Ophelia is making good progress; you are pleased with how she is managing so far. She could be better, obviously, but for someone who has only studied for two weeks she is quite impressive. That does not mean you are going to end her lessons; the more mistakes you make with a teacher the fewer true consequences you experience. This is why you are mounting Orundómë to ride to Gladesville for the third time in as many weeks. You intend to leave Ophelia as the true ruler of Gladesville, and you are unwilling to cease her lessons until she is ready for that lofty responsibility.
The ride is peaceful, the various creatures of the forest seem to dislike your road for some reason. You make excellent time, as you always do with the lord of horses beneath you. You ride through the gates with no attempt to hide your identity this time. To your mild confusion, the pigs all greet you when you arrive, snuffling at you before going about their pig business. You find Ophelia hard at work, discussing hunting grounds with her people. It seems the Dalish are intruding into the areas Ranger designated for them, and they need to move. Not wanting to interrupt, you hang back until she is finished speaking.
"Lord Nelyafinwë!" Ophelia greets enthusiastically. "Welcome to our village."
"I thought I told you that I was not, legally, a lord." You reply lightly. "Thank you for the welcome though."
Ophelia rubs the back of her head. "I know that, sir. But it feels disrespectful to call you by just your name, you know? There isn't really a better title for you."
You take a moment to run through the quenya titles you qualify for, you find one that might work in this case. "How do you care for the sound of Aráto?"
Ophelia takes a moment to understand your words, then she comments. "I don't know what that means. Arato… it's alright I guess."
"No Aráto, stress on the á. It means 'one who stands to support or defend'." You clarify.
"Oh! Like a champion?" Ophelia's eyes widen in realisation.
"Yes! That is the word, champion. Or was it noble?" You frown in concentration.
The exact translations of Quenya words into Thedaslta is always challenging, many words have different connotations than their direct translations.
"Alright, 'Arato' Nelyafinwë. What can I do for you?" Ophelia seems to find the title more amusing than respectful, but at least she does not say it mockingly.
"I am here to continue your instruction in the art of leading your people." You inform her.
"Oh?" Ophelia does not seem to be as enthused about that as she had been previously. "Am I doing that badly? I mean, ever since I got picked you've been here every week. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I, I guess I just feel like you want to be doing this not me."
You should have expected this to rear its head at some point. All humans crave power, even if they do not mean to acquire it for selfish reasons. Having to be instructed frequently would likely make her feel like her decisions do not matter. If her decisions do not matter, she has no power.
With this in mind you place your hand on her shoulder and bend down to speak on her level. "Ophelia, you are the person I trust most to lead this village. I instruct you, not because you are doing badly but because you are doing well. No one can be expected to begin leading without instruction, and I want to see the great leader I can see within you realised. If I leave you now, you will be passable but not great. I do not want that for you."
Ophelia matches your gaze for a long moment. Then she looks to the side for a short while. Finally, she meets your eyes again and nods.
A smile breaks across her face. "I guess I was being pretty silly. If it were easy there would be no need to have a leader at all, right?"
You match her smile with your own. "Exactly, now we have much to cover and little time in which to do so."
"So what are we doing today, Arato? More stuff on advisors?" Ophelia bounces in place with newfound eagerness
A worthy question, she could use some lessons in rhetoric. You have just seen how important the right word at the right time can be. Unfortunately, there are more pressing facets of leadership that she needs to learn. Right now, the most useful thing to teach her is how to recruit people.
"Today we are going to be covering who you should allow to join you." You inform her. "We will work of separating those who are useful from those who are not, as well as how to convince those who are not yet convinced."
"Sure thing Arato!" Ophelia says.
"For someone who does not know how to say it properly, you are using that title a lot." You observe.
Ophelia grins at you. "You said it was a respectful title and it's way easier to say than Nelyafinwe. I still can't tell if it's meant to be said with a V or a W."
"The sound is in some debate, it depends on the dialect. And the ë should be stressed, much like the á in aráto." You point out to your student.
"You got it Arato. I'll try harder." Ophelia replies.
"Let us move on to the lesson before my father returns from Mandos, driven solely by vengeful linguistic fury." You sigh.
The lesson is not particularly great, nor is it particularly bad. It is simply a topic that does not come naturally to Ophelia. You in turn struggle to convey certain parts that come naturally to you. You do manage to get the most important points across though.
"Generally, if you comport yourself well then people will be more willing to listen to you." You explain.
"Is that why nobles talk funny? And you too?" Ophelia asks.
"The complexities of the class divisions in language are beyond the scope of this lesson, but in part yes." You reply.
"Ok, so is that it?" Ophelia tilts her head to one side.
"No." You put an end to that line of thought. "You also need to understand your audience, appeal to what they want and make sure you can actually deliver on your promises."
"Really? Cause I thought most nobles didn't care." Ophelia huffs, clearly annoyed at her previous ruler.
"The sad truth is that many nobles are poor leaders. A leader's word should be his most cherished possession, given sparingly and always followed through on. If your people do not trust you, they will not follow you." Though there are complexities in specific circumstances, the principle is true.
You do not want to simply lecture Ophelia, especially since she seems to be struggling with the topic.
"I think you will be best served by a practical element to these lessons." You observe.
"What do you mean?" Your student's lack of understanding did not need to be voiced; it was written on her face.
"I mean I think a demonstration or perhaps an attempt to recruit someone yourself will help you more than further explanation." You clarify.
"Oooh. Cool. What am I doing?" She asks eagerly.
It is a very close call, you think that a demonstration would be of assistance to Ophelia. If it were not for the fact that you had already recruited the people you needed for your orchard you would almost certainly have brought her along to do so. As things stand, it is far better to have her go about attempting to drum up interest in the village.
"Are you sure? That sounds kind of…" Ophelia trails off, uncertain.
"Easy? Pointless?" You prompt.
"Something like that." She says running her hand through a strand of her hair.
"It is meant to be a low stakes challenge. If you fail there is no great loss, knowledge will be your reward for success." You inform the young leader.
Ophelia sees your reasoning, though you are not certain that she agrees with it. You lead her away from the village, riding on Orundómë, to speak to as many people as possible. When you arrive at Lannerch, since the fair will have the greatest potential for prospective villagers, you ask her what she plans to say.
"Oh, um. I hadn't really thought of that. What do you suggest?" Ophelia replies.
"Telling you what to say would defeat the point of the exercise." You tell her.
"Ok, I can do this." Ophelia says to herself.
To say that Ophelia does a poor job would be cruelly dismissive of her efforts. She pours her heart and soul into her attempt to convince people that Gladesville is worth their time. Unfortunately, you suspect this is part of the reason she fails. She is passionate about the chance to escape the neglect of the local nobles and often gets too personal when talking to people. There is also a question of audience, those at the fair are those who are doing fine in the current system. A message of a better life does not land as well with them as it would with those who are struggling.
Ophelia is dejected on the ride back. You urge Orundómë to slow so that you may speak to her.
"What do you think you could have done better?" You ask her.
She looks at you in disbelief. "Everything? Nothing I said mattered. Nobody cared."
You shake your head. "Some people cared, they are simply content with what they already have. Your problem was that you did not consider what others might be experiencing, and that it might be different to what you have experienced."
"Still failed." Ophelia mutters.
"Any event that you learn from is not a failure. If you simply throw your hands up in despair, then yes you are a failure. If you heed my words and learn from your mistakes, you have succeeded. This was a lesson after all." You remind her.
She does indeed heed your words, and will hopefully become more empathetic in future.
You are most displeased by the tale of a spirit possessed spider. Xandar had maintained that it was not hostile, but you find possession a worrying thing in and of itself. The fact that the spirit possesses something as filled with darkness as one of the Ungweliantësen is hardly a comfort to you. You intend to find the creature, confront it and in all likelihood destroy it. As is becoming your custom, you first speak to Merrill about the matter. Aiming to discern if there may be layers of the matter you miss due to hailing from distant lands.
"Strictly speaking it is no different from any other abomination." Merrill answers your inquiries. "The main concern, when not dealing with a mage, is the power of the spirit in question."
"Which we do not know." You finish for her.
"We know a few things." Merrill offers. "It can charm people somehow, and it can control their perception once charmed."
"So that would make it a spirit of love then?" You ask, only partially jesting.
Merrill's shocked giggle is quickly fought back. "Not likely, those tend to become desire demons or be far gentler. It's probably something like delusion or madness."
Wonderful, you are sure nothing good could possibly come from a Noldo descending into madness. You will need to take great care in this matter.
"Do you have any advice? Beyond slaying it from a distance so that it cannot speak, that is obvious." You inquire.
Merrill gives you a helpless look. "I don't know. Part of me wants to talk with it, it seems like it would be an enlightening conversation. But it seems to use words to spread whatever it is that enslaved that bear, so it's too dangerous to talk to. I might have risked it once, but I like to think I can take a hint from the universe."
"I suppose the only remaining question is if there is any benefit to banishing the spirit rather than killing its host." You note.
Merrill's face takes on a thoughtful cast. "There might be actually. The spirit is clearly maintaining its intelligence, and it was not immediately hostile. It might not be a demon. If that is the case then it had to have come through the Veil somehow, and banishing it would let us isolate it, maybe speak to it safely."
"Why do you think it must have passed through the Veil? The Incident had no such requirement." You ask your student.
"Well, mostly because I've never heard of a spirit possessing something without leaving the Beyond that wasn't a demon." Merrill admits awkwardly.
"So it could very well be a demon, and no different from a Sylvan in practical terms." You clarify.
Merrill nods in response.
"I think it might be best if I simply end the creature, ending its suffering and freeing the bear." You give your opinion without allowing emotion to colour your words. "Ideally I would do so from a great distance to minimise risk to myself."
Merrill gives a worried smile. "Just don't nearly shoot your own allies this time."
You grimace. "I am rather out of practise with the bow I admit. I will not be as far away as I would like."
"Just be safe. If the spirit twists your perception, I don't think anyone here could stop you." Merrill beseeches you.
"Orundómë could." You point out.
Based on Merrill's expression, you do not think she realises that you were serious.
"Then, if there is nothing further to discuss, I will depart in an hour." You remark.
"Are you going alone?" Merrill inquires, nervously.
"Obviously not." You observe dryly. "If I attempted to do so, I suspect I would find you hot on my heels."
Merrill has the good grace to look guilty. "I'm just worried about you. You might not be gone if you die, but I'd still never see you again."
You chuckle. "I am far harder to kill than you seem to think. But that is neither here nor there. I will also be bringing Anneth. I would have a second bow and sword as we face this creature."
"Right, should I let her know?" Merrill asks.
You shake your head. "I will inform her, you make ready to leave."
Anneth is armed and armoured when you find her. On your advice she keeps a pack with supplies for a day or two's journey ready by the stable. You expect your cavalry to hold themselves to the same standards of readiness you do. As a result, both she and you are ready well before Merrill arrives. During the time you are waiting Anneth takes the time to ask you what you are going to be doing.
"We hunt a spirit or demon that has taken possession of the body of a spider. It has powers that allow it to control how you perceive the world." You inform her.
Your commander swallows nervously. "We're going to kill an abomination?"
"Yes. There is no need for fear. I intend to stay well away from the creature lest we be ensnared." You reassure the woman.
It is at this point that Merrill arrives and your small party departs.
Ranger gave exact directions, impressive considering his distraction during the events of last week. You and your two companions ride at a steady pace along the road.
"So, Anneth?" Merrill asks behind you.
"Yes." The warrior answers.
Merrill pauses, clearly searching for something to say. "What's your horse's name. Mine's called Da'banal'ras, it means little shadow."
"Our horses have no names, they are shared between us and no one has named them yet." Anneth does not sound interested in this conversation.
"Oh." Merrill falls quiet, clearly unsure of how to continue.
Merrill sounds dejected, and this ride is very boring. You decide to help her out.
"What about Tulka Rocco?" You suggest.
"What?" The two women chorus.
"For a name, it means yellow horse." You explain.
You manage to draw both of them into a conversation about good names. By the time the conversation ends, Anneth and Merrill are slightly less awkward around each other. They had eventually settled on Strawberry for some reason, overriding your reasonable point that the horse was not red.
You do not want the creature to detect you, so you and your companions fall silent and dismount when you approach the area Ranger described. Your movement towards the clearing is slow and painful. None of you are particularly gifted in stealth, and you doubt your passage goes unnoticed. You catch sight of the clearing, yet you see no one within. Though it seems that you have arrived too late, and the creature has left, Merrill seems to be growing only more tense.
"What is it?" You ask her.
"I think I see it. In the treetops there." She points at an empty tree.
"Merrill, nothing is there." You reply, but she does not seem to hear you.
"Hello Knowledge." The presence that touches your thoughts is, to but it bluntly, euphoric. You get the impression that whatever it is it dwells in a state of almost permanent bliss. "I had not expected you to come visit me."
"You have me at something of a disadvantage. Might I know your name." You stall, trying to figure out how it has ensnared Merrill and Anneth.
The presence ripples, in a manner that you think is akin to laughter. "Of course, you would hate not knowing something. I am Joy."
Just because you are not a spirit does not mean you enjoy ignorance. "Truly? I would have thought you were Madness."
More rippling. "Madness tends to be far more, shall we say chaotic. I simply enjoy everything. Each new experience is a delight."
The creature is starting to go on an extend rant about the things it likes. You shore up your mental defences and begin examining the area in detail. You extend your senses as much as you dare and quickly discover what is happening. Thin lines of fade energy stretch across the forest, leading to the foreheads of various creatures, including Merrill and Anneth. The line of energy lead back to the creature in question, which has buried itself beneath the ground. That makes this simple then.
The energy resists your will for a moment, but you did not pass through the fire of dragons and the torment of Thrangodrim by being weak of will. You press still harder and the energy slowly accepts your view of reality into itself.
"What have you done!" The spider's body bursts through the ground chittering and foaming.
"Merrill, Anneth are you well?" You snap.
Anneth shakes herself and nods, but Merrill cries out. "No! I was so close!"
"It was not real Merrill." You begin.
"I know that, but I nearly figured out how it was doing that. I can probably use it to catch the spirit and draw it out, maybe, in theory." Merrill babbles.
"Sir, we're out of time." Anneth says as the spider's body charges in your direction.
"I hope you know what you are doing Merrill." You yell. "Anneth, be ready to receive the charge if this does not work."
Anneth raises her shield and braces behind it. Since you do not have one of your own, you brace against her. You take a deep breath, and drop the field preventing magic from being used.
"So do I." Merrill replies as she begins to mover her staff. "Fen'harel, let my deception be strong, and my prey not see my trap until it is too late."
You feel the thread of Fade energy extending past you as Merrill reaches out to ensnare the spirit within it.
The spider screeches, the voice of the spirit firmly blocked out by your mental defences. You fear that it might take the opportunity to ensnare your companions once more but is seems far too enraged. Anneth's eyes glimmer with fear as the enormous creature bears down on the two of you. Merrill curses behind you and you feel the fade energy waver for a moment. You are about to extend your sword to catch the charge when the creature stumbles to a halt. You see a faint outline glowing in the air behind it, and you sense the presence of that euphoric feeling.
"I did it." Merrill breathes, half exhausted and half amazed. "I caught the spirit."
You turn to congratulate her when the spider shrieks once more. Resuming its charge. You had assumed, foolishly, that the spider would not attack once freed. Which is, you now realise, the opposite of how the spiders of this wood have acted previously. You reach for your sword, ready to intervene. Anneth, meanwhile, steps forward faster than you could possibly manage right now, to meet the creature. Unlike you and Merrill she had no idea what was going on and had not been distracted. As such she is the only person still in position, ready to meet the charge.
With deft positioning, she slides the beast's attack off her shield. Aided by the fact that the momentary halt had stolen much of its momentum. For a moment she is a red pillar in contrast to a mass of sickly grey flesh and banded yellow and black legs. Then her sword lashes out, digging into the joints of one of the eight limbs. The spider cries out, falling towards the soldier. She narrowly dodges but the spider is back up. Anneth is off balance and no longer ready.
She does not need to be.
Your sword cleaves through the creature's abdomen and Merrill drops a shard of ice the size of a tree on its head. The spider does not even have time to screech its last before it dies. You look at your officer, panting heavily and nod once.
"Good work." You say.
The expression on her face is best described as rapturous.
Merrill seems to have come prepared. She has a jar lined with runes and reeking of magic which she uses to contain the spirit. She wants to being interrogating it immediately, but she heeds your council to return to Endataurëo first. For your part, you are glad that this matter is resolved for now. You strongly suspect that you will be dragged into the investigation of the spirit at some point.