The Teacher…
You and Merrill are incredibly busy at the moment. She with the Lady and you with Lanaya. None would blame you if, after those long days the both of you simply collapsed into bed. No one except yourselves.
"Ok, if we get back here at sunset exactly, we should be able to spend two hours on studying and then still get to bed in time." Merrill says as dinner wraps up.
"That suits me." You agree. "Do you wish to go first?"
Merrill chews her lip. "I think it'll be better if you do. I don't know how well I'll be able to teach in an hour."
"If you cannot manage to teach you will also struggle to learn." You point out. We can shorten the time, or simply trade off days."
Merrill pouts at you, you almost disbelieve your eyes for a moment. "But, but research!"
"Research is worthless if you cannot stay awake to finish it." You state firmly. "I am more than happy to allow you to go first so you have the greater count of days."
Merrill crosses her arms. "You make me sound selfish when you say things like that."
"You are my student, I am more than willing to dedicate additional time to you." You remind the young elf.
Merrill frowns. "Hang on, if I'm teaching you magic, doesn't that make you my student?"
You tilt your head in thought. "In matters of magic, yes."
"Then I insist you go first. As my student, I am more than willing to devote additional time to you." She says proudly.
The two of you spend the remainder of dinner arguing. Merrill proves surprisingly stubborn on the matter, and eventually you allow her the victory in the name of peace.
That it will serve to ensure that you can close this humiliating gap in your knowledge has no bearing whatsoever on your choice. Or so you tell yourself.
The two of you retire into the study room and Merrill stands while you sit. Amusingly, this means that you are at approximately head height with her. A fact which causes her to give you a slight glare. You shrug, you cannot control how tall you are.
"Right!" Merrill says placing her hands on her hips. "How much do you know about magic?"
"It is born of the Beyond, energies of which cling to the mage when they sleep. Given the nature of the energies therein, referred to as mana, it is possible to create literal impossibilities in the physical world." You recite dutifully.
Merrill blinks a few times then nods. "Right, we've talked about this a lot haven't we. Why do you need me then?"
You give Merrill a flat look. "Merrill, I am not a mage. I cannot improve through experimentation with my natural talent. I know a great deal of theory but relatively little of practice. The most I can do is blindly grope for the energies and push my perception of reality upon them."
Merrill nods slowly. "And we keep doing stuff with magic, that means we're talking about things you don't understand and have no context for."
"Exactly." You agree. "Much as my father made me watch him make a sword before he gave it to me, I wish to understand that which I wield. How it is made, what its characteristics are."
Merrill nods, fingers on her chin as she thinks.
"I guess the best thing to do is to try and run through basic mage training." She says at last. "I don't know how much will stick, given you aren't one, but it's the best option."
So begins your lesson on the nature of magic. It begins with some simple exercises on reaching within yourself for the 'mana' within. Since you cannot do that, you skip over it.
This ends up being a pattern, Merrill will explain how to do something, sometimes even showing you, but you will be unable to execute the action. It causes Merrill no end of frustration.
But you revel in it.
Merrill is a good teacher, and her explanations make sense. You find yourself searching for ways to leverage your current abilities to make use of what she explains. For example, her explanation of ambient mana as 'thinner' than internal mana helps you close off the Beyond more effectively.
By the end of the hour Merrill has resorted to relentlessly quizzing you. When she falls silent you ask how you did.
Merrill stares at you like one who has witnessed a miracle. "It took Xandar two weeks to get through this material."
"In his defence, he had to complete the practical component as well." You point out.
"That doesn't explain why it only took you an hour!" Merrill yells. "Now what are we going to study!?"
"Well, I tend to find that when you are speaking to other mages of magical theory, I cannot follow what you are saying. Not due to any lack of understanding of the underlying principles necessarily, but rather because I do not understand the words you are using. We could attempt to fix that." You propose.
Merrill blinks once, twice, then slaps her forehead. "Of course! I always forget this is your second language."
"Fifth if you wish to be pedantic." You note idly.
"Fifth?" Merrill asks.
"This tongue, Quenya, Sindarin, Rómeno[1] and Elvhen. Also a few words of Khuzdal that I have heard my brothers use now and again, as well as some passing familiarity with Noldorin that may or may not count." You list idly. "An argument could be made for fourth, as technically I started learning Thedaslta before Elvhen."
"It's called common." Merrill says mechanically.
"Rómeno is not called so in its own tongue." You reply in amusement. "Yet I still call it that, much as I would not object if you chose to call Quenya 'Eldarin'."
Actually, you would proudly proclaim that your tongue had overtaken Sindarin and brag incessantly to the Vanyar about it. That is of no importance to this conversation, especially given most human's disinterest in linguistic warfare.
"Okay, no, this makes sense." Merrill says to herself. "You're super old and have a knack for learning. It's just surprising to hear."
"Is it so strange to speak five odd languages?" You ask in confusion. "You yourself speak two, and you are but a handful of decades old."
"I'm only twenty seven." Merrill mutters with a blush. "It's not even three decades."
You shrug. "The purpose of the expression 'a handful' as I understand it is to indicate a small but unspecified number."
"Well yes, but people use different sayings for different amounts, like two would be a couple…" Merrill trails off as you raise an eyebrow. "Anyway, we're off topic. Magical terminology! Ummm, actually I think we're out of time. Never mind, I'll grab one of my primers and you can read it for next lesson."
Becomes the Student
"Well Merrill, are you ready for our lesson today?" You ask your student.
Merrill pauses for a long moment. "Uh, before we begin, I wanted to apologise."
"Apologise? Whatever for?" You ask.
The Nandëo blushes. "Well, it's just… You're busy dealing with Lanaya and I can't help. I mean, I know what I'm doing is important but it just feels like I should still do something. Lanaya's my friend, and it feels like my responsibility."
You lean back against a wall. "It is understandable to feel that the actions of our friend are our responsibility. However, we must be careful. Our friends are people in their own right, and they make choices even as we do. What Lanaya has done was her choice."
"What did she even do?" Merrill asks.
She does not know? Ah, yes she was not at the meeting, and Marethari left to attend to her parts of the task. Given Merrill's closeness to you, her teacher must have correctly deduced that telling her the night before would have caused a scene.
"Lanaya sent a false message saying your clan needed me urgently." You inform her with emphasised calm. "Along the road she ambushed me. I was unhurt and fled rather than risk confrontation."
For a moment Merrill is frozen in place, her face displaying disbelief. You half expect her to challenge your words, but she never does. Several long moments pass as her breath becomes heavier, her head shakes once or twice.
Then with a speed that would surprise most her face takes on a terrible cast.
She turns to the door, but you reach it first and block her path.
"Where are you going Merrill?" You ask neutrally.
"Out of my way Nelyafinwë." She says lowly, voice loaded with menace.
You lean back against the door. "We have a lesson, did you forget?"
"I have something I need to do. We'll do the lesson later." She replies shortly.
"What would that be?" You prompt, knowing the answer already.
"I'm going to deal with Lanaya." She says through gritted teeth.
"That would be unwise." You state calmly.
"I can't do nothing!" Merrill exclaims.
"We are not doing nothing." You remind her. "We are taking action even as we speak, and the Lady's blessing will only aid us further."
"Why are you protecting her!" She yells.
"I am not." You reply. "I am protecting you."
"I can take her." Merrill claims.
"Perhaps, but can you take her clan? Their warriors?" Merrill looks away, defiant. "Even if you can, do they deserve to die for her crimes?"
Merrill's eyes snap back to you. "They helped her!"
"A handful helped her." You remind her gently. "There are others in the clan that had nothing to do with it. They do not deserve to die."
"Why are you defending them!?" Merrill all but screams. "They attacked you!"
"Because I have stood where you stand." You state. "I know your anger, and I will not watch another Kinslaying happen. Not when I can do something about it."
Mana soaks the air, and Merrill's tattoos glow an ominous red. You tense as her hand comes up, your will reaching out to the mana in the air, ready to snuff out the magic in the room.
Then with a scream Merrill turns and throws a fireball into the centre of the room. A rush of heat, light and sound washes over you. Then again, and again.
Merrill unleashes her rage upon the room in bursts and waves of magic that have you drawing a shield about yourself. Several times you see Merrill's body flaring blue as a Mage Shell deflects debris or licks of flame away from her. She screams and yells. You do nothing, used to similar displays from your family.
Eventually Merrill stands alone in a burned out husk of a room, blackened from fire and lightning.
"I'll kill her!" She screams. "I swear I'll…"
You are across the room before you even consciously realise. Your left hand wraps around her mouth and your will pulses into the room deadening the magic. It proves unnecessary, Merrill has exhausted her current stock of magic.
"No!" You hiss. "Do not swear oaths! Not ever and especially not now!"
Merrill's eyes meet yours, blazing with light. Her chest heaves, but you remain firm. Even as teeth dig into your palm you do not relent. Time may be beyond you, but you will not allow history to repeat before your eyes.
Eventually the teeth release, her breathing slows and the anger in her eyes fades to bitter resentment. Slowly, hesitantly you release her mouth and back away.
There is a long silence between the two of you. Merrill keeps glancing at your hand and then away, while you are happy to allow the elf to come to terms with her own emotions.
Finally, she walks over and, pulling on the dregs of her mana, begins to heal your hand.
"I probably wouldn't have made it anyway." She laughs bitterly. "With the Veil as it is, and how angry I was I'd be swarmed by rage demons before I made it ten steps."
The rage, the bitterness, it is all too familiar to you. For a moment Merrill's form seems to blur and she becomes a taller quendi, dark hair pulled back and rage burning in his eyes.
"A tulë, Moryo." You say, quietly. "A menëlvë ana i solma ohtan, elvë ricuva mo pá i exa tenna nalyë lumba[2]"
"What?" Moryo asks in high, feminine voice.
You shake your head, the illusion of memory shattering. Merrill is not your brother, and it is a disservice to both to think so.
"Forgive me, old habits." You state with a rueful chuckle. "It may surprise you to know this, but my brothers and I, even my father, were all prone to similar outbursts. We all had our ways of dealing with them in better days, but as war came upon us we often found the most expedient was to retire to the hall of war and simply fight until both were exhausted. All I said was an invitation to do just that."
"Oh. Ok." Merrill says tiredly.
"The invitation is open if you wish it." You offer off handedly.
"What?" Merrill asks.
"If you wish to, I am more than happy to retire to the hall of war, ah, no, you call it the training hall, and spar until you are weary." You explain.
Merrill gives you a look. "Unlike how I am now?"
"Currently you are emotionally exhausted." You point out. "However, you remain physically rested, or as rested as any can be at this late hour. This imbalance is likely to see you in bed with nothing but your anger for company. Exhaustion will bring sleep, and sleep will bring calm."
Merrill raises an eyebrow. "Fighting until I'm too exhausted to stay awake hardly seems healthy, can't we just continue our lessons?"
"In your current state?" You ask. "Do you believe you can take criticism? That your anger is truly gone rather than at a low ebb, merely awaiting a spark to reignite?"
"Do you think me a child to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation?" Merrill snaps angrily.
You raise an eyebrow in response, and the young elf flushes.
"No, I do not think lessons would be productive right now." You state. "If you do not wish to fight, I believe we have some wine that in the cellar that is on its way to maturity. We could drink and complain until the sun rises if you wish."
At your words, Merrill pauses for a moment, then suddenly flushes a bright red.
She looks away and mutters. "I guess sparring doesn't sound that bad."
The two of you walk to the hall of war in silence. Merrill trails behind you, head bent in deep thought. You suspect that if you were not so tall, she would have lost you entirely.
In the hall you take position a good ten paces away, the better to allow her to work her magic undisturbed.
"I will allow you to make the first move whenever you are ready." You inform her.
Merrill nods, then frowns. "Aren't you going to get a practice sword?"
You shake your head. "We have none of sufficient length and weight. I will simply make do without my blade."
"That hardly seems fair." Merrill mutters.
You shrug. "Neither is the fact that I can turn your magic off at any point I wish to, nor the fact that I have fought a war that spanned five hundred years, where you have fought none."
"Well, when you put it like that…" Merrill unleashes a blast of lightning mid-sentence.
It is indicative of Merrill's anger that she has not even thought that you might not be ready. Fortunately, you know better than to state someone may begin a spar without being ready for a surprise attack.
Lightning splits and flows in brilliant links across the empty air before you. Merrill may have expected you to lock out the mana in the room, but you believe that would be counterproductive. Instead, you place your faith in the arts that protected you against the might of Balrogs, confident Merrill cannot overcome them.
Your confidence proves well placed, and through a combination of clever footwork, shields of your arts and no small amount of mind games, you avoid all of Merrill's attempts to strike you down with magic.
Merrill's barrage does not last long, she is already low on mana from her earlier tantrum. It is only a few seconds and a half dozen spells before what she has regained since then is expended.
Then she attempts to remove your head with her staff.
You sway out of the way of her first two blows, desperately trying to remember how to fight without weapons. Frankly, it is not a skill you have ever dedicated much thought to.
Fortunately for you, Merrill does not exactly have much skill in the art of staff combat. You manage to keep a step ahead of her while you think.
"Stand still so I can hit you!" Merrill yells.
Inspired, you do one better, stepping into her strike. The blow strikes your mail, doing very little. In exchange, you ram your fist into Merrill's abdomen, driving the wind out of her.
In hindsight, you probably should have followed up by grabbing her staff and disarming her with a kick. Instead, you stand idle as she recovers.
"Wearing. Armour. Is. Cheating." Merrill gasps.
"Arguably, so is the fact you are armed and I am not." You reply reasonably.
"Hate you. So much." Merrill groans, pulling herself up with her staff.
You shrug again. "I am sure you will feel better after you hit me a few times."
Merrill launches at you with a war cry and staff held high.
The two of you trade blows for the full hour you had planned. Merrill is fuelled by rage and sustained by the fact that you do not remember where to place bludgeoning blows for maximum effect. For your part, Noldorin chain and Eldarin stubbornness has the same effect.
The Nandëo manages a blow for every two of yours, held back largely by inexperience. That said, you suspect had you not been armoured the victory would have been hers. The fact that you knew what blows you could take meant you could take frequent advantage of the openings taking those blows allowed.
"Do you feel better now?" You ask idly.
Merrill nods tiredly where she lies face down on the floor.
"Tired, but want to punch smug face." She mumbles into her new best friend.
"That is the spirit." You state. "Get some sleep, you will feel better in the morning."
You think the fact that you are proven correct is what annoys her most about the whole affair.
The Teacher
Your next lesson is understandably subdued. Merrill's rage has not faded completely, even if she is no longer on the verge of charging off to challenge Lanaya to single combat or worse.
In the intervening days since your last lesson, you have devoured the book she leant you. It was incredibly helpful just on its own. The 'primer', a term you discovered meant an introductory text that prepared one for further learning, contained oceans of meaningless information.
You did not focus on that, as you have no preconceived notions of magic (a subject that the book spent over half its page count covering), rather you focused on the words it used to describe magic. Already you have realised there is a difference between 'enchantment' and 'empowerment', discovered the existence of 'runes' and many other aspects of magic you had until now been ignorant of.
Once the pleasantries are out of the way you pull out a list of words you had compiled during your reading.
"Pleased give me a definition of each of these terms." You request before Merrill can begin.
The list proves useful, as Merrill is immediately distracted from her dark thoughts by the simple task. Often the words lead into a discussion of the magical concept behind the matter. This serves to both help establish the lesson she gave you two days ago and to help you understand the primer better.
"This is one of those splitting hair things that tend to crop up a lot in magic." Merrill explains. "Empowerment is what you do when you cast a spell on something that gives it certain properties, like flame blade for example. Enchantment is a technical process of inscribing Lyrium into an object in order to give it certain properties, like your helmet."
You tilt your head slightly. "I have definitely heard you refer to the former as enchantment before."
Merrill dips her head but does not blush. "Well, the lines are blurrier than some like to believe, blood magic would technically be empowerment, but as we've seen from the darkspawn weapons it can definitely function as enchantment in all meaningful ways. Plus, in common speech the terms are interchangeable, and I didn't learn at the circle, so I tend to use common terms rather than technical."
"I see." You reply. "And how do runes fit into this?"
"Runes aren't technically either." Merrill says. "Strictly speaking, runes are catalysts that are fitted into preexisting channels of Lyrium that then create the effect desired."
"That term I also do not understand, what does catalyst mean in this context?" You ask.
"Strictly speaking a catalyst is anything that causes a magic effect." Merrill begins. "Of course, in practice…"
Your lessons continue in that vein as your command of the language grows more specific.
Merrill's lectures, at your request, take on a more esoteric bent. The lessons move away from the kinds of things that one might hear in regular conversation and towards the language one would hear in a 'university'.
"What is a university." You ask when she mentions the term.
"Uh, it's a place where a bunch of experts, um they sort of sit around and write about their field of expertise? And maybe teach students?" Merrill replies hesitantly. "I don't really know, I've only heard of them, never been to one."
"Is the Circle a university?" You clarify.
Merrill pauses and tilts her head. "Nooooo? Maybe? I don't think so. Because it takes in people who are new to the subject, it should be no."
"If they do not take in those new to the topic, how do they acquire students?" You ask with a frown.
Merrill throws up her hands. "I don't know! Nobody sat me down and explained what a university is, I just know it's a place where people do research and use technical language."
"Why is it even called a university? Surely something akin to a 'hall of research would be more appropriate." You insist.
Linguistic or cultural diversions that waste entirely too much time and you blame entirely on your exhaustion aside, the two of you make some good progress.
"So, there's more than just the words themselves, we don't really talk about magic the same we talk about most things. It's actually a little bit like the way you're always talking." Merrill explains.
"Grammatically I assume?" You ask with wry amusement. "Unless you are casting doubts on my ability to identify incomprehension?"
Merrill nods, then pauses. "Actually, yeah this is a good example. Ok, if you were to put that in, uh, let's call it 'research speak'… No, wait first what you just said for normal people would be, 'Grammar right? Unless you're saying I don't know what I don't know?'. Are you following?"
"I am." You reply calmly. "I assume this, 'research speak' would phrase it differently?"
"Yes! It would go something like 'It must be assumed the above refers to grammar, unless we are to presume that Merrill is casting doubts upon the honesty of Nelyafinwë's account.' Or something like that." Merrill explains. "Researchers like the passive voice a lot."
"I see, why is that?" You ask.
"Well, mostly it's because we try to keep a firm line between what we think and what research says." Merrill answers. "If I say something with I in it, it usually means it's something I have seen or observed, but when talking about other people's work I don't use it. Plus, it keeps a nice distance between you and the conversation, keeps fights from breaking out."
"I have noticed that you do not always follow such rules." You observe.
Merrill flushes and mumbles. "Don't copy me, I'm a terrible role model."
This is of course, not the only thing you learn. There is a glossary as long as your arm and memorising it would likely take up the greater part of a month for most people. Being an Elda, you simply read the list once and memorise the entire thing. This makes Merrill weep bitter tears of pure envy. You only tease her about it a little, honestly.
The final lesson is more on one of the core principles behind the language and some of its underlying logic. It is a fascinating subject that you could easily see yourself dedicating this entire time to, but time presses and you must prioritise the immediately useful.
"The key is precision and uncertainty." Merrill lectures. "We must speak very precisely to make sure that everyone knows exactly what to do, as any mistake might cause death or worse. Yet, at the same time, we must bear in mind that the Beyond is a chaotic place that does not have rules so much as trends, and we mustn't forget that."
"Due to its nature as being partially formed by the subconscious of the visitor or as some inherent facet of its nature?" You ask.
Merrill grins. "That is a question that will start fights in most circles. Suffice it to say that almost every mage has some variant of the advice 'never assume you know what is going on, because you'll be right until the moment it is most inconvenient to explode'."
You raise an eyebrow. "That does not sound like particularly practical advice."
"I might have embellished a little." Merrill admits, ears turning pink. "I thought it would be funny."
Becomes the Student
Merrill returns for your final lesson of the week. Since your little spar she has not done anything foolish. Yet.
She meets you in the hall of training, staff in hand and a wary look on her face.
"We aren't going to spar again, are we?" She asks.
"I had no plans to do so." You state with almost concealed amusement. "Why? Do you wish vengeance for your defeat? I am more than happy to indulge if you so desire."
The Nandëo shakes her head fiercely. "If I never have to fight you again it will be several centuries too soon. You weren't even using a sword! Have you done anything in the last five hundred years other than fight?"
"Technically." You reply with forced amusement. The First Age is hardly a topic that inspires the jovial tone you are striving for.
Ignoring Merrill's grumbling about smug elves (which is offensive, you are barely even at your most smug right now, let alone the heights someone like Kurvo could achieve) you gesture to the mats you have placed on the floor.
"No my most rude student, instead we shall be discussing our emotions and how best to control them." You inform her.
Merrill gives both the mats and you a searching look. "I know that things got out of hand, but I'm not a child. I know how to handle my emotions, just not used to them being so strong."
"That is exactly the point." You say. "Your emotions have grown much more intense due to your transformation. I mean no offence when I say that you need to take some time to relearn how to control them."
Merrill's expression hovers somewhere between offended and sceptical, so you take her by the shoulders and bend until you are eye to eye with her[3]. "Merrill, I know rage, the black all-consuming fury that drives us to acts that we will later regret. My control was hard one over many long centuries. Let me help you learn faster."
Merrill sighs but nods sullenly. "Fine, let's get this over with."
"The first step of the process is to reflect on what makes us angry and why." You begin the lesson after the both of you sit on the mat.
"Easy, she betrayed us." Merrill states flatly.
"I cannot say that I was betrayed…" You begin.
Uncharacteristically Merrill interrupts. "Not you. Us, the Dalish. It's bad enough that she tried to kill you."
"I am uncertain if that was the goal." You note.
"Regardless of if it was the goal or not it was a possibility. One she was clearly fine with." Merrill states. "Bad enough that she didn't think of what your death would do. The knowledge lost, how I'd feel if you were, if you were…"
For a moment Merrill's voice fails her, then it surges back, louder and filled with more fury. "But she didn't think of that! Worse, she didn't think of what it would mean for our clans. If a noble of Ferelden was killed, by Dalish hands, in Dalish lands! Worse, one who was explicitly trying to make friends with us, trying to help us?"
You do not need her to finish the thought. It would be war. Ferelden could not allow that to stand, and it would be exactly the excuse that their enemies had been looking for. The Chantry would likely be happy to sign on to finish what they started, using the chantry you built as a sign of your 'piety' to make you into a martyr posthumously.
"That may be true." You allow. "Yet, we cannot allow our emotions to cloud our judgement."
"Look me in the eye and tell me you would let a traitor walk free, that you would do nothing as they continued to act against you." Merrill says, quietly.
Maeglin's face flashes before your mind's eye. Your fists clench as you think of the traitor of Gondolin walking free, and worse profiting in this world. Meeting Merrill's eyes you cannot even attempt to force the words out.
You are many things, but a hypocrite is not one of them.
Merrill waits patiently as the silence stretches on. Many claim you have a silver tongue, including yourself, but here you cannot find words to convince Merrill not to act. While you can convince most people of almost everything, you cannot convince them of something you do not believe yourself.
"I thought not." The Nandëo stands up and brushes off her robe. "I think we should call it there tonight."
Weekly Report
"Any word from Lanaya?" You ask.
"Not yet sir." Anneth replies. "I don't think it'll be long though. She can't let this go unanswered."
That is correct, the only question is how long it will take her to decide when and how. "Do you expect her to strike in the next week?"
Anneth blinks, surprised to be consulted. You are not sure why, though she is new to her role as your people reckon such things she is still your most senior officer. No one remains in any position of authority long by ignoring such individuals.
The human shrugs her shoulder, looking decidedly nervous. "I'm not as experienced as you sir. I don't know what to expect. What would you do?"
"I would have struck during the set up. Of course, such matters are easier said than done." You shake your head. "We will remain on guard. Merrill, how goes progress on the spell for the Lady?"
"It's fine." The Nandëo replies shortly. "Should be ready next week."
"You seem distracted, is something the matter?" You ask.
"I sent a challenge to Lanaya last night." She replies.
[1] Lit. Of the East, the quenya name for what the Edain called the 'eastertongue'. Sadly this language has not survived, lost as the bloodlines of the Easterlings of Beleriand are
[2] Come Moryo, let us go to the hall of war, we shall strive one against the other until you are weary.
[3] A feat that requires squatting and bowing simultaneously. It should look ridiculous but eldarin grace saves you once more.