The week ahead of you is as filled with tasks as usual. You plan to begin with a journey to teach Ophelia and visit Lanaya. Mostly for a change of pace, given that you usually begin your week with tasks around Endataurëo. Variety is the spice of life, or so you have heard. Nobody could have expected that instead of riding out early on the first day of the week you would instead be dealing with the bizarre sight before you.
"Hark! O' keep of grandiose grandeur! I come seeking a noble quest from the mighty wizard who dwells within!" The plate clad human calls up from his horse.
"He's been doing this all morning. He woke up the morning shift with his yelling." Anneth informs you, grimacing at the sight below.
You heave a sigh, massaging your temples. The last thing you want to do right now is deal with a human with more arrogance than sense.
"Did you tell him to leave?" You ask.
The officer shakes her head. "No, we thought he might have some legitimate business, so we wanted to get you first."
"Very well. I will do it then." You raise your voice so that the vagrant warrior below can hear you. "There is nothing here for you, turn back!"
"Nay! My heart is verily and my spirit unmoved! I will endure this trial that I may see the wizard." The human yells back, raising his lance to point at you.
You pause a moment, trying to understand his words. You are reasonably sure he is using the word 'verily' wrong, for that matter grandiose grandeur is redundant.
"Which Mage did you want to meet?" You call back, mostly in hope of bringing some sense of order to this conversation.
"I seek the bold, crimson wizard who rules this tower!" The man calls back,
You turn to Anneth. "Does that mean anything to you?"
Anneth is very obviously struggling to hold back a smile. "I think he means you sir."
"I am not a mage." You reply reflexively, turning back to consider the rider. "Besides, my cloak is scarlet, not crimson."
"As you say sir." Anneth continues to deliberately not laugh.
You do not groan, it would be undignified, but you want to. "Let him in. Have the others be ready with crossbows or weapons in case he turns violent. I will meet him in the courtyard. Let us get this finished in as little time as possible."
You wait as the gates open and the human rides in. He seems blissfully ignorant of the crossbows pointed at him, though he notices Anneth by your side and the other armed warriors that surround him. Through his open visor you see the human swallow nervously before he speaks.
"Behold! I have passed your trial. Though your words cast doubt into mine breast, I triumphed over doubtlessness. Now… uh… I am ready to challenge thy tasks!" The man fumbles his way through his words.
"Stop." You raise your hand. "You clearly are attempting to change your speech to be more grandiose. Cease immediately. It is grating to listen to, and your misuse of words is painful to endure."
The man's expression falls, and he attempts to bluster through your demand. "I have never heard such slanderousness! I demand acceptance."
"You mean you have never heard such slander and you demand satisfaction." You correct him.
"Knave! I knoweth that which I speak!" He continues to demonstrate his ignorance.
You let out a sound of disbelief. "If you knew what you were saying you would not have challenged me to a duel while surrounded by my warriors, far from any witnesses."
The man jerks in the saddle, looking around in panic. Finally realising what is going on around him.
"An ambush?" He hisses.
"Hardly. It is merely appropriate caution when a fully armed and armour man comes to your home and will not leave when asked." You observe. "You wished something of me?"
"You are the wizard?" The man is clearly taken aback by this.
"I am not a mage, no. I am the only person here, besides Anneth, who wears red though. I assumed you wished to speak with me." You reply.
The man clears his throat and straightens up. "Oh wise wizard, I have travelled far to seek thee out. I woulds't besmirch that thou granteth me a quest that I might prove my worth to the fair damsel Lady Ortille!"
You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Ask me like a normal person or I am not going to answer."
The man slumps forward slightly, clears his throat again and repeats in a more normal tone. "Please give me a task that I can use to demonstrate that I am a worthy suitor for Lady Ortille."
You want this person gone. You would very much like to give him some pointless task simply to have them on their way. You care nothing for this lady of his. You are on the verge of asking what kind of task he expects, when a thought strikes you. This situation sounds suspiciously like Thingol's task for Beren. It could very well be vastly different, but you cannot in good consciousness take part in it until you are certain.
"Forgive me if I cause offence, but why would you need to prove your worth to this lady? If you love her, and she you is that not sufficient?" You ask as politely as possible.
Those around you, including the man to whom you are speaking, are clearly taken aback by your sudden shift in tone and demeanour. You care nothing for their opinions, you need this information. Knowledge is always gained surer with politeness and manners than with fury and threats. No matter what Moryo and Turko claim.
"Ah! No, no I assure you; I take no offence. I should have realised that a wizard would not value things such as we knights do." The man, a knight apparently, hurries to assure you. "You see, though my admiration for my lady is great, she has not yet honoured me with her affections. I must prove through deeds of great valour that I am worthy of her!"
You stare in abject disbelief. What madness are you hearing? You understand the principle, it is akin to sending gifts to your beloved as a token of your affections if far more intense. Yet, to go forth into the world seeking some kind of danger for merely the hope of indicating your interest.
"Surely it would be easier to simply inform the lady in question of your intentions, perhaps with a tasteful gift?" You have never courted yourself, but you remember Kano, Kurvo and Moryo giving many gifts; your father too would often give your mother things he had made, for all that he was married with seven children.
"You do not understand. It is a matter of honour!" The knight cries. "If I cannot prove my valour and courage, how could I ever expect to impress her."
"I have heard good things about a keen wit and a caring heart." You swiftly reply. "The latter often sufficing alone when one's wit is not as keen as one would wish."
"Bah! You understand nothing!" The knight scoffs. "Such deeds are those of legend. Many are the stories of proud knights proving their worth to fair damsels."
That is, you think, exactly why he must be swayed from this path. He seeks to emulate legend, he does not embark upon this journey from honest desire.
You consider the words with which you will sway him at length. In the end it is the very same thought that sparked this conversation that provides you the skeleton of your argument. If he wishes to be a legend…
"Among my people, we have such a story." You observe idly. "Lúthien the fair fell in love with Beren. Her father did not approve and set him a task to 'prove his worth' as you have said. To retrieve a jewel from the iron crown of the dark spirit Morgoth. Which he did."
"Exactly, so you understand the importance of granting me a quest then!" The knight exclaims.
You smile, continuing to speak casually. "Of course, Beren was supposed to die on the quest, Lúthien's father did not approve of him at all. In fact, he did die. Lúthien had to save him from Morgoth, then his hand got eaten."
The knight's face pales slightly, and you continue. "Of course that hand had the jewel, so he had to hunt the wolf down. In doing so he took mortal wounds and died. Lúthien soon followed him, overtaken by grief. Is that the kind of story you were talking about?"
The knight seems to attempt to shake off your words. "Well, no. The tales I speak of are ones where a brave knight slays a dragon and marries a princess."
You nod. "Oh yes, I suppose made up tales are often much different to the real events."
The knight clearly thinks you agree with him for a moment, then realises your intent. "You mean to say that tale of Beren and Loothian actually happened? Preposterous!"
Your eye twitches at the mispronunciation of Lúthien, but you keep a lid on your anger.
Instead, you continue to speak casually. "Oh certainly, my brother was one of her suitors. What happened grieved him terribly. He spent near a full year mourning."
Turko had been much more upset by Huan choosing to leave him than Lúthien's rejections. He had indeed mourned about for nearly a year about it.
You look back at the knight, letting your musing on the past fall away. "Of course, in any case Beren and Lúthien were already deeply in love prior to the adventure. Imagine what might have happened if Beren had never spoken to Lúthien before the adventure."
The human is now swallowing nervously, his hands clenching and unclenching on his reigns.
Finally, he speaks. "Tell me, wizard. What would you have me do? I bow to your wisdom in these matters."
Wisdom? You have much of the kind mortals respect, but little as your people reckon such things. Bitter experience has taught you the high price of glory, and you would tell him to abandon his search for it. You only restrain your words because he has not claimed to seek glory, only that he wants to wed this lady he has never spoken to. You would tell him to turn his back on the twin desires that led him here, there is nothing at the end of the road of a legend but sorrow. You cannot think of a single hero of your people whose return to Valinor was without tragedy. This too you do not say, you recognise it as more bitterness than honest advice.
"Go home." You tell him, all the energy you had possessed draining from you. "Speak to your lady, make your case. Perhaps fortune will be with you and the love you two share will be all encompassing. Perhaps you will be unlucky and be rejected. If you do not try, you will never succeed."
The knight fiddles with his reigns, clearly nervous. "What if she still demands I prove myself, what if my peers laugh at me and mock my lack of great deed to my name?"
You shrug. "I maintain that when love is involved, no proof is necessary. If she demands it, is that not itself a rejection? As for your peers, why do you care?"
"Well, what of my family? I can't shame them so publicly." The human argues.
"I have no children of my blood, but if you gave me the choice between young Elrond being safe and shaming me, I would have him shame me." You reply, though you doubt anything Elrond could possibly do would shame you more than your own actions. "Your parents would likely feel the same for you."
"Still there are factors you are not considering here. What of my standing? What of…" Is this knight going to continue making excuses forever?
"Do you love this woman?" You interrupt his litany of 'concerns'.
"Well, yes. Obviously." The human is clearly taken aback by your question.
"Then why do you hesitate?" You ask pointedly. "I have given you the guidance you requested and yet you have found one reason after another not to follow it."
"It's not that simple." The knight rebuts hotly. "There are a number of considerations beyond my affections at play…"
"Or perhaps you are such a coward that you cannot possibly face a woman long enough to ask to court her." You rebut
"I am no coward sir!" The knight puffs himself up, clearly preparing some kind of speech.
One you have no intention of hearing. "Excellent. Then there is no reason not to return to your home and present your suit to Lady Ortille."
The human pauses, thrown off by your interruption. He considers your words for a long minute, then slumps forward and lets out a sigh.
"Meddle not in the affairs of wizards I suppose." He mutters to himself.
He straightens up and looks down at you, though not as much as he likely wishes. "Very well wizard. You have entrapped me. I will return home and present my suit."
"Wonderful, now please vacate the premises with all possible hate, you have overstayed your welcome by many long hours." You command, having long since grown weary of this conversation.
"I've only been here an hour." The knight whines.
"Begone!" You cry.
You are not sure if it was the horse that led the man, or the man the horse, but the knight is galloping from Endataurëo the moment your cry ends.
Merrill thought that Nelyafinwë was going to leave early this morning, why is he standing in a circle of warriors with a knight in their midst? It's none of her business she supposes, but it's strange. She turns away from the window, now is not the time to be staring at him. There is knowledge to be gained! It would also be really embarrassing if he noticed her gazing out the window at him like a bad romance novel protagonist. She's never had a chance to speak to any spirit that wasn't corrupted. She's always heard that they have great knowledge and now she has a chance to examine that knowledge in detail for herself. She will focus on that.
She lifts what is effectively a jar covered in spells. Inside she can just faintly see a cloud of golden light.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" She asks.
There is no response, even when she repeats herself a few times. Then she realises that she still has the spirit under the delusion spell she copied from it. She flushes red to the tips of her ears, grateful that nobody is here to witness her shame. She releases the spell and repeats her question.
"What… What just… No. No! You tricked me!" The spirit's 'voice' is filled with rage, though it cannot yell without lungs.
"Stop it!" She shakes the jar, though it will likely do nothing to the spirit within. "Nobody tricked you. You're the one who ensnared us in a delusion then attacked us when we broke it. You're lucky I convinced Nelyafinwë to let me try to catch you."
"So I should be grateful that you have slain my body and deprived me of the chance to experience the world? Or are you perhaps offering yourself as a replacement, I think I could work with that." The voice begins to slowly calm down.
"No! I'm not letting you possess me." Merrill says firmly.
"Are you certain of that, friend?" The spirit says, emphasising the last word.
The runes she had most recently carved on the outside of the jar flare brightly. Nothing else happens.
Smiling, Merrill replies. "As a matter of fact, yes."
Once she had figured out how the enchanting effect worked, she had carefully created a counterspell. Turning that into a set of enchanted runes that could be carved into the jar had required a few favours with those dwarves who visit. The results spoke for themselves though.
The spirit rages for a few moments but settles down quickly. Its nature probably does not allow it anger for very long.
"You must want something, otherwise why capture me?" The spirit asks.
Merrill takes several deep breaths to calm herself. This is it!
"If you are willing to answer my questions, I am willing to allow you to remain in this world." She proposes
"Unless you are willing to let me out of this prison, I doubt I will gain very much from this deal." The spirit rebuts.
"Your other option is that I get nothing, and Nelyafinwë runs out of patience. If that happens, you're going straight back into the Beyond. If you stay, at least you can watch what is going on." Merrill threatens.
The spirit is silent for a moment. Merrill's throat tightens, has she pushed too hard? Her fears mount as the spirits light pulses for several minutes.
Finally, the spirit speaks once more. "Ask your questions."
"Ok, yes. Um, let me get my questions." Merrill nearly drops the jar in her haste to get her papers. She had written down a number of questions in the event the spirit agreed but had forgotten to keep them on hand. She retrieved the list and scanned over it. All of the questions were good one, but she was nervous about the ones concerning magic. She's heard too many cautionary stories about deceptive spirits and, spooked by her near miss on becoming an abomination, she moves past them. She could ask about how the universe was created, her teacher's words on his own world sparking her interest in the topic.
No, she should stick to a safe set of questions.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Ok, how old are you?"
"How should I measure time?" The spirit asks. "The beyond is not like the real world, there is no consistency by which to do so."
"Ah, yes. Of course. I should have thought of that." Merrill murmured, disappointed with herself.
The spirit pulsed in its jar a few more times, as Merrill thought about what to do.
"I've got it!" She exclaimed. "What is the earliest significant event you remember?"
"Well, I was born. That was pretty great." The spirit mocked.
Merrill scowled. "Significant to humans. And elves. To the physical world."
"Oh, I suppose there were a lot of darkspawn around when I was born. There was talk about 'not expecting another one after the first." The spirit 'yawns' "These are very boring questions."
Ok, that sounds like it's the second blight. Maybe; probably. That puts the spirit at around 800 years old. Honestly not as impressive as it would have been a few weeks ago. It's still a good thing, maybe the spirit knows something.
"Would you say you look into the real world often?" She asks.
"Always." The spirit replies smugly.
"Are you certain that you are not a spirit of annoyance?" She snaps angrily.
"Yes." The spirit sounds like it's laughing.
Merrill takes several more deep breaths. No need to let the spirit antagonise her.
"Do you find it amusing to see me lose my temper?" She asks, as evenly as she can manage.
"I find everything amusing." The spirit retorts.
She might be able to work with that. "Could you tell me something you saw that was the most amusing thing you had ever seen? Something about the real, I mean physical world."
"I don't see why not." The spirit says.
This was a mistake.
"And then the butterfly landed on a leaf. And then…" The spirit says, voice enraptured.
"It took off again?" Merrill groans between her hands.
"That's what I thought, but no. It cleaned its antennae. Then it cleaned its wings. THEN it took off again." The spirit explains cheerfully.
Joy is clearly entirely too easily amused, its butterfly story has been going on for nearly half an hour now. It started interestingly enough, it was fascinating to hear about how the butterfly had caught a spirits attention as a caterpillar. Now though, it was just repetitive.
"Then it flew into a spider's web. It struggled, it fought. There were bursts of frenetic energy, but it was never enough. The spider ambled over to the butterfly, calmly. Then it burst into motion, sinking its fangs into the insects. The butterfly struggled further, growing weaker every second. Then it was still." The spirit finishes
"That was, quite a graphic ending. Is there perhaps anything else you were interested in? Perhaps during the time when all the darkspawn were about?" Merrill asks, trying to put vivid images of spider attacks out of her mind.
"Not really. There was a woman who ran away carrying a child only to get turned into one of them, leaving her child crying on the ground. That wasn't very interesting though. I thought it might be when I saw her running, but nothing came of it." The spirit says dismissively.
Merrill swallows. "Perhaps we should move on to a different question."
"So, what do you find interesting about the physical world?" Merrill tries to direct the conversation to a more useful direction.
"Well there was this one time I saw a butterfly…" The spirit began.
"No!" Merrill interrupted. "That's not what I mean. Why is that story interesting to you? What is it about the physical world that you find interesting."
The spirit floats in its jar, pulsing a few times. "That is a difficult question. Partly we are interested because it is different."
"I'm not asking about all spirits. I'm asking about you personally." Merrill clarifies. "What do you, specifically, like about the physical world. Surely a world where you can create anything you want is more interesting."
"There are two reasons as I see it." The spirit begins. "Firstly, there is the contrast in your world. It is at once completely solid, unchanging and at the same time always shifting. Rulers come and go, things are always moving. Nothing simply sits in place for long, even mountain move though extremely slowly."
Merrill scrambles to write down what she is hearing. Finally! Something useful. She gets to the end and realises the spirit has fallen silent.
"You can continue." She tells it.
"Hmmmm? Continue what?" The spirit asks innocently.
"Please tell me the other reason you find the physical world interesting." Merrill says, restraining her annoyance with an effort of will.
"Oh yes, you see it's the contrast…" The spirit repeats.
"You already told me that!" Merrill yells. "What's the other reason."
She gets the impression that the spirit is chuckling to itself. "The other reason is exactly what you said. We can have anything we want, assuming we can think of it."
Merrill waits for the spirit to continue. It does not.
She places her notes down and glares at the jar. "Are you going to make me drag the answer out of you like this until I break your jar in a fit of rage?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about." The spirit retorts primly.
"Explain, in full detail, what you mean about having everything you want." Merrill forces out between clenched teeth.
"Why do people do things?" The spirit asks.
"I'm warning you…" Merrill growls.
"It is part of the explanation, no need to lose your head." The spirit teases.
Merrill is on the verge of throwing a book at the jar in rage when the spirit begins to explain, in a more serious tone. "Humans do things because they want something or need it. If you could create whatever you wanted, what would you do? You would sit around, growing fat and lazy because there would be no need to ever do something. That is why I am interested. Nothing happens beyond the Veil, everything is the same. Things change constantly yet nothing matters. Make a castle, destroy it. Who cares?"
"I'm not human." Merrill says, slightly petulantly.
"What is the difference?" The spirit asks. "Is it the ears? If someone stretched a human's ears would that make them an elf?"
"No!" Merrill snapped. "It's more than that."
"Explain it to me." The spirit says, sounding bored.
"Well. It's…" Merrill pauses. "No, that's a cultural difference. We're… No wait Shem'len do that too. Well you see… No we're not immortal anymore."
Merrill wracked her brain trying to find something that distinguished her from Ranger, or Xandar.
"Like I said, Human, Elf, same thing." The spirit says smugly.
Merrill wants to retort, has words on the tip of her lips when a memory floats to the surface.
"In my land there are those called Perequendi, half-quendi. They are the result of a union between Atani and Quendi. They are given a choice as to which of their parent's natures they wish to inherit." Nelyafinwë's eyes glimmered with eldritch light, his gaze distant as he spoke of his theory on the origins of modern elves.
"We're different from humans." Merrill said quietly, not quite sure who she was trying to convince.