Finally, after riding all over the lands managing the construction of your road, you reach Gladesville. Cheerful greetings are called out to you as you ride in. Graham and his sons in their field wave as you pass. Ovid and his rude sister call out a profanity laden greeting you as their various spawn look on with rapt fascination. The whole town seems to be moving along with a smoothness that was missing previously. Between the bright sunshine, birdsong and the cheerful atmosphere you believe that even the spirit of the weariest Eldar would be lifted.
You come up to the brothers in charge of building. Maron and Lauron greet you in the politest manner the surly pair can manage. You return their greeting as you send Orundómë to graze by the walls.
"Have you been keeping busy?" You ask the pair.
"Fairly." Lauron replies.
"We've mostly been building up houses, is what he means to say. It's honest work, not particularly hard or dangerous." Maron elaborates.
"I am glad to hear of it. Are you willing to aid me in further construction projects, or allow me to aid you in what you have planned?" You inquire.
"Sure, could always use more hands if nothing else." Maron says.
You walk into the warehouse, where the builders have taken up a small corner for plans and drawings.
"We're mostly focused on housing, 'cause everyone needs some and we're not in the best shape." Maron begins.
"We're double, or in some places triple, bunking right now. Everybody's bein' a good sport about it so far, but no one wants to sleep in a tent or someone else's house." Lauron continues.
"That is rather unfortunate, I had hope you would be able to assist me with expanding our road network." You tell them.
"We can do that." Maron replies.
"We ain't gonna be able to do anything else though." Lauron continues.
"Perhaps it would help if I explained what the others are doing." You begin.
"Don't much matter to us." Maron interrupts. "You want us working on this we ain't gonna work on anything else."
"It ain't just housing neither." Lauron continues. "We got the religious types clamouring for a church, the leather workers bellyachin' about havin' to work outside and if I have to stand under a tarp for a vote one more time I'm gonna scream."
"Oh you're always bellyachin' about something Lauron." Maron replies.
"Peace." You say, long used to ending brotherly arguments. "We should focus on the work before us and not the reasons it is here."
You look over the plans. The two brothers know their craft well but some of their designs could be touched up a little. You might also be able to convince people to work on this, with coin or words, that they cannot. Unfortunately, you have spent most of the week on the road and you do not want to spend too long here. You only have the time for one of the projects currently ongoing.
As useful and versatile as a hall would be, especially since you know the locals get prickly about their religion, there is only one thing that is truly needed here. Although they are building their own, the simple fact is that you can do more to aid them if you help them complete their houses. Sleeping in someone else's house is a depressing experience, one you yourself have experienced far too often.
"We will be working on the housing situation." You say.
Lauron rolls his eyes. "Really? I would never have guessed."
You look at him. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."
"Pretty witless to be saying things we jus' told you as well." He replies.
Maron, a good older brother, puts and end to the developing argument. "Well, now that that's decided, grab those tools and…"
You interrupt him. "Actually, if you will wait a moment I think I have a better way to aid you."
You spread out their designs and grab a pen. Building things is not your strongest skill, but designing things is an entirely different beast.
Your pen flies across the page. How to house large numbers of men in a short amount of time has been a persistent problem in your life. You have a great deal of experience in doing so, and it shows in your designs. You wish you had more materials to work with than wood, but you make do with what you have. You could do better if you had more time, but the perfect is the enemy of the good.
"If we follow this design, it will be much easier to build, we have a high chance of getting more than one person housed this week if we follow it." You say, handing your sketches over to the brothers.
"My mother! Where did you learn to draw?" Lauron yells.
"There is no need to be so cruel, it is just a rough sketch." You tell him, frowning.
"It is more than sufficient." Maron opines, he lowers the sketch and looks you in the eyes. "You've done this sort of thing before I take it?"
You shrug. "I have always had other people to do the actual building, but I have designed many a camp and fortress in my life."
The brothers look at each other, and the nod. The three of you get to work on your design.
You firmly believe that everyone deserves their own house. You had grown up in a family house and it would be an acceptable alternative, but why compromise when a dwelling for everyone is an option. Your experience with your brothers has long proven that people are often happiest when they have their own space they can retreat to. Your design does not depart radically from what the brothers are familiar with, it simply trims that which is superfluous. It is in the small changes, keeping internal walls to a minimum, using some cunning geometry to make something feel bigger than it is, and all the other things that make Eldar housing feel grander than the work of human hands.
You and the brothers get to work. You are only here for the rest of today, so you need to make the most of it. You end up working on an entirely separate house, they put up one the way they know while you put up one using your techniques to demonstrate their superiority. By the time the sun is sinking low on the horizon, you have a finished house while they have only managed half of one. You walk them through it, showing them how it is actually smaller than theirs, despite feeling just as big. You go into detail about how you constructed the various features and defend your choice to put a small fence around the house to contain a garden. When all is done, they invite you to continue the discussion over dinner. You sadly must decline their offer; you need to get back home.
As you walk towards your horse in the fading light, the brothers accompany you to 'see you off'.
"Thanks for the advice. I think we'll be able to get the housing done in a few weeks this way." Maron tells you.
"I still say he used some kind of magic to get it done that fast. There is no way we're getting a whole house up in a day." Lauron grumbles.
You laugh lightly. "If you get them up in two days it will still be an improvement over the one a week you were doing before."
"It's not our fault! Getting building materials out here is a damn nightmare." Lauron protests.
"Well I will be building a road to the local villages and the Dalish in the next few days. Trade should no longer take so long to travel anywhere." You inform him.
The first thing in the morning after you finish work in Gladesville you travel about the local villages finding everyone who is willing to work on your road building project. There is a fair amount of interest, since the work is local and temporary there are more than a few people looking for some spending money on part time work. Looking over the enormous crowd you gathered you divide them all up into teams.
The idea of a single team is tempting to you since you do not trust the humans much. However, when everything is considered, your best option is the fifteen man teams. The only real challenge you have in assembling such teams is finding someone to act as the foreman. You do find three people who seem either honest or bad enough at lying that you are confident you can keep an eye on them. With your foremen chosen you assign each fourteen of your temporary hires, for a total of forty five workers. You internally wince at how much this is going to cost.
You go over the plans with each of the groups. You indicate the terrain they are supposed to cover, which you have marked on their behalf. You discuss where they are going to be getting their stone from, often having to include details of where they are going to be meeting up with the contact in the local area. You end up providing them all with a copy of your roughly scrawled map, in addition to leading them to the places where they are going to start work from. The starting point being the place where the member of the trade network lives, obviously.
You spend the next three days on Orundómë's back. Your workers claim you have an uncanny knack for showing up just when a problem that needs your attention has arisen. You tell them it is simply experience, but they do not believe you. You manage to catch a few people who were trying to sneak away with a day's pay before they finish work. Your long lectures about responsibility and the importance of reputation quickly become known as a 'fate worse than death'. The people on the receiving end of them do actually finish their work though, so you consider it a victory.
Work proceeds at an incredible pace, especially after you accidentally infect your labourers with an Eldarin work song. The song keeps the workers at a pace the fastest they can without harming themselves. Many of them report being completely unable to forget it, despite not understanding the words. As a result you, quite by accident, prevent the foremen from dragging out the work for extra pay. In fact, you are finished a whole day early. Since you have the extra time, you dismiss the foremen entirely and lead the workers yourself. Since you have additional time, and the noble gave you permission to use all the stone in the warehouse, you extend your road further.
Finding the entrance to something called the 'deep roads' should not have been as easy as it was. Once it is found you barely even need to use the noble's stone. The Deep Roads are in terrible disrepair, and there is stone just there for the taking. You join in personally, leading the work song. You manage to finish this extension of the road before sunset, and there is cheering and cries from all the workers. Your ride home for a rest is a wonder. On a road Orundómë chews through distance at a speed you barely believe, and you make it back without even one assault on your person.
You hear rumours that the noble you got permission from is in talks with your workers to maybe redo the roads in their area in stone. Apparently, the merchants have given your work glowing reviews, and the fact that the road seems impervious to physical and magical corruption is causing some of the local religious to sing your praises. As for the people you care about, they are all happy to have an easy path to the centre of their trade network. You even hear that some of their merchants are going directly to the source as well as visiting you.
You return from nearly a full week of travel, only having stopped briefly to drop Xandar off or sleep, leaving first thing in the morning. You are tired and you are ready for bed. Your guards greet you and, while you lead Orundómë to the stables, you exchange pleasantries with them. You are just in time for dinner, and the housekeeping staff are hard at work. You smile, pleased to see everything working so smoothly in this place you have come to call home. Then, without warning, your instincts scream of danger.
The world twists, to your perception at least, and the ground shudders. Your guards are nervous, gripping their practice weapons as though they were real. Then there is an earth rattling explosion. You feel as the defences of the walls groan beneath the strain. The housekeepers run out, the various other staff hot on their heels. They crowd around you, looking for direction or an explanation. There is a great deal of panic and everyone is talking over each other.
"Silence." You do not yell, but your voice is projected loud enough to cut through the noise. "Please follow Anneth to the gate. I will go investigate the explosion and see what is going on."
With direction given the staff settle down and leave to assemble in an orderly fashion. You make a quick pass to see who might be missing, Merrill is. You have a sneaking suspicion about where the explosion may have come from. You try to keep your mind in the here and now, and off useless self-recrimination. You should have been more wary when she was 'too busy' for a lesson. No! Here and now, see if she is hurt and what that explosion was. Her room is empty, and she is not in the courtyard, she must have been in the study.
The study is a mess. Desks and shelves have been overturned and set on fire. The notes that Merrill had clung to are scattered about the room, mercifully not burning yet. The elf herself lies on her back in the middle of the room, eyes closed and seemingly unharmed. You know what you are looking at almost instantly, you have seen it many times in your life. Someone tried to put a song of power together, and they failed in the worst way possible. Concern for Merrill quickly overcomes your anger at her recklessness, head injuries can be subtle and serious. More than once you have seen a Quendi appear unharmed, yet still die of an invisible head wound. Naturally, you hurry to the side of your fallen student.
As you reach her, you detect a sudden overwhelming sense of the wrongness you associate with demons. Merrill's eyes snap open and focus on your face. Her lips draw back into a sadistic grin.
"Oh Darling! How nice of you to come and wake me." She purrs.
You know this is not Merrill, you have enough experience with houseless to make the link from this change in behaviour to her talk of demonic possession.
"Let her go, demon." You say, voice flat and cold.
"Oh but darling." The creature says, drawing Merrill's body up in a motion she would never make. "I'm finally out. And I can finally grant your desire."
"I want nothing from you. Release my student. Now!" You say, hand resting on your sword hilt.
"Oh but don't you remember?" The demon simpers. "You wished I did not exist. I can't do that unfortunately."
The demon twists Merrill's face into a rictus of cruel glee, as she roars, "But I can make you stop existing!"
The demon gathers Merrill power, in preparation for some spell, but you are faster. Aided by the 'reality' that is pressed into the walls around you, the fade energy in the room snaps into the pattern reinforcing the rules of the world. The magic the demon has gathered through Merrill fades away to nothing.
"What!" The creature shrieks, looking all around her. "A Templar? Where?"
"Release her creature. Do so and I may yet show you mercy." You demand again. "I have asked you three times now; I will not ask again."
The creature turns to you. "What are you going to do? Are you going to do? Are you going to kill me?"
At this point, the demon shifts her body language to be closer to Merrill's. Closer, but not exact, it is far too demure and Merrill has never looked at you with watery eyes better suited to a child.
"Please Nelyafinwë. You wouldn't hurt me, would you?" The demon says, its voice a caricature of pitiful begging.
"I will hurt you all that I wish, demon. I will not leave Merrill to your clutches." You snarl.
The demon is right on one thing, you cannot hurt your student. If she is even still in there. You extend your thoughts towards Merrill. You fear that she has been displaced, her soul sped away by the demon. You feel the demon clawing at your mind, desperately searching for purchase but finding none. You brush gently against Merrill's mind, fogged and distant as though in a heavy sleep, but present. When you do so you idly note the demon throwing Merrill's body at you physically. You, being significantly taller, heavier and stronger, have not trouble immobilising it. While you do so you consider waking Merrill up, calling her to fight off the demon alone. You hesitate to do so though; you know houseless have ways of binding or subjugating or even exiling the spirt of those they possess.
The thought of houseless gives you an idea, even as the demon ceases her struggles and tries a new tactic.
"Oh no, my darling has trapped me. I can't stop him from doing whatever he wants to me." It licks Merrill's lips, leering at you.
You ignore her, trying to remember all you know of casting a houseless from its host.
"Don't ignore me!" The demon snaps in Merrill's voice. "I can tell you desire this mage, I can give her to you. I can even be her if that's what you want."
The creature's pleading and bargaining is distracting you. You shift around to free a hand, and use it cover Merrill's mouth, putting an end to the noise. Then you focus your mind on the art of casting possession away.
"Out demon, I draw you forth as poison from a wound." You begin, changing words on the fly to fit this spell for a new target. "Depart this body, for it is not yours. Merrill, First of the Sabrae, I release you."
"It is mine! You have no power over me!" The demon screeches.
"I call upon Mandos, oh great lord of the dead! Take this creature back into your halls, cut the bonds that bind it to the world and let the wind carry it away!" You continue.
The creature lets out a mocking laugh. "Your gods are gone fool! They are all dead and gone! Is this the power I feared, it is light as a feather!"
Right, spirits are not houseless. Unbound by Mandos, his name likely means nothing to them. Your mind speeds like the wind, restructuring the spell into something relevant that maintains the power you need.
"MANWË! Hear me!" You roar, the walls glowing as the defences add their strength to yours. "Oh lord of justice, farsighted and wise! Here an abomination stands, twisted from grand purpose. It seeks to usurp the rights of those children that look to you in hope! Cast it forth, send it back to the shadows whence it came, let it trouble not the living again!"
"Hah! You do not listen, do you?" The demon begins its struggles anew. "You will fail, mage. Wouldn't you rather strike a deal? I let your lover go and I take you instead. Isn't that the noble thing to do?"
You ignore the demon's words, for you felt the spell catch onto it. Perhaps by the providence of Eru, or perhaps by the might of the Valar it matters little. You now have all you need to cast the creature out.
"Go back to the shadows, demon! Crawl away like the snake you are. OUT!" You cry, that is one.
The demon widens Merrill's eyes, feeling your power begin to compel it to action. "What have you done? How is this possible!?"
"Mandos! Manwë! Varda! By the Valar's names I cast you out. BEGONE!" The walls shake with the might of your voice, two.
"No! I won't, I've come too far! You cannot do this!" Merrill's voice sounds small and weak after your own great cries.
"Eru Illúvatar! Maker of all! To your child's aid! In his name I command a third time, GO!" You roar.
Something within Merrill surges, as though in response to your words, and there is a long drawn out scream from her lips. Then her eyes roll back into her head and her body goes limp.
Your hands, shaking with a mix of fear and exertion, find a pulse even as your mind extends to seek the demon. You breathe a sigh of relief. Merrill's pulse is elevated, but present and her mind is clear of the demon's influence. You feel the distant sensation of others seeking to take advantage of Merrill's weakened state, so you wrap her spirit in your own, even as you carry her to the house of healing.
Nearly three hours Merrill lies, still as death. You call your staff back in and tell them that the danger has passed. You keep the nature of the danger quiet, merely telling them one of Merrill's experiments went poorly. After that is done, you sit as a sentinel at Merrill's bedside. Xandar comes, using all his knowledge of healing and his magic to ensure there is nothing physically wrong with her. You watch for spiritual dangers, determined to not allow what happened earlier to transpire again. Finally, Merrill stirs, and her eyes open.
"Nelyafinwë? What, what happened? It's all so hazy." She says.
You have had three hours to think on your response, and on how you feel about what happened.
"I am sorry Merrill." You tell her, looking into her eyes with all the seriousness you can muster. "I am your teacher, it is my role to protect you from things you are not yet ready for, and I… I…"
It is still difficult to admit it out loud, you hate to do so. Eventually, after a long internal struggle, you manage to force the phrase out.
"I failed you."
"What! No! I mean, it could have happened to anyone. It's not like you brought the demon here or something." Merrill shoots into a sitting position as she denies your words furiously, waving her arms about.
"Merrill." Your words cause her to fall silent. "How many failed songs of power do you think I have seen?"
Guilt flashes across your student's face. "Ah, well. That is to say. Why do you ask?"
"Hundreds. My own and those of my family." You tell her, voice still gentle. "I recognised what you had done almost immediately. Even if I had not, your response just now confirms it. You tried to create a song of power on your own."
"Well you see the thing is…" Merrill begins, sounding very guilty.
"That is why I am apologising." You interrupt her.
She is very clearly surprised, she likely assumed you were going to scold her. Which you will, later. Right now, you need to acknowledge your own role in this and seek forgiveness for it.
"You are my student, the first of those of whom I am responsible. Yet I have neglected to teach you. I grew too concerned with the other things I have been doing and left you alone to make a grave mistake. I can only acknowledge my failing in this matter and do better in future." You apologise to your student.
"What?" Merrill seems genuinely taken aback. "I mean, you had no way of knowing what would happen. Did you?"
You sigh, slumping back in your chair. The moon casts its light through the window, it is an hour past midnight and your body is crying for rest.
"Not exactly." You say, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "I warned you that you might be exhausted by trying this too early, and that you might die. I did not mention why. The problem with songs of creation is that they are draining not on a physical level, but a spiritual one."
Merrill looks up at you in confusion, having lain back down some point earlier.
With another sigh you continue. "Have you ever heard the saying that one cannot create something without putting something of themselves into it?"
Merrill nods slowly. Then her eyes widen in understanding.
"There is a reason Finrod fell after Sauron invoked the first kinslaying." You say, expression bitter. "The most effective attacks in a duel of song are always on the person, not their weaving. I can only assume, given that you are before me unharmed, that the demon took advantage of your diminished spirit to; well to do what it did."
"My soul was weakened?" Merrill shoots back up, looking all over herself. "Is it permanent? Can it be fixed? Oh, this is so much worse than I thought!"
You cannot help yourself; you laugh. Merrill is so very herself, even after all that has happened.
"I'm serious here!" Merrill snaps. "This is no time for laughing!"
"Forgive me." You choke out, trying to get a handle on your mirth. "I do not mean to dismiss your concerns. Your soul is fine. It is simply the spiritual equivalent of overstretching a muscle. It will recover, and perhaps be stronger for it."
"Oh." Merrill deflates, anger draining out of her. "I guess that would make my reaction funny."
"No. Your concern was fair, I would be the same in your position." You say, finally putting a lid on your laughter.
There is a moment of silence before Merrill speaks once more. "It's not just your fault. You offered to teach me this weak, but I just. I wanted to prove that I could do it on my own. I wanted to be able to do the things you do, so badly."
You nod, reaching out to clasp her shoulder. "Well do I understand the lengths to which pride can drive us. That does not absolve my guilt."
Merrill looks straight at you. "Nor mine. We're both at fault here."
Her jaw is set in a stubborn cast, and her tone dares you to disagree with her.
"Well if you like, I do have a rather lengthy rant about how moronic trying this without supervision was prepared." You jest lightly.
Merrill grimaces as though she has been handed a foul smelling dish. "On second thoughts, it's late. We should go to bed."
"Very well then. Sleep well. We will have a lesson tomorrow" You rise with a chuckle and walk towards the door.
"Nelyafinwë?" Merrill says, just before you leave.
"Yes, Merrill?" You say, turning to face her.
Highlighted by the moon, you see your student is fiddling with her blanket. "I remember some things. From the uh…"
"Incident?" You suggest.
"Yes. The incident." Merrill seizes on your suggestion. "And I remember the demon said something about you."
Merrill cheeks go bright red and her voice falls to a whisper. "Desiring me?"
You run your hand through your hair and heave a sigh. "Merrill. When she said that, you were in the clutches of an enemy. At that moment there was no greater desire in my heart than to retrieve you from her."
"Oh." Merrll says, shrinking into herself.
"It is a well-known fact that those corrupted by evil struggle to comprehend anything unselfish. That the demon interpreted my desire for your wellbeing as lust is hardly surprising. You are my student, and I care for you in that way. Is there anything else?" You say, gently.
"No." Merrill says, lying down facing the wall. "Goodnight."
The door closes with a click, disturbingly final in the night.