AN: Good news. Whatever was wrong with my statistics has fixed itself, and I am once again able to see that people have not lost interest in the story. Not that it would have mattered, since I intended to continue uploading here as I am already doing so elsewhere. Fair warning, this chapter has a lot of footnotes that have become endnotes thanks to the site's formatting. Let me know if it's a bother and I'll look into fixing it in future.
Cleansing the Woods
Merrill meets you in your study to discuss the revelations from your conversation with the Lady of the Forest. While you lean back in a comfortable chair, Merrill paces anxiously on the other side of your desk.
"I always knew the Veil was thin here, but I never consider why that might be." Merrill chides herself. "How could an entire forest be tainted permanently by demons without any of the mages here noticing?"
"The taint is old, ancient even." You reply calmly. "You had no point of comparison to notice. Do not blame yourself."
Merrill gives you a complicated look. "Easy for you to say, you noticed immediately, didn't you? You said that you 'knew it' when the Lady said the forest was tainted."
"I have sensed the taint of dark magic from the moment I arrived, yes." You reply neutrally. "However, you must remember that I have advantages in this area that you lacked when you arrived and continue to lack."
Merrill's raised eyebrow prompts you to continue your explanation, so you do. "Firstly, I was born with my senses in a land free from corruption. I know what a truly pure land should feel like. Then in later life I fought a war against a dark spirit, giving me a unique understanding of what dark magic feels like and a need to know where it is."
"So, it's kind of like how some hunters are really good at spotting movement, while someone who's an artist has an eye for colour." Merrill muses to herself. "I suppose it makes sense, but I kind of thought these extra senses were special."
You laugh lightly. "Humans tend to think so, as they lack them. The truth is that they are a sense not that different from sight and hearing. Some have keener, some have duller, and it can all be trained and attuned to different purposes. So take heart, with practice you too will be able to find any sign of dark magic."
It is now Merrill's turn to chuckle slightly. "Alright, alright I get it. I shouldn't beat myself up for things that aren't my fault."
"Exactly." You agree, smiling. "Instead of bemoaning the situation we find ourselves in, we should instead focus on solving it."
"Alright." Merrill nods, chewing her bottom lip. "So, I guess the place to start would be how the forest got tainted in the first place."
As you consider how the taint may have come to be, a memory stirs. "I might be able to help with that. Soon after I arrived in Thedas, I witnessed a vision in the Beyond. Two great armies faced each other, and one summoned demons in numbers that were staggering to behold."
Merrill's eyes lit up in understanding. "Since spirits have no imagination, it must have happened at some point! Are you certain that it was here though? The Beyond is not limited by space in the same way as the real world."
"The physical world, Merrill." You correct as you rummage in your desk for your evidence. "The Beyond is as real as this world, if operating by different principles."
Merrill pauses, a rebuttal on the tip of her tongue. As you find what you were looking for and put it on the desk, she relaxes.
"That's true." She says thoughtfully. "I guess it's easy to forget when it's the place dreams come from. Back on topic, what does that helmet have to do with anything?"
"I found it buried in the ground of the forest. Does it look familiar?" You ask.
"It's the helmet you brought back from your run, Solas said it was worn by Falon'din's priests." Merrill replies, clearly unsure why you are asking.
"We have seen these before, on the skeletons that we fought when we were cleansing this site." You remind her. "I also saw them in my vision. Further, from the memories of the spirit I freed, this place was a tomb of some kind, one destroyed by a 'terrible presence'."
Merrill draws a hissing breath. "The Last Stronghold! I thought that was a myth!"
After a few moments pass without explanation, you prompt the elf, "For those of us who did not grow up Dalish, what is the Last Stronghold?"
Merrill starts looking guilty for a moment, but quickly composes herself anew.
"It is said, that after Arthalan fell, not all were captured." Merrill begins, in the tone of a storyteller. "Some had been scattered far by their lives, others escaped through guile or luck. These people fled south to a place where the eldest went to sleep."
Merrill's eyes are distant, lost in the tale. "There the last of the elves assembled in their final stronghold, for they knew the Imperium would continue to chase them. When the Imperium arrived, they threw their might against the ancient elves. Though the elves were mighty, they could not overcome the waves of demons the magisters summoned. Rather than surrender to slavery they fought until the very last."
"Excellent, so we have established that what I saw did in fact happen here. We know the origins of the corruption, now we must decide how to go about cleansing it." You reply, jolting Merrill from her ancestral memories.
"Ah, yes." Merrill stumbles over her words a moment, then with a shake of her head continues more steadily. "Actually, it's important to remember that the sheer volume of death also plays a factor. It weakens the Veil allowing more demons through."
There is no doubt in your mind as to the best approach going forward. When it comes to cleansing corruption, it is never wise to experiment. Besides which, you have seen little indication that the magic of this land has anything akin to the purifying power of the Light of Aman, let alone some of the more powerful workings.
"Wait!" Merrill yells. "This must be it!"
It takes a few moments to catch on to Merrill's line of thinking. "Ah, you are assuming that the ruins that once stood here were the remnants of the last stronghold of your people."
Merrill nods. "Exactly! It's the only thing that makes sense. It explains the warrior spirit you found, the tombs. It even explains that elf child we saw running, as it would be strange to have a child in a tomb. It even explains the helmet you found in the forest. Falon'din is the guide of the dead, so an order devoted to guarding 'where the eldest sleep' makes sense."
"A logical conclusion." You agree. "Though I must ask why you believe it to be important to bring up at this point."
"Um, well." Merrill's cheeks flush bright red. "I mean, it's just neat? Knowing that one of the stories I grew up with is true and that I'm here, standing where it happened. You know?"
"I do not." You reply, living through a legend of your own has robbed such tales of their majesty. "Perhaps we should return to the topic at hand."
"Yes, actually now that you brought it up, there is a way it's relevant." Merrill exclaims, brightening. "You already cleansed here, surely this must have been some kind of centre of the corruption. So, you could apply what you did here everywhere else!"
Merrill is so cheerful that you have not the heart to tell her you already thought of that. You also decide not to remind her that cleansing this clearing alone had taken all your strength, and that the forest is many times bigger than that.
Instead of dragging on the conversation with Merrill, you take her beyond the walls to begin examining the corruption of the forest. As you travel, Merrill reports on the state of the Veil.
"Honestly I can't believe I never noticed how thin the Veil is here. I've seen worse, but that's usually right on top of something blood magic related." She observes. "It's probably the reason we got through it without much trouble. Might need to bring other clans here if we want to continue the Vir'thena1."
While she talks, you nod and make the correct sounds, but your focus is elsewhere. This corruption may be affecting the Veil but, given that it seems so familiar to you, it must be akin to corruption you have seen in Beleriand. As such, you doubt a study of the Veil will reveal new information.
Your study of the natural world, on the other hand, is far more revealing. The soil is dark and filled with life, the trees grow proud and tall. The physical sphere, when examined closely, in not tainted.
Grey ash swirls around your boots, red and black blood making large clumps like a gruesome parody of snowflakes. The sparse trees are hunched and withered, and foul smelling sludge clogs the streams. Anfauglith2 is a foul place, and you yearn for vengeance against its maker.
No, what corruption is here is more mystical. More akin to Lammoth3, where a deed so foul had left a stain on the very 'soul' of the forest. This is to your benefit
, as something more deeply set might very well be beyond your abilities to heal.
Still, it is a vast expanse of terrain to cover. You stop, stretching out to feel the corruption swirl about you. Though lighter than many places in Beleriand, it is far more all-pervasive than you are used to.
"I had another thought." Merrill's words break you out of your musing. "There are probably more loci like the ruins in the forest. You might not need to clean the whole wood, just wherever a battle took place."
The forest is simply too big for a single eldar to cover. Even if you were to focus your efforts on the most affected areas, it would take a great deal of time. The best chance you have is to create something that will passively clear the shadow without your input.
Therein lies the problem. You are no great smith, and this is hardly a simple task. The only creation that is capable of such things, that you can remember seeing at least, is the Silamrils themselves.
I know of an item that will serve to cleanse the forest." You inform Merrill. "At the very least, it cannot hurt to try before we explore any other options."
No one has ever been able to recreate the Silmarils, and far better smiths than you have tried. Fortunately, recreating them is not what you need to do. All you need is to replicate their ability to contain power, then fill them with the Light of Aman. That much should be within your abilities.
"Are you sure?" Merrill asks. "I mean, I don't even know how to go about beginning, and you're not exactly a great enchanter. Um, no offense, it's just that…"
You raise a hand. "I understand Merrill. In truth, I acknowledge that what I am attempting is a, I do not know the local phrase, lasinwa men4. Still, as I have said, it is worth attempting. As I said, if I should fail it costs us nothing."
Merrill nods. "If you're sure. Can I help."
The image of Merrill in a smithy causes you nothing but fear, and perhaps some slight amusement. "I think It will be wiser if I make the attempt alone."
Elrond and Elros had been crying again, and for once it has nothing to do with you. They felt, justifiably in your opinion, abandoned by their father. They understood what the new star in the sky meant, even if they knew it also meant help was coming. Gathering the children in an embrace you said,
'Á na necnaire!'5
For nearly a full year6 you had heard of your father's struggles with the Silmarils. Every time you had seen him at a meal, or out of his smithy he had been complaining of the struggles with their creation. The special way the material needed to be prepared, the way they simply refused to take in energy not their own, that one time they had exploded.
Further, the gems haunted your dreams throughout the First Age. Whenever you closed your eyes you would see them, shining in Morgoth's crown. In the end you had even held one and, though it had burned you and you had cast yourself into a chasm, it is enough.
From memory you recreate as much of the design as you can. The intimate knowledge of the problems involved in its creation and a vivid recollection of the final product is enough to give you somewhere to start.
You survey the documents detailing everything you know of the gems. There is a surprising amount of information here, the only ones who would know more would be your father, Kurvo and perhaps Ëarendil.
"Nothing else to do but start." You state to the empty smithy, dread and nerves twisting together in your heart.
'Atarlyë autië mal'7
The creation of the base substance is something you understand only vaguely. You know it involves a very hot furnace, different kinds of sand and stone combined within under pressure, but exact quantities and the kinds of both elude you. With no better option than brute force experimentation, you gather every kind you could find.
Your first attempt is a disaster, only managing to recreate the explosion incident. When that was cleaned up, half dazed you reach for the next combination only to pause. As though some will other than your own guides you, your hands grab a seemingly random assortment from the options available.
The group is cast within the fire in a vice designed to withstand the heat. While the materials crystalise, you turn your attention back to your designs.
'They need to be hollow.' You think to yourself, for no reason you can discern.
With the plan redrawn, you feel as though hands not your own guide you as you snatch the heated material from the depths of the furnace. Steady where your own are shaking, these phantoms guide you to a file, and through the shaping of the gem.
When the material is cool enough to handle, but not yet set, you pick up a polishing stone and begin the final touch. As though an master oversees you as his apprentice you are guided through the polishing, and you bend your will towards the slowly shaping gem.
Memories of the trees, of elder days and family. The endless fire burning within you and the newly restored Light of Valinor. All this and more you pour into the hidden hollow of the jewel.
'cuitëas milyë!'8
The polishing stone falls from your nerveless hand. Upon the anvil lies a gem that shines with its own internal light. White and gentle it glows, the familiar shape that haunts your dreams.
It is not a Silmaril. You have not the art to create one, and neither the light of the Trees to fill it nor a Vala to bless it. Yet it is closer than any more skilled smith has come.
'Tambë Fëanáro cuitëas minyë.'9
The phantom sensation of hands on your own fades away and your eyes fill with tears. Your heart aches for your father, to see his smile, to hear his praise, yet nothing comes. This has been no ghostly visitation, merely an echo of his immense skill within your own soul.
You weep, even as your smithy fills with the light of hope.
Persilima10 you name it, for it is half the great works of your father, yet still likely the greatest you can achieve. You hand it to Anneth and instruct her to carry it with her while she rides. Already you can feel the light of Aman fighting against the corruption, soon it will be gone as if it never existed.
Counting Coins
Exhausted from the outpouring of skill beyond your normal abilities, you decide that it is time to head off to meet the Chasind. While you walk through the corridors you consider what you need before you leave.
These days see you travelling lighter than you had when you were younger. Part of it is experience from Beleriand but being stranded in another world has taught you that you need far less than you thought.
A shout jolts you from your musings. "Sir! Sir! Urgent message for you!"
A turn reveals the sight of one of your scouts panting heavily. Sweat streaks his brow and his hair is stuck in the position the wind swept it into. He has clearly ridden hard, and you suspect if you step outside there will be a thoroughly exhausted horse by the door.
"Sir, we spotted huge groups of people moving down the road." The messenger pants out. "There's dwarves and humans and I think I saw an elf. There's wagons and everything, the road's clogged."
"I see." You reply speculatively. "Clearing the road is going to be tricky, we do not have the manpower. Still, I can come and take control of the situation. It will likely be easier to clear the road if everyone is working together, rather than at odds."
The scout looks at you confused for a moment; then clearly realises he has made a mistake. "Oh, sorry sir. No that's not what we're after at all. The groups are all merchants. Apparently, word's gotten round about an eccentric noble in the forest, and they smell a profit."
You do not vocalise your surprise, but it is a near thing. For a single moment you are paralysed, mind whirling as you assimilate the new information.
Realising that the scout is waiting on a response, you ask, "Is that everything?"
The man nods. "Yes sir. What're we going to do."
"I will decide, you will go rest. Drink some water, eat something when you can." You command reflexively, thoughts elsewhere.
"Sir." The man salutes and exits.
The arrival of so many merchants presents a number of immediate problems. For a start, you lack the room for all of them to display their wares, assuming that the road is clogged due to numbers rather than something foolish like a wagon crash.
If they have travelled far then they are likely to want lodgings. There will need to be space for their animals too. Your stable might have room, if you bring the dogs inside. Then there is the matter of watching for thieves and others of their ilk. Perhaps you can wake half of the Gladesville shift early, or maybe call in the scouts.
With a wry smirk, you note that if someone were to listen to your thoughts, they would likely wonder why you would allow the merchants to come if they were such trouble. The truth of the matter is that as much trouble as they cause, they represent a significant opportunity.
Obviously, merchants who travel far represent the chance for increased prices, depending on how far they have travelled food that does not easily perish may be a premium good for them. Then there is the chance that they will want 'exotic goods'.
Even if none of this is true, simple understanding of the human mind can see prices soar as each sees what others want. If wealth is not your goal, then there are political opportunities too. Large gatherings of merchants are important places in local affairs, hosting one could be useful.
With little time to make a decision, you quickly toss aside the thought of establishing more trade routes. As useful as they may be, there is a far more elegant solution available to you.
"Faith! Saris!" Your voice sounds a clarion call.
In a short time the two find their way to you, both panting slightly. You would give them time to rest, but you fear that every moment that passes is a moment lost.
"Faith. I want you to take some of the farmers and start looking into a good place near the road to put up a number of rough structures." You command. "Saris, assemble the labourers and anybody who has free time. I will fetch the carpenter."
If the two have any questions, they pick up on your mood enough not to ask them. As your stewards scurry off to do as you have asked, you set off to find your carpenter.
"Ah cahnnot interrupt mah work!" The elven woodworker cries dramatically. "Eet is ahrt! Eet cahnnot simply be put down ahnd picked up whehever yah feel like!"
A groan escapes your lips, it is as if someone took all of the worst parts of Kurvo and your father and placed them in a flamboyant balloon. If the elf waves his arms any more, you fear they will detach from their sockets.
"I understand, and I will endeavour not to interrupt you unless it is urgent. This case is urgent, and we desperately need your expertise." You cajole the sensitive craftsman.
"No! Yah do not uhnderstand!" The elf protests in his thick accent. "Thees ees ah delicate process! If ah leave it ahlone, ah will lose all track of what ah am making! The whole piece will be ruhined!"
One deep breath, swiftly followed by another, then you respond. "What carpenter worthy of the name cares more for the appearance of his work than its stability? We need your aid, lest our construction come crashing down around our ears. Which are you? An artist or a craftsman?"
For a moment you fear that all you have done is start another rant. The elf's eyes flash with arrogance and anger. Then they settle and he carefully places his wood carving on the table.
"Ah will not leht eet be said ah shirked work when ahthers needed me." He proclaims. "Ah will graciously ahid you."
Frankly you could have done without the naked condescension. However, you are in far too much of a rush to tell him that your brother used to make children's toys more complex and beautiful than his 'art'.
Faith's attempt to find a clearing has been largely frustrated. Most of the trees nearby are too densely packed. With no better options you have to try and build around the walls of Endataurëo.
The results are passable you suppose. There are some shaded areas that merchants can lay their wares, but the lanes between them are narrow and you do not think you can take more than a dozen merchants at a time.
The number of merchants who arrive all at once is greatly in excess of twelve. Approximately thirty different individuals push into the small space, many selling the same wares as each other. Jewellery, cosmetics and other assorted luxuries are the main items on offer.
Truth be told, you have little interest in what they are selling for its own sake, but their connections to jewel smiths is something you are interested in. Unfortunately, from what you overhear, you doubt you are going to make many friends here.
"Not as many people as I was expecting." One merchant mutters to himself.
A few of the merchants choose to leave before they even make a sale, judging that the time they have spent is wasted and any further time would be 'throwing good money after bad'.
Then the Dalish merchants, and the ones from the local villages arrive together. The already cramped space becomes even more so. While Martin and his new apprentice, the elf Delora, struggle to complete their usual business with your neighbours, you plan on how you are going to salvage something from this debacle.
Distantly Martin and Delma can be seen swapping meat for fruit with the Dalish. They are even going so far as to purchase some of their herbs for later resale. It is heartening to see that the newfound mobility of the wagon is emboldening Martin to take on the task of delivering the Dalish's goods for them. It is heartening to see such cooperation.
There is a small herd of sheep that one of the visiting merchants brought, and the herdsmen are using this opportunity to complete the herd of sheep they tend. After reminding yourself to reimburse them later, you continue to your self-appointed task.
Despite your hopes, it seems that this will not become a regular event. There are obvious reasons, there was another fair not to far away recently for example, but there are also non-obvious reasons. The best use of the time these people are here is to ascertain what those are and how they might be fixed in future.
The first thing you do is simply wander about the gathering, listening to the complaints that merchants voice to each other, while noting what you can see. The space issue is a significant one, yet it is nothing that more preparation time and your new wood cutter cannot fix. This particular struggle requires no further focus.
Another common theme to the complaints is the relative lack of people, it seems that word of the Teyrn's visit had vastly inflated the size of your forest community in the minds of the merchants. That will be a greater challenge to fix, likely best done by encouraging more merchants to come so that they might trade between themselves.
Of course, attracting merchants without a large population is difficult. It makes for a 'to win simply do not lose'11 situation. Still, you have merchants, and you sell a product that others might be interested in distributing. Whether or not you are willing to let them is a different question.
With your observations taking you as far as they are able, you now turn to interviewing the various merchants. Their words should be enlightening as to ways you could encourage their ilk to visit Endataurëo in future.
In hindsight you had forgotten a very simple fact; humans, especially those who become merchants, have a tendency to be self-centred and greedy. Setting aside those who spend the entire interview trying to sell you things, you still find nothing of use.
"You should give tax breaks to all merchants who travel to your lands." One large man with an overly waxed moustache opines. "That'll bring them in like flies. Hey, you could start with me, then I'll tell everyone I know about them."
"I am not in charge of taxes in this region." You reply calmly. "Even if I were, would that not remove the very reason I want merchants to come here in the first place?"
The pseudo intellectual argument that follows is so fundamentally at odds with your understanding of human nature, you have to leave before you burst into laughter or strike him in fury.
The worst person you find is another man, rail thin with spectacles. He speaks condescendingly to you on the topic of 'economics' as he calls it.
"I understand the concept of supply and demand." You force out through gritted teeth. "What I want to know is why you do not intend to return in future, and what might convince you to do so."
"Now, now." The man says smugly. "You don't need to pretend to understand something to impress me…"
Blind rage overtakes you.
In hindsight, attempting to beat him to death with your notes was a mistake. If you wanted him dead, then notes were a terrible weapon. If you did not want him dead, you should not have attacked him at all. In your defence, he chose his words terribly.
Fortunately, most of the other merchants found the incident more amusing than concerning, so there are few consequences beyond the departure of that particular merchant. Good riddance in your opinion.
Soon enough the other merchants are also packing up and leaving. Your staff enjoyed the chance to buy things they would need to go all the way to a city for, and you wish you could have convinced the merchants to come back. Still, you have some ideas for the future so not all is lost.
Civilising the Humans
Managing the surprise visit from the merchants had been a challenge, but now that they are settled, you can get back to your original goal. The Chasind are adapting well to their new lives so far. Despite this, you do not want to leave them unattended for too long.
You ride towards the Chasind villages astride Orundómë. The forest slows your progress, but it is nothing you have not overcome before. As you pass under branches and over bushes your thoughts linger on what the Chasind might need when you finally arrive.
The sight of the new villages does allay some of your immediate concerns. The huts are constructed well enough, hardly anything as neat or orderly as a city you built, but perfectly serviceable. Wood and thatch perched on stilts is not the style of building you have chosen, but it likely reminds them of home.
There is no wall around the village, which would normally concern you. Given how little time has passed, and the fact that their original villages did not have them either, you consider it acceptable. Perhaps at a later date you might encourage them to build one.
Deciding to make a point of visiting the other, more distant, clan first to avoid accusations of favouritism, you turn Orundómë's head and ride on. As you do so, a thought strikes you. Perhaps you should not have walls around their villages, but instead a central fort they can withdraw to.
Thoughts of the logistics of such a building, and considerations of if Endataurëo could serve in its place, consume the time it takes you to reach Thea's clan. You ride into the village, noting the small patches of inexpertly tended land. It seems this clan at least is putting your lessons into practice.
Slipping from horseback, you approach the patches to examine them. It seems the clans are trying various plants, not all of which are edible, in an attempt to put the theories, you taught into practice. You approve, seeking to improve a skill is something you will always support.
"Ah, Brightstar!" A voice you have not heard before calls out.
A familiar face greets you when you turn. Thea stands before you with a wide smile on her face.
"I be happy to meeting again." Her voice is strong for her age, and her accent is subtly different from Velkind's clan.
"May the stars shine on the hour of our meeting." You reply slowly, not wanting to rush her. "I am pleased with your progress."
"I much practice with Harald." Thea slowly says, pointing to the man in question. "Why here? In trouble?"
"Is there trouble?" You correct gently, only continuing when she indicates she understands. "No. I come to help where I can. Do you need anything?"
There are a few moments of confusion, and you need to repeat yourself, but Thea says. "Yes. I am need thing."
You wait for several minutes for an explanation, but none comes.
Tiring of the wait, you ask, "What is it that you need?"
"I try, but words hard." Thea replies, face scrunched up in concentration. "What Velkind?"
Her words require some explanation. "Are you asking what Velkind is, what he is doing, or what the word for his position is?"
"I to ask word, yes." Thea replies.
"Velkind is a chief. You are also a chief." You explain.
Thea nods several times. "Understanding. Problem being I am not want chief. Is much too work!"
You cannot prevent the laughter that escapes you. Some things it seems, are universal between species.
When your laughter stills you address the beleaguered woman. "I am afraid I cannot help you. Changing the leader would look a little too much like a coup. If you no longer wish to be chief, you will have to convince your fellows to select someone else."
You assume the stream of angry sounding Chasind words that follows that reply is filled either with insults towards you or complaining about her clan and their refusal to choose a new leader. Either way, it makes you laugh again. To be young once more.
Yet, you have not come all this way to indulge in mirth and merriment. The seeds of agriculture have been planted among the Chasind, and now it is time to harvest them.
It takes you a moment to realise you are waiting for the howls of laughter the twins would be making at the terrible pun. A creeping sorrow licks at your heart, urging you towards despair, but you cast it aside.
Lest you wallow in your sorrow, you turn your mind to thoughts of work. "Tell me Thea, how goes the agriculture experiments? I hope the children have done a good job of explaining what is involved to you."
Thea starts out of her rage driven reverie. "HÞᴁt? Oh, to mean what? Sorry. I to mean saying what?"
You repeat your question, amusement creeping in once more.
"Ah, I understanding. Children explain to well. Having some questions but." The unwilling chief admits. "Where to being grown? Also, what to being grown?"
With the simplest vocabulary you can manage, you carefully begin to explain the principles of agriculture. Thanks to Thea's improved grasp of language, you manage to convey the answers to most of her questions.
You do not yet know it, but an identical scene will play out when you visit Velkind's tribe. For all their enmity, the two tribes are extremely similar in traditions, understanding of the world and practices.
For both tribes, your job remains the same. The clans do not have agriculture accounted for in their daily lives. People who have the time to dedicate themselves to the task must be found, and those people must be taught the rhythms of the farmer's life.
Finding such people is a challenge, especially in Thea's tribe. The children you taught are willing to continue to serve as demonstrations, but you want more than simply them. After a great deal of searching, and some of your famous charm, you manage to get enough volunteers to run a single farm in each clan.
Clearing space for a farm is perhaps a greater task than you could accomplish with what you have. Despite this, you find space surprisingly easy to come by. There are a number of cleared areas from the construction. Uprooting the stumps is backbreaking, exhausting work, but far less than doing so after cutting down the trees.
At various points during the process a number of Chasind stop by to observe your collection of children and women straining at stumps. At first, they laugh, but they quickly discover that a language barrier is nothing to Nerdanel's12 patented 'if you have time to laugh, you have time to help' techniques. After that, they are no longer laughing.
With the help of your new 'volunteers' the work finishes before sundown. You still have a day planned for the creation of the fields. The question you consider, while sitting by a fire and eating dinner, is what you are going to be planting.
In truth the most important part of this task is ensuring a stable food supply for the Chasind. Seeds from your orchard were brought for that very reason. One of the Chasind raises an interesting possibility about a plant that grows in water in the Wilds.
"How long would it take you to acquire said plant." You ask the one with the idea.
"No to knowing, Brightstar." The woman replies. "Is being to a long journeying. Far to go, not being know long time."
"How long." You correct automatically, mind on the possibility of using this other plant. "You have no samples here that could be used for practice?"
You have to restate your words in a simpler form a few times to get an answer; no. This causes no small amount of concern, as useful as it would be to have a plant that grows in water especially one the Chasind know well already, the time it would take may be prohibitive.
The other Chasind are all staring at you, awaiting a decision. With no compromise in easy reach, you pick the one that is more manageable.
"Though an excellent idea, it is more than I can speak to." You inform the woman cautiously. "It will take too long, and I will be unable to aid in the cultivation of said plant. This week we will learn what I know, using the seeds I brought. Then you may seek this plant on your own."
The woman does not seem overly disappointed, which is good. You would like the Chasind to be somewhat more independent, yet you simply do not have the time to wait for the plant to be retrieved. Still, a part of you is saddened that you could not make use of what seemed an excellent idea. Perhaps another time.
You spend the rest of your time slowly explaining, and demonstrating, the way you plant the fruits you grow in Endataurëo. As part of the lesson, you find some of the original wild fruits and use them to demonstrate proper care.
The language barrier makes explaining crop selection complex, trying to communicate that they will need to choose the seeds of the largest fruits is easy, and relatively intuitive, but explanations of plant reproduction and pollination is beyond the abilities of your students to understand.
Still, you have demonstrative materials available, and you think you have established enough understanding for this farm to begin producing. You doubt the Chasind will enjoy the efficiency of Ferelden's citizens or even come close to those of the Noldor, but it will be a more stable food source than hunting.
Morning Report
Anneth meets you as you return to Endataurëo. She grins at you.
"Morning sir. Hard night?" She asks amused.
"Unfortunately, Chasind hospitality tends to extend quite late into the night." You inform her. "Still, I am awake enough for your report."
"It's the strangest thing sir." Anneth reports. "At first things were usual, but ever since you gave me that jewel haven't seen hide nor hair of a spider or sylvan. Webs sure, and dead animals aplenty, but nothing else."
"Excellent." You grin. "Has this been consistent? More precisely, have the creatures begun to return as the week drew on?"
Anneth shakes her head, holding out the gem for you to take back. You examine it carefully, the light has not dimmed and you feel energised and hopeful in its presence, as though another prince cast forth the Light of Valinor.
"This is performing well beyond my wildest hopes!" You exclaim brightly. "I had feared that it might act as a mere store of power and would thus need refreshing. Yet near a full week has passed and still it shines, I must have succeeded in imbuing it with the essence of the Light."
Anneth looks lost, but gamely says, "Good work sir. Can I take it again next week?"
You laugh and tell her you will consider it.
1 Way of awakening- author's invention composed of Vir- way, Then-awake, '-speculative genitive and -A -speculative present continuous ending
2 By Gasping Dust- created by the Battle of Sudden Flame, this plain of ash was where the Battle of Unnumbered Tears would take place
3 The land of the "Great Echo" a remnant of the battle between Morgoth and Ungolient.
4 Uncertain way
5 Be without sorrow!
6 Of the Trees aprox. 10 years of the sun
7 Your father has gone away but
8 he lives in you!
9 As Fëanáro lives in me.
10 Silima is an artificial crystal invented by Fëanor, Per- is a prefix meaning half
11 Turë minya ála laturë-lit. To win, first do not not-win. Elven saying roughly equivalent to English's Catch 22
12 Nelyafinwë's mother