After a whole day of treating the sick, you are exhausted. You decide to rest against the trunk of a tree on the outskirts of the clearing where the sick lie. You close your eyes and try to focus on the sounds of the surrounding forest. Instead, you hear someone approaching. You open an eye to see Merrill standing a short distance away from the clearing, clutching her staff to her chest nervously.
Without bothering to stand up you say, "Greetings Merrill. What brings you to this place at such a late hour?"
Merrill shifts in place. "I was hoping to talk to you actually. If you're busy though…" she trails off.
You run your hand through your hair and grimace. "If it is important than we can talk now. Given that you, Marethari and I are the last ones yet unaffected I will likely need to take drastic action tomorrow, so, if we do not do it now then I likely will not have time."
Merrill nods. She takes a few minutes, a few false starts before she truly begins. "You mentioned to the Keeper that you were considering teaching me your magic. Have you decided?"
You hold back the sigh that threatens to escape you. This is not exactly a conversation you want to have right now, but it is too important to delay. If you do not have it now you doubt that Merrill will be receptive to your questions when you are ready to ask them.
It is with this in mind that you speak. "That depends really. I have a number of questions that I would like to ask you before I make a decision. The first one is, why do you want to learn?"
"Well, uh, I love magic, and I'm really interested in how you use it." Merrill says.
You stare her in the eyes. You say nothing. You need no words to convey your disbelief.
"I'm not lying," Merrill's response proves you right. "I mean, being able to wield magic from beyond the fade would be really helpful to the clan, and all the Dalish too, but I really do love learning magic."
That sounds more like what you were expecting. You are also willing to believe that she loves magic. Satisfied you continue your questions with, "Are you aware that you may be unable to perform my magic even if you learn the theory?"
Merrill nods quickly. "Yes, I know."
"You are aware that it could be dangerous?" You continue.
Merrill gives a small laugh, "Am I at risk of being possessed? Perhaps there's some creature that wants to snack on my soul?"
"You might pass out and die from exhaustion." Findaráto had been one of the mightiest when it came to songs of power, and he had only managed been able to manage around about five minutes unopposed. "There are also other, not so obvious dangers. We learned our magic from spirits, it is not so much something you do as something you are."
Merrill no longer seems so amused. She swallows and says, "All magic is dangerous. I trust you to ensure I don't, you know."
You shrug, "While I will do all that I can I have no idea how you will take to the magic of Arda. I do not even know if songs of power will work properly here. Speaking of which how is your singing voice?"
Merrill seems taken aback by your question. "Uh. It's alright? I guess, I've never, uh, performed before. Is this really relevant?"
You raise an eyebrow, "Did you miss me say songs of power? There will be singing involved. I will just assume you need lessons. Are you willing to devote your whole life to the pursuit of my magic?"
Merrill seems confused. "Why would I need to do that? Is this some kind of lifelong apprenticeship custom?"
You shake your head and endeavour to speak as gently as possible. "The study of magic in my homeland is not one undertaken lightly. It was taught to us by the Ainur who wield it as naturally as breathing. Many have dedicated entire generations to the study of the craft for very little benefit." Human generations anyway.
Merrill thinks on your words for a long time. For a few moments you almost think that you have scared her off. Suddenly her eyes harden, and she looks at you without the hesitancy that has characterised your interactions thus far. "If it takes my whole life to learn something useful then that's what it takes. If it's not useful I'll search until I find something that is."
You look at Merrill, you see her determination and conviction. You only really have one response at this point.
"Very well. I will teach you all that I know." You say, "Though I must warn you that my knowledge on the subject is not as extensive as some."
Merrill nods excitedly. "Great! So, when do we start?"
You raise a hand to pinch your forehead and briefly mourn your free time. "Now. Come sit down."
Merrill cannot reach you fast enough and she sits down with so quickly you hear it.
"First let me hear you sing." You say.
Once she has sung some kind of Dalish lullaby in its entirety you nod to yourself. She is not bad, but it is also obvious that she has never been taught how to sing properly. You give her a number of vocal exercise and tell her to run through them every day. Songs of power are magically exhausting and even the best trained bards will tell you that full force singing for extended periods of time is hard on the voice. It would not do for your new student to lose her voice the first time she attempted to wield power using it. On that note you tell her to place her staff beyond her reach. It may not be something incompatible with what you will be teaching her, but you do not want her falling back on old habits. With everything as prepared as you can manage you begin the lesson itself.
"What do you know of the world around you?" you ask Merrill.
"Uh, what do you mean. Is this like your questions from a few weeks ago?" Merrill asks
"Forgive me, my question was unclear." You hold up a stick, fallen from the tree against which you rest. "What do you know of this stick?"
Merrill frowns. "How is this relevant to magic?"
"In a manner that will be made clear as our lesson progresses. Now answer the question." You respond calmly.
"Uh it's a stick? It's made of wood. I guess it came from that tree behind you. That's everything I guess." Merrill still seems confused.
"How is this stick related to you?" You continue your questions.
"It's… not? I mean I'm looking at it, so that's kind of related to me I guess." She replies
"That is indeed how it would appear. Let me ask you another question then. Are you a part of the world?"
Merrill blinks several times before answering. "Yes, obviously."
"Do you also agree that the world is made up of a complex web of interconnections by which every individual part is connected to another in some way?" You ask.
"I… I think so? I've never really heard it put that way. Most would say that everything is part of a whole" Merrill is frowning as she answers your question.
"Then by that logic you are related to this stick. It is not an obvious connection, but it is there. You are a part of the world, and the world is a single existence made of many other parts, this stick is one of those parts." You say, "This is the foundation of all magic, you are a part of the world. The world in turn is made up of other parts. These parts connect to each other to form the whole. By acting on those connections you can cause changes in those parts. It is in many ways the opposite of the magic you are familiar with."
Merrill stares at you for a few moments. She then dives into the pouch she wears for paper and ink. You smile as you're reminded of your last conversation with Merrill. It seems that nothing you have told her has changed her overmuch.
Once she has finished writing her notes you decide to give a demonstration of what you are talking about. A whisper of power tugs on the stick in your hand and, slowly, a few leaves start to grow on the once more living wood. Merrill stares at the leaf as it grows.
"There are broadly speaking three styles of magic. There is that which is innate to a being. The immortality your people once had was likely the result of one such magic. There is also magic in knowledge, in skill utilising the connections I mentioned more than any other style. Finally, there are the Songs of Power. These tap into the foundational structure of the world and use music and words to mimic it. They are very powerful but difficult to use." You explain the nature of power to your student beneath the branches of a great tree. As your father taught you, as his father had taught him and as Varda had once taught the whole of the Noldor on that first star studded day in Valinor.
Given the fact you were a Noldor, and not particularly well trained in songs of power, it was inevitable that you would begin your lessons with the power of knowledge. You would be a disgrace your people if you did not.
"In Quenya, my language, there is no word for 'Magic' or 'Mage'" You inform your new student. "The words we use for what you call magic are the same as the ones for 'skill' and our closest word for 'mage' literally translates to one who knows."
You take a moment to allow Merrill to finish her notes and ask any questions. Seeing that she has none at the moment you continue.
"I bring up our lack of a word for magic because it is indicative of something important about the system I am teaching you. There is no line between skill and magic. I can explain to you how it is that I can cleave through a shield and slay the one who bears it when one who is stronger than I cannot. It is a matter of technique and transferring strength from your arm into the blade. I can demonstrate it to you and if you mimic me perfectly you will be able to do so as well. The question is, is it magic?"
Merrill finishes her notes and spends a few moments thinking. Then she speaks
"Well my first instinct would be to say no. But given what you've been telling me the answer must be yes."
You smile encouragingly at her. "That would be a logical deduction. You may even be correct. I do not know."
Merrill's look of shock causes you to chuckle. She glares at you, and you raise a hand.
"Peace Merrill. I did not ask you that question as a trick." Once she has calmed you continue, "I do not know because it cannot be known for certain. The difficulty you will face when learning this facet of my world's arts is that, as I mentioned, there is no line between magic and skill such as you are used to considering. Sufficient skill will allow you to do things that others think impossible but at no point will you have drawn on anything beyond your own knowledge and experience. If you wish to learn my arts, you must abandon your preconceptions of magic as a discrete existence."
Merrill looks at you in confusion for a few moments. You are tempted to elaborate further but you do not speak. You simply wait to see if she has questions or if she needs time to understand.
Eventually Merrill does ask a question. "If skill and magic are the same thing then what exactly will you be teaching me?"
You smile once more. "An excellent question, I will be teaching you the most useful skill to have, if you wish to recreate the powers you already wield. I will teach you how to understand your surroundings. How to find the connections between them that may be influenced and the actions that will do so. I will teach you how to truly seek knowledge."
"I already know how to do that though." Merrill says, frowning.
You lift the newly sprouted stick once more. "Then you can tell me how I am related to this stick then. You should also be able to tell me what connections exactly I called upon to make it bloom"
Merrill's frown slowly disappears as she spends the next ten minutes thinking, occasionally beginning to speak before suddenly stopping.
Finally she sighs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have leapt to conclusions. Please teach me."
You nod and pat her shoulder. "I was an impatient student once. Your apology is unnecessary. The first thing you should consider when you seek the connections between things is how they might be related conceptually. This branch and I for example are or once were both living things and thus, we are related by…"
The setting sun dyes the world golden orange as you relate your people's most treasured ways to your new student. As the light fades into twilight and the stars come out to grace the land with their beauty your new student bids you farewell and leaves. Looking up at the sky you feel closer to your home than you have in a long time.
Despite the best efforts of the healers the disease is getting worse. The prognosis of the patients currently infected is not good and more people are becoming infected. You are already helping to try and treat the ill, but it is a losing battle even so. A few of the healers are coming down with the disease which is increasing the burden on you and those who are yet to be infected. The keeper and Merrill have tried to help but their magic struggles to treat disease. Still, healing the damage that is being done to the patients is buying you time. Inevitably all of this is wearing on everyone, especially those two. With the youngest apprentice not yet skilled enough to help Merrill and Marethari are having to heal nearly forty people once every few hours. Merrill has bags under her eyes, you suspect she is staying up late seeking a cure on her own time. Marethari has an air of solemn gloom around her that suggests that a part of her has already given up. You yourself are not yet flagging, but you are probably the only one of the healers who is not. The healers are in charge of hydrating, feeding and disposing of waste. It is not the best use of their talents but there is currently no one else to do it. It is the end of the third day, when the healers report the creation of a second 'clearing of healing', when you realise that this cannot continue. You are currently fighting a siege against a force that does not sleep. If things continue as they are then the others will collapse of exhaustion and you will start making mistakes as you sleep while you work. Something has to be done, and since everyone else is busy panicking or helping it is going to have to be you. You have a few options, but you cannot take them all without sacrificing the time you spend helping the healers. With a sense of grim responsibility, you decide that the best option you have is to take over the organisation of the camp. The keeper and Merrill are simply too busy, and the various elders are either sick or incompetent. While more healers would be useful and you might be able to cure the disease yourself, this option has the best chance of working. Most of the problems regarding the healers come from the fact that they are doing work that anyone could do and not working on actually curing the disease.
Small red marks have begun appearing on the victims of the disease. They start on the head and spread downwards. Almost the entire camp has come down with the disease and given its spread rate you do not put much faith in the rest remaining uninfected. It is in this dark time when people have no clear path forward and are in deathly fear for their lives that you come forward with a plan. It is a very good plan in your opinion and the fact that it is also the only plan means that, despite the fear and suspicion that has taken to following you since the quarantine incident people follow your lead.
The first thing you do is have everybody who is functional, not well just functional, take over the feeding and cleaning of the ill. The healers are then told to go to bed. The fact that they just blearily stumble off in the direction you were pointing handily demonstrates why doing so is necessary. You then take some time to chart a broad progression of the illness, from early flu symptoms, to being bedridden with fever, to the red spots. You then provide this list to everyone, warning them to watch for the symptoms. Now that there is a clear understanding of what is going on the mad panic that had started to infect the clan begins to dissipate.
With the clan settled and the healers now free to rest and try to find a cure you talk to Merrill and the keeper. Their magic cannot cure the disease, but it can cure symptoms. You spend a good hour interrogating them on how magical healing works to see if that can be changed. The short answer is no, the energy of the Beyond is used to essentially construct healthy tissue that is then substituted for the wounded or lost original. There is a lack of ability to engage with the conceptual facets of reality that prevents this world's magic from curing disease itself. This puts you in a quandary. At this point it is no longer a matter of if you'll be the only person who is well but when. You need to use magic to get some people on their feet and able to help you, but the question is who. You've only got two mages and they will need to heal each other before too long. Both can only use so much magic at a time and will become useless if they cannot regain their full capabilities one day for any reason. The nature of the Beyond means that both will need regular sleep which means they will need to take shifts.
You feel torn as you stare at your timetable. You want to put your faith in healers, in the arts that have always served your people before. Yet you cannot, for these are not your people. With that removed as an option the next best thing would be to have 8 hour alternating shifts, though such a schedule would all but guarantee some losses it would not risk total collapse. You do not do this either. Perhaps it is your pride that refuses to accept anything less than total success. Perhaps it is some vision of the future such as your people are known to have. You decide to take a risk. You assign Merrill and Marethari to twelve hour shifts. To heal everyone who passes a certain threshold of the infection regardless of how likely they are to survive. As you tell them of the plan you have made, they look at you as though you were mad.
"We can't possibly sustain this. We'll burn out of magic before the first shift is up." Marethari says, voice coloured by disbelief.
You look her straight in the eye and say in as serious a manner as you can. "Your Beyond is close to the physical world here, you should be able to extend beyond your usual limits. You will succeed. I am certain of it."
A few moments pass and Marethari scoffs. "You're crazy, but somehow still convincing. We'll try."
People really need to stop doubting you. Marethari and Merrill manage each of their first shifts. Both seem as though they have run a marathon then fought a troll at the end of it, admittedly. But they are then given twelve hours of sleep and rest in which to recover. You doubt they would be able to keep up the pace indefinitely, but you do not need them to. Your days are no more restful than theirs. The last of the healers is now bedridden and you spend every waking hour examining the sick, determining who needs magical healing and often have to personally carry them to the mages. You are grateful to have two hands again, experience has taught you that carrying people with only one is a very unpleasant challenge. One by one your helpers become unable to aid you, those who have had symptoms cured by magic are left in bed for fear of hastening the return of said symptoms. There is one excruciating day when both Merrill and Marethari are showing signs of infection and you are the only one still on their feet. It seems as though it is the end. Then a fever breaks, and a second. The day after that sees several people return to their feet, now immune to the illness. By ensuring they heal each other at the beginning of their shifts Merrill and Marethari are able to keep each other from collapsing. By the last day of the week, it is clear that you have succeeded. The clan has not lost a single member to the disease, and they are one and all immune now.
You do not attend the party that celebrates the last recovery, Merrill. You sneak away to the wagon where you have slept the last month and collapse gratefully into bed. You can count the hours you have slept this week on one hand. Despite the bone deep weariness this has caused, despite the way the clan had turned on you in fear you cannot help but smile.
"Apairënya"
You awaken after nearly twelve hours of sleep to face a new week. You once again consider if the time has come to leave. Your last week has been a time of great trial for the clan but you have every confidence that they will recover.
As you head out to go about your day you find yourself almost constantly stopped by various clan members. You can barely take ten steps without another coming to speak to you
"Thank you." One says, clasping your hand.
"You saved my life." Another says
A mother of three wraps you in her arms and weeps. You think she was attempting to thank you, but it was completely lost in her sobs.
"I'm sorry I ever doubted you." That phrase or variants of it is a pretty common comment from your well-wishers.
Disturbed by the sudden about face in perception among the clan you head to the keeper to find out what is going on.
"Oh? What's going on?" Marethari is looking far too amused for such a serious conversation. "People are simply grateful for all your help."
"They thought I was bringing the plague as a punishment from your gods not two days ago." You flatly state.
"Well it's possible that after you slunk off to sleep someone might have speculated that you'd caught the disease yourself. Then one of the healers mentioned that you'd been in a daze for about three days now and had likely been sick and hiding it. Which then could have led to a discussion of what you were doing all week. If our shared student had been there, she would have gushed about how you stepped in to ensure that everyone was healed. It's all speculation of course, since someone wasn't at the party last night. All I can say for certain is that as of about two hours ago a red cloak was the official sign of a healer."
You look at her for several seconds. Then you throw your hands up in the air and stalk away. These people! You will never understand them.
Apairënya: My victory/I win.