The next day, after the evening inquiry on the Ainulindalë, you find Merrill sitting quietly underneath a tree in the courtyard. Your resolve to speak to her in mind you approach her.
"What considerations absorb your focus, Merrill?" You ask your first student.
The elf starts, glancing up at you. "Oh! Sorry, I was lost in thought. What was the question?"
You grin. "I was asking what thoughts had absorbed you, amusingly enough."
"I see." Merrill replies, turning her gaze back to the walls of Endataurëo.
You wait for a reply, but none comes. "If you do not want to talk about it, then you do not have to."
Merrill shakes her head suddenly. "What? Oh. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts again."

"These must be some heavy thoughts indeed, if they can steal your attention not once but twice." You observe.
Merrill gives you a weak smile. "Yes. They're quite something."
You sink down to sit by her side. "I have told you before that you do not need to tell me anything you do not wish to. I would however note that a burden shared is often more easily carried. Whatever may cloud your thoughts, I will listen."
Merrill's smile becomes more genuine. "Thank you, that means a lot to me."
For a moment the two of you sit in silence.
Merrill speaks again after a short time has elapsed. "I think I'll keep it to myself for now. It's something I need to face myself."
"Whatever you think is best." You place a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

It is at this point that a veritable horde of insects begin to make a great cacophony. Neither you nor Merrill are able to contain the sudden burst of laughter that the sudden shift in atmosphere causes in you.
"It seems that our time for heavy thought and meaningful conversation has passed, the crickets have spoken." You gasp out between peals of laughter.
"I actually think they're cicadas." Merrill struggles to get enough air to voice her correction.
"Perhaps they are some third kind of insect. It could be countless aphids for instance." You joke.
"There is no way that would work." Merrill replies, her laughter settling down to an occasional giggle.

"Well, if you have no desire to share your thoughts, would you care to have another lesson?" You ask Merrill.
"Oh. Umm." Merrill hesitates.
You begin to grow concerned. The last time Merrill was anything less than overjoyed to learn your arts was The Incident.
"If you do not have time, we could do it later?" You offer tentatively.
Merrill considers for several moments. "No, we can do it now…"
She trails off for a moment, then nods sharply to herself. "This is exactly what I need right now. Something to focus on besides my thoughts."
"I do hope you are not planning to give my lessons anything less than your full attention." You reply, partly in jest.
"Don't worry, teacher. You have my full attention!" Merrill mimics Xandar, strange gestures and all.

"Let us begin with where we left off last week. How would you describe your first attempt at a song of power?" If these lessons are to continue you need to know how much Merrill can grow in power.
Merrill raises her hand to her chin, gaze intense. "Tiring, obviously, but you want more than that, correct?"
You nod encouragingly. "Yes, I want you to describe the feeling of wielding a song in as much detail as you can."
Merrill considers for nearly ten full minutes. You let her think, trusting that she has not wandered into her own thoughts again.

Your faith is rewarded when she speaks. "If I had to describe it, I'd say it was like I had strings attached to every part of my body and I was pulling against something with all my might."
You reflect on her words for a moment. "Interesting."
"Interesting? That's all you have to say?" Merrill asks, somewhere between annoyed and amused.
You shrug. "There is little else to say. I have never heard it described in a similar manner, but I have never taught this subject to a mortal before."
Merrill covers up her flinch admirably, but you still see it. "So now what?"

You are still intrigued by the possibility of combining your two styles of magic together. All the arguments made for it previously still apply. The counterarguments also still apply though. You are also hesitant to leave off something you have already begun before Merrill has mastered it.
With these considerations in mind you tell her. "Today we are going to take a slightly different look at songs of power. This time I want you to make one in accordance with the rules I explained to you last time. Do not worry about it being too much for you, if it is a tune that will work, I will perform it."

Merrill's eyes brighten with enthusiasm. "Really?"
You give her a look. "I am not one for deception."
"Oh, no sorry." She hurries to apologise. "I just can't believe I'm getting to do this so early."
You shrug. "The best way to learn is by trying, if you fail you learn something if you succeed then you have already learned something."
"Right, right." Merrill begins, then deflates. "But I only know the tunes you taught me already."
"You have two options; you could try to discover a tune on your own or simply repackage what I taught you into a new format." You advise her.
"What? I thought these tunes were like runes. Set in stone." Merrill asks.

You shake your head. "You are attempting to recreate the song that made the world. You can just stumble upon the correct tune by accident. You can also attempt to understand the world enough that you can figure out what it should be based on your own knowledge. Since time is short, I advise you just use what I have already taught you."
"Won't that just make it the same spell?" Merrill's concern and confusion shines through in her words.
You shake your head once more. "No. The tune can be recombined in different ways. The notes and rhythm remain the same, but the colour or tone of the performance changes their results. The lyrics too can have an effect."
Merrill blanches slightly. "I suddenly feel like I don't know enough music theory for this subject."
You give her a smile that is somewhere between cruel and encouraging. "There is only one way to find out."

Merrill gives it her best effort at first. She arranges the themes into a very simple, yet effective, alternating pattern. Yet as the song begins to take shape beneath her pen, her distraction returns. Often, she will drift off into thought only to start and begin writing again. You would try to bring her out of it, but the first time you do so she was actually thinking about the song. After that you do not interrupt her when she drifts off in thought. This proves to be a mistake when, halfway through the creation process, she comes out from another bout of thought to stare at the page as if she has no idea what she has written.

When she does hand the completed song to you, you are forced to criticise it heavily.
"The basis is solid, but these lyrics are once again instructional. Your notes on the colour of the song are contradictory. This song will not explode, but it will exhaust the wielder for no gain." You deliver your words in as neutral a manner as possible.
"Sorry." Merrill mumbles, looking at the ground.
"Merrill. What is wrong." You ask gently. "This is not like you. You are clearly distracted and that is not something that normally happens."

Merrill continues staring at the ground.
"Please, Merrill. Tell me how I can help you." You plead.
Merrill's stare is broken. She looks up at you, taking in your expression. She shifts in place a few times, then speaks.
"What makes you different?" She asks.
For a moment you think she is expressing frustration, but she does not show any in her face. "I am not sure I understand the question."
Merrill blushes. "Sorry, caught up in my own thoughts. What makes your people different from humans?"
"Well there is the minor fact that we cannot die, and they do." You repeat the obvious to her.
She shakes her head violently. "No. I mean beyond that. You talk about how your people are fundamentally different from others. How?"

That is a complicated question. You could go on at length. There are physical differences, but those are mostly incidental. You could explain that you do not think the same way humans do. You have previously mentioned this to Merrill, and it would be a natural expansion. These differences too are superficial though. There is one key difference that is the true reason a Quendi is not an Atani and it lies in the spirit. Not merely immortality, but in its power, quality and how that effects your people. Not for nothing is it said that your kind are closest to the Ainur.

"If I had to pick a single distinction, I would say that our Fëa, our soul as you call it, is the greatest difference." You tell Merrill.
"Can you go into detail?" Merrill asks. "I, well, I want to know more."
You chuckle. "You? You want to know more about something? I find myself unsurprised."
Merrill blushes and mutters something about 'just answering the question'.
Still chuckling, you do so. "There are two key differences, the power it wields and the role it has in our lives. To begin with the obvious, our Fëa carry the power that is innate to each Quendi, which is weak or non-existent in most humans. Our souls carry more 'weight' as far as the world is concerned and change it more as a result."

You pause, waiting to see if Merrill has questions.
She does. "But you haven't changed the world that much more than a human in your position could."
You nod. "That is correct in a sense, but only because changing the world physically is the part humans tend to privilege and notice more. It also not what I meant. If I press something onto the world using the power within me, the world will listen to me rather than a human, it gives me more 'weight'. Are you following?"
Merrill seems slightly upset, particularly when you mentioned the part about humans, but she shakes her head. "No, but let's not dwell on it. What's the other key bit?"
"Are you certain? You seem, displeased and it is unlike you to leave a topic when you do not yet understand it." You ask.
"I'm certain, please finish your answer." Merrill replies with certainty.

"The second key difference is one that it is always hard to explain. With humans, in many cases the body leads the soul. 'The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak' is the saying you use I believe." You wait for Merrill's nod before continuing. "This is not true of the Quendi. Many Atani have said that our laws are harsh because they do not understand that there is no such thing as a crime of passion to the Quendi. We control our desires, not the other way around. Even if I grow furious and strike someone, I still am capable of deciding not to as easily as if I were calm."

"That doesn't make sense though." Merrill says. "If that were the case no one would ever act on their anger."
You restrain a bitter laugh. "If only it were so! I have mentioned that my people struggle with arrogance, and one of the symptoms of that arrogance is that we often privilege our own desires over the wellbeing of others."
"I still don't understand." Merrill rubs her forehead.
You pause, considering your words carefully. "Think of it this way. When I grow angry, I can choose not to act on it, but I know that if I give into my anger I will enjoy doing so. Thus, I must weigh my desire not to act on that anger with the satisfaction I will gain from doing so."

"I still don't see how that's different from humans. They can do the same thing, it's called self-control." Merrill complains.
"Perhaps, but it is a skill they develop rather than the innate control all Eldar possess." A thought strikes you, and you try a different tack of argument. "Consider this. A human and a Quendi have both been starved, they are on the edge of death. If you placed food before them and said that only one could have it, the human would not think. There would be no decision to act, just instinct to feed and they would take the food. A Quendi might still take the food, but there would be thought, a moment where they decide to do so."
Merrill nods a few times. "I think I've got it.
"Excellent, because it is well past midday, and you still have a song to write." You say.

Your lesson with Merrill is interrupted when one of your guards come into the courtyard.
"Sorry to disturb you, sir." The man apologies. "But there's a couple of Dalish at the gates with a human and that Ophelia woman."
"How strange. What do they want?" You ask.
The guard shrugs. "Dunno, sir. We thought you'd want to speak to them, so I was sent to fetch you. Sorry again, I can go ask if you like."
You wave the man's apology away. "You made the right call. I will be out presently."
The guard raised his hand to his head and walks away. You turn back to Merrill.
"It appears I will have to cut our lesson short. I do apologise." You inform her.
"Oh no. It's fine. Don't let me keep you." Merrill hurriedly replies.

When you emerge from the main complex you see Ophelia and Lanaya trying to separate their companions. Said companions are yelling loudly enough that even a human could hear them from where you stand.
"You're a dirty, lying knife ear! Give me back my comb!" The human woman is yelling at the elf.
"Bigoted, small minded human! I don't have your comb!" The elf, tall for his kind but still short to you, snaps back.
The two are about one more insult away from rolling in the dirt pulling each other's hair. You decide to intervene before it gets to that point.
"Control yourselves!" You call out, striding towards the pair. "Your bickering solves nothing!"

The two turn to you snarling.
"Butt out of this Shem'len! You have no business interfering in my business!" The elf yells at you.
"Of course you'd take his side! Here I thought you were better than the rest of your kind!" The woman spits.
By this point you have drawn level with them. Ophelia and Lanaya have stepped back, allowing you to keep the peace in your own house you assume.
You loom over the pair. "If you cannot behave in an appropriate manner, then you will be waiting in a cell until you can."
Endataurëo does not have a cell, but it has storage rooms with sturdy locks. Those will suffice if it comes to it. The woman quiets down immediately, the elf does not.
"Really, you'll throw us into a cell? You and what army." He scoffs.
You lean down to meet his eyes, letting the mask that keeps your bubbling anger concealed slip.
"I do not need one." You say quietly.

The elf draws back in fear, whether of your words or expression you do not know. Letting your face return to its more neutral cast, you turn to Ophelia and Lanaya.
"It is wonderful to see you both. What brings you here?" You ask genially.
The two are looking relieved. They go to speak both at once, only to stop. Lanaya makes a gesture and Ophelia speaks up.
"Well, Lana here." She gestures to the human woman. "Came to me saying she had lost a comb. It's one of the fancy ones from Orlais and is very expensive. She said a Dalish had taken it."
Lanaya takes over at this point. "She brought it up with me and Al'en here was the one she accused. He insists he didn't take it."

Ophelia speaks up again. "We wanted to work it out between ourselves but they keep accusing us of taking our own kinds' side."
"Ophelia suggested bringing it to you, since you're a neutral party." Lanaya picks up the story again. "I said that wouldn't fix the problem since you're a human."
"Which is when I said that I thought you were an elf." Ophelia interjects.
"I am a Noldo, not a member of either of your peoples." You state calmly.
Lanaya shrugs. "Great, that makes this work better then. We want you to handle this."
"It's not that we can't do it ourselves." Ophelia hurries to assure you. "We just don't want either party accusing us of favouritism."

You agree to aid the two leaders, to their clear relief. You turn to the now silent accused and accuser. There is only really one option here. You are going to separate the two and get their versions of the stories. You are reasonably certain that there is no need for the full regalia of a court setting. As much as the precedent would be useful, this is simply not a case well suited to it. Reading their minds is tempting but is also the kind of thing that makes humans scream 'witchcraft' and try to murder people. Not to mention the violation of trust it would be, leaving everyone around you on edge.

"I am going to take each of you in turn into one of the nearby rooms. The other one can wait in the antechamber. Lanaya, Ophelia please go to the main hall, I will have the housekeepers serve you some refreshments there." You inform the group.
"What about us?" Lana cries offended.
"Don't we get refreshments?" Al'en echoes.
You turn a hard gaze upon them. "Those who stand accused of crimes are not owed the rights of a guest until they are acquitted. Those who compound their potential guilt with rudeness will be refused them."
"I haven't done anything wrong!" Al'en cries.
"I'm not accused of any crime!" Lana snaps.
"Lying to a judge is a crime." You rebut.
You wish that had quieted them, but it does not. Lanaya and Ophelia look grateful that the two are not their problems anymore.

You decide to begin with Lana. She made the accusation and would have been heard first if she had brought the problem to you. You were tempted to make them draw lots, but you wanted to have a justification for the order. If only to answer their endless questioning of your decisions.
"Please, tell me what happened." You ask Lana.
"Well, the knife-ears visited to sell us food. I had spent the better part of the day arguing down their outrageous prices. When I got home, I naturally wanted to fix my hair, since the heat and the arguing had messed it up. I went to my draws and found them open. There was dirt all over the floor and my grandmother's comb was missing. I ran to tell Ophy." The woman relays.

You wait for her to continue but she does not. "Is that everything?"
"Well we went to the thieves' camp, 'cause I knew they would have taken it. But other than that, yes." Lana spits.
"I have some questions, if you do not mind?" At her nod you continue. "Could you describe the comb in question?"
"It's this wonderful dark thing. It has these little pearls in the back. My grandpa bought for my grandmother." She says, eyes twinkling.

"Thank you. Did you see Al'en enter or leave your house? Did anyone else?" You ask.
"I saw him arrive and I was at the market with them. I saw him leave and he wasn't back when I left." She relays,
"Did anyone SEE him enter or leave your house." You repeat firmer.
The woman scowls and crosses her arms. "No."
"Did you see anyone enter or leave your house? Did any of your neighbours?" You ask neutrally.
The human shakes her head angrily.

You send her out to the anteroom and bring Al'en in. He sneers at you as he takes a seat.
"Whatever that shem'len told you was a lie." He proclaims.
"That is yet to be determined." You reply. "Please relay the events of the day the comb went missing to the best of your recollection."
"Tch. Fine." The elf acts as though you were asking some burdensome favour. "I went with the merchants to keep them safe. I got sick of that harridan shrieking that we had to take her money instead of paying in kind, so I went off for a walk. When I came back it was time to leave. Next day she shows up screaming about me stealing a comb."

"Thank you. I have some questions, if you do not mind?" You say politely.
"Yes I do mind. I told you what happened." Al'en snarls.
"Al'en, if I am to judge this matter, I must have all relevant facts. I was only asking to be polite. You are not leaving until I have all the answers I need." You inform him.
When the elf settles down into a sulk, you continue. "Did you see anyone on this walk that could verify your alibi?"
The elf shrugs.

"I will take that as a no." You refuse to rise to his taunting. "Did you at any point come across a dark comb with small pearls in it?"
The elf's eyes dart to the side. "Can't remember. Maybe?"
You lean in. "Al'en, did you steal Lana's comb."
"No." He replies, quickly and truthfully.
You almost accept that but at the last minute you have a realisation. "Do you have a small dark comb with pearls in the handle in your possession?"
This time he looks much more nervous. "What? No, why would I have something like that."
He is lying.

You find Lanaya and Ophelia enjoying some wine and some small fruit treats Karla has made. You begin with courtesies naturally; your mother did not raise a barbarian.
"Are you enjoying yourselves? Is the wine to your tastes? The food?" You ask earnestly.
The two leaders turn to you, and their people behind you who are glaring at each other, then share a disbelieving laugh.
"You're really different here then when you visit us." Lanaya manages.
"I can't believe my terrifying teacher can be this accommodating." Ophelia gasps out.
"The hospitality of the Noldor will always be offered to those who are their allies." You state with the conviction of your entire people behind you.

The two leaders seem to come to a sudden realisation, looking at each other then back to you. What that realisation is, they do not share.
"Before we step away to conclude the unfortunate business that brought us here, are there any complaints you wish to make? Any requests?" You ask politely.
The two leaders shake their heads and stand up.
"Let's get this done with." Lanaya says.
You lead the two of them to another room. You have a pair of guards remain with the other two visitors in case their words come to violence.

Once you are there you reveal to them your plan, you would have liked to interrogate the elf further, but his reasons do not matter in the end.
"The elf is in possession of the comb, though he claims not to have stolen it." You begin.
Lanaya curses.
"Unfortunately, Lana has no basis for her accusation, she did not witness the theft. As a result, it is eminently possible that he did not in fact steal it." You continue.
This time it is Ophelia who curses.
"In the interest of maintaining positive relationships between peoples and within your respective groups, I propose the following. We say there is not enough evidence to decide one way or the other, Lanaya will retrieve the comb from Al'en and give it to Ophelia, who will then return the comb to Lana. With the property returned there should be no further cause for friction." You finish

"What about Al'en's accomplice. If he didn't steal it someone else must have." Ophelia observes.
Lanaya disagrees. "He may have found it on the ground after the woman dropped it, we can't punish him on her word and should punish her for accusing without evidence."
"Perhaps Lana's comb is of elven make, and Al'en considers retrieving it no theft. Perhaps Lana experiences prophetic dreams." You respond to both of their points. "There are simply too many possibilities. The core of this disturbance is the absence of the comb, with that returned there should be no need for punishment."
The two leaders look to you with grimaces and give nods of agreement.

For ease of performance, you agree to host accused and accuser while their leaders 'investigate' further. When Ophelia returns the comb to Lana and Lanaya takes Al'en away the woman naturally wants to know where she found it.
"Does it matter?" Ophelia asks. "You have your comb, and nobody is calling you a liar. I would advise you to take a win when you get one, rather than pushing until it becomes a loss."
Look at her subtly threatening to expose someone's lies. They really do grow up fast.