[Adelaide was the only healer Galadriel knew in this world and, unfortunately, was beyond her ability to reach directly. She had exhausted far too much of herself with the Warden and whether it was sorrow or fear or simply this place, she could not reach beyond the walls of the library, not with clarity. Even attempting to locate someone she could not see was taxing. Pain lanced through her head and she sagged heavily into the chair she'd hobbled to before the Warden fled.
She could not request her friend's assistance, not in such certain terms, but once she found the faint feeling of Adelaide's mind, the color of Compassion's will, she did what she could. Galadriel was not fond of vagueness, not in situations like these, but the most she could manage was emotional beckoning, wordless and with a firm sense of her location. She had neither the strength nor the will to maintain it for long and could only hope the human would yield to the sense of unease.
She could have waited, she realized, until her legs would carry her and she could seek the healer out, herself, but she was...afraid. It was uncommon, but not so terribly rare, and it colored her judgment. She couldn't deal with what had frightened her, and so her fear was left no other outlet but this. Were she more able, she wouldn't have been shocked to find it colored her wordless message, itself.]
[ It wasn't often a will other than Compassion spoke to her. They were so comfortably intertwined that Compassion often acted as a go between for her and any other spirit or will that would reach out to her. Told her what was worth knowing if it needed to be known. Pointed her in the direction of those in fear or pain if they could do anything. But for one to reach her directly, to beckon? To sing with utterly unfamiliar clarity?
It startled her into dropping her tea- only Roul reaching out to catch her mug saved it from being further chipped or shattering outright.
A new song. A new note. A new sense of- discontent? Unease? It was vague and sharp and clear as Compassion had ever been- following the song wasn't so much a choice as it was a compulsion. Blood magic a part of her whispered and the rest? Ran. Without staff, without cloak, without finishing the braid she'd been pinning into place, leaving it unbound and the braid fraying into a loose mass as she sprinted in the direction the song came from.
She arrived in a swirl of robes and unbound hair, staring into the dim light of the Library. Only when she saw the figure, equally dim, in a chair did she find her voice. ]
Galadriel?
[ How she managed did not matter, only that she had. She ran to Galadriel's side, hands brimming with Compassion's light. ]
[Galadriel had not seen her enter; in fact, she'd failed to mark the human's entry entirely. She had her eyes closed and her head bent. Her forehead rested heavily on her hand, cradled by pale fingers. Her arm was all but trembling under the strain, held in place as the weight of her head pinned her elbow against the arm of the chair. To say she was sprawled in the chair would be kind, but she was more composed than she would have been had she been left on the stones. She looked as frail as she felt, dim and diminished, and Adelaide's voice startled her.
The whole of her flinched as the word cut through the library. She picked up her head and turned it just as the woman came to her side. It took a moment for recognition to dawn on her features and, once it had, a small smile pulled weakly at her lips.]
I am glad to see you, my friend. [Thought was always the first of her faculties to return to her. She both rejoiced and lamented that fact; thought alone could not stay her need for deeper breaths or the numbness in her limbs.] I was uncertain you would hear me, or heed me if you could.
[She could feel Compassion's will even at a distance and, insofar as it could, it helped stay the creeping fear that consumed her. She refused to think on it. There were more pressing matters, distractions, she could not dwell.]
I collapsed; I cannot say if I was injured, and I could not check, regardless.
[ Compassion's glow spread from her hands to her arms and into Galadriel's skin- the Spirit manifesting as a blue light surrounding Adelaide entirely. So close were they in that moment that when they spoke it was not in one voice, but two- Adelaide's and the resonant, genderless tones of Compassion. ]
I heard. We heard.
[ As clear as shattering glass. Shattering bone. How Galadriel managed it didn't matter, only that she was able to call for aid. Light and power poured out of her hands as she lay them upon Galadriel's, without thought beyond her pain, her need. It wasn't often she tapped in so deep or poured forth Compassion's power so freely- it wasn't ever since the Spire. She hadn't had to. No one needed saving quite that badly but this?
This was something neither of them had ever seen, ever felt. A bone deep exhaustion, a dimming of Galadriel's light. How something so foreign was such an integral part of her, Adelaide could not say- but a means with which to return even a shard of it needed to be found.
[The answer barely made sense in any language, but it was all Galadriel could provide. Explaining what she had done would have been a trial at any time, to explain it now was impossible. She had a sudden and foreboding pang of loneliness strike her, then, and her gaze listed. Adelaide was alight in gleaming blue, wreathed in the spirit she held accord with. At the moment, of the two of them, the human shone so clearly and so brightly that she all but eclipsed Galadriel and Nenya's light. It was sobering, or it would have been if her distraction could be driven away so easily.
Galadriel had been leery of Compassion before, the idea of another will calming her own, acting as a balm to her wounds and weariness had been too strange to simply accept. Now, as they repaired the damage she had wrought, as it chased away the edges of her fear and grief, she was more than grateful to the spirit and to the woman who wielded it.
Using her own power, especially in this place, was a battle. It wore away at her, like sand and water wore down mountains. Her will could burn as bright as a star, but it burned away her bones, her body as she turned that power to purpose. In Arda it had long ailed her, the imbalance between what she could heal and what she could not grew greater with each day, and in Thedas it was clearer, sharper. Here, in this place, she could see how far she would fall.
Compassion returned some of her strength, enough that she could imagine she hadn't fallen quite so far, but she wouldn't be able to forget this weakness. It was a valuable lesson and it would haunt her.]
I must learn how to use the power of this place, how to draw on it as your people do. [She paused, distracted and grasping for the word.] Firnor--fade. The Fade.
[Her recollections were disjointed, even if her thoughts had settled. They would come more easily with time and rest. She sighed heavily and shook her head; being so weak disturbed her greatly.]
I will not survive if I continue to use my own strength. I should not have spent so much, it was foolish.
[ More and more of their light poured forth till the glow receded from her skin to burn brightest at her palms, the blue as cool as the morning mist. She would be weary in the morning, ache to the core of her bones, the migraine would be massive. Galadriel wasn't bleeding out, wasn't gutted or crushed but she'd been cut down all the same. Whatever left her weaker than when they'd met at Haven worried Compassion enough to earn her that focus. That intent. Perhaps it was the song that called to them, perhaps it was the light. It did not matter so long as they could see it mended but this ache was deep and the weariness beyond anything they'd seen before.
Another mage burned out from too much casting, perhaps, but even that did not leave them so weak. But they could mend it. They would mend it till there was nothing left of either of them-
No, that wasn't
That wouldn't-
Adelaide pulled her hands away as the glow faded, shaking herself free of Compassion's desperation. Galadriel would be well. She was recovering if not entirely mended. There was no crisis. They had been called, they did as they ought, nothing more was required of them. Adelaide settled on her knees beside Galadriel, hands resting on the arm of the chair where she sat. Skirts swirled around her legs, hair tangled from the rush over, she sagged for the moment it took to come back to herself. To shake off the spirit's fears. Soothing Compassion was a strange thing, often it was the other way around.
A moment, perhaps more, and she was alone in her skin. That had been-
Too much. Too close. But why? ]
If you need to learn- if you are able to learn? [ She combed her fingers through her hair, moving it away from her face to look up at Galadriel. ] I will teach you what I can.
[Compassion filled her with such gentle strength, such care, that the elf was unsurprised by the tears that gathered and blurred her listless gaze. It mended her body and renewed her fëa, as best it could. It was no small feat, what the spirit attempted, and that she didn't stop it was a testament to how desperately it was needed. The peace that spread through her was all-consuming, but it dulled as Adelaide drew away. At once, the toll of such a task occurred to Galadriel and the elf was horrified. As Adelaide calmed herself and fell to her knees, Galadriel drew a sharp, deep breath.
Adelaide's offer was generous, especially as it chased the gifts she had already given, and when the human looked up at her, confused and harried, Galadriel had no words to thank her. The tears gathered on her lashes fell as she smiled at Adelaide; Galadriel ignored them as she lifted heavy limbs with borrowed strength and took the human's face in her hands. She could do little more than lean, but it was enough, and she pressed a kiss against the woman's forehead. It was no fleeting thing, but rather a sincere expression of gratitude.]
I have no gifts to give you to repay your kindness. [It was a selfish impulse, the desire for touch, and one that she rarely indulged in. Whether Compassion's will lingered or her own fear had compounded her need for such things, she couldn't say, but she didn't release the woman. Instead she drew back and rested her forehead against Adelaide's. It was familiar, too familiar certainly, but she could not have known how much she had truly helped.]
If there is anything in my power to grant you, I would make it yours. Enta ata alalyë, Tiutalënya.
[ Were she not so weary from the healing, not so confused by being compelled to come in the first place, by Compassion's sudden protective twist about Galadriel in the first place, Adelaide might have had the tension in her left to lock up at the unexpected contact. No one had reached out to her like that since well before the spire. The affection offered, the tenderness something that left her stymied. Frozen for want of a response.
How did one respond to such a gesture from someone so dazzling?
Blush, apparently. At least that involuntary reaction continued to work as well as ever. Merde.
Her voice came gradually- still stunned by everything since they were called. How were they called? It shouldn't have been possible in the first place, not by Galadriel. Worrying after that, after whatever it was that Galadriel said in a language she couldn't understand. Somehow she felt oddly chastised. ]
I- we. Have no need of gifts. We only wish you well. [ Wanting more wasn't ever something that was on the table. Do good works, use the power she had to help- that was all she ever needed. ] And we are glad to have helped.
[ But this. This contact, this affection- this was enough. Saying that felt like a flimsy excuse at best. ]
Whatever you did before to leave you like this? Please do not do it again. I do not have so many I would call friend that I would lose one gladly.
[Fear was a poor motivator; the only responses it drew were rash and childish. Adelaide's request was a kingly one, even if she didn't know it, and the sudden fear it inspired in Galadriel was unworthy of them both. Her tongue was tangled for all the words she wanted to say, for all the excuses that tried to issue forth, but she crushed them before they gained purchase.
She could not read the hearts of these people. It was beyond her.
If she could, if that ability was granted to her once more, she would refrain.]
If that is what you wish, I cannot refuse you.
[Her smile was a little tighter, but she didn't draw away. She would not be hobbled by this limitation and she would not take from Adelaide in any way that she could prevent.
A moment passed in silence and, inevitably, Galadriel knew her touch would become unwelcome. If it had been welcomed at all. With as much grace as Compassion had restored, she gently released Adelaide and sank back in the chair. She had been given so much strength, it was hard to believe it was possible, but she had spent far too much to simply return to herself.
She was no longer in need, but still she longed for company. She could not ask Adelaide to stay, but she could provide knowledge if she did. It was a bold-faced move, unsubtle and desperate, one she would not have made were she speaking to anyone else. What she offered were secrets, unknown to the people of Thedas, to even the man she had exacted her power upon, but she would share them readily with this woman.]
I read the heart of a man.
[His horror, his thoughts, his memories still clung to the edges of her mind. It had been so difficult and muddled, it had taxed her so much, it frustrated her still.]
I would have struck him down, tainted as he was, but he was no enemy. [Despite herself, a thread of bitter rage and old sorrow crept into her voice.] A joke, he claimed. His blood had been poisoned with the darkest song on the whim of another.
[Rage was too much to maintain, however ancient and mild it was, and she closed her eyes as it left her voice.]
I had to know his heart...I had not heard that song since the darkest days, long before the age of men. It was foolish, but I could not let him pass.
I had to know.
[She still lacked the energy to weep for him. She still heard it in the back of her mind. It still terrified her.]
[ It was dangerous- whatever it had been. Students and peers of hers alike fell pray to such spells in the past. Their worth usually measured against the risk and found, in her experience, wanting. Nothing was worth burning oneself down to the very bones. No life worth rending yourself until there was nothing left. More than mana, more than power, it felt as though years had been lost off Galadriel's time. Nothing she can think of would be worth it- but then she was from another world. Perhaps it was as she said, using her own power did not work well in Thedas.
Teaching her to use the Fade would only be responsible. Be reasonable. How to go about it would be difficult but- she would try. If it would see this Bright Lady safe? She would try.
Adelaide honestly could remain as they were, held and leaning and oddly contented despite her exhaustion until morning, but as Galadriel pulled away she made no comment, merely settled back on her heels much like a child would at the foot of their mother. The students could mind themselves for a short while and, truly, she needed time to recover. Standing right now? Would likely not end all that well. On top of the fact that simply being in Galadriel's presence was intensely soothing for her and Compassion both. The closest thing to it she could think of was dreaming and being held by Compassion in the Fade.
But without the risk of demons.
And then those words. 'Read the heart'.
Read the mind.
Blood magic- for a moment she went tense but there was no blood. No taint. No sour songs of demons or their power in this place. They had mended no cuts, whatever it was? Came of Galadriel's world. ]
Tainted and- ah. You met a Grey Warden. [ There were rumors of how it was they were able to fight back the blight. To withstand Darkspawn without becoming tainted themselves. That they carried a bit with them in some manner? Was not so great a surprise. ] They are our best defense against Blights. As there are rumors of a blighted dragon in the service of our enemy it is only right that they remain to help us. But- I cannot see how one would join them as a joke.
Or how it was you were able to read their hearts.
[ It was a tentative thing, as ever, the extension of her hand when not healing. The lightest touch against Galadriel's fingertips. ]
Such a thing is only possible in our world through the work of spirits or blood magic- more often the latter than the former. But I do not think you to be a maleficar...
[ Age of-
What? ]
...This may be. Terribly impolite and if it is out of turn you may ignore the question and I shall leave you be but- how. How old are you that you recall the entirety of an age? Are they less in your world than they are here?
[Her face drew tight, as though the words Grey Warden pained her, and they did. She did not know the word Blight, however, nor had she heard of a tainted dragon before this, not in such clear terms. Her brow pinched in grief but she pushed it away; sorrow did no one service, not here, not now. Adelaide's fingers brushed her own and Galadriel opened her eyes again.
The human remained at her side, but she was uneasy. Galadriel listened to her questions, broad and specific as they respectively were, and tilted her head slightly as she considered her answers. Explaining the former was difficult, even without any idea what a maleficar might be, but the latter was simpler...for a given measure of simplicity.]
I do not know how long an age of Thedas is, but I have lived for more than three of Arda's ages.
[It took some concentration to translate the calendars into one another. She had no idea how long a year was, here, if it was the same or if it differed, but it made little difference. A few days would compound, of course, but hours and days lost meaning so quickly.... She frowned slightly before she spoke.]
It is hard to say, I do not know how time is marked here, but I was born well before the days of dawn. [Her gaze was curious as she leveled it at Adelaide. She had revealed this before, but only to a few, and each had their own reactions. None were enough to guide her.] I think it is fifteen, perhaps sixteen thousand years by the calendars of men?
Unfortunately they vary because the Chantry that declares them is full of fickle, superstitious individuals with a stronger grasp of theatrics than good sense.
[ Annoyed by trying to work through historical texts, Adelaide? Never.
Not that she has much chance to dwell on it for- that.
Those.
One moment. ]
Fifteen- fifteen thousand years.
[ Her voice didn't crack and she actually managed to be quite neutral. Compassion, on the other hand? Went dead silent.
Adelaide had never known a spirit to faint. Were such a thing possible? It just happened. For her she- she was-
Galadriel was akin to the elves of old. The ageless, godlike beings that crafted much of Theadas or so the few scraps of lore she knew went. She was attempting to hold a godlike being's hand.
She'd been kissed on the forehead by this Lady. Saved her life. Healed her twice. Counted her as a friend. How does one even begin to respond to such a thing?
When in doubt? Humor. ]
...I suddenly feel terribly unqualified to act as your teacher.
And yet I can think of no one better suited to the task.
[It seemed she had missed the humor in Adelaide's tone. Her smile was gentle and honest. That she knew no other wizards, or however they were called in this land, was unimportant. She would have liked none other than Adelaide and trusted no one else so utterly, not in all of Thedas.]
I expect I shall require a measure of your boundless patience and kindness before I have learned anything of note.
[Were her own skills of any use at all, she would have offered to share them. Unfortunately, if she lacked the power to maintain them, there was no hope for a mortal soul...even one with a partner as expansive as Adelaide's.]
I cannot say I am not counted among the maleficar, for I do not know what they are, but reading hearts...it is an old skill, one that has passed out of memory and been forgotten. It is the same skill that allowed me to call to you, though why it is so weak here...I do not know.
[It was puzzling and disconcerting in equal measure and the longer she pondered it, the less she desired to. It was a childish urge, evading the unknown and fearful, but she had no answers nor paths to a solution. Lingering on unpleasant thoughts was indulgence if she couldn't further her goals...limited as they were in Thedas.]
I fear all my skills are so diminished, though I lack the desire to test them, or to know for certain. To learn how your people draw power, how you achieve such magics, that would be valuable beyond measure.
[ And she had thought herself done blushing. She was no apprentice to be so easily pleased with a mentor's esteem. Such things were prideful, were vain, and had no place in her world of study as they called to demons that would taint so simple a thing. Yet here she knelt all the same, blushing from the tips of her ears to the hollow of her throat as she had as a student when complimented on her spells. ]
I am honored by the faith you have in me- and I shall try to live up to your expectations.
[ Reaching the fade- it was simply something that was done. One was able or one was not- reaching for it once one knew what they were doing came easily with study and practice. The focus drills that served her so well may yet be passed along to Galadriel. It would be somewhere to start. ]
Apostate mages- those not of a Cricle though that would include all of us as they've been disbanded- that use blood magic. Most mages use their connection to the fade- blood mages use their very blood- or the blood of others, to pull power from demons. It never ends well- the risks are great, the purpose sinister, the means a perversion of everything Compassion and I have. But it is thought to make strength for mages that have a weaker connection to the fade and therefore worthwhile. One cannot always tell them when they see them but Demons...
[ Her lips pressed thin for a moment as she considered how to explain it. ]
Compassion is, to me, emotion, intent- and music. When you called we felt your pain and we felt your song. You resonate like a spirit to me, you and your ring. It's...sweeter than anything I have ever heard- clearer than any Spirit for we are not separated by the veil. Demons are- discordant. They leave echos of their song among maleficar on occasion. I would know that were I to hear it of you but I do not. All I hear is-
[Galadriel was stunned to silence for some time. The only person who had ever given her a compliment so high had been her Husband. That Adelaide heard her as a song, sang sweetly and without discord, was so reassuring that Galadriel was certain she'd misheard. The human couldn't have known what her words meant, how high such praise was, nor how rarely such comparisons were made. She was speaking in metaphors, surely, but they were so exact that Galadriel had no response.
She heard no discord.
The weight that statement drew from Galadriel's shoulders was palpable. Her smile shifted and, as if it were simply her turn, color rose in her face. It had been some time since she had last blushed, an Age at least, but perhaps this was only fair. She'd inflicted the same on Adelaide and had delighted in young Gavin's crimson flush. Unlikely as it was, this was her due.]
You cannot know how kind that was. Thank you.
[Galadriel drew her hands into her lap and looked down at them as she composed herself. Giddy and girlish as she was, she had forgotten the bitter tang of the taint and how it ground against her senses. But, as she stared at her hand, a thought came to her and she glanced at Adelaide.]
You could hear Nenya? Compassion is very keen; there are very few who can sense my ring...at least, there were few in Arda.
[ Time around spirits lent their certainty on occasion. When Adealide spoke true and spoke with conviction- it simply was. There was no kindness, no compassion to it- merely a statement of being. The sky was blue (where it was not currently green), Compassion was warm, Galadriel was as clear and pure a thing as she had ever heard. Now that she had been mended, refreshed- the song was back to the low murmur she was more familiar with when in places where the Veil wore thin. ]
Can still, actually. Like waves on the shore when you called but now it is more akin to the whisper of a brook over stone. [ Adelaide turned her eyes from the ring up to Galadriel's face and-
Oh.
Oh Maker she blushed and it made her more lovely. Andraste preserve her, how was she to keep a level voice? ]
To me it feels like a whisper of a spirit. There is...a will and intent there though I do not know what- the song is unfamiliar to me. Faith? Hope, perhaps, I have not heard that song since I was a child but you are...more than the songs of the Spirits I know. They are as they are named. Compassion is compassion that is all they are and all they shall be- they do not adapt or learn as you and I do. Your song is less a refrain and more an aria.
[Faith and hope? She could, perhaps, see facets of those in Nenya. It had been made for her and, certainly, the smith who fashioned it held her in great regard. She would not have been shocked to be the bearer of his hopes, nor the being that held his faith. Neither they nor she had saved him, in the end, but he had done the elves a great service before he fell.
The thoughts were nostalgic and, as such things always were, more than slightly sad. Her smile dampened somewhat, even though her cheeks kept their color. Adelaide was firm and her compliments escalated.]
Adamant. [A joke, perhaps, on the smith's part.] Nenya is the ring of Adamant. It carries the will and power to conceal, to preserve, and to protect my lands and people.
[Finally, she looked up at Adelaide again. She did not mention how it was the ring of water, the thought did not occur to her. The ring was all but named for it.]
I have never known a spirit to be as Compassion is.
Will and spirit are the same; to exert power is to spend them both. It requires great will to create something like Nenya and great will to wield it; I am fortunate that we are both aligned in our desires, but that was no accident.
To have a spirit with only a simple, single task is...very strange to me. There is beauty in it, but it is a fragile thing.
They are. All spirits are terribly fragile. Mages have many theories as to how they come to be- if they are born of memory and emotion in places where the veil wears thin or if they are the purest forms of our souls after we die. Asking does not offer much of an answer as Spirits normally do not have need of memory. They are bound by perception and intent. How I perceive a particular spirit shapes it. They are a purer being for it but all the more susceptible to corruption- moreso than mortals.
[ Intent shapes so much of the fade- it warps the very fabric should it be strong enough. Shapes the spirits and taints them into something else. Something off. ]
Compassion is driven to help. To provide comfort where it is needed. That can twist into something else- a need to be needed. A need to be what is wanted rather than required. To become desire. I met such a demon in my Harrowing and it's song was as familiar to me as Compassion's but discordant. Wrong. Were I not so familiar I may not have seen it for what it was.
[Galadriel was silent as she absorbed what Adelaide told her and remained so for several seconds once she had finished. Perhaps she spoke because she was too weary to reconsider it, or because she was inclined to share such secrets with this woman, but as her thoughts unwound she voiced them.]
How strange it is...
I was baffled when you first called them demons. I know the word, but the creatures were incomparable, they were too mild to be demons...except they are. The demons I know are merely the spirits who walk Arda, those with will beyond mine or Nenya's, fallen to discord and corruption.
That we slew so many of them, those who are so fragile and malleable, is worthy of lament. Had I known, perhaps it would have been unnecessary.
It is a process that, once done, cannot be undone. There are some mages that have attempted to do so with their will but once a Spirit has become a demon? As far as we know there is no means by which to remove whatever it was that corrupted them. They are lost to what they were. What is strangest is that between Demons and Spirits...demons are more human.
[ Adelaide leaned against Galadriel's chair, looking up at her, entirely comfortable in her position. Teaching but from the ground. It felt appropriate for the moment. ]
They remember. They learn. They adapt. They make deals. They need in a way that Spirits do not. I do not know if this is learned from us or something else twists them to it but...if it is possible for one that was made Tranquil to have their connection to the fade restored- perhaps it is possible to return a demon to a spirit.
[Galadriel listened with as much care as she was able, but the idioms and terminology that littered the speech of humans were often beyond her. She addressed those that she could find, but not all of them were notable enough to draw her attention. As Adelaide explained how the corrupted became more earthly, something struck the elf as odd. The concept wasn't unfamiliar, not on whole, and perhaps that was why she caught it--]
When you are at peace, you are disconnected from the Fade?
[It seemed like a truly arbitrary thing and was out of place in this conversation. The idea that reaching for the Fade took effort was not so curious, but the idea that calm would break any bonds to the Fade was perplexing. Emotion had its place, particularly in works of fëa, but for simple tranquility to part them from the realm that gave them power?]
Are all of your skills fed by strong emotion?
[If that was the case, why had her rage and fury not forced a connection? She had certainly been emotional.]
That is how it sounds, isn't it? Tranquil are just that. Tranquil- but not in the manner of someone at peace. They feel nothing. They cannot. They do not dream, they do not feel joy or anger, do not feel desire or fear. Sever a mage's connection from the Fade and they become someone- something else. They cannot cast- they cannot ignore an order as given. Their will is no longer quite their own for they have no desire to motivate themselves.
[ It was a horrible fate for anyone too afraid to endure the Harrowing. Something one of her dearest friends chose. The last thing he chose. ]
You do not need emotion to work with the fade- but they do play into one another. If it were merely a question of that anyone could use magic. There is an inherent connection bound by emotion- feeling too strongly may entice demons to you; maintaining focus, calm, and control while casting so you shape the world to your will as you intend rather than losing control is important.
[She was silent and stricken as she considered Adelaide's descriptions. Their conversation had turned, she had certainly aided in that, and had quickly become much more taxing. Her curiosity had been greater than the risk, at least at first, but this knowledge was too much. It was a simple thing, another aspect of these lands, but it was one shadow too many and she had passed her tolerance. She shifted and sagged back heavily against the chair beneath her.
The oldest song was thrust upon warriors, demons could be spawned with barely an effort, twisted from the remains of simple spirits, Tranquility was a curse, and...if she had not misheard, it could be a fate inflicted upon others. A will could simply be broken apart.
Where had she come? What cruel threads pulled at this place to make it so?
Weariness crept into her tone and replaced the confusion that had been there before. Truly, she didn't wish to know, but naivete was untenable. She had to ask, it was important.]
Not everyone can use magic?
[The term was still broad, too broad for comfort, but it was equal to the question. Certainly, not all races shared the same penchant for wielding power, but each had something about them that could be called magic. Each soul had power, it was merely a question of proportion...wasn't it?]
[ Adelaide peered up to Galadriel, frowning at how all of this seemed to distress her. What sort of world did she come from that anyone might have this power? That losing it wasn't a risk, that they weren't some manner of danger to those around them?
It must be a kind world. A brighter one. ]
Only a few. Humans, Elves, Qunari. Dwarves cannot reach the fade in the way we do- I don't know why but they cannot.
[When it had been meaningless nomenclature, she hadn't thought much on it. It was akin to calling someone a smith, a weaver, a ringbearer, a wizard. It was some notation added onto what one was...but, no, it wasn't. To be a mage was to have something that others did not.
Suddenly quite a few of the things she'd been told about Thedas made far, far too much sense. The way they'd been looked upon, the accusation of being demonic, even the vague suspicions of the guard took on new shades of meaning.
Her eyes were closed. When she frowned the expression was tight and wooden.]
I would weep for your world, if I could, but I fear I might never stop. [She let out a short breath and her expression evened as she opened her eyes.] I am sorry, I am speaking unkindly. Perhaps it is not so terrible as it seems to me; I cannot imagine a lack of...I know not how to describe it.
At least, I imagine, you do not have the wealth of terrible danger that has walked Arda...though I see echoes of some of them, I have not felt the shadow in these lands.
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Via an overwhelming sense of unease?
She could not request her friend's assistance, not in such certain terms, but once she found the faint feeling of Adelaide's mind, the color of Compassion's will, she did what she could. Galadriel was not fond of vagueness, not in situations like these, but the most she could manage was emotional beckoning, wordless and with a firm sense of her location. She had neither the strength nor the will to maintain it for long and could only hope the human would yield to the sense of unease.
She could have waited, she realized, until her legs would carry her and she could seek the healer out, herself, but she was...afraid. It was uncommon, but not so terribly rare, and it colored her judgment. She couldn't deal with what had frightened her, and so her fear was left no other outlet but this. Were she more able, she wouldn't have been shocked to find it colored her wordless message, itself.]
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It startled her into dropping her tea- only Roul reaching out to catch her mug saved it from being further chipped or shattering outright.
A new song. A new note. A new sense of- discontent? Unease? It was vague and sharp and clear as Compassion had ever been- following the song wasn't so much a choice as it was a compulsion. Blood magic a part of her whispered and the rest? Ran. Without staff, without cloak, without finishing the braid she'd been pinning into place, leaving it unbound and the braid fraying into a loose mass as she sprinted in the direction the song came from.
She arrived in a swirl of robes and unbound hair, staring into the dim light of the Library. Only when she saw the figure, equally dim, in a chair did she find her voice. ]
Galadriel?
[ How she managed did not matter, only that she had. She ran to Galadriel's side, hands brimming with Compassion's light. ]
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The whole of her flinched as the word cut through the library. She picked up her head and turned it just as the woman came to her side. It took a moment for recognition to dawn on her features and, once it had, a small smile pulled weakly at her lips.]
I am glad to see you, my friend. [Thought was always the first of her faculties to return to her. She both rejoiced and lamented that fact; thought alone could not stay her need for deeper breaths or the numbness in her limbs.] I was uncertain you would hear me, or heed me if you could.
[She could feel Compassion's will even at a distance and, insofar as it could, it helped stay the creeping fear that consumed her. She refused to think on it. There were more pressing matters, distractions, she could not dwell.]
I collapsed; I cannot say if I was injured, and I could not check, regardless.
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I heard. We heard.
[ As clear as shattering glass. Shattering bone. How Galadriel managed it didn't matter, only that she was able to call for aid. Light and power poured out of her hands as she lay them upon Galadriel's, without thought beyond her pain, her need. It wasn't often she tapped in so deep or poured forth Compassion's power so freely- it wasn't ever since the Spire. She hadn't had to. No one needed saving quite that badly but this?
This was something neither of them had ever seen, ever felt. A bone deep exhaustion, a dimming of Galadriel's light. How something so foreign was such an integral part of her, Adelaide could not say- but a means with which to return even a shard of it needed to be found.
Eyes bright and voice steady, she asked. ]
What caused you to collapse?
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[The answer barely made sense in any language, but it was all Galadriel could provide. Explaining what she had done would have been a trial at any time, to explain it now was impossible. She had a sudden and foreboding pang of loneliness strike her, then, and her gaze listed. Adelaide was alight in gleaming blue, wreathed in the spirit she held accord with. At the moment, of the two of them, the human shone so clearly and so brightly that she all but eclipsed Galadriel and Nenya's light. It was sobering, or it would have been if her distraction could be driven away so easily.
Galadriel had been leery of Compassion before, the idea of another will calming her own, acting as a balm to her wounds and weariness had been too strange to simply accept. Now, as they repaired the damage she had wrought, as it chased away the edges of her fear and grief, she was more than grateful to the spirit and to the woman who wielded it.
Using her own power, especially in this place, was a battle. It wore away at her, like sand and water wore down mountains. Her will could burn as bright as a star, but it burned away her bones, her body as she turned that power to purpose. In Arda it had long ailed her, the imbalance between what she could heal and what she could not grew greater with each day, and in Thedas it was clearer, sharper. Here, in this place, she could see how far she would fall.
Compassion returned some of her strength, enough that she could imagine she hadn't fallen quite so far, but she wouldn't be able to forget this weakness. It was a valuable lesson and it would haunt her.]
I must learn how to use the power of this place, how to draw on it as your people do. [She paused, distracted and grasping for the word.] Firnor--fade. The Fade.
[Her recollections were disjointed, even if her thoughts had settled. They would come more easily with time and rest. She sighed heavily and shook her head; being so weak disturbed her greatly.]
I will not survive if I continue to use my own strength. I should not have spent so much, it was foolish.
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Another mage burned out from too much casting, perhaps, but even that did not leave them so weak. But they could mend it. They would mend it till there was nothing left of either of them-
No, that wasn't
That wouldn't-
Adelaide pulled her hands away as the glow faded, shaking herself free of Compassion's desperation. Galadriel would be well. She was recovering if not entirely mended. There was no crisis. They had been called, they did as they ought, nothing more was required of them. Adelaide settled on her knees beside Galadriel, hands resting on the arm of the chair where she sat. Skirts swirled around her legs, hair tangled from the rush over, she sagged for the moment it took to come back to herself. To shake off the spirit's fears. Soothing Compassion was a strange thing, often it was the other way around.
A moment, perhaps more, and she was alone in her skin. That had been-
Too much. Too close. But why? ]
If you need to learn- if you are able to learn? [ She combed her fingers through her hair, moving it away from her face to look up at Galadriel. ] I will teach you what I can.
I hope this is okay!
Adelaide's offer was generous, especially as it chased the gifts she had already given, and when the human looked up at her, confused and harried, Galadriel had no words to thank her. The tears gathered on her lashes fell as she smiled at Adelaide; Galadriel ignored them as she lifted heavy limbs with borrowed strength and took the human's face in her hands. She could do little more than lean, but it was enough, and she pressed a kiss against the woman's forehead. It was no fleeting thing, but rather a sincere expression of gratitude.]
I have no gifts to give you to repay your kindness. [It was a selfish impulse, the desire for touch, and one that she rarely indulged in. Whether Compassion's will lingered or her own fear had compounded her need for such things, she couldn't say, but she didn't release the woman. Instead she drew back and rested her forehead against Adelaide's. It was familiar, too familiar certainly, but she could not have known how much she had truly helped.]
If there is anything in my power to grant you, I would make it yours. Enta ata alalyë, Tiutalënya.
Perfectly fine, it's all good <3
How did one respond to such a gesture from someone so dazzling?
Blush, apparently. At least that involuntary reaction continued to work as well as ever. Merde.
Her voice came gradually- still stunned by everything since they were called. How were they called? It shouldn't have been possible in the first place, not by Galadriel. Worrying after that, after whatever it was that Galadriel said in a language she couldn't understand. Somehow she felt oddly chastised. ]
I- we. Have no need of gifts. We only wish you well. [ Wanting more wasn't ever something that was on the table. Do good works, use the power she had to help- that was all she ever needed. ] And we are glad to have helped.
[ But this. This contact, this affection- this was enough. Saying that felt like a flimsy excuse at best. ]
Whatever you did before to leave you like this? Please do not do it again. I do not have so many I would call friend that I would lose one gladly.
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She could not read the hearts of these people. It was beyond her.
If she could, if that ability was granted to her once more, she would refrain.]
If that is what you wish, I cannot refuse you.
[Her smile was a little tighter, but she didn't draw away. She would not be hobbled by this limitation and she would not take from Adelaide in any way that she could prevent.
A moment passed in silence and, inevitably, Galadriel knew her touch would become unwelcome. If it had been welcomed at all. With as much grace as Compassion had restored, she gently released Adelaide and sank back in the chair. She had been given so much strength, it was hard to believe it was possible, but she had spent far too much to simply return to herself.
She was no longer in need, but still she longed for company. She could not ask Adelaide to stay, but she could provide knowledge if she did. It was a bold-faced move, unsubtle and desperate, one she would not have made were she speaking to anyone else. What she offered were secrets, unknown to the people of Thedas, to even the man she had exacted her power upon, but she would share them readily with this woman.]
I read the heart of a man.
[His horror, his thoughts, his memories still clung to the edges of her mind. It had been so difficult and muddled, it had taxed her so much, it frustrated her still.]
I would have struck him down, tainted as he was, but he was no enemy. [Despite herself, a thread of bitter rage and old sorrow crept into her voice.] A joke, he claimed. His blood had been poisoned with the darkest song on the whim of another.
[Rage was too much to maintain, however ancient and mild it was, and she closed her eyes as it left her voice.]
I had to know his heart...I had not heard that song since the darkest days, long before the age of men. It was foolish, but I could not let him pass.
I had to know.
[She still lacked the energy to weep for him. She still heard it in the back of her mind. It still terrified her.]
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[ It was dangerous- whatever it had been. Students and peers of hers alike fell pray to such spells in the past. Their worth usually measured against the risk and found, in her experience, wanting. Nothing was worth burning oneself down to the very bones. No life worth rending yourself until there was nothing left. More than mana, more than power, it felt as though years had been lost off Galadriel's time. Nothing she can think of would be worth it- but then she was from another world. Perhaps it was as she said, using her own power did not work well in Thedas.
Teaching her to use the Fade would only be responsible. Be reasonable. How to go about it would be difficult but- she would try. If it would see this Bright Lady safe? She would try.
Adelaide honestly could remain as they were, held and leaning and oddly contented despite her exhaustion until morning, but as Galadriel pulled away she made no comment, merely settled back on her heels much like a child would at the foot of their mother. The students could mind themselves for a short while and, truly, she needed time to recover. Standing right now? Would likely not end all that well. On top of the fact that simply being in Galadriel's presence was intensely soothing for her and Compassion both. The closest thing to it she could think of was dreaming and being held by Compassion in the Fade.
But without the risk of demons.
And then those words. 'Read the heart'.
Read the mind.
Blood magic- for a moment she went tense but there was no blood. No taint. No sour songs of demons or their power in this place. They had mended no cuts, whatever it was? Came of Galadriel's world. ]
Tainted and- ah. You met a Grey Warden. [ There were rumors of how it was they were able to fight back the blight. To withstand Darkspawn without becoming tainted themselves. That they carried a bit with them in some manner? Was not so great a surprise. ] They are our best defense against Blights. As there are rumors of a blighted dragon in the service of our enemy it is only right that they remain to help us. But- I cannot see how one would join them as a joke.
Or how it was you were able to read their hearts.
[ It was a tentative thing, as ever, the extension of her hand when not healing. The lightest touch against Galadriel's fingertips. ]
Such a thing is only possible in our world through the work of spirits or blood magic- more often the latter than the former. But I do not think you to be a maleficar...
[ Age of-
What? ]
...This may be. Terribly impolite and if it is out of turn you may ignore the question and I shall leave you be but- how. How old are you that you recall the entirety of an age? Are they less in your world than they are here?
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The human remained at her side, but she was uneasy. Galadriel listened to her questions, broad and specific as they respectively were, and tilted her head slightly as she considered her answers. Explaining the former was difficult, even without any idea what a maleficar might be, but the latter was simpler...for a given measure of simplicity.]
I do not know how long an age of Thedas is, but I have lived for more than three of Arda's ages.
[It took some concentration to translate the calendars into one another. She had no idea how long a year was, here, if it was the same or if it differed, but it made little difference. A few days would compound, of course, but hours and days lost meaning so quickly.... She frowned slightly before she spoke.]
It is hard to say, I do not know how time is marked here, but I was born well before the days of dawn. [Her gaze was curious as she leveled it at Adelaide. She had revealed this before, but only to a few, and each had their own reactions. None were enough to guide her.] I think it is fifteen, perhaps sixteen thousand years by the calendars of men?
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[ Annoyed by trying to work through historical texts, Adelaide? Never.
Not that she has much chance to dwell on it for- that.
Those.
One moment. ]
Fifteen- fifteen thousand years.
[ Her voice didn't crack and she actually managed to be quite neutral. Compassion, on the other hand? Went dead silent.
Adelaide had never known a spirit to faint. Were such a thing possible? It just happened. For her she- she was-
Galadriel was akin to the elves of old. The ageless, godlike beings that crafted much of Theadas or so the few scraps of lore she knew went. She was attempting to hold a godlike being's hand.
She'd been kissed on the forehead by this Lady. Saved her life. Healed her twice. Counted her as a friend. How does one even begin to respond to such a thing?
When in doubt? Humor. ]
...I suddenly feel terribly unqualified to act as your teacher.
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[It seemed she had missed the humor in Adelaide's tone. Her smile was gentle and honest. That she knew no other wizards, or however they were called in this land, was unimportant. She would have liked none other than Adelaide and trusted no one else so utterly, not in all of Thedas.]
I expect I shall require a measure of your boundless patience and kindness before I have learned anything of note.
[Were her own skills of any use at all, she would have offered to share them. Unfortunately, if she lacked the power to maintain them, there was no hope for a mortal soul...even one with a partner as expansive as Adelaide's.]
I cannot say I am not counted among the maleficar, for I do not know what they are, but reading hearts...it is an old skill, one that has passed out of memory and been forgotten. It is the same skill that allowed me to call to you, though why it is so weak here...I do not know.
[It was puzzling and disconcerting in equal measure and the longer she pondered it, the less she desired to. It was a childish urge, evading the unknown and fearful, but she had no answers nor paths to a solution. Lingering on unpleasant thoughts was indulgence if she couldn't further her goals...limited as they were in Thedas.]
I fear all my skills are so diminished, though I lack the desire to test them, or to know for certain. To learn how your people draw power, how you achieve such magics, that would be valuable beyond measure.
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I am honored by the faith you have in me- and I shall try to live up to your expectations.
[ Reaching the fade- it was simply something that was done. One was able or one was not- reaching for it once one knew what they were doing came easily with study and practice. The focus drills that served her so well may yet be passed along to Galadriel. It would be somewhere to start. ]
Apostate mages- those not of a Cricle though that would include all of us as they've been disbanded- that use blood magic. Most mages use their connection to the fade- blood mages use their very blood- or the blood of others, to pull power from demons. It never ends well- the risks are great, the purpose sinister, the means a perversion of everything Compassion and I have. But it is thought to make strength for mages that have a weaker connection to the fade and therefore worthwhile. One cannot always tell them when they see them but Demons...
[ Her lips pressed thin for a moment as she considered how to explain it. ]
Compassion is, to me, emotion, intent- and music. When you called we felt your pain and we felt your song. You resonate like a spirit to me, you and your ring. It's...sweeter than anything I have ever heard- clearer than any Spirit for we are not separated by the veil. Demons are- discordant. They leave echos of their song among maleficar on occasion. I would know that were I to hear it of you but I do not. All I hear is-
I do not have the words, my Lady.
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She heard no discord.
The weight that statement drew from Galadriel's shoulders was palpable. Her smile shifted and, as if it were simply her turn, color rose in her face. It had been some time since she had last blushed, an Age at least, but perhaps this was only fair. She'd inflicted the same on Adelaide and had delighted in young Gavin's crimson flush. Unlikely as it was, this was her due.]
You cannot know how kind that was. Thank you.
[Galadriel drew her hands into her lap and looked down at them as she composed herself. Giddy and girlish as she was, she had forgotten the bitter tang of the taint and how it ground against her senses. But, as she stared at her hand, a thought came to her and she glanced at Adelaide.]
You could hear Nenya? Compassion is very keen; there are very few who can sense my ring...at least, there were few in Arda.
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[ Time around spirits lent their certainty on occasion. When Adealide spoke true and spoke with conviction- it simply was. There was no kindness, no compassion to it- merely a statement of being. The sky was blue (where it was not currently green), Compassion was warm, Galadriel was as clear and pure a thing as she had ever heard. Now that she had been mended, refreshed- the song was back to the low murmur she was more familiar with when in places where the Veil wore thin. ]
Can still, actually. Like waves on the shore when you called but now it is more akin to the whisper of a brook over stone. [ Adelaide turned her eyes from the ring up to Galadriel's face and-
Oh.
Oh Maker she blushed and it made her more lovely. Andraste preserve her, how was she to keep a level voice? ]
To me it feels like a whisper of a spirit. There is...a will and intent there though I do not know what- the song is unfamiliar to me. Faith? Hope, perhaps, I have not heard that song since I was a child but you are...more than the songs of the Spirits I know. They are as they are named. Compassion is compassion that is all they are and all they shall be- they do not adapt or learn as you and I do. Your song is less a refrain and more an aria.
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The thoughts were nostalgic and, as such things always were, more than slightly sad. Her smile dampened somewhat, even though her cheeks kept their color. Adelaide was firm and her compliments escalated.]
Adamant. [A joke, perhaps, on the smith's part.] Nenya is the ring of Adamant. It carries the will and power to conceal, to preserve, and to protect my lands and people.
[Finally, she looked up at Adelaide again. She did not mention how it was the ring of water, the thought did not occur to her. The ring was all but named for it.]
I have never known a spirit to be as Compassion is.
Will and spirit are the same; to exert power is to spend them both. It requires great will to create something like Nenya and great will to wield it; I am fortunate that we are both aligned in our desires, but that was no accident.
To have a spirit with only a simple, single task is...very strange to me. There is beauty in it, but it is a fragile thing.
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[ Intent shapes so much of the fade- it warps the very fabric should it be strong enough. Shapes the spirits and taints them into something else. Something off. ]
Compassion is driven to help. To provide comfort where it is needed. That can twist into something else- a need to be needed. A need to be what is wanted rather than required. To become desire. I met such a demon in my Harrowing and it's song was as familiar to me as Compassion's but discordant. Wrong. Were I not so familiar I may not have seen it for what it was.
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How strange it is...
I was baffled when you first called them demons. I know the word, but the creatures were incomparable, they were too mild to be demons...except they are. The demons I know are merely the spirits who walk Arda, those with will beyond mine or Nenya's, fallen to discord and corruption.
That we slew so many of them, those who are so fragile and malleable, is worthy of lament. Had I known, perhaps it would have been unnecessary.
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[ Adelaide leaned against Galadriel's chair, looking up at her, entirely comfortable in her position. Teaching but from the ground. It felt appropriate for the moment. ]
They remember. They learn. They adapt. They make deals. They need in a way that Spirits do not. I do not know if this is learned from us or something else twists them to it but...if it is possible for one that was made Tranquil to have their connection to the fade restored- perhaps it is possible to return a demon to a spirit.
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When you are at peace, you are disconnected from the Fade?
[It seemed like a truly arbitrary thing and was out of place in this conversation. The idea that reaching for the Fade took effort was not so curious, but the idea that calm would break any bonds to the Fade was perplexing. Emotion had its place, particularly in works of fëa, but for simple tranquility to part them from the realm that gave them power?]
Are all of your skills fed by strong emotion?
[If that was the case, why had her rage and fury not forced a connection? She had certainly been emotional.]
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[ It was a horrible fate for anyone too afraid to endure the Harrowing. Something one of her dearest friends chose. The last thing he chose. ]
You do not need emotion to work with the fade- but they do play into one another. If it were merely a question of that anyone could use magic. There is an inherent connection bound by emotion- feeling too strongly may entice demons to you; maintaining focus, calm, and control while casting so you shape the world to your will as you intend rather than losing control is important.
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The oldest song was thrust upon warriors, demons could be spawned with barely an effort, twisted from the remains of simple spirits, Tranquility was a curse, and...if she had not misheard, it could be a fate inflicted upon others. A will could simply be broken apart.
Where had she come? What cruel threads pulled at this place to make it so?
Weariness crept into her tone and replaced the confusion that had been there before. Truly, she didn't wish to know, but naivete was untenable. She had to ask, it was important.]
Not everyone can use magic?
[The term was still broad, too broad for comfort, but it was equal to the question. Certainly, not all races shared the same penchant for wielding power, but each had something about them that could be called magic. Each soul had power, it was merely a question of proportion...wasn't it?]
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[ Adelaide peered up to Galadriel, frowning at how all of this seemed to distress her. What sort of world did she come from that anyone might have this power? That losing it wasn't a risk, that they weren't some manner of danger to those around them?
It must be a kind world. A brighter one. ]
Only a few. Humans, Elves, Qunari. Dwarves cannot reach the fade in the way we do- I don't know why but they cannot.
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[When it had been meaningless nomenclature, she hadn't thought much on it. It was akin to calling someone a smith, a weaver, a ringbearer, a wizard. It was some notation added onto what one was...but, no, it wasn't. To be a mage was to have something that others did not.
Suddenly quite a few of the things she'd been told about Thedas made far, far too much sense. The way they'd been looked upon, the accusation of being demonic, even the vague suspicions of the guard took on new shades of meaning.
Her eyes were closed. When she frowned the expression was tight and wooden.]
I would weep for your world, if I could, but I fear I might never stop. [She let out a short breath and her expression evened as she opened her eyes.] I am sorry, I am speaking unkindly. Perhaps it is not so terrible as it seems to me; I cannot imagine a lack of...I know not how to describe it.
At least, I imagine, you do not have the wealth of terrible danger that has walked Arda...though I see echoes of some of them, I have not felt the shadow in these lands.
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