[ 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.
[ There was something else, here, that distressed Galadriel. As close as they were, as in tune with her song as she and Compassion had been earlier? The twist was as easy to feel as a knife in the ribs. Compassion was weary and dazed but the dull glow rippled over her skin like the shimmer of light across water. Adelaide shook it off. The urge to comfort was there, to soothe, but there was no need to pour more power into her friend.
Magic had done all that could be done. All that could be offered now? Contact and words. Adelaide reached up to rest a hand on top of Galadriel's, less uncertain than usual. Too weary to let the ghosts of the Spire leave her afraid. ]
It is as it is- and all we have ever known. I am...sorry that you have fallen here. The world you come from must be a kinder place. [ Though at the idea of the lack of danger- well. She snorts. ] That depends entirely on where it is you look. Most dangers come from demons or darkspawn or plague to be certain- but...we do terrible enough things to one another here without their help. I do not know if that makes it better or worse. But if all we have to fear are other men? I think I will take that and take it gladly.
[Adelaide's touch was not unwelcome, quite the opposite in fact, but it was unexpected. Galadriel looked down at her hand, where it rested atop hers, and considered the woman briefly.
The bitterness in her tone, the derision in her snort, they were impossible to miss, even without reading her heart. Adelaide had seen much darkness, too much for one mortal soul, but mortal souls did not collapse under the weight of such things. In that way, she was stronger than Galadriel would ever be, but it was a poor sentiment to offer.
She did not need to know how wrong she was.]
Do not apologize. [Galadriel settled her other hand across Adelaide's and her own, and squeezed it gently--weakly, but there was little difference between the two.] You have given me more hope than you know. To learn about a world, any world, is to learn of darkness and despair. Finding light in it is a gift, one that I have been granted and appreciate.
[Her expression didn't pull into a smile, she was too tired and grieved for such things, but the calm on her face was not so fraught as it had been.]
If I could, I would teach you to read the darkness in the hearts of men, but I cannot manage it myself. Often it is harrowing but...very rarely is any one of them truly something to fear.
Even this Warden...his blood was poisoned but his heart sang of beauty and butterflies. [She sighed quietly, her tone still laced with some measure of disbelief.] Butterflies, of all things.
[ What was there that she might say to that? It is a small thing, too small for the grief that Galadriel felt but some of that ache seemed to ease. At least enough that Compassion was not quite so distressed by it any longer. The world was as it was- Adelaide had never truly feared the dark for she always had the light of Compassion at hand. Others walked through shadow deeper and darker than she could ever understand- and did so on their own.
But it seemed to help. However much or little it had been? It helped. Even if she wasn't all that certain what light Galadriel found.
Did she mean her?
That-
She wasn't-
Moving on. Thinking on that while weary and befuddled wouldn't lead to anything productive. The use of the word harrowing was- for a moment, followed by a faint frown- but it was not what Galadriel meant. It was difficult to divorce the word from the act.
Perhaps she would wait on explaining that particular detail of existence to her. Leave it for another day. ]
Well...they are quite lovely, I suppose. And those that walk in darkness have more reason than most to think of what they find beautiful.
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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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[ There was something else, here, that distressed Galadriel. As close as they were, as in tune with her song as she and Compassion had been earlier? The twist was as easy to feel as a knife in the ribs. Compassion was weary and dazed but the dull glow rippled over her skin like the shimmer of light across water. Adelaide shook it off. The urge to comfort was there, to soothe, but there was no need to pour more power into her friend.
Magic had done all that could be done. All that could be offered now? Contact and words. Adelaide reached up to rest a hand on top of Galadriel's, less uncertain than usual. Too weary to let the ghosts of the Spire leave her afraid. ]
It is as it is- and all we have ever known. I am...sorry that you have fallen here. The world you come from must be a kinder place. [ Though at the idea of the lack of danger- well. She snorts. ] That depends entirely on where it is you look. Most dangers come from demons or darkspawn or plague to be certain- but...we do terrible enough things to one another here without their help. I do not know if that makes it better or worse. But if all we have to fear are other men? I think I will take that and take it gladly.
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The bitterness in her tone, the derision in her snort, they were impossible to miss, even without reading her heart. Adelaide had seen much darkness, too much for one mortal soul, but mortal souls did not collapse under the weight of such things. In that way, she was stronger than Galadriel would ever be, but it was a poor sentiment to offer.
She did not need to know how wrong she was.]
Do not apologize. [Galadriel settled her other hand across Adelaide's and her own, and squeezed it gently--weakly, but there was little difference between the two.] You have given me more hope than you know. To learn about a world, any world, is to learn of darkness and despair. Finding light in it is a gift, one that I have been granted and appreciate.
[Her expression didn't pull into a smile, she was too tired and grieved for such things, but the calm on her face was not so fraught as it had been.]
If I could, I would teach you to read the darkness in the hearts of men, but I cannot manage it myself. Often it is harrowing but...very rarely is any one of them truly something to fear.
Even this Warden...his blood was poisoned but his heart sang of beauty and butterflies. [She sighed quietly, her tone still laced with some measure of disbelief.] Butterflies, of all things.
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But it seemed to help. However much or little it had been? It helped. Even if she wasn't all that certain what light Galadriel found.
Did she mean her?
That-
She wasn't-
Moving on. Thinking on that while weary and befuddled wouldn't lead to anything productive. The use of the word harrowing was- for a moment, followed by a faint frown- but it was not what Galadriel meant. It was difficult to divorce the word from the act.
Perhaps she would wait on explaining that particular detail of existence to her. Leave it for another day. ]
Well...they are quite lovely, I suppose. And those that walk in darkness have more reason than most to think of what they find beautiful.