AN: Fun fact: This set of quest updates were enormous. It's enough that I had to split it into three chapters instead of two, if this seems like it leaves things unaddressed that's why. Please enjoy your bonus chapter tomorrow.
Around the middle of the week the first group of traders arrive. Since you have been looking into goods from further afield, they have decided to come in two waves, the first is a purchasing wave. This is where you make money, and they gather the goods they intend to sell elsewhere. Later there will be merchants coming from further afield to sell you the things you want. You also expect Ursular to make her return this week.
For now, you keep only a single barrel of wine and sell the rest. You want to equip your warriors and to do so you need money. You would sell the excess food as well, but you do not even have enough of a reserve for a full week yet. You consult with Faith on the current state of your stores, and they are keeping well. Faith floats the idea of maybe purchasing some extra food to bulk them out. She is worried about what would happen if there were some form of blight or disease on your orchard. You yourself are more concerned about a siege, but her point is also relevant. Unfortunately, you do not believe you can afford it at this juncture.
When your staff gathers for dinner that night, they find the hall festooned in decorations. The housekeepers, Karla especially, are brimming with pride for having created a true feast in only a few hours. Everyone is handed a glass of the wine that your vintners have made.
Your voice brings all eyes to you before anyone has a chance to drink. "I hope you will all forgive me if I say a few words."
You take a moment to gauge the response from the staff. Some are listening more out of politeness than anything else but they are all listening.
"I assure you that I will not drag this on for too long. This week marks the second month since laid the foundations of what we have today. Thanks to your assistance we have made it into a home for many, and the producers of the finest wine for miles. Perhaps in all of Ferelden, assuming Martin has not been feeding me lies to soothe my ego."
Your small jest gets a mixture of genuine laughter and polite smiles, Martin gets elbowed a few times by those near him. You lift your glass to everyone in the hall.
"A toast to everyone who made this possible. To all of you!"
"To us all!" The cheer comes back loud, even those who do not much care for you joining in.
As the first glass is drunk there is a general mutter of amazement. You do not have long to consider the reactions of the general populace as your attention is quickly claimed by your friends.
"What the hell did I just drink?" Ranger says, staring at the bottom of his empty glass.
Merrill staggers back from the barrel with another drink. "Thish ish great! I love itsh!"
You would love to respond to them, but you have a more pressing concern. "Xandar! Get off the table! You are going to hurt yourself!"
"Behold! The Ambrosia of the Maker!" Xandar cries, lifting his full glass above his head.
Once Xandar has been successfully rescued from the table, you have an enjoyable evening. There are finally songs and some dancing as the feast progresses. You will have to remember that one about the drunken knight. At one point, Merrill drunkenly insists on dancing with you. Fortunately, you are good enough to keep her from embarrassing herself too badly. You enjoy the evening greatly. Even if you end up having to put Merrill and Xandar to bed.
The next day you speak to Martin, you want him to go and purchase equipment to arm and armour at least one of your warriors. In order to do so, Martin must travel to distant villages, since those near you do not make weapons or armour. You intend for the first of your warriors equipped to be Anneth. You had informed her of this fact and noticed her pull him to one side to pass him more money for some reason. You are considering if you should investigate when Merrill stumbles into the hall, bleary eyed and in a dishevelled state.
"How much did I drink last night?" She mumbles, staggering to a chair and slumping over to rest her head on the table.
"Three glasses." You inform her cheerily. "You started slurring after the first and demanded a dance at the top of your lungs after the third."
As Merrill cringes and blushes in embarrassment at her inability to hold her drink, you take pity on her and fetch her some water. After some food and water Merrill is looking more like herself. You inform her that you intend to have a lesson with her today, and that you will meet her in the courtyard after lunch.
"I can't believe I just left the dragon lying there!" Merrill paces back and forth across the courtyard.
"You were unconscious, I do not think you can be blamed for inaction in this matter." You opine from the tree you are leaning against.
"What's worse is that neither you nor Ranger thought to skin it at very least." Merrill continues her chastisement of the world at large.
"Would you not need specialised tools to skin a dragon. Their hides are famously difficult to penetrate." You continue your doomed attempt to be the voice of reason.
"Arrrgh! And now everyone's too busy to stop by and pick it up. Someone's going to steal it, or it will rot or something!" Merrill pulls at her hair in frustration.
"I doubt anyone could lift the corpse; it was the size of a small tree. Do dragons not live for millennia in this world? Surely the magic that keeps it alive can preserve the corpse for a week?" You are not sure if you are attempting to comfort her or take revenge for Merrill accusing you of leaving the dragon there simply to spite her.
Merrill gives you a suspicious glance as she sinks down against a tree of her own. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and she glares at them. She mutters a few choice insults about you to herself that you benevolently overlook.
"If you are finished with that strange combination of scolding and self-flagellation?" You query your frustrated looking student.
"I'm finished." Merrill replies, sounding slightly embarrassed yet still sulking.
"Excellent, then it is time to begin our lesson and question time session." You state brightly.
Merrill looks over her knees at you. "What are you talking about?"
"I am sure you have noticed that our interactions tend to involve us asking questions of each other. Since these questions will likely distract you from your lessons, I thought it would be worth getting them answered first." You explain, maintaining a cheery tone at harsh odds with your student's body language.
Merrill gives you a suspicious look. "I thought you'd already taught me everything. We covered each branch of your magic."
For a moment you do not think she is serious. After that moment passes and you realise she is, you tilt your head back and begin to laugh uproariously.
"Hey! What's so funny. Why are you laughing" Merrill does not take your laughter particularly well.
"I am, ahahaha, sorry." You struggle to get your laughter under control. "It is just ahahaha, you actually thought ahahaha."
"Stop laughing!" Merrill snaps. "It's not funny!"
You finally manage to fight back most of the laughter. You still feel vaguely giddy, and there is a giggle only held back by an iron will.
"As I said, I am sorry." You apologise to your student. "I simply was not expecting you to believe what you said, it took me off guard."
Merrill scowls at you. "Why? What's wrong with what I said."
"Merrill, you remember that I told you that among my people are those who have studied nothing beyond magic their whole lives, do you not?" You answer her seriously.
"Well yeah, but I figured that I knew all the principles and it was mostly just practice now." Merrill says defensively.
You look at her and bow your head slightly. "It seems I must ask your forgiveness again. I had falsely assumed you believed yourself a master."
Merrill seems mollified by your apology, but still less than pleased. "I'm not stupid, I know you're much better at this than I am."
"You are still wrong though. We have covered what each power is, but each has its own unique features that require further study."
"Really? Like what?" Merrill asks, eagerness creeping back into her voice.
You give her a flat look. "You had more questions; we should begin with those. As I have already mentioned"
Merrill has the good grace to look chastised by the reminder. She spends several moments thinking. She keeps glancing at you and then looking away. You are despairing at her return to her behaviour of last week when her expression changes. She looks up at you, staring you in the eyes, her face set like a stone.
"How long do your people live?" She asks, voice and gaze unwavering. "How long is 'their whole life'?"
Your first instinct is to tell her you will not answer. You have seen the jealousy and envy of humans too many times. You are also cautious of revealing the gulf between you, fearful of what it might change between the two of you. You squash this instinct down. It is cowardice, nothing less. Merrill is your friend; you had acknowledged her as such. To conceal this from her would be to make that claim a lie. She clearly has her suspicions and you have dodged this question for far too long. As Merrill continues to stare at you through your deliberation, you make your decision. You trust her.
"Forever. In theory anyway." You reply, meeting Merrill's gaze with your own. "The longest anyone has ever studied the lore of the Valar would be Sailë, a Vanyarin elleth, who began her studies in the eleven fortieth year of the trees. She was still studying when I left in the fourteen ninety fifth, and presumably studies still."
You are not entirely sure Merrill was listening to the second part. "For, forever? You're immortal? What do you mean in theory?"
You sigh. "Yes, I and all my people are immortal. I say in theory, because while our spirits endure even if our bodies die, we cannot make new ones on our own. We require the help of the Valar to walk again in the physical world. Further, we are not sure what happens when the world ends. Will we end with it? Will we be taken to a new world? Not even the Ainur know."
Merrill gives a laugh that is somehow both weak and borderline hysterical. "Right. Of course. You're not technically immortal because you are not one hundred percent certain you would survive the end of the world. Because that's the kind of thing that immortal people have to worry about."
"Are you alright Merrill. You seem… disturbed." You ask your student, concern colouring your voice.
"Oh, I'm fine. No problems here. I'm just talking to a literal living legend. How old are you again?" Merrill continues, sounding somewhat dazed.
"I am not certain, years of the trees do not convert easily into years of the sun. I lived five hundred years of the sun and that is a very small part of my life." You reply carefully.
"Years of the trees? Years of the sun?" Merrill asks shakily.
"Before there was a sun the land was lit by two great trees. We calculated years based off their life cycles. There was no moon either, just the stars." You explain. "Are you certain you are alright? You really seem to be taking this poorly."
Merrill does not speak. She barely even reacts. She simply lowers her head into her hands and remains still for several long minutes. You begin to reach out, only to pause and leave her for now. You strain your ears for any sounds, but you hear nothing.
Finally, Merrill raises her head. She looks better, not quite as determined as before but hardly envious or shattered by the revelation.
"Sorry. I suspected based on what you said, but it's another thing to actually hear it. I also guess, I mean to say." Merrill's words fail her for a moment. "I thought you'd be young, not old enough to have seen every age since the Divine."
You shrug. "It is one of the things that humans, and those like them, struggle to comprehend about the Quendi. We do not age. You can freeze a human in time, and they will still age in mind. The Quendi do not, we are young and yet old. Eternally burning with the fires of youth and yet tempered by the experience of age. You can meet one elf and think he is young, so rash and impatient is he, only to find out he is older than your entire family line. You can then meet another whose wisdom and patience would have you think of him as ancient, yet he is not even a full four decades old."
Merrill nods. "I guess that makes sense. It would be weird if you were basically just humans whose bodies never aged. Your minds would have to be different just to cope with eternal life."
Merrill suddenly stops talking with a drawn out gasp.
After a few moments of furious thought, she says, "That's why you think we're not full elves! We age like humans. If my time with Xandar has shown anything, we even think like them. Even if we had lost our immortality we should still have some remnant of that alienness you're talking about."
You nod. "In essence yes. The Eldar simply do not care for the same things as the Atani. It goes deeper than simply the perspective caused by living longer. For example, while there are those among my people who crave positions of authority, it is usually born from a sense of entitlement rather than a lust for power."
Merrill's appearance reminds you of yourself when you were younger. She has reached that moment in life when you first realise that the world is bigger than you first thought. With that realisation comes the partner idea that despite all you have learned, you are still so ignorant in the ways of the world. It is touching that you have been able to witness it, and indeed cause it in her. With that said, it is also a moment that will be an impediment to the lesson you wish to conduct. One who is re-evaluating everything they know is one who is not listening to their teacher.
"Come, let us leave this topic for now." You tell your student.
"How!? This is a major revelation! I can't just act as though it means nothing!" Merrill speaks with force that borders on a shout.
"As I said when I retrieved my soul from the Beyond, I have not changed. I am still Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, eldest of the sons of Fëanáro. I am still the Noldo you met in the forest five months ago. Everything else you have realised, anything you wish to consider in greater depth, can wait until our lesson is finished." You tell your student.
Merrill looks at you disbelievingly for a moment. Then she closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths.
"Alright. What are we learning today?" She asks.
The question of what to teach Merrill is a difficult one. You are wary of encouraging her to pursue songs of power too much. She could benefit from studying how fade energy interacts with the arts you have taught her. It would also help her feel like more of an equal, given that you do not really have all the answers for that particular question. It would be a learning experience for both of you. Though since you do not know what the results would be it is perhaps better left alone for now.
The second idea you had was simply improving at a skill of hers. Perhaps even her skill at magic. It would both be something relatively safe and one that would help her in many different ways. You decided against it for the same reasons you considered it. As far as things you could teach her, it is the one she can pursue on her own with the least risk. This leaves you with only one option despite your reluctance to encourage her study of the most challenging of your arts. She has no innate magic to speak of, so the only art of your people left to study is that of the song of power.
"We are going to be diving deeper into songs of power. Tell me, what would you like to accomplish with one? I will walk you through its creation, explaining why each step is performed in the manner it is." You instruct your student.
"Really?" Merrill says, excitement beginning to colour her voice once more.
"Among the differences between my people and humans is a great distaste for falsehood." You reply, unamused.
"I can't believe this. Dirthamen, this is so exciting. Let me find my notes." Merrill says, thumbing through her ever growing folder of paper.
You conceal a fond smile behind your hand. Only Merrill could go from abject shock at her worldview being shifted radically to boundless excitement for knowledge.
"Got it!" Merrill cries, snatching a paper from the depths of her folder and waving it about. "Ok, so according to this what I wanted was a song that could make a small fire appear."
You stare at Merrill, waiting for her to laugh and tell you she is joking. When she does not, looking at you like she is expecting praise, you fight back a great sigh of disappointment.
"Merrill, that is not a good use for a song of power." You say, concealing your disbelief and disapproval; neither will help you make your point.
"Really? I thought I should be careful not to do something to complex. Since they're so powerful and dangerous." Merrill asks, frowning.
You stand up and fetch a candle from a high shelf. It is meant to be used for reading late at night, but you are going to use is for a demonstration.
"The problem with what you want is that it is equivalent to using a scorpion bow to hunt sparrows." You wave your hand over the candle, calling on the energy contained within to light the wick. "As you can see, creating a small fire is easily done. Songs of power work best on works of great might, or great complexity."
Merrill stares at the candle for a moment. "So what would you recommend? I want it to have some connection to something I can do with magic, to get a feel for the differences."
You nod, secretly pleased at the thought your student has put into the topic. "How about freezing a body of water? Creating something is not a task for a novice, and most of your powers do so."
Merrill seems to consider it for a moment, then she too nods. "That should work. How big of a body of water?"
You consider, taking into account her relative weakness and objective inexperience. "I think a bowl would serve best. We will take one of the wooden ones used by the housekeepers. We will do this in the courtyard in case something goes wrong."
"Won't that take us outside the barrier against possession." Merrill objects. "It's bound to the walls. I don't want a repeat of the Incident"
You grimace. "The hall then. I will fetch the bowl and warn the staff to stay away."
You do not want to accidentally freeze anyone. Kano had done so when he first began learning. He had gotten quite the scolding from your mother.
Merrill leans over the bowl full of water. "So how do we do this?"
"The first step is to choose the tune. It is the foundation of any song, the words must match the tune." You begin. "We will want to use the tunes for cold and water.
You whistle the strains you mentioned. Cold is a high breathy sound, one that reminds you of winds of Himring howling about the walls and towers of your fortress. Water, on the other hand, is a complicated mix of staccato notes and longer one, with a pitch that rises and falls; calling to mind a rapidly moving stream.
"For now just practice those two until you are confident you can produce them on command." You instruct Merrill.
"What should I sing?" She asks.
"The names work best; it will help associate each tune with its meaning.
As Merrill does so, you begin sketching out some rough lyrics. The song will not be long, so there do not need to be many. Once you are done you sit and wait until Merrill is finished with her practice.
Panting slightly she reads through them.
When she is finished, she asks. "Why these words? You don't even say that the water should freeze."
"That is deliberate. You do not want to give instructions; you are creating a theme. A song of power is not an order to reality. It is a description, convincing the world around you that all is as you say it is. It will then cause the effect you desire on its own." You explain. "I have written of winter and of falling snow because that is the time in which water freezes. Are you ready?"
Merrill nods, takes a deep breath and chants a song of wizardry.
The song warbles, dropping notes and missing beats. Merrill soldiers on despite her occasional failures. Determination glimmers in her eyes and her voice is steady. You feel the cold extending its long fingers into the hall, her breath begins to fog as she stares at the bowl as though she would change it by force of will alone. You see a thin skin of ice begin to form on the surface as the song swells. In this hall, for a single shining second, despite Merrill's poor singing, the hall is wrapped in the icy grip of winter.
Then Merrill sways on her feet, the song coming to a sudden end. Spring rushes back into the room and the skin of ice cracks into many pieces. You put your hand on Merrill, supporting her weight.
Merrill peers up at you with bleary eyes. "Di' it work?"
"It was starting to." You reply. "You may need some more practice.
"'m gonna sleep now." Merrill mumbles.
You carry her to her bed, not for the first time this week. As you leave, letting the door close you wonder if practice will be enough, she may simply lack the innate strength to wield such power.
Martin manages to return after just a few days. He had not needed to go as far as you had feared. The Teyrn has a policy of maintaining a large army, and there is always someone selling weapons and armour. He has acquired an open faced helmet and an iron cuirass and greaves. The round shield is sturdy oak and there is a proper lance and a bow and set of arrows, he even managed to find a sword at a semi-reasonable price. This is all more or less what you had expected, but what surprises you is his other purchases. A bright red cloak, made with expensive dye to match your own. Red and white paint is also in the pile of goods he gives to Anneth.
When you next see her, she is clad in her full harness. Riding boots, a dark leather supplied by Gladesville. The cuirass and greaves fit her well, sitting over a pale yellow and dark grey clothing. The cloak is pressed close to her back by the shield strapped to her back and the bow beneath it. Painted on the shield, in a manner crude to your eyes but done with great care, is a white eight pointed star on a red background.
"Sir?" Anneth asks nervously.
"Everything seems in order." You say. "Come, let us see how it functions on horseback."
"Thank you sir." She replies, relieved. "Right away sir."
When you walk past her, you are vaguely aware of her falling in behind you. The presence of a red cloaked warrior is a comforting one to you.