Chapter Text
“I’m very pleased, with you two,” Getafix told Asterix and Obelix, who stood in front of their druids’ worktable as he observed the collection of herbs they had gathered over the course of the past month. Asterix grinned up at Obelix, who beamed back.
Yes. They had done their best. As they both already knew, but it nice to be praised, regardless. Getafix needed to stock up for winter. Even if it was only late spring. Their druid had developed a nasty cold, last December, and while it had never descended into a deep cough, thanks to his own remedies, it had kept popping back up. Getafix insisted that a bit of cold didn’t make one sick, but fact remained that runny noses and winter weather went hand in hand. Asterix had worried each time their druid headed into the forest.
“I trust that means our supply of magic potion is secure?” Impedimenta weighed in. She had joined Asterix and Obelix as they were headed to Getafix’s house, presumably to save them all a trip to Vitalstatistix later.
Getafix scanned the table again, then looked up, his eyes wrinkling: “Not quite, Impedimenta. Asterix and Obelix can do a lot, but they can’t trick the passing of seasons. Yet.”
“Yet?” Asterix repeated, which seemed to please their druid, because he straightened up and stroked his beard.
“Everything else I need to restock will arrive in fall,” Getafix told him. “But as you well know, not all ingredients of the magic potion can be gathered here. I’m not sure how you managed to get your hands on those immortality herbs, Asterix, or even on such a large amount of rock oil, but especially for the herbs, I’m afraid they will expire before I figure out how to best put them to use. So, as to net let your efforts go to waste, I propose a trip.”
“Ekonomikrisis felt guilty over last time I searched for rock oil,” Asterix explained. He didn’t go into detail. Anticipation spiked his heartrate. He had a feeling, where this was headed.
Apparently, so did Impedimenta: “To the Forest House, Getafix?”
Their druid nodded. Obelix gave Asterix a thumbs up, as if this was some outcome they had been aiming for.
If it was, they had not discussed it. Asterix tried to control his nerves. Almost two years, since they last saw Phyllis. He knew Phyllis had written Impedimenta several times. She had reached Greece. Stayed with her grandparents, before eventually informing Impedimenta that her sister would start studying at the Forest House, next spring.
Which was… now.
“I reckon their main herbologist will be quite pleased, with the extra stock,” Getafix broke through Asterix’s thoughts. “And in return, he can enlighten us about their greenhouses. Manilla told me he managed to harvest cucumbers in January.”
Asterix doubted cucumbers were needed for magic potion, but he supposed that, especially for the vegetarians in the Forest House, extra vegetables were nice.
“Great! I will go with you,” Impedimenta told them. “Let me inform Vitalstatistix, and Asterix, make sure we have a chariot. For the herbs, and my many, many bags.”
She sounded so cheerful that Asterix chuckled: “Will do.” He wasn’t about to let Getafix walk the entire way, anyway. Only after Impedimenta had all but danced out, the door falling shut behind her, he turned back to their druid and noticed something was off.
“You don’t want Impedimenta to join us, oh druid?”
Getafix shook his head, then, with care, started to pack several bundles of dried flowers. “I don’t mind, Asterix. But I fear Impedimenta mainly wants to see Phyllis again. I should have pointed out earlier, that she will not be there.”
“Oh,” was all Asterix managed in reply. He pointedly avoided looking at Obelix, because he feared his disappointment would show, clear as day.
After another moment of silence, Getafix looked up: “To you as well, I see.”
The wings on his helmet had drooped. Over the years, Asterix had gotten better at hiding his emotions, but he didn’t have to check to know when it betrayed him, right now. Sometimes, he wondered why he loved that blasted helmet so much.
“Why wouldn’t she be there?” Obelix asked. He sounded surprised, rather than disappointed.
“She wrote to Impedimenta that she would join her parents,” Asterix added, ignoring another pang of disappointment, because for some reason, Phyllis had written never written to him. Instead, she had asked Impedimenta, to send him and Obelix ‘her best regards.’
One time, she had added that she missed them.
“Well, she did,” Getafix replied. “Lucius and Myra have opened up an apothecary in Condatum, so that Joci will be able to visit them, during her school breaks,” their druid elaborated, his tone suggesting that he too, knew a lot more about Phyllis’s current life than Asterix did.
“Isn’t Joci too old to start studying there?” Asterix wondered.
“We are never too old, to start studying, Asterix. It’s true though, that she’s a bit older, than most first year students. Joci is fifteen. I imagine that growing up with Lucius and Myra, she will be able to catch up fast.”
Twelve years younger than Phyllis. Phyllis had told him her sister had been a toddler, when she last saw her. Mesmeron had cost her family … so much time together.
“Why?” Obelix asked.
“I suspect Myra is tired of leaving the training of her children to others,” Getafix replied, “From what I gathered, Lucius and Joci have travelled to the Forest House, but Myra has refused to set a foot inside. I can imagine Phyllis taking her mother’s side.”
So could Asterix. Phyllis’s decision didn’t surprise him. He just regretted they wouldn’t get a chance to see her again.
“Maybe if she knew we were coming,” he mused.
Getafix smiled at him: “Perhaps, Asterix.”
Obelix elbowed Asterix’s side, which very nearly toppled him over: “Write and ask!”
As it were that simple. Besides where would he send said letter?
“I have an address,” Getafix provided. Asterix wondered when he had become this much of an open book. “From Manilla, that is. I’m afraid Impedimenta is the only one who received updates from Phyllis herself, my friend.”
Perhaps Asterix wasn’t the only one, who regretted that. By contrast, Manilla’s and Getafix’s correspondence over the past one and a half year had been so plenty it mirrored that of a lovesick couple. Not that Asterix would ever dare to point that out, to their druid. He preferred to not even imagine the reply.
“Maybe Phyllis wouldn’t like us travelling there,” he murmured instead.
“Maybe. Yet as a druid, meeting fellow healers is part of my job description. Visiting the Forest House is long overdue, and, as you always love to point out: I need protection. We leave tomorrow.”
Simple as that, then. Even if Asterix DID write Phyllis, they might be on their way back home before she received his letter. It was no use.
And he would never find the right words, either. “Whose job description includes updating Impedimenta?” he wondered instead.
Getafix turned his attention back to his worktable: “We need to inform our chief we are leaving, don’t we? I say we let Vitalstatistix handle that one.”
Asterix was quick to agree with that. He rushed out to meet Agrarix and arrange that chariot. Time was of the essence. Impedimenta had already suggested him writing Phyllis, several times. He had no doubt she would start pestering him again, if he gave her too much time to think.