I apologize now for all my inconsistent British spellings. My spell check likes to fix things automatically, and then sometimes I'm not sure how things should be written. Just bear with me and remember what Merlin said about the rules of grammar and spelling not being invented yet.
Thanks again to all my lovely reviewers. You're all so smart, getting all the mythological references. Anyone know why the last sentence of this chapter is ominous? Read it and see. Please!
A Short While Later:
When one woman becomes less irritating, another steps forth to take up the torch.
Morgan le Fay is a persistent wench. Because Archimedes was...occupied...she found another means to convey her message swiftly. I was sitting in my most comfortable chair near the hearth as I wrote, keeping to myself quite contentedly, when that unwelcome face appeared in my fireplace.
I was startled, of course. Morgan looked impatient—and, I am pleased to note, uncomfortable, as she had to crouch before her own fireplace in order for the magic to work properly—and rolled her eyes as I turned my jump into a leap to my feet. I threw my quill and parchment onto the chair and glared at her.
"What are you doing?" I demanded. "I invented that spell!"
"So you are the only one who may use it?" she snorted.
"No, I--" I stayed my tongue, thinking that I hadn't wanted her to use it.
"You know that all new discoveries are shared with and by the council," she continued.
I clenched my teeth. "Of course."
Today her eyes were a vivid green. I hope she had not changed them that colour to match a certain dress. Then again, if she were wearing that dress, it would be quite sooty right now. She was not thinking of the state of her clothes, however. Those green eyes roved my home's interior with their usual contempt. To spite her, I surreptitiously made a map fall to the floor to create further disarray.
"Why are you using—that spell—to contact me?" I asked. "There are countless other forms of communication you could have used. If you weren't too dignified a lady, I'd suggest you use it merely to incense me."
Morgan sniffed (she soon regretted it, inhaling copious amounts of soot). "It was the fastest way. I had to speak with you." She coughed, gazing again about the room. "Still hardly fit for civilized life, yet your dwelling seems cleaner than before—despite your trick with the map."
I colored beneath my beard.
"You have attempted to 'tidy up,' Merlin," Morgan smirked. "Are you expecting someone?"
She knew.
I sat down again, feigning nonchalance. "It is no concern of yours if I am, now is it? It is not the council's business who I do and do not entertain in my own home."
Morgan's green eyes flashed.
"I know this," she said quietly. "I speak to you independently."
"Oh?"
She stared at the floor, not seeing the layer of dirt and feathers. "I really do not think you should teach Nimue."
"Who said anything about teaching?" I inquired with dangerous calm.
"I know about it all, old one," she hissed. "Yes, I've been intruding on your affairs and finding means of spying on you, but that is not the point!"
"It's not?" I raised a brow. "If that is not your point, then your real point must be very important indeed."
"Nimue is dangerous!" Morgan snapped.
I templed my fingers and spoke softly into them. "This I know."
"You have been told by others, not only myself." Morgan persisted. "Obviously, you do not trust my judgment, but what of theirs? You think my beliefs are my sole motive in turning you from Nimue, but they only reinforce what I and everyone else know! Will you not heed us?"
I lowered my hands and looked at her evenly. "Nimue is dangerous. Many have told me this. I believe them—even you. By my beard, even the stars have warned me! Yet I care not. If she undoes my spells, I can weave more. If she steals my enchantments—well, you already have. If she leads me away, which I know she will, I shall gladly follow even if we fly 'neath the sea. If she kills me, I'll be heartbroken, yes, but I've lived so long already I'd only regret that she was the one who ended my life."
"You love her."
Morgan had difficulty saying the words, choked with disgust and wonderment.
I smiled, amused that the first soul I admitted it to would be Morgan le Fay. "Yes."
"Very well," Morgan sneered. "You were warned. I shall not weep when she destroys you."
"It takes a destroyer of men to know one, Morgan."
She snarled and yanked her head from the fireplace. I settled back and stewed in my chair, lighting my pipe and recovering my parchment and quill from beneath the cushion. Archimedes at last flew back in, settling on his perch with a suspicious satisfaction. He utterly ignored my dark looks and began preening. I noticed his tailfeathers were disheveled.
Well.
No comments for that. I'll leave the assumptions to my unconscious mind.
Morning:
My dreams were mercifully free of certain owls.
I arose this morning with the intent of only fixing the fallen map, but I ended up scouring the whole cottage. My idea of clean, however, is nowhere near Morgan's impossible standards. Her obsession with immaculateness is like that of a grandmother.
Heh. She, a grandmother! She has only just come of age, yet she already gets involved in the council and scrutinizes the dust levels of other people's abodes just like an old woman.
Admitting that I love Nimue has lifted a leaden mask. I can now say that I wasted an hour "tidying up" so everything will look presentable for her. I can now say I look forward to seeing her. I even look forward to her attempts at manipulation.
I wonder if she is trying to seduce me? I have never been seduced before. It sounds quite delightful.
Archimedes made a revolted noise at that, but I held up a mahogany feather I'd found while cleaning and he said no more.
What a marvelous day.
Moments Later:
Where is my comb?
Moment Later:
Now I'm preening. How terribly amusing! I've no time to ponder whether that was dramatic irony. I really must continue preening.
Moments Later:
It really is ironic that Merlin is preening.
Moments Later:
Right. Getting ready.
A Short While Later:
I'm ready.
Why isn't she here?!
Evening:
Nimue arrived shortly after I demanded of you, my dear parchment, why she had not come. She wore long blue robes and a smile. Blue is my favourite colour on her. Well, I really love every colour on her. But blue is particularly flattering. The robes, I surmised, were her own work: attractive but functional. They lacked the tight, restricting cut and flowing, flammable sleeves that Morgan favors. Nimue was prepared to work.
"Nimue," I beamed. "You seem eager to begin."
Her smile twisted playfully. "You know I am, and have been since you first agreed to teach me."
"Yes, yes," I chuckled and lead her around behind the cottage.
"Are we not conducting lessons indoors?" she inquired.
She did not sound eager, like Arthur, nor did she sound disappointed. She was simply curious.
"My home is frankly too cramped and too crammed with precious things." I grimaced, remembering my spoiled timepieces and globe.
"Of course," she nodded and took out her wand. "Shall we begin here, then?"
I tapped my staff against the ground, loosing my wand from the top. When my wand is fixed within the staff, the only visible part is the handle. I carved it long ago with intricate veins that look like roots from one angle and talons from another. I smiled as I held it, though not entirely from pride.
"Let's start by seeing what you already know," I suggested.
Nimue nodded, smiling slightly. "Very well."
She knew quite a lot. I expected her to know a fair amount, being a grown witch, but she surprised me with her brilliant execution. She was familiar with some spells so recent I was certain only council members knew them. And of course, I already knew she could keep me out of her mind.
Still, she was lacking in a few minor areas. I could easily remedy this. I had no need to begin slowly as I would with a beginner, and even at a faster pace she learned rapidly. Nimue never forgot something once I told it to her and rehearsed it tirelessly until she had perfected it. She was the ideal pupil. We covered much in a few hours' time.
The sun began sinking wearily into a crimson nest lined with violet. I did not believe so much time had passed, but the hours fly quickly when you enjoy them. I regretfully informed Nimue that our time was over, reassuring her with praise of her great progress. We had only a bit left to covernext time before moving on to more complex magics.
Nimue beamed. "Thank you. I look forward to our next lesson—but I'll not badger you this time." She winked and tugged my beard. "Much."
My awkwardness gone, I reached behind her ear and produced a flower. I handed it to her and returned the wink.
"I don't think I shall mind you badgering me."
She blinked, unused to me matching her philandering. Addled, she shook her head and settled for a bemused smirk.
"Dear fool," she murmured, and left.
She is gone. Just like that. Really, where did the time go? I've only managed to get...four paragraphs and fourteen independent lines out of today's lesson. Perhaps next time I can put one of my hourglass experiments to use...
No matter. Today has been a fabulous day regardless of length. I got to spend time with my two favourite things: Nimue and magic.
And Archimedes can't say anything about it because I can let out a cough that sounds remarkably like "Camilla!"
Moments Later:
Still...I hope Nimue won't continue being confused by my new outlook. Has admitting I love her taken away that edge she thought she had? Have I stolen away her seductress's power?
No.
She's only half-veela, after all.
I have been undermining her veela vanity since first we met.
Ah.
I realize I have often said I have felt this way or that about Nimue "since first we met," yet I have not related our first meeting.
Oh, it was an age ago. Yet with my backward remembering, it seems a vision of tomorrow. We were betwee...what...eight and ten? Eleven at most. I was out exploring, as always
I had discovered my magical talent early, so at this age I spent most of my time experimenting with it. I know I took my natural gifts for granted, turning flowers into toadstools whenever I wished. My current experiment was to turn myself into something. I amused myself turning my hair blue for a time, but had yet to perfect transformation. In the meantime, I liked running up and down hills, building momentum on the way up and careening back down, often narrowly dodging wildlife. I loped all over the countryside, through fields, across plains, past forests, near mountains. I spread my arms and imagined I was flying, not knowing that in a few short years I would achieve that dream.
I came flying haphazardly down a hill that day only to find I had failed once again to plan ahead. The salt in the wind that tossed my hair should have alerted me to the change in terrain, but my head was with my heart in the clouds. There was a rock face at the bottom of the hill and I was going down it much too quickly to stop before running into it. I braced myself for the inevitable scraped elbows (to which I was well used) and prayed I'd be able to make the stone softer with my sketchy spells.
My prayers were answered in a most curious fashion. I ended up running right through the wall of rock and into the cave hidden behind it. I did not know it then, but the entire area was spelled for secrecy. In my panic, I had tapped and reversed one of those spells, winning myself entry. I stumbled, wondering why there was suddenly rock underfoot instead of grass. I staggered to a clumsy halt, but, feeling a young boy's pride whenever he accomplishes anything, I threw up my arms in triumph. I had saved myself a skinned knee!
Before I could gaze long at my surroundings, a sound appealed to my more vulnerable sense. Soft song echoed off the cave walls. I had always loved music, but as my talent lay in magic alone, I could make none of my own. Entranced, I followed the sound down a corridor of stone and entered a grotto. Water ran down the walls, a soothing accompaniment. A girl my age was twirling barefoot in the center of the cavern, humming sweetly to herself. Her silver hair swished round as she spun and her dark blue dress floated behind her. She looked like a wave, her hair the crest and her dress the deep water.
I have always been overly inquisitive. I called to her and interrupted her dance.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
She started but followed her last spin through to face me. Some little girls might have blushed or fled, but she stared me down. Her silver eyes were like moons reflected in water.
"What are YOU doing?" she demanded. "You aren't supposed to be here, boy."
"I came through your wall," I said matter-of-factly.
The girl sniffed. "No humans can come through our walls."
"I did."
Her eyes narrowed to half-moons. "What are you doing here, boy?"
"Watching you twirl."
"I was not twirling!" she stomped her unshod foot.
"Yes you were. You twirl quite well."
"It is—inappropriate for young ladies to twirl," she stammered. "Twirling in circles is childish. Ladies only twirl when they dance. Twirling just to twirl is—"
"Fun?" I offered.
"Yes—no! Ladies dance for fun. We dance and we sing—"
"You were singing."
"I wasn't singing properly."
"There's a proper way to sing?"
"For us there is. We have to use our powers to—"
"I use my powers to have fun," I declared.
She eyed me doubtfully. "You have powers?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "I'm a wizard!" I struck a ridiculous pose. "I'll put a spell on you!"
She swished her skirt defiantly. "Not if I make you fall in love with me."
"Is that what your powers do?"
"When I sing properly."
"Are you a siren?"
"No—I'm a veela."
"No you're not." I stepped nearer, peering at her thoughtfully. "You have some human in you."
She bristled but did not deny it. "How can you tell?"
"I can tell lots of things."
I lost interest in our conversation and began wandering about the grotto, examining the rivulets streaming down the walls. The girl followed me, unsatisfied. I ignored her and played at stopping the flow of the water. She waited, expecting me to treat her like a lady and ask her what she wanted. I merely froze the water and melted it again.
"Well?" she huffed.
"No, it's a spring. Wells come from deeper underground."
"I know that!" she cried. "I mean: Well, what kinds of things can you tell about?"
"Oh. Magic things. Nature things."
She fidgeted impatiently. "What kinds of magic and nature things?"
"All kinds." I pointed to the right. "The ocean's that way. It's high tide." I pointed to the left. "If you say 'exeunt sinistre' by that rock that looks like a bird, you can get out through an opening that will appear."
She blinked. "How did you know that?"
"I just know."
"There must be more to it than that?"
I stared at the ground in thought. "I'm kind of like a bird. I feel as though I'm high above everything; I can see it all while everyone else only sees part of it. I'm wiser and freer than they are, but since I'm the only bird in the sky it gets kind of lonesome. Sometimes I wish I could land, but I know I shouldn't. When I land, the land will crumble without my eye upon it."
"Surely the other wizards are like birds, too? Perhaps they are merely lower in the sky," she offered.
I shook my head. "No, I'm—different, for some reason. I'm the only bird. That's why my name is Merlin, I suppose."
"Well, Merlin," the girl smiled. "Even though the land will crumble when you come to earth, Nimue will be here to greet you."
"Is that your name? Nimue?"
Before she could answer, I heard her name again. An enchanting, musical voice called to her from another stone chamber.
"Nimue!"
I suddenly wanted to answer the voice as though I had been the one called. I needed to go to whoever it was. Nimue blanched and pushed me to the bird-shaped rock.
"I told you that you aren't supposed to be here!"
"Wait--!"
But Nimue always was a fast and attentive learner. She whispered, "exeunt sinistre" and shoved me through the opening. It sealed itself as soon as I passed through. I was again outside the secret cave, staring at the rock face I had nearly dashed myself upon.
You see, she has always been the way she is, though back then it was easier for me to unearth her more human traits because I was not entranced by her veela beauty. Though I cannot see into her mind, I know that she still acts the part of a seductress but has human ambitions.
Those ambitions, of course, could be some of the more evil tendencies of our species.
Still I care not. I cannot forget the little girl twirling just to twirl, the woman cursing a tyrant, the flirt tugging my beard.
It is late. The flower on my desk has opened. It has no effect; I am already thinking of Nimue.
In a spirit of nostalgia, I should work with her on sealing spells next.
