There was no such thing as the Festival of the Forest of Forget-Me-Nots.
There has never been, and if I did not think it was a good idea to have Mael spread the lie to the village, no one would have even started something this silly.
But desperate times call for desperate measures!
The dreamcatcher had to be filled to the brim. The gnomes had to get their 1,000 mana points, so they could protect their village.
So I could get my supply of foodstuff to protect my old girl… and Grumpy Pants.
It needed to be something of a group effort.
To bring the humans together. To show them that the ancient tree, which was now about as happy as someone could be, who had little children weaving flower crowns at its base, was not a curiosity.
But a friend.
And so, I pulled the old and tried trick of every hungry traveler, who found a village full of scrooges.
The stone soup!
And so, I was using a branch to stir a pot of water, in which a single stone swam merely.
The gnomes had not given me enough time to think of anything better. It was silly, desperate, and doomed to fail.
But I was still willing to try!
I got the branch out and licked the water off it. I made a humming sound so, as if that, which I had been tending to, was not just river water with a stone inside.
"Oh, it would have been great if we had a bit of onions," I said, knowing that most of the villagers were looking my way. I looked up so, as if I was noticing them for the first time. "Does anyone have an onion they could spare?"
It was the moment of truth. The moment which could make or break my dream of protecting my old girl. Seeing her branches bejeweled with leaves again, blossoms gently swaying in the wind.
"I have onions!" One villager said, as he took out a bag of onions. "How many do you need?"
I could have hugged the man then and there.
If one played along, the rest will too!
"Two will be enough," I told him. He handed me two purple onions. I threw them in the air, took my cleaver, and then cut them both in half.
They fell on the cutting board.
The villagers began to clap.
So far, so good.
I cut up the onions as if I were making mincemeat. They found a new home in the pot. Finally, the stone was no longer alone.
I went back to stirring so, as if the onions were the only thing I needed. Then I took a whiff of my creation, sighing.
"Man, it would have been great if we had a bit of oil, or butter," I said. The villagers began to murmur. Some even giggled.
They were in on the game but enjoying it.
I smiled.
Huh, humans weren't so bad, after all.
"Here! I have butter," a granny said, as she handed the paper wrapped best friend of every cook to a little girl. "You bring it to the man and stay there to help him cook!"
"Yes, Grannie," the girl chirped, bouncing towards me with the butter.
"Hello," I said, as I took the butter, and placed it in the hot water. Now, that was the wrong thing to do, but I had a plan!
Besides, I was sure that my old girl was going to do something to help out. There were a couple of gray skills I found useful as I explored my skill tree this morning.
All I needed was to get another 100 EXP points, and then I could simply get the skill to turn a soup into a cream soup!
Nothing beat that, especially when you had freshly baked bread. Something I was perfectly willing to make… and then toast to perfection, cut up in cubes…
My stomach growled. Man, I was getting hungry just thinking about the food I was making!
"Hello! I'm Anne!" The girl said, as she looked inside the pot. "Is this really going to be tasty?"
I nodded.
"Sure! But, oh, if only we had some peppers…" I shrugged so, as if I had no hope of getting any.
The villagers began to giggle louder.
"We have peppers! Baked and peeled," a young man said, as he took out a jar from his bag and waved it at me. "They have no vinegar inside. We made them just this morning!"
And it was that moment I realized that the villagers had come prepared. They wanted to get to know my old girl. They wanted to have a picnic near her, to have fun, to have a festival.
A tear fell down my cheek.
"Mister?" Anne asked, as she handed me the jar with the peppers. "Are you ok?"
Was I ok? What did I know about the humans? Ten thousand years, and they were like this all along? I could have made friends! I could have heard so many stories, shared so many of my own.
"Yes," my voice was weak. Darn it, I was not going to cry in front of those humans! No matter how happy I was!
I cleared my throat.
"Yes," I said louder, the traces of my weakness gone. "But, you know, some potatoes…"
Anne didn't even let me finish. She was off like a whirlwind, going back to her granny, and coming back with an entire bag of potatoes.
"Here!" She chirped, placing the potatoes at my feet.
"Mind stirring this while I peel and cut them up?" I asked her, for I had hungry bellies to fill.
"Sylvan," I heard my old girl say, using her link to me as my system. "Do you understand now?"
My hands peeled the potatoes at a breakneck speed. Wanting to impress the villagers.
"I do," I thought back, as my stone soup turned into a real soup.
Only for me to turn it into a cream soup seconds later, letting it cool down, as I made that, which I made best:
Nice soft bread.
And if I served the first loaf on a platter, with a bowl of salt, well…
I had to welcome my new friends into my home somehow. This was the only way I knew how.
The way my old girl taught me.