kids over there?"
"Not a bad idea, Yaki."
Calling each other by their new names, they grinned broadly.
And that was the doing of some no-account guy. Because there was one idiot who added fresh kindling to their dying embers, one man who took care of the kids even while scraping by himself.
The twins rose from where they had collapsed and began following him.
"“Hey, kids?”"
"Who are you…?"
Approaching children who, like themselves before salvation, were losing all hope.
"We came for letters too. Right, Tori!"
"Yeah. We're here to get something precious."
They had become twins who grinned and extended their hands.
They hoped for it. Hoped there would be no children dying lonely deaths. No kids collapsing after losing parents or being abandoned by them.
"“You hungry? Want some bread?”"
At the very least, they hoped the children right before their eyes—starving yet still waiting for letters—would be saved.
Aberly. What had driven him to become a plague doctor?
Was it when villagers started coughing and collapsing one by one? Or when his own parents and little sister began wheezing like the rest?
Maybe when the temple priests arrived to check the outbreak, shook their heads, and left.
Truth be told, he didn't know himself. He had no divine power, no mana—just plain ordinariness.
No matter how hard he tried, the heights he could reach were no more than a modest hill.
When he escaped the plague-ravaged village where everyone had died, arriving alone in the next town, Aberly laughed hollowly.
There was nothing he could do. Powerless and ignorant, his hands were tied.
All a plain man who grasped at nothing could do was eat and sleep.
So….
That's probably when Aberly started blindly cracking open books and reading. Despite barely scraping by day to day, he went to the library and read whatever he could.
It was the stubborn grit of a man who had grasped nothing. The simple wish of a naive young man from a small village, content to follow his parents as a farmer.
He wanted to save lives. To live for others.
Even if he failed again and again, he would strive to save people.
"Haha…, hello there…. Your color doesn't look good, so I came to check on you. I may not look it, but I'm a doctor…."
"Uh…. Are you… really a doctor…?"
"O-of course. I'm a doctor who strives to save lives…."
Aberly thought that as he stepped forward.
"Hmm…, not sure exactly, but for now…, would you try a bit of this potion…?"
"But… if you're not sure, why…."
"Ah, it's fine. Haha…, it won't kill you or anything…, no problem."
Approaching the ragged folks fixated only on heaven's letters.
He examined them and offered the potions he'd stocked up on.
It might seem odd and untrustworthy.
But it was the pure heart of someone who truly cared for people.
And so, on the night of the third day, his companions returned to the inn to rest.
"Kids, you did well today, right?"
"“Yeah~ We talked to the kids and shared bread!”"
"Good job. Tomorrow, do the same but get a little closer, maybe share some dream talk too."
"“Don't worry!”"
Yeah, the twins seemed to have handled it fine. Next up.
"Elder, did you…."
"Talked a bit, but I dunno if one old fart like me can change anything. Too much time's passed already."
"Hmm…, stay a week or a bit more if needed, so keep at it for now."
"Got it, punk."
The elder was making his own efforts, in his own way. For Horn to show that much resolve and keep talking was plenty.
Now, the last one.
"Aberly."
"Haha…, one person who took my potion got hives…, but temporarily. It's f-fine. No issues."
"…."
"T-tomorrow I'll do better. Haha…. Allergies settle in three tries anyway…?"
"You little… hah. Forget it, not worth talking."
"Haha…."
Why was this guy always so damn unreliable? Aberly just grinned sheepishly.
I give up on him now.