Barring the Doors
Xandar hummed a merry little tune as he walked along the road towards Gladesville. Normally he'd ride his horse (he'd taken to calling her sunshine because he couldn't pronounce Teacher's name for her) but Lilian didn't have one. He'd wanted to borrow Merrill's but she had left after the meeting.
Today he was travelling with Lilian, which was exciting. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her much, she seemed kind of scared of him, which was strange. Fortunately, they had a long walk, and plenty of time to get to know each other.
"So! I'm glad to see another mage has opened their eyes to the lies of the Chantry." He says to start the conversation.
The woman groans. "It's been five minutes and we're already starting the heresy. I regret agreeing to do this."
"Heresy?" Xandar asks, tilting his head. "I just meant the lie that you have to be in a Circle to be safe as a mage."
Lilian frowns. "That's not true. I learned lots in the Circle and the Harrowing prevents us from being possessed. It's not necessary sure, but you're much safer learning in the Circle."
"That's just what they want you to think!" Xandar exclaims. "They're trying to conceal the fact that they're probing mages for people who can make lead into gold!"
Lilian leans backwards slightly. "What?"
"Think about it." Xandar points to his head. "Why would the Chantry want all the mages in one spot? It can't be because the Maker wants it? No!. If he hated mages he could just make them not exist anymore. Obviously it's to make infinite money for the Chantry."
"There's so much wrong with that." Lilian says exhaustedly. "You know it's impossible to turn lead into gold, right? It's important to me that you know that."
"Obviously I know that, but nobody in the Chantry is a Mage, so how would they know?" Xandar asks smugly.
Lilian is silent for a short time, then she starts to frown. "You're right, none of them are mages. Not the Templars either."
Xandar's expression softens and he reaches out to embrace Lilian. "Don't worry Lilian! You've escaped, and you're safe now. They can't get you anymore."
"Let me go!" Lilian shouts, wriggling in his arms.
Xandar does so. The woman takes several steps back and smooths her clothes out. She glares at Xandar.
"Sorry." He says. "Thought you needed a hug."
"It's fine." Lilian says, sighing again. "Come on, let's go."
After reaching Gladesville they are directed to a small wooden shack. It looks like nothing special at a glance, but anyone with even the slightest sensitivity to magic can feel the power emanating from the building.
Within, behind a number of traps and defences Merrill had given them a metaphorical key to is a great chunk of glowing Lyrium, covered in silver and gold bands with delicate runes etched into their surface. The whole set up thrums with so much power that even from outside it drowns out the immense strength of the defences.
"I have no idea what I'm looking at." Lilian admits, staring at the mass of Lyrium before them.
"Is it a bomb?" Xandar asks, tilting his head.
"It very well could be with that much magic flowing through it." Lilian mutters.
"Really? It almost looks like it doesn't work to me." Xandar says.
Lilian gives him a searching look. "How long have you been a mage?"
"Almost two years now!" Xandar exclaims.
"That explains so much." Lilian mutters. "Look, it's not that hard, just, you know how that sense you have for how magic is flowing when you cast a spell."
Xandar nods. "Yes, it makes my knees tingle."
Lilian closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before continuing, "Ok, focus on that and kind of point it at the Lyrium."
Xandar frowns in concentration, then yelps. "Oh, that's very tingly."
"Too much information." Lilian breathes.
"Well. I'm not touching this." Xandar states firmly. "I have no idea how it works and I'm not stupid enough to poke things that might explode."
Lilian blinks at Xandar. "Yes. Yes, that's actually a very good idea."
"So the only question is who are we going to get to help us with this?" Xandar asks.
"Or we could just leave this and go do other work elsewhere." Lilian suggests.
"Lilian, we're not going to rush this just because you want to go back to boning Brandon." Xandar states flatly.
"That's not why I want to skip this!" Lilian protests, cheeks burning, then in an effort to distract herself quickly says, "Ok. How complicated can it be?"
Xandar gives her a long flat look. The kind people give him a lot for some reason.
Lilian immediately gives up. "Uuugh, we need help!"
"I agree. And we can't ask teacher because he can't use magic." Xandar agrees.
"Which raises the question of why you call him teacher, but I suppose that's a conversation for another time." Lilian mutters grumpily. "Or never because I have a sneaking suspicion it's something stupid, heretical or both."
Xandar ignores her words, he knows she's just grumpy because it's been more than ten minutes since she saw Brandon. "Herman might be able to help."
"Who's Herman?" Lilian asks.
"He's my old teacher!" Xandar exclaims. "He lived in the forest and he taught me all sorts of things about magic. I finally convinced him to come to Endataurëo, but he's been hiding in his room. He thinks we're plotting to steal his teeth."
"Every time you open your mouth I understand so much about why you are the way you are." Lilian mutters again, then asks louder, "Wait, you mean the crazy apostate that showed up at breakfast one day, pointed at me and screamed 'I knew it', then dived out the window?"
"Oh, is that why he used his secret emergency escape technique?" Xandar asks. "He must have thought you were working for Them."
Lilian gives him a look like he's crazy. "I think let's not ask the insane apostate about the spell with enough power to flatten the entire forest."
"Fair enough." Xandar nods. "I guess we have to ask Merrill, she made it after all."
"Great! That's perfect." Lilian sighs. "Even if she is a Dalish at least she knows her magic. So where is she?"
"I don't know." Xandar admits. "I was hoping you knew."
Personally Xandar feels like Lilian's expression is more appropriate for the world ending than slightly misplacing one of their friends.
"Don't worry! If we put our heads together, I'm sure we can figure out where she is!" He exclaims, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder.
Lilian's cry of despair could be heard in Kirkwall, or so Xandar says.
"Ok. First place to look is obviously her clan, so let's go there!" Xandar exclaims.
"No!" Lilian exclaims. "We can't just walk up to a Dalish clan and ask to see their First. It's incredibly suspicious, and dangerous! What if they just shoot us?"
"I mean, they know me." Xandar states, slightly confused by the question. "I've been there several times with Teacher and Merrill. I even asked them a bunch of questions for my book."
"You wrote a book?" Lilian asks, clearly taken aback.
"Yes, it's called 'A New Prophet: the True Way to the Maker'." Xandar rubs his head uncomfortably. "Publishing's proving a bit harder than I'd like though."
"Oh. So it's just straight up heresy. Wonderful." Lilian says, looking stunned.
"Technically the Chantry's teachings are heresy." Xandar begins to explains. "You see…"
"Right, we're going to visit the Dalish right?" Lilian says suddenly. "Let's go, daylight's burning!"
The two of them follow the road to Merrills clan. Unfortunately they quickly realise that Xandar's made a mistake.
"Oh, let's go to her clan, it's only a few hours' ride away." Lilian grumbled. "Which would be fine, IF WE HAD HORSES!"
"There's no need to yell." Xandar says primly. "Look, we'll go home and then we can probably borrow a horse from teacher and ride there tomorrow."
"You mean the horse that has a coat as dark as night, glares at everyone who tries to ride it and I'm ninety percent sure is some kind of night-mare?" Lilian asks flatly. "The one that won't let anyone except him ride it? That horse?"
"No, silly, one of the spare horses." Xandar chides her.
Honestly, he's not stupid.
Lilian gives him a look like he has personally and deliberately exasperated her for hours. "And you didn't think to borrow those before because…"
Xandar shrugs. "I forgot about them."
Lilian grumbles all the way home. Though that is nothing compared to her reaction when they saw Merrill at dinner that night.
"Sorry, I didn't realise it was that complicated." Merrill apologises. "I thought you'd be able to figure it out, since you worked with me on it."
"He couldn't even sense magic." Lilian grumbles. "How he was going to figure anything out is a mystery to me."
Merrill's face goes bright red. "Oh, right, most people can't do that naturally."
As Lilian cries into her hands about 'apostates, heretics and freaks of nature' Xandar asks if Merrill can help them.
The elf grimaces. "I can, but I'm pretty busy. If I help you now I'm going to have to give up something else I planned this week. If you're willing to wait until I'm done I can make sure I have time next week?"
"It can probably wait a week." Xandar says.
"What are you talking about!" Lilian exclaims. "There's so much mana going through it, it could explode! Not to mention the fact that when it does it'll take out the whole forest!"
"Ok, ok, calm down." Merrill says, gesturing with her hands. "The spell's big and powerful, so it should have a lot of mana even if it's working. I'll check with the Lady and make sure it's all operating fine on here end."
"The Lady?" Lilian asks with a frown.
"She's the spirit of the forest!" Xandar exclaims. "She was being used for a werewolf curse but Teacher saved her!"
"There's a spirit involved!" Lilian shrieks.
"Well, yes, it wouldn't work without her." Merrill says, cheeks flushing. "I mean, I can explain how it works, she's not bound or anything so…"
"That's it!" Lilian exclaims. "I'm going to my room, and I'm going to hide under my bed with Brandon and I'm not coming out until the world makes sense again."
The mage storms away in a huff. Merrill and Xandar watch her go.
"I'm not entirely sure why she suddenly yelled at you Merrill." Xandar apologises for the other human. "She's probably fighting Chantry brainwashing or something."
Merrill massages her forehead. "Look, it's fine Xandar, why don't you go talk to Herman or something."
"Yippee!" Xandar yells, running off.
Merrill sighs and prepares for a journey into the Beyond. The spell seems fine but she'll need to find time next week to look into it on reality's side. This was the last thing she needed right now.
The Lady reports that nothing seems wrong from her end, but also that she hasn't really had much cause to use it. Which is odd, since there was a fight in the northern part of the woods.
The Dalish First sighs and rubs her head. Great, now on top of her lessons and the problems of her clan she also needs to look at the spell in detail.
She's in for another busy week after this one, isn't she?
Great Elves' Sons
There are many people you need to speak to. The Chasind, the Dalish, your own subordinates. These all pale in comparison to the person you are currently riding to speak to, Maeglin.
Since you spoke to him you have been content with the ultimatum you gave him. From what limited information you have available, he is slowly building up a force. Unless he has lost all sense and has decided to attempt a coup (an endeavour you would personally ensure he did not survive) he is preparing for the Blight.
However, thanks to the many demands on your time, you have simply had no time to look into what he is doing. Now with the Blight on the horizon, discovering what he has been working on and speaking to him about what role he will play in the battle is paramount. Hence you are prioritising him above all others.
The reason you are reminding yourself of this is that the line to enter Denerim is far too long. Soldiers are pouring in from the countryside, and simultaneously a number of merchants are trying to leave or set up a business to cater to them. Based on the mutterings you hear, this is not helped by an increase in security.
While you approve of such things in principle, in practice it has wasted over an hour of your time already.
Finally you reach the front of the line.
"Name." The soldier says boredly.
"Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, eldest son of Fëanor." You reply.
The guard gives you a filthy look. "What're you doing here?"
You ignore his rudeness. "I wish to speak to Maeglin, son of Eöl at the Dark Moth Trading Company."
"What about?" He asks suspiciously.
"I fail to see how that is your business." You reply with irritation.
You end up having to show your document of nobility to extract yourself from an overly suspicious guard. Whether it is due to something about your introduction, behaviour or simply the fact that you are an elf, you consider the entire matter a colossal waste of time for both of you.
"Security!" The receptionist yells the moment you walk in through the door.
"Madam, I assure you that I am not here to visit violence upon anyone." You state tiredly. "What happened previously was the result of some unpleasant history that has, hopefully, been resolved."
"Security!" The woman repeats.
"Stand down." Maeglin commands from the door of his office. "Maedhros, I would have appreciated a message."
You shrug. "Urgent news, and sadly I have yet to acquire the skills to recreate a palantír. Hence my presence here unannounced."
Maeglin sighs through his nose. "Very well, I have some time. Come in."
You follow him into his office and take a seat across from his desk. It is only now that you are not engaging in violence with him that you have the chance to look around the room. It is decorated simply, by your tastes. Some nice tapestries and paintings and a rather beautiful decoration on the desk in a different coloured wood inset into the surface.
"Why have you come here Maedhros?" Maeglin asks in Sindarin.
"I come upon receipt of dire news." You reply, quietly luxuriating in speaking and eldarin tongue once more. "Ferelden is assembling its hosts to face the darkness in the south."
"Such is known to me." Maeglin states. "Indeed, all the city hear the words of the king himself."
"I saw many attempting to enter or flee the city as their temperaments dictate." You note. "Still, though it is gladdening to hear that thou knowst the news which I have born hence, it is not for the bringing of news alone that I have sought thee."
Maeglin raises an eyebrow, and you continue. "Whispers have come to my ears that thou hath sought mercenaries who fight beneath your banner. So too, has a rumour that thou art buying much food and metal and weapons of war."
"It is so." Maeglin agrees. "I prepare to support Ferelden in its struggle against the Foe, as discussed when last we met."
"Then let us take council, such that each may have a full accounting of the other's efforts against the oncoming darkness." You state.
"I hope that thou shalt take the lead in such an accounting." Maeglin says leadingly. "'Twould sit ill to concede yet further when thou hath yet to show any cause to give thee trust."
"I see through thy deception." You reply warningly. "Know that though I see no need to do so, I shall give a full account of mine efforts, as a show of good faith. Should it not be returned there will be a reckoning."
"Let it be so." Maeglin agrees. "I have naught to hide."
"I have created within the heart of Brecilian forest a fasthold." You explain. "Therein lies farms to feed an army, and some three hundred warriors and allies. Among them are those I have trained and armed as a retinue, who number forty five. Alongside are allies of the…"
At this point you come to a halt and frown.
"Those who dwell in the cities?" You say cautiously.
Confusion parts from Maeglin's eyes to reveal understanding. "Ah yes, there is no word in our tongue for them, is there? Those who dwell in cities, and those who dwell in dales will suffice I suppose."
"Yes, well of those from the city I have some ninety odd warriors, commanded by an ally named Solas." At this point you pause in thought. "Has he come to speak to thee?"
"I know none by that name." Maeglin replies.
"Concerning." You say to yourself, then continue to Maeglin. "I have also recruited two clans of the Chasind and had them trained by a mercenary of some alleged renown."
"Alleged?" Maeglin asks with visible amusement.
"Whatever his accreditations, his skills are real." You state.
"I see. Then let me return the favour. After our discussion I spoke to my partner at some length. We have taken to hiring mercenaries in some numbers in order to harden our transport routes against assault and banditry." Maeglin explains. "Further we have heavily invested into smithies and foundries and all manner of war preparations."
"Have thou forces at thy command?" You ask.
"Some, not many." Maeglin admits. "A few hedge knights and mercenaries who are willing to work with me. They shall be sent to join the army that departs one month hence."
"Thou shalt not accompany them? It seems passing strange that thou shalt leave thy forces leaderless." You observe neutrally. "I know thou art no coward, so it cannot be that."
"Why should I fight for men?" Maeglin snarls. "Oppose the darkness, that I understand. I would shame my mother's house if I did not do so, but I can fulfil my duties without involving myself. Let men die for men, I care not."
"Thou might argue thy duty is satisfied, but we both know that is mere sophistry." You tell him sternly. "The letter is satisfied, but not the spirit. What prince allows his warriors to fight but goes not himself? Who would dare hold themselves to so wretched a standard?"
"Thou knowst not what they have cost me!" Maeglin shouts. "Were thou in my boots, thou wouldst do the same."
You spring to your feet. "Tears unnumbered I have shed for the misdeeds of men! Mine bosom friend Fingon, slain in my arms! What hast thou lost son of Eöl? A she-elf who was never thine to lose? A crown that thou couldst never have worn? If I can put aside mine enmity for men, so too can thee!"
"Thy arrogance is as kin to thy legend!" Maeglin too rises to his feet. "So too is the venom in thy tongue. What dost thou know of love? Thou who hath never wed, nor courted in his life? What hath thou lost compared to me? A cousin, a friend? Thou hadst thy life, thy brothers and thy city. I have nothing. No friend to call home, no family to weep to. Men took all from me. I shall shed neither blood nor tears in their defence!"
"Thy information is outdated then." You hiss venomously. "No brothers of mine live now, save perhaps Maglor, whose fate I know not. They died attempting to fulfil our oath in desperate madness. Of the house of Fëanor, only Celebrimbor dwells still within the realms of the Noldor. No house or hold do I have, nor have I had since the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. If there are any who understand you, it is I."
"If thou understand me then thou should know what thou ask. I shall not do it, I say! I have already given more than I wished in the name of my duty, and the mother I loved, why ask more?"
"Because we must be better!" You roar at maximum volume.
The walls shake, objects rattle off shelves, some crashing to the floor. The door slams open and the security bursts in. Maeglin has to stop them with a raised hand and some quickly muttered words.
For your part you have exhausted yourself, and you sink back into your chair.
"How canst thou look thyself in the mirror?" You ask. "Dost thou truly feel no guilt? I have never betrayed the Noldor, but the fallen at Alqalondë, Doriath, the Havens… Sometimes, when I sleep, I see them still, accusing me. Can thou say truly that the Gondolindrim never cry out for vengeance when the hour is late and all are asleep?"
Maeglin's silence is more damning than any word he might have uttered.
"Join me." You insist, extending a hand. "Let us ride out together, bare steel against the darkness and there find some measure of peace, of redemption."
Maeglin slowly sinks back into his seat. He reaches back to adjust his cloak and pauses. It is a strange garment for a Gondolindrim. Plain blue was less common by the time of Maeglin's birth, as it had been worn primarily by those who followed Fingolfin in Aman. More commonly they wore cloaks of white with blue borders, though other colours were often present.
Whatever the old, worn cloak's meaning, it clearly stirs something in Maeglin.
Slowly he reaches out his hand. "I shall ride with thee."
Then Maeglin sighs. "I am tired beyond all reason. I am going to find a drink. Care to accompany me?"
You pause for a moment, then nod. "Yes, I will accompany you. Do you know anywhere with good wine?"
Now it is Maeglin who pauses a time in thought. "Yes, there is this one public house, owned by a dwarf if memory serves."
Dwarves tend to have a reasonable understanding of a good brewing. "That sounds acceptable."
The two of you make your way through Denerim's densely packed streets. Several of which have been almost entirely backed up by the heavier than usual traffic. You pass one particular line where a cart is blocking the road and everyone at the head of the jam is yelling at each other.
The public house is named 'Stone Hall', which you believe is a joke based on the fact the entire building is made of wood. When the two of you enter, it is reasonably empty, only two or three people outside the proprietor within.
"Longshanks." The dwarf grunts in question through his thick black beard. "Found someone taller than you at last then."
"Yet my quest to make you stare at the sky continues." Maeglin replies with a roll of his eyes. "Maedhros Duren, Duren Maedhros."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance master dwarf." You state with a shallow bow. "I must admit that I find the height of your business most agreeable."
The dwarf coughs into his beard and mutters something about 'exposure therapy', then says louder, "What can I get you two."
Maeglin drops two silver coins on the table. "Wine for each of us, and keep it coming."
The dwarf grunts and serves you. Then the two of you head to a table in the corner. You take a sip of the wine and are pleased to find it passable. In fact, it is actually somewhat familiar…
Maeglin looks up at your quiet laugh. "What amuses thee so, Maedhros?"
You gesture with your cup. "This wine, 'tis made by my own vineyard."
Maeglin looks from you to his own cup then snorts. "I had wondered at the sudden rise in the quality of wine around here."
"If something must be done correctly," You begin.
"It must be done by thy own hands." Maeglin finishes the saying.
The two of you raise your cups in salute then drink.
Maeglin sighs. "It is good to speak to another elda. Too long have I languished, with only men and dwarves for company."
You swirl your drink thoughtfully. "True. I myself find great comfort in the friends I make beyond our kind, but I admit that I yearn for the days of my youth and the company of my kin."
Maeglin nods, then pauses. Whether due to the wine or perhaps due to no longer being on guard, he is much easier to read than usual. It is clear he is thinking of something that concerns him, and he hesitates to ask you something.
"Have thee tales?" He asks at length. "Of thy youth, in Eldamar when the Trees shone?"
"Many such tales I have." You reply. "Some more pleasant than others, what wouldst thou care to hear of?"
Maeglin again hesitates before he speaks, for far too long. "I had hoped thou wouldst speak of my mother. I, it has been many long years since I heard a new tale featuring her."
You stroke your chin and frown in thought. "Perhaps. I admit I struggle to think of a tale that neither she nor Turgon would have shared."
Maeglin conceals his disappointment at the news with far greater skill than he had concealed his nerves.
He shrugs and with false confidence he says, "It matters not. 'Twas merely a passing fancy."
"Hold." You state, as the slow process of searching such distant memories finally reveals one. "I do have one such tale, though it is a short and quiet one.
Maelin straightens up and leans forward, hunger in his eyes.
"Shortly before Morgoth was released, well shortly as we reckoned such things in those days, it may have been as many as ten years of the trees." You begin slowly, recalling details as you speak. "We had planned to meet to celebrate something… was it Írissë's fiftieth birthday? No, that was later. Ah, yes, 'twas the riding challenge."
"I have already heard the tale of Celegorm pushing her from the saddle in a fit of pique." Maeglin says, with some disappointment.
"It is fortunate then, that I do not speak of that particular incident." You state. "I had the day free, and had come to the agreed upon place at dawn to read and await the arrival of others. Írissë arrived ahead of all others. I recall she climbed the tree I was lying in and asked what I was reading."
"She was only fifty? Or less than that?" Maeglin asks.
"Forty seven, if I recall correctly." You answer with a smile. "Though those are years of the trees, so she was full grown."
Maeglin's cheeks turn pink. "I knew that."
You allow his lie to pass unmarked. "I told her, and she asked me to read it to her. We passed some time that way, until she sighted the twins upon the horizon. She then turned to me and, looking me in the eyes, said 'Maitimo, that was a very boring book and you are a boring elf for reading it'. Then she sprang from the tree and fled, giggling all the while."
You pass the remainder of the day in quiet conversation of better days. You speak of when the world was young, and he of the days before the hidden city fell. At some prompting he even shared quiet moments of joy in the days he wandered in twilight.
The two of you part in that self same twilight as day turns night. Not happy, but content.