"Who is Morgoth? Where is the Maker? Oh, where did the Veil come from do you think?" Xandar's questions come thick and fast.
You stare up at the ceiling. "Could these questions not have waited until I had awoken?"
"I did wait until you woke up." Xandar points out unhelpfully.
With a sigh, you sit up. "Technically true I suppose. When I said wait until I had awoken, I meant please do not wait in my room until I open my eyes then ambush me with questions."
"Sorry teacher. I'll wait outside until you're dressed. Then you can answer the questions." Xandar springs to his feet and leaves the room.
You raise your hand to massage your temples. "Valar á anta nin coloitié."
Once you have changed from the sleeping clothes Leeanna and Eve had generously made you, you meet Xandar outside your room.
His bright expression annoys you and you need to set boundaries. "Xandar, I am unsure how you were raised, but most people consider it entirely inappropriate to enter someone's room while they are sleeping. The next time I see you in my room without either urgent need or express permission, I am going to take drastic action."
Xandar wilts such that it stirs you to pity, but you harden your heart and let your words stand. "Yes teacher. Sorry teacher."
You acknowledge his words and dismiss him. "You are forgiven. I am not going to answer your questions at this moment, I will consider doing so after breakfast."
As you eat breakfast you consider whether or not you will address Xandar's questions. This has not been the first time he has asked things of that nature. They have come up during lessons, and he is often seeking you out when you are not working with questions of a similar nature. You have no objections to answering them in principle, the trouble is that there seems to be no end to them. That they often distract from another task is only a further concern.
You swallow a dried fruit. In the end, it is your fault. You frequently make references that would be common knowledge among the Eldar, yet to Xandar must seem as tantalising hints of a greater truth. You should relay to him the Ainulidalë, for that is what he wishes for though he knows it not. Then again, given his preconceptions and the general shocking ignorance of the One he has displayed, it might be better to address the tale in a context he can understand better.
Your attention is drawn to Merrill at the other end of the table. She is laughing at something Ranger said and a thought strikes you. Xandar is not the only person who would be interested in the Ainulindalë. Merrill certainly would, and there is that Chantry spreading their blatantly impossible ideas. It might be best to have a more accessible version of the tale, to combat the general ignorance. Merrill has shown great interest in your culture, and the Ainur as well. She would likely demand to be told the tale herself, sooner or later. You finish your drink and consider how best to address all these factors.
The best way to convey the tale of the birth of Arda is a difficult one. The way the Valar had relayed it to your people had been in song. That is how you would want to relay it to the people of this land. The only trouble is how entirely devoid of music the races of Thedas are. You find them a rather dull people in that regard, only singing rarely and at moments of celebration. You heard no funeral dirges at Zathrien's memorial, and your travels have revealed little in the way of work songs among the humans. Given the association with frivolity it may be unwise to convey the truth of the universe in song.
A book is the next natural option, it is how you recorded the Dalish's tales after all. The difficulty there is the audience. You do not want to spend several weeks copying out a book so that more than one person can be told about the Ainur and Eru at once. This is a more serious consideration then it appears on the surface because you are certain that the moment you tell Xandar, Merrill will demand to be told as well. She is impatient enough to be less than pleased by the prospect of waiting for Xandar to finish a book. Which raises another question, can Xandar read? You do not know.
When you finish your meal you walk over to Xandar, who has been staring at you from across the hall since breakfast started.
"Are you going to answer my questions now?" He asks, somehow combining plaintive begging with eager enthusiasm.
"I want you to inform everyone that I will be relaying the tale of the Ainulindalë, or the creation myth of my people, to anyone who is interested. If they are interested, they should go to the hall of song." You inform the human.
Xandar practically leaps out of his seat. "Yes! At once!" He takes three steps and then turns back to you. "What's the hall of song?"
You give him a look. "The large room with instruments and chairs in it."
You move to the hall of song. Once there, you consider how to translate the Ainudalë from a song in early Eldarin, and later Quenya, to a short tale told in the human tongue of Thedas. So deep in thought are you that you barely acknowledge Merrill's entrance. Thus, when you have finished thinking and turn to address those gathered, you can be forgiven for your surprise at what you see. Near the full compliment of your staff are present. There is Wesley, his beloved and Karla in the back. Your warriors have lined up their chairs in three neat rows and are all waiting for you to begin. Merrill and Xandar are both here in the front, obviously. You even see the Dalish you had brought into your housekeeping staff.
"Greetings everyone. I confess I had not expected there to be such a response to a seminar on comparative religion." You jest to cover your confusion.
There is a general shuffling and muttering, before Anneth speaks up. "We're all interested in what you believe. None of us have ever seen an elf like you, and nobody knows what the Dalish believe. There isn't a chapel or a member of the Chantry here so you don't believe in the maker. We're all really curious."
"And his stories are always interesting." Someone calls out from the mass of warriors.
You have not told them any particularly interesting stories, just a few personal anecdotes, so you have no idea where that opinion is coming from.
Undaunted by the number of people, you begin your tale.
"In the beginning there was the One. Eru Ilúvatar as we call him. Eru dwelt there in the nothingness before time and from his thoughts were born the Ainur. He saw them and loved them and they him. He revealed unto them themes of music, and each in turn sang for him. Then he spoke to them yet more, and they grew in wisdom and knowledge. Now they sang in twos or threes, then in chorus of ten or more. Finally, the One revealed to them his great theme, and for the first time all sang in harmony."
You pause, wishing you had brought some water with you. You audience watches with rapt attention.
"I would, if I could, describe for days that music. Yet even if I were to do so, neglecting all other duties, I would still fail to capture its majesty. Eru heeded the song of the Ainur and knew it to be good. For it was free from flaw and beautiful beyond all compare."
Your eyes harden, the next part having become far more personal in the last five centuries than when you had first heard the tale.
"Then Morgoth, greatest of the Ainur, began to dissent. He believed himself greater than the One and began to sing a tune of his own devising. Discord entered the harmony, for Morgoth drew many of the Ainur to join in his song, such was his charm and power. Eru wove the theme anew, and it grew yet more beautiful. Once more Morgoth arose to challenge it, and once more Eru wove anew."
There are hisses and boos from your audience now. Cries of 'demon' and 'abomination' can be heard among the clamour.
You raise a hand, awaiting silence before continuing. "Now Eru's face was as thunder. With a single great note he ended the music of the Ainur. He spoke to Morgoth,
'Behold that which your music has wrought, and know that there is no song that does not have its source in me. No theme exists that can defy me, for all that tries shall only serve to make my creation yet more beautiful.'
Then he displayed for the Ainur the world their song had woven, and they saw much of it play out. Some say they saw until the last days Quendi dwelt on mortal shores; others say they saw yet further."
You fall silent for a moment, unsure how to end this tale. In your world it would have been simple, you would have told them that is how the world was made. Yet you do not know if it is true here. Obviously, it exists somewhere in the theme of Eru, yet you know not how or where.
You compromise by saying, "This is how my world was made, and I know it to be true. For I walked among the Ainur and spoke to them of all they had done."
There is a moment of silence. Then the room explodes into a cacophony of questions.
"Silence!" You bellow.
Your voice thunders through the room, bouncing off walls for a slight echo. The room falls as silent as a graveyard.
When you see that your command has been obeyed, you speak again. "You will wait until I invite you to ask a question. Anyone who speaks out of turn will be forced to leave. Now raise your hand if you have a question you wish to ask."
A veritable forest of hands raises. Your eyes glance over to Xandar briefly. He and Merrill both raised their hands, but you have already told Merrill many things. Xandar is the reason you told this tale in the first place, but you suspect he will approach you later anyway. For now, you will focus on the staff, who you speak to less often.
"Yes Wesley?" You indicate the first person whose question you will answer.
Wesley stands up and speaks. "So, these Ainur, are they spirits?"
"Not as you understand them." You correct him. "The spirits of the Beyond are, fragmentary. Ainur are complete in a way they are not. I do not have a good way to explain the difference to you."
Merrill suddenly starts waving her hand and bouncing up and down on her seat.
"Is something the matter Merrill?" You ask.
"No, I just have more information to help answer the question. May I?" Merrill asks.
You gesture for her to continue speaking.
"Ok, so, um, Spirits are defined by a single emotion. They also lack creativity and the ability to create new things. These Ainur clearly had complex emotions, if they loved their creator and could still have turned against him for Morgoth. They are also creative enough to invent their own song, even if for ill. They must be more like an elf or human, if greater in power by several orders of magnitude!" Merrill exclaims, half explaining and half clearly relaying a realisation she had herself.
"Does that answer your question to you satisfaction?" You ask Wesley.
The farmer nods and sits down, looking somewhat dazed.
Several hands have gone down now, it seems that was a common question. You point at one of your warriors.
The warrior stands and asks a question you should have expected. "So, what's that all mean? That's just a story about how the world was made. It doesn't really tell us what's right or wrong."
"In truth the Ainulindalë continues for several more verses, but your central complaint is valid. The tale is not a morality play, to explain how one should act. It is a description of the creation of the world." You are unsure as to why he would expect there to be a moral dimension to the tale.
The warrior remains on his feet and asks another question. "So, what is right and wrong? What did the Ainur say when you talked to them?"
You rub your chin in thought, for it is a complicated question. "I should begin by differentiating between what the Ainur say and what laws a people makes. There are very few commandments that the Ainur expect of the embodied. They are to not slay other embodied, to not disobey them when they command you directly and to never attempt to subvert the will of another."
The warrior nods for a few moments then sits down. There is a number of whispers and nudging, then he begrudgingly stands up again.
Cheeks burning red, he asks, "What's that mean? Subveening the will of another I mean."
You do not smile or laugh, though it is tempting, instead you answer his question seriously. "Subverting the will of another means to make someone do something they do not want to do, usually with magic."
He frowns. "But you do that all the time."
"No I do not." You have had this conversation many times before, you already know what he is about to say."
"I don't want to work, but you make me." He points out.
"No, I give you reasons to do so that outweigh your desire to not work." You retort.
You see a number of confused looks, but you are still 'on script' as it were so you can continue without much thought.
You address the warrior. "If you were not to work, what would happen?"
"I wouldn't get paid, and you'd probably make me leave." He replies quickly.
"That is why I have not subverted your will. You can leave, there is nothing preventing you from doing so. You just have a large number of reasons not to." You explain. "If I had subverted your will, you would be incapable of even considering the question, because you would be incapable of not doing what I want."
The warrior takes his seat once more, obviously spooked by the thought. You allow a few moments to pass before you move on to the next raised hand.
"You will have the last question; the hour grows late, and you all have work." You say, pointing at one of the Dalish housekeepers.
The elf stands, fidgeting nervously. "What about magic? I know the Chantry and the Imperium say stuff about it, what do these Ainur say?"
You really should have expected this question. "The Ainur do not acknowledge magic specifically. I would say that it is the same as any other talent, to be judged by its use."
"But isn't it dangerous? With the demons and the blood magic and stuff?" The Dalish girl presses on.
You fight back a scoff. "An axe is dangerous girl. I am sure if you ask around you will find more than a few stories of people who have injured themselves seriously, perhaps even died, while cutting wood. Using something dangerous is not wrong, it is merely something to be done with care and forethought. It is foolish or perhaps even neglectful if one wields it recklessly, but again that is a judgement of the use it is put to, not its existence."
The crowd falls silent, taking in your words. The nervous Dalish sinks back into her seat, grateful for the illusion of anonymity the crowd provides.
"That is enough questions for now. I may speak on this matter more at a later date, for now be about your days." You state, ending this little gathering.
Today's events have seen you thinking about Xandar frequently. During this time, you have realised that he is in dire need of further instruction. You have seen him relatively little compared to your other students. You have taught Ophelia as often as he and she has been your student for two weeks not a month and a half. Admittedly, you have far less to teach him, given that you are not a mage, but that does not mean you can neglect him. Thus, when you have settled the question of cosmology to your satisfaction, you do not let Xandar leave.
"Student, I believe it is time for a further lesson, if you have time." You inform your student.
"Yes! I mean, I thought we just had one. But I'll happily take another one, oh benevolent teacher!" Xandar thrusts his fist into the air with enthusiasm.
"What did I say about meaningless titles?" You remind him.
"But teacher, it's not meaningless. You are being benevolent by giving me two lessons back to back." Xandar rebuts.
You fight back an amused smile. "Regardless I would prefer it if you dropped the adjectives and left it at teacher."
Xandar kicks at some invisible stone, sulking. "Yes teacher."
"Come now, do not be disheartened. I am not upset. We have a lesson to attend, do we not?" You encourage your middle student.
"Yes. Of course, sorry teacher." Xandar says, dismissing his previous attitude. "What are we going to study?"
"We have a number of things that we could study. However, I would like to begin by asking you how your lessons with Merrill go." You say, gesturing him to sit down.
Rather than taking a chair, Xandar sinks to the ground with his legs crossed. "I really like Merrill's lessons. They're always really interesting and they give me things to think about. Like, do you think that every spirit is in rebellion against the Maker?"
"I would be very surprised, but it is possible." You reply. "What are you studying?"
"Well, we've done lots of talking about anatomy and disease." Xandar answers. "We also spend a lot of time talking about spirits and the Fade."
"That is the Beyond yes? Why do you call it a different name?" You inquire.
Xandar shrugs. "Just do, I guess. The Dalish call it the Beyond, the Chantry calls it the Fade. No idea why, it doesn't serve their nefarious purposes as far as I can tell."
You stroke your chin, the etymological possibilities are interesting, but ultimately a distraction. "I suppose it matters not. Is there anything you would like to learn?"
Xandar frowns. "Well, you answered most of my questions already. I guess it'd be useful to learns some combat magic, if we're going to keep getting into fights."
"Be cautious when seeking the ways of war." You say, words as heavy as your heart. "Once one is on that path, it is not easy to leave."
Xandar looks at you with surprise and concern. "Are you alright?"
You smile. "It is nothing. Simply a desire that there be no further need for warriors. I do not mean to tell you that you cannot learn to fight. Are you interested in anything else?"
Another shrug. "I'm happy to learn whatever you want to teach me."
Tempting though it is to expand on Xandar's specialisations, you would be more comfortable waiting until he has a better grasp on his power before doing so. You shudder to think at the damage he might cause if he learned how to create storms before he learned basic self-control. With that option no longer possible there is one clear option. You have taught him everything you can about healing, you are no expert on the subject, so that leaves only your observations and understanding of the nature of the energy that mages use to wield their magic.
"Very well. As I am no mage, and do not wish to teach you the ways of war, then I shall share with you my observations of the Beyond and the manner in which its energy functions." You inform your student.
Xandar looks doubtful. "I don't mean to question you, teacher, but if you aren't a mage how do you know about the Beyond?"
You had forgotten that you had largely kept your escapades in the Beyond to yourself, with only Merrill being aware of them. "Due to a number of events, including an incident with Merrill, I have had the opportunity to study the Beyond and its energy in far greater detail than most. I even replicated the abilities of the Templars, quite by accident."
Xandar's eyes are shining, and you move into the lesson before he can bury you in further questions.
Your attempt is unsuccessful.
"How do the Templars do the things they do? Is it magic? Do they visit the Fade in order to gain their abilities? I thought they needed Lyrium to use their abilities. Are all Templars secretly mages?" Xandar's questions fly thick, fast and repetitive.
"As I have already told you I do not know. I am not a Templar, I merely recreated their abilities." You feel tired and defeated, and that comes across in your voice.
Never one to be deterred by manners or social norms Xandar presses on. "Well, what do you do? It's got to be the same as what Templars do. Did you learn in order to kill mages, or was it more to keep yourself safe from Merrill?"
"Why would you think that I feared Merrill?" You ask, shocked he would even ask.
"Well, I don't but you know when you two are alone it's probably worrying that she might set you on fire in a moment of passion." Xandar says earnestly.
The several seconds you spend giving Xandar a look of utter disappointment seem to be the worst of his life. "Merrill and I are not married. We do not have the kind of relations you seem to believe."
Xandar seems genuinely surprised. "Really? I just thought... It seemed so obvious."
"How did we even get onto this topic." You groan, resting your face in your hands.
"I was asking you why you learnt Templar abilities." Xandar reminds you.
"By accident." You answer his question.
"How do you get Templar abilities by accident?" Xandar asks.
You see a chance to get the lesson back on track. "Well, by studying fade energy you can find a way to impress your will on it in such a way that no one else can use it."
"Really?" Xandar asks, clearly fascinated. "That's not how it was explained to me."
You are once again distracted from the topic at hand. "How was it explained to you?"
"Well, I was told that Templars use their faith in the Maker to shield them from magic." Xandar explains. "They can take Lyrium to spread this effect out into the area, creating a 'zone of null magic'."
You blink, surprised. "I thought you were one of those 'apostates'. When did you have the chance to talk to a Templar amicably? Are they not the enforcers of the Chantry's will for mages?"
Xandar loses his usual enthusiasm. "Well, yes, they are."
He then falls silent, staring out a nearby window. He does not seem to want to talk about the matter.
You are tempted to ask about Xandar's past, curiosity pushing at you. You do not. You know well that people often have events in their past they do not wish to discuss. You expect people to respect your desire to remain silent on where you came from and what you have done, you should extend that courtesy to others. You are fairly sure this lesson is a complete failure though. If you want to take his mind off whatever it is that bothers him, you should discuss the abilities of the Templar. Your abilities may not be the same as theirs, but it will make a useful point of comparison.
"Perhaps it will be helpful if I explain the manner in which I discovered my abilities." You propose.
Xandar's gaze snaps back to you from the window. For a moment he seems confused, then a bright smile breaks out across his face.
"That sounds great teacher! Please enlighten me." He says, arms once more making strange gestures.
You will never admit aloud that it is a comfort to see his animation return. "I was in the Beyond at the time, due to a potion Merrill had given me."
"Oh it probably had Lyrium in it! Like how Templars gain their abilities!" Xandar cries.
"A useful observation, but I have not ingested Lyrium since, so I doubt it is a perfect comparison." You reply.
Xandar does not continue to speak, either to agree or rebut so you continue your tale. "I found myself observing the natural movements of the energy that makes up the Beyond."
Xandar interrupts you "How did you do that?"
You go to point out the obvious, and then pause. For several seconds you sit there, trying to think of a way to explain it.
"You just do?" Your voice is uncertain, you genuinely do not know how to explain it. "How do you hear? Or see?"
Xandar frowns. "Teacher, I don't think people who haven't been touched by the Maker can do that."
You would love to disagree with that observation, but the touch of Eru is technically the reason you can do anything. You let the statement stand for now, you do not think the argument disagreeing would cause is worth it.
"Ignore the how for now." You tell your student. "During my time in the Beyond I realised that its energy was potential in its purest form. A simple instruction to reinforce the concept of reality enabled me to make constructs of fade energy semi-permanent, assuming I had a real object to tie them to, and prevent a mage from using their magic to manipulate the energy."
"Really?" Xandar asks. "That sounds a lot like creating a spell that prevents other spells from being cast, perhaps if I…"
Xandar falls silent a moment, clearly thinking deeply on what you have said. He acts as though he is about to speak a few times, and at one point nods to himself.
Eventually, he looks up at you and says, "I have no idea how to do that."
You let out a surprised bark of laughter. "I wish I had a better way to explain it. It is built on a number of senses and innate understandings that, I am beginning to realise, are absent among the people of this land."
"Well we can't all come from a land inhabited by the Maker's foremost servants." Xandar points out.
"It has less to do with that you think." You reply.
You are beginning to realise the people of this land are less connected to the underlying structure of reality than back home. You are not sure what you think of that. You are pulled out from your thoughts by a soft sound from Xandar.
"I am sorry, I missed that. Do you mind repeating what you just said?" You ask the human.
Xandar repeats, almost too quiet to hear. "Thanks for understanding."
It takes you a few moments to realise he is likely speaking about not pressing him on the topic of the Templar.
"We all have things we would rather not speak of. Your thanks are unnecessary." You inform him.