7
'First, I tell you the basics.' The pair were sat cross-legged, facing each other, by the waters edge. 'Don't try to do anything too extreme. The magic comes from you. While it is possible to draw it from your surrounding area, I doubt you would be able to do it for a while. Bringing back the dead is impossible, don't even try it. Also, magic is affected by distance. The further it has to travel, the more energy you use.' Sherlock checked to see if the man in front of him was keeping up. Once he was happy he continued. 'The magic we use is constructed on a basis of words in what we called The Ancient Language. Everything has a word in this tongue and it allows us to use the magic how we wish to.' John caught slightly on this and the elf expanded it for him, 'Imagine you wanted to set fire to a tree. You could do this just by untapping the magic as you did before and thinking about setting fire to the tree. But if another thought suddenly came to mind, say you house, you would set fire to that instead. The Ancient Language allows us to say what we mean. If you tell the tree to set fire and think of your house, the tree will still set fire.' The confusion lifted from John's features. The taller male smiled then his expression turned serious, 'Remember I said everything had a name?' The other nodded 'Well that includes people. Each person has a name all of there own. Elves instinctively know theirs and some, given time, can work out another's by looking through that others mind. If someone knows your true name, they can command everything about you. You will have no free will. If you ever find out your name, allow only those you trust completely to know it.'
After the 'rule' session, the two men stood and Sherlock began to teach his new apprentice how to control his magic and started showing him the different words in the Ancient Language. The elf was deeply surprised by the amount of power the young man possessed and his ability to pick up things with relative ease. They carried the training right through the day, undisturbed by any other creature that inhabited the Du Weldenvarden. With every passing minute, Sherlock felt he unlocked another layer to the amazing man who stood no more than two steps away from him. Every movement, every sentence he spoke, joined with what they had already been through in Sherlock's mind as he tried to piece together the enigma that was John Hamish Watson.
By the time the sun was setting, he had already progressed to making water rise and form an orb in his hand, which was exceedingly harder than it looked. The pair made their way back to the cavern, both were thoroughly worn out. Sherlock moved to the kitchen and took out a pot full of a liquid John didn't recognise. He poured to glasses and handed one to the blond. The doctor was wary but he put his lips to the cup and took a sip. The drink had a warming affect on his insides, it had a fruity taste and seemed to restore his energy levels. 'You should get some rest. We have another tiring day ahead of us.' John nodded and lay back on the bed. The covers were soft and enticed him into a dreamless sleep. Once he was oblivious to the world, Sherlock looked at the dragon.
Do it.
