11. Farm/Ranch
((Author's Note: Also contains traces of Stardew Valley, if you tilt your head to the side and squint.))
"This is going to be a disaster." Chrom mutters to himself, looking out over a half rotted field. He has doubts anything can grow here, no matter what his letter said. The paper still rests in his hands, and he feels a temptation to crumble it in a fist or tear it to shreds. A part of him wishes he'd never read that letter, inviting him to a farm he's suddenly found himself inheriting…
…And yet, the rest of him can't help but see this as a challenge. Sure, the field is nothing more than a mix of mud and dust right now, but perhaps with some effort…
"You're really going to see this through, aren't you?" His sister asks, interrupting his thoughts. "Even though you already KNOW it's a lost cause?"
"W-well… It's important to try, right?" He takes in the field as he speaks, while Lissa makes a rude noise. At the end of the churned up dirt is a hint of a farmhouse; it's half dilapidated, like the everything else here.
But for all that, there's still something he can feel in the ground; a faint hum of power, like there's something locked beneath the soil. He can't help but think that if only Emm were here, she'd be able to tell for sure-
"Yeah, well… I know I can't talk you out of this, once you've set your mind to something," Lissa groans, thankfully interrupting his thoughts. "Look. I'm still planning to go back to school to be a nurse, but… Once summer rolls around, and I've got some vacation time, I'll come and see you. Promise me you won't die before then?"
"Promise." He knows the question is half joking, half sincere, and he returns it in kind. "You never know, I might have a green thumb after all."
"And maybe you can make pigs fly." Lissa shoots back at him, but with a little cheer behind her words.
At the very least, this will give him something to do. They both need something to take up their lives right now, and keep their minds busy. Lissa gives him a quick, friendly smack on the arm, wishes him well, and takes her leave. While he's left pondering the field, and any potential buried in the earth.
-o-o-o-
The first week is tough, but doable. Most of it is spent renovating the farm house, so it won't collapse from a stiff wind, or drown from a sudden thunderstorm. He's told they get a lot of those in the spring, so the roof gets extra care.
It helps that more than a few residents in the valley have stopped by to investigate their new neighbor. And give him a hand before he breaks anything. He learns a few new names in the process; Stahl is a nearby carpenter, and is less interested getting paid in money and more in potential food. Sully is a childhood friend of Stahl, and has some gruff advice on how to try plowing a field. Gregor is difficult to understand, and yet knows how to clean a house at surprising speed. Others give him advice, supplies, or a kind welcome.
By the end of the week, he has a new roof, some well worn but still sturdy furniture, a few oil lamps while he waits for proper electricity, and an improvised cooler to store food in. The last is courtesy of a woman named Miriel, who left oddly specific instructions on how to keep the ice blocks in perfect arrangement.
'For all you know, there's runes or the like engraved on them, and they can't be disturbed… But it's too much to think about now.'
Chrom finds himself laying back, bone deep exhaustion making him sink into the mattress. (Courtesy of a seamstress named Sumia. She'd asked for a little money in exchange… But mostly wanted the books his sister had left with him. Chrom makes a note that bartering seems to be a common occurrence here.)
He tilts his head to the side to look out the window, as he waits to fall asleep. Outside, the stark outlines of trees frame a night sky. He was told those were the remains of peach trees… And he wonders if he can find a way to revive them, and make that one of his first crops.
Chrom lets that thought carry him off to sleep. That… And wondering if there's another shape among the peach trees, swaying in rhythm to the branches. Or if it's just a trick of exhaustion. His eyes close before he can dwell much more on that, and he doesn't stir for the rest of the night.
-o-o-o-
The second week is hell. And frustration, but mostly hell. Chrom has always considered himself to be in good shape, and well tested against physical labor. Tilling the soil of a field makes him doubt that. By the time the sun sets, he's ready to collapse into bed.
His compromise is soaking in an old wooden tub. A far cry from the usual porcelain finery his family always favored… Which makes him already have a preference for it, even if he needs to pump his own water. Now he understands why his neighbor Donnel had instructed him to heat water, with just the sage words of "y'all are gonna thank me later." With a groan, Chrom collapses into the tub and gives Donnel a silent thanks.
He glances out the window of the wash house, and feels his heart sink a little. The best he's managed is a small garden outside the farm house. There's still an entire field to go, and to top it off those peach trees are stubbornly bare. Spring should be bursting into full force by the end of the week, and yet there isn't a hint of blossoms. He's already tried everything short of uprooting them; fertilizer, fresh irrigation, and enough pruning to make his arms feel like falling off.
He'd been warned that it might take years to see any results. It makes his heart sink, knowing the entire orchard might be a lost or near-dead cause. It also makes his head sink a little lower into the water, right as the sun sinks below the horizon.
It takes another hour, and the water growing tepid, to convince Chrom to haul himself out of the bath. An ingrained feeling of modesty reminds him to take a towel to wrap around his waist, even if he knows there's no one but him on the farm-
At least, that's what he thinks until he steps outside the bathhouse, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the stone floor. He freezes in the doorway, droplets pooling around his feet as he stares at the fields.
This time he's wide awake when he sees the figure moving among the trees. It's undeniably a person, and their motions have an flowing quality to them; almost like a dance. Over the whisper of the wind, he can almost hear hints of a voice, raised in song.
"What are you-!?" He blurts out, surprised at how his voice carries across the dirt and grass. It makes the stranger freeze, before spinning around to stare at him.
…Which is around the time Chrom remembers he has only a bath towel protecting his modesty. He catches little more than a flash of the stranger's eyes framed by white hair, before he slams the door to the bath house shut. Any chill from the night is banished by how much his face is burning up. His head bumps against the door as Chrom forces himself to calm down, compose himself… And wrap one more worn towel around him. It's not much of an outfit, but it will have to do.
But when he opens the door again, the stranger is long gone, and there's only the soft breeze rippling through the trees and tugging at their branches.
-o-o-o-
"A dancer?" Flavia, one of the shop owners, gives him a confused look when he broaches the question. She scrunches up her face as she processes his order, scanning vegetable seeds and sprouts across a checkout register.
"You sure you're not imagining things, city-boy? You might be working too hard." The tips of his ears burn at that.
"I-I know what I saw!" He protests. "There was someone out in my fields, though I don't know why…"
"I… Might have an idea." Comes a soft whisper. He turns to see the store bagger glancing up from his order, almost hiding behind her pink hair.
"Well, go ahead Olivia." Flavia loses her teasing tone, coaxing the girl instead.
"There… Is supposed to be someone who lives near your farm. Someone who knows older rites-"
"Witchcraft." Another of the staff, Lon'qu, finishes in a grumble. "Just some hedgewitch who knows a few dances. The next time you see her, just tell her to get off your land."
"I admit, I've never seen her." Flavia allows. "I… Don't know what she'd be up to, but rites might be true. And Lon'qu has it right as well. She's a recluse; if you're worried about her, just confront her, and she'll likely leave you alone. She does the same to the rest of us."
-o-o-o-
Another week passes, and the newly purchased corn grows well enough. Chrom allows himself a flash of pride when he looks at the small plot of garden land, and sees green stalks poking from the ground. With luck he'll have at least one crop to sell and barter. His eyes rove over the rows of slowly budding crops… And freeze, when he looks beyond them.
Out to the orchard. It isn't his imagination that the bark looks a little more vibrant. He's certain of that much, and races over to the trees. Running his fingers along the branches, he catches sight of new buds and limbs. It's enough to freeze his breath for a moment, and when he gets it back, it comes out in an awed sigh.
When night comes, he dims all the lights, and sits by one of the windows. And when he catches sight of a figure moving among the trees, he doesn't raise his voice for fear of scaring her off. Instead he watches her, dancing among the trees… And, he's certain, pushing a flicker of magic and life into them.
The last time he saw someone work magic like this, or show aptitude for this was-
He doesn't let himself finish that thought, and instead watches the young woman, and moonlight glint off the silver of her hair.
-o-o-o-
He isn't certain if jewelry was the right way to thank someone, but it's the best idea he has. It's still much too early for flowers, and his crops are still growing, too small to work as offering.
'Besides, it's not like I'm going to do anything else with… With these things.'
Looking at the old rings still sent a pang through him. He can still picture them around Emmeryn's fingers. He only hopes she wouldn't mind, that he's gifting them to someone else.
He leaves them in a box wrapped in ribbons at the base of one of the trees, pausing only to linger over the faint, pink blossoms. He hopes the gift conveyed his thanks, at the very least.
-o-o-o-
She keeps her steps silent, as she moves towards the budding trees. It lifts Robin's heart, to see life slowly moving through the branches, and the fragrant pink blossoms are pleasing even at night. Watching them prompts a smile from her, and a soft melody in her throat.
Her feet are already dancing across the ground, feeling the first blades of grass as she kicks off her shoes. The melody grows stronger in her throat, as Robin works through the lyrics her mother once taught her. The melody comes easily to her, as do the steps; it feels almost like she was born for this.
Of course, the fact that there isn't anyone shouting at her helps as well.
Over the weeks, she's watched the farm grow from her little cabin. There'd been a determination with her new neighbor… And it made her want to do something to help as well. Aside from that one heart stopping night, he hadn't done anything to stop her. Which she hopes is a good sign.
Her feet bump against something, stopping her dance short. Robin stares down, to a small black box wrapped in red ribbon, glittering in the moonlight. Cautiously she kneels down, lifting it up… And pausing over the tag on the ribbon; in the full moonlight, she could just make out the words.
"Thank… You?" Robin mouths them out. She pauses over the gift, carefully unwrapping it and gazing at the two rings within-
Until a branch snaps behind her, sending her spinning around. And coming face to face with her new neighbor in lamp light.
Her first instinct is to bolt, until she sees the shock in his face; a far cry from the anger she half expected.
"I…" He tried to say, holding a hand up to stall her from running. "I'm sorry, I wasn't certain if you saw my gift-? So I came out to check?"
She lifts the box in response, and a quick smile crossing his face when he sees the package. For her part, Robin looks over him, taking him in.
"…You're a lot more civil, when you're wearing more than a towel." Are the first words out of her mouth, and they prompt a startled laugh out of him.
"I-I guess so!" He looks down at himself… And Robin has to admit, he wears the color blue quite well, almost looking like he belongs in a navy-blue night. "And… Hopefully you're not in a hurry to run off this time?"
To that, she can only nod, and his smile widens.
"Good. Because there's A LOT I want to ask you about."
-o-o-o-
It takes some coaxing to invite his new neighbor into the farmhouse. He half wonders if she'll vanish in the glow of the lanterns, like a phantasm banished by strong light. She hesitates at the threshold, giving Chrom a look to make certain he's sure.
"Come on; I sort of owe you for working magic on the trees. The least I can do is give you some dinner." He's not entirely sure which part of his words coaxes Robin into the house. She looks almost like a wisp, or one of the fair folk Emmeryn told him stories about.
He shoves that thought aside, focusing on getting food out of the cooler and setting the table for the newcomer.
"Thank you, Chrom." He glances up from the table.
"You know me?"
"I know of you; you're all the town talks about, and what I overhear." She gives him a quick smile. "They've got mostly good things to say about you; that you've got some talent 'for a city boy.'" He isn't certain whether to grin or blush at that.
"S-so, what exactly are you doing out here and with the trees? If you don't mind me asking?"
"Well… It seems you care about the land, and the magic sealed in it. I've seen you looking at the trees, trying to nurture them, and I wanted to give you some help. Everyone else has, after all." Though at 'everyone' she lowers her eyes. And he remembers how little anyone seemed to know about this person; that she is almost as much of a stranger as he is, to the others.
"Well… I appreciate the help. But I also want to repay my debts. So is there anything I can do for you-?"
The hopeful look she gives him sends an odd pang through his chest.
"Having someone to talk to helps, a lot."
-o-o-o-
The next weeks go easier. The trees spring into full bloom, painting the farmland with vibrant pink blossoms.
And like clockwork, when the sun sets, his new neighbor shows up to work magic on the trees.
'Robin.' He reminds himself of her name. She'd hesitantly offered it, before she left his company. He thinks it suits her; a name that promises spring and summer having their turn, someday. As Robin dances, Chrom does his best to once again prepare a meal; his resources might still be meager, but it feels like the best way to thank her, now that he's burned through any jewelry.
There's just one problem; that Robin makes for a surprising distraction as she dances, sings, and works her rites. He can't help but dwell on her voice, gently calling to whatever magic is locked in the soil. She sings as well as her namesake, perhaps even better… And with a rush of heat to his face, Chrom realizes that's too bold of a thought, for someone he just met.
And yet, he can't help but feel his mood brighten even more, when she finishes and walks inside. He has a meal of sweet potatoes and sandwiches set on the table; not the fanciest faire, but Robin still brightens up when she sees them.
"I haven't had these in so long!" She tells him, breaking her sandwich in half and blowing on the cheese to cool it. "My mother used to make cheese sandwiches and baked potatoes. But I never-"
She hesitates at that, and Chrom recognizes the hitch in her voice. It's the same he has, when he talks about Emm. Chrom knows that he came here in part to make a new start; now he finds himself wondering if it's the same for Robin.
"Just be careful you don't burn your tongue." He says instead, and decides to stock up more on sweet potatoes and cheese, the next time he goes the grocery store. He wants to see her brighten up again, like she does on the first bite.
-o-o-o-
A thunderstorm crashes down on them at the turn of the season. It stops Robin's dance early, and sends her dashing into the farmhouse, already half drenched. Chrom follows a moment later, wondering if this is the god's way of chastising him for going outside with Robin and doing very little beyond shooting her admiring looks.
Either way, they're both sodden and can only watch as the storm lashes the field. Flashes of lightning aren't very far behind, and Chrom is half ready to run outside and throw tarps over his crops.
"They'll be okay." Robin half reads his mind, reassuring him. "They're strong enough to survive a storm like this-"
In the distance, timber creaks and groans before crashing down with a terrifying splintering noise. They both look outside; the trees still stand, but at the far end of the field, Robin's little cottage has turned into a pile of tinder. Perhaps one section of the house is still standing, if that.
"So much for the roof." Robin stares at the house, and the places where the old building has collapsed and sunken in on itself. There's a trace of shock gripping her, leaving her eyes wide. "Or most of the house… I thought it was still strong enough, but-"
But she didn't have half a town turn out to help her reinforce the building. Because half the town doesn't know she has a talent in magic, uses it to help others, or that she smiles over cheese sandwiches and sweet potatoes.
For her part, Robin looks bewildered on what to do next. And he's not to keen on sending her out in the rain.
"You… Don't have to go back." Chrom finds himself saying. "There's a spare bedroom here, and I promise the roof doesn't leak too badly."
For a moment, he's worried she'll decline, and brave the storm and a half collapsed house… But there's an odd flicker behind her eyes, made all the brighter by the lightning flashes. When the bolts fade and shadows swath the house, he almost misses the way her head dips in a nod, and she gives a quite "…Alright."
-o-o-o-
He's right; the roof doesn't leak very much. The bed isn't much more than a mattress on the floor, but Robin can't complain. Her bones are starting to feel the effects of channeling so much magic, of dedicating several hours to spell work a day. At this point, anything that isn't hard packed dirt or floor feels amazing to lay down on.
Chrom lays out an extra shirt for her; one of his older ones, worn at the elbows and frayed at the seams. He freezes when he realizes what he's doing.
"I-it's just that you're already drenched, and you'd probably like some dry clothes, r-right?"
"…Right." Robin tells him, fighting to keep her own voice level. At this point, she's ready to overlook any awkwardness with wearing Chrom's clothing, if it'll help her dry off. He gives a stammered goodbye, and leaves her to change in peace.
She tries not to dwell on the feel of faint scent of him left in the fabric. Instead she works the buttons of the shirt, spreads her own clothes out to dry, and collapses into the bed.
Fatigue slowly washes over her, and she sprawls across the mattress. Faintly she's aware of Chrom in the other room, moving about and getting ready for bed. It's… Strange, to have someone else in a home with her. She's almost forgotten what it feels like, to feel someone else's presence, so close by. To have someone watching over her.
The thunderstorm isn't finished with them; there's still the flicker of lighting overhead, the grumble of thunder that keeps her awake… And makes her remember. Robin twists about, tangling in the sheets, doing her best to keep the memories away. But they seep into her head, the same way the thunder and drumming of rain soaks into her hearing.
She remembers the storm from a year ago; the torrents that brought her father to her doorstep, and how her mother went out to meet him. The thunder drowned out the specifics of their words, but she'd still been able to hear their shouts, their arguments… And how, with one brilliant flash of lightning, they both vanished.
She still doesn't know what her father wanted from her. Only that her mother put a stop to it… Even if it meant that Robin has never been able to find her. The last clue she's been able to hold onto, was a note instructing her to go to an old house. The same one bordering the farmland. It hasn't led to her mother… But it did guide her to Chrom.
"H-hey…" Speaking of. Robin throws herself upright, looking up at him. He hesitates in the doorway, looking oddly tense. There's something stopping the words in his throat, leaving him to stammer. "Sorry to bother you. I just… I wasn't sure if you were doing alright-?"
"I could ask you the same thing." He drops his gaze at that, letting his breath out in a slow sigh.
"…To be honest, I'm not a fan of thunderstorms. They… Sort of remind me, of what I've lost." Strange, how he seems to echo the loss trying to churn around in her heart. To stall those feelings in herself, and hopefully in him, Robin pulls herself up from the mattress. She wraps the blanket around her shoulders, as she walks over to him.
"You as well?" She finds herself saying. At his surprised look, she finds herself telling him some of what she's experienced. A part of her is shocked to hear herself talk; she's never shared this with anyone… And yet there's something cathartic about telling him. Even if her voice hitches once or twice; at least there's the pattering of rain on the roof to help mask that.
And in return, he opens up a little; that he lost his older sister and father in a storm, thanks to poor conditions and the car they were in. Judging by the tension in his shoulders and the choked quality of his voice, it's still a recent wound. Seeing that pain, it does something to Robin's thoughts. It mutes the cautious side of her, as she reaches out and brushes her hand over his.
There's more in common between them, then she first thought. They've both lost someone important in their lives, and came here to find some sort of healing.
'And now you've found each other.'
She wonders if it's just a consequence of fatigue, that makes her touch linger on Chrom's hand perhaps longer than necessary. Or maybe there's an odd spell woven by the rain, and the way it shrouds the house in a haze. Whatever it is, it makes Chrom turn his hand in hers and clasps back.
They don't share many more words. But they do share a night together, curled up together on the mattress. The heartache and painful reminders all dim, when they curl up next to the other, listening to the lightning and matching their breathing together. Somehow, it feels significant; like there's an unknown rite they've just discovered, and it has done something to that slowly growing bond between them.
-o-o-o-
Months shift by, from spring to summer. Blossoms are replaced by green leaves, and Chrom finds himself grinning as he contemplates the harvest.
Sharing the house with Robin has been a remarkably easy step. There's something the feels natural about it; and about waking up, knowing she's nearby and ready to start the day with him. It makes him a little more bold, ready to try out a few more crops.
Robin is surprisingly helpful with that, offering suggestions on what they could grow… And to his shock, being just as ready to help work the fields as him. But when the others from town come by, she loses that confidence, and seems ready to retreat back into the farm house. Or simply hide behind him. Sully gives Robin a startled look, Stahl seems concerned; the others have their own degree of surprise or confusion.
Chrom meets them all by gently squeezing Robin's hand, coaxing her to stay with him… And introducing her as his neighbor, and partner in getting the crops ready. She's a little glad he doesn't go more into the things that happen in the evening, and takes a deep breath so her face doesn't betray any of it.
And instead, she tries to work on giving a smile or a wave; both are hesitant, and feel almost out of practice… But the others don't remark on it. If anything, Sumia seems to brighten up when she realizes Chrom has company; or maybe it's just finding out Robin is an avid reader like her. Miriel seems more interested in Robin's contributions to the harvest, while Kellam simply gives a quiet, accepting nod.
"I was always worried they wouldn't want me around." Robin admits to him, that evening. "That I was too strange; it's not like rites and magic are a very common practice, anymore. Even Miriel treats them more like a science. I was so sure that they wouldn't…"
He finds himself reaching across the table to grasp her hands, stilling her words.
"You don't give yourself enough credit." He tells her. "They've seen first hand what you can do at a farm." And it's true; despite being a city-boy, his fields can rival some of the other, longer established fields. Something he wouldn't have believed possible, just a few months ago. "And when we harvest, they'll really see what you're capable of."
But in the meantime, he's just fine with going outside to help Robin with her dances; as the nights have stretched on, she's even taught him a few of the steps. Whenever he tries to mimic her, her feels more than a touch clumsy, and it's a wonder he doesn't trip over the tree roots. But his company seems to lift Robin's spirits, adds some potency to her spells… And she also seems to prefer his company, whenever they step back inside.
-o-o-o-
The first harvest takes them almost a week to get through, picking fruit and pulling in vegetables. By the end of it, Chrom is certain they've earned the right to a first taste; when they sit down together and try the harvest, he can see Robin's eyes light up.
He's never tasted anything sweeter as well. Maybe that's just due to the company, but he's positive the town will enjoy it as well. When the weekend rolls around, the car is almost bursting with goods, leaving him and Robin little room to get in.
They've timed it well, however; they arrive in town right as Sumia finishes up hanging the streamers with Cordelia, waving them both towards the square. He's almost forgotten that there's supposed to be a festival, celebrating the first good crop. His heart swells a little, knowing they've got something to provide-
"…You've got to be kidding me." And he also almost forgot the promise he made to his sister. She stands in the village square, staring at the boxes and baskets of produce. Chrom offers Lissa a smile that turns a bit shy, once Robin steps out of the car.
"Well. You managed to not die. AND…You've met someone?" Lissa trails off, looking over Robin, a questioning look on her face. Chrom coughs as well, not certain for a moment how to describe his exact relationship with Robin; a partner, a friend and confidant… And someone who lately, he's treasured being around-
Robin helps him with that, by walking up next to him, and briefly touching her hand to his. He also feels something else rest in his hand; the band of a ring. With a start, he sees that she's wearing one of the rings he's given her.
And she seems to be offering the other one back to him; almost like another gift. Chrom can only squeeze at her fingers, as he slips the ring onto his finger. Odd, how the metal already warms to his skin, and how well both items fit him and Robin.
Lissa, for her part, is still busy gaping at both of them… And likely making a few connections. Somehow, he's not too worried about her getting any ideas about either of them.
"It's good to meet you." Robin offers, still holding onto Chrom's hand. There's a faint blush across her face, and the hint of a smile as well. Chrom finds himself wrapping an arm around Robin as she introduces herself, feeling a warm glow in his heart, rich enough to match the summer sun overhead.