<html> <body> Metamor Keep: Elvmere's New Duties by Charles Matthias 2/2 Later did not arrive with musical training. The Temple possessed a number of instruments donated over the years though most were old and in need of upkeep. Little had been done to care for them in the years since Three Gates and Elvmere spent a portion of his time checking strings, polishing brass, and tuning each before practice began. There were a few other acolytes who helped clean and repair, but after apprenticing with Malger the raccoon knew techniques lost to the Lothanasi and Celine was quick to assign him this responsibility. He listened to the small ensemble of teenage girls and boys chant the ancient prayers while he tested the notes of a flute. The silver was tarnished and gave each note a dull, almost flat quality. Malger would have wrung something sweet from so sour a tone. Elvmere chuffed at the thought of the lecherous marten intoning a timeless melody with neither meter nor verse to guide the prayers of the faithful. Celine watched the acolytes from the corner of her eye as she instructed a young girl newly transformed into a robin with reddish-orange breast. The song bird kept adding trills and warbles to the chants which both amused and annoyed the other singers. It only embarrassed her and Elvmere hoped she would be able to master her voice again. Elvmere realized he was staring when Celine caught his gaze and he lowered his eyes to his flute. The general cacophony of each musician doing whatever they liked lasted for another ten minutes before Celine stood and bid the robin rejoin the other singers. Elvmere stretched, wiped his hands on his robes, and then lifted the tuned flute to his muzzle. The mistress of acolytes led them through several ancient songs, the melodies for most slow and without beat, allowing the prayers to be drawn out and overlaid, shifting the emphasis from one petition to the next in an almost hypnotic calm. In some ways it was similar to the chants the Patildor sang during Liturgy, with long-breathed passages and sometimes static harmonies shifting only suddenly before resolving to the home tone. But there was also a use of polyphony absent to the Patildor. The voices of the singers and the instruments were sometimes subdivided when petitions to each of the gods were offered. The character of the trumpet in its royalty and bombast sometimes suited paeans to Kammoloth and others the marshaling of Dokorath's armies. A duet between a man and a woman in perfect intervals spoke of the faithful and fruitful love blessed by Velena. The singing of many voices in consonance reflected the balance of health sought from Akkala. The thrumming of strings recalled the rhythm of the sea when Wvelkim was called. And the flute was used to mimic birdsong when seeking good fortune in a hunt from Artela or for its brightness to recall the flickering of Yajiit's flames. At times, Elvmere wondered whether they were offering prayers to many gods at once or acting out a scene from the Nine Heavens. A handful of acolytes gathered at the rear of the Temple to listen to them practice, but most continued with their duties even if beastly ears turned. A few worshipers knelt in prayer; Elvmere recognized the capybara baker among them, but the rest were unfamiliar. He'd met the baker once shortly after becoming a raccoon, but if Gregor recognized him he gave no sign. For the most part Elvmere lost himself in the sung prayers, his claws gentle upon the tarnished flute, drawing out a thin melody to hang in the air with only a few breaths. A commotion at the rear of the temple drew everyone's eyes. Elvmere's jowls bristled in surprise when he saw a pair of figures enter the temple and turn immediately toward the doorway at the rear leading to Lothanasa Raven's office. One was the elf-touched priestess and the other was the very same young feline girl who had given Elvmere a tour of the temple when he'd first come to Metamor in the company of Patriarch Akabaieth. Both had been away on a journey Elvmere had only heard whispers of not long after the plague had been defeated and the gates of the city opened again. Even Celine, on seeing the distraction of her musicians, turned her head and almost jumped. Merai cast a glance in her direction and, at such a great distance, appeared to offer the head acolyte a smile, before disappearing into the hall to Raven's office. Celine blinked after her, then turned back to her musicians and lifted a stilling hand. “Aye, Priestess Merai and Priestess Tessa have returned from their journey. No, I know not how it went, but thank the gods both are alive and well. We will learn if her mission was a success in time. I'm sure they have much to share with the Lothanasa and I'm sure they need their rest. I do not want to see any of you pestering them with questions or starting rumors about them!” A few of the girls still leaned their heads together to whisper. Celine narrowed her eyes. “And if I see any of you doing so, you'll spend an entire week cleaning the dove room.” Every head immediately snapped back to attention and all whispers ceased. Celine smiled, firm and sure. “Now, we have music to practice. Start again from the beginning. Remember, these are prayers to the Aedra, the more beautiful and the more your soul pours into them, the more pleasing they will be.” Elvmere cast a brief glance at the now shut door before lifting the flute to his snout. If he was meant to learn they would tell him. ---------- It was a relief to finally be able to doff the brown robes; he felt cooler almost immediately. Tamsin, who had changed out of his guard tunic on returning to the Temple, chortled at the raccoon's foolishness and then said, “There's been a few winter days when I've kept them on. My fur isn't as thick as yours.” “Tapirs live in warmer countries than this,” Elvmere agreed as he patted down his tunic to make sure it was still presentable. “Raccoon's are native to these colder climes. If not for modesty, then the fur would be enough on a hot Summer's day!” “I imagine there's a few girls who wouldn't mind!” Tamsin nudged him in the shoulder with a wink before pulling his tunic on and lacing it tight. Elvmere chuffed and shook his head. “Celine told me we're to serve as temple guards tonight. What do we need to do?” “Mostly stand at the doors and keep watch on the comings and goings.” Tamsin lifted his robes in his hands and gave them a quick sniff. He lifted his snout away and bundled the fabric as tight as he could before tucking it under his arm. “If somebody tries to come into the Temple and cause mischief we knock them on the head and drag them off to the Watch.” Elvmere's eyes widened. “Does it happen?” “One time last year, but the fellow was drunk. The lizard Watch lady I brought him to seemed to know him; he did too by his bawling.” Tamsin laughed and shook his head. “Most of the time we just talk or see what else the night brings. Our shift lasts until midnight.” “We don't get much sleep as guards.” “Patrol is much the same. Raccoon's are night creatures; don't you have trouble sleeping at night?” Elvmere shook his head. “I don't seem to.” He straightened his guard tunic one last time and grunted, tail flicking side to side as his eyes cast a quick glance around their sleeping quarters. They were the only acolytes there, the rest were out preparing for the dusk offering of incense. “But I don't have any trouble staying awake either.” “Good! A guard must always be on alert.” Tamsin looked the raccoon over once and grunted in approval. “Come, let's get our weapons and take our place.” He dumped his smelly robe in a basket near the doors and waited for Elvmere to follow him. “Right, weapons,” Elvmere flexed his empty hands and sighed. ---------- The spear Tamsin handed him rolled awkwardly in his paws as the two of them stood watch at the main doors of the Lightbringer Temple. Dozens of Lothanasi came and went for prayers; those who left whispered about the return of Merai and Elvmere could not help but overhear their rampant speculation about her. “'Ere's a haunted look in 'er eye. Some'in bad happened.” “She looks so happy to be home!” “I 'ear she went to cursed Elderwood; evil things lurkin' there.” “I heard Merai found the source of the plague in Kelewair! It was the bloody phergolds!” “The trip did her good; have you e'er seen her so healthy?” “It's so good to have more than one Priestess in Metamor again!” “Ye see th' way she walks? She be runnin' from somethin'!” “Wounded in battle with some great evil, I hear!” Elvmere and Tamsin exchanged glances as the rumors swirled about their ears. Everyone was so preoccupied with sharing whatever they heard – or made up – about Merai they did not even notice the raccoon and tapir standing watch. Certainly none spared either of them more than a passing glance. Elvmere had been anxious when he'd first stepped out of the Temple and took up his post; what if someone recognized him and called him by his old name? Or worse, his old title? But what was a raccoon next to the return of the Aedra-blessed priestess of Metamor? Elvmere was not sure if he was more chagrined or relieved. He continued to roll the spear in his paws, eyes glancing up at the metal point at its tip. When he'd been a boy he'd carried something similar in liturgical processions for the Patildor; only then it had been the Yew at the top. He'd fancied himself bearing the mightiest of weapons then. What a paltry thing a spear-tip was in comparison. Humility. All in life have duty. Some are roses and others are wildflowers. The wildflowers are important too and must play their part. “Hold it still,” Tamsin noted after the last group passed out of earshot. “You don't want everyone to know it's your first time do you?” “No one even notices us,” Elvmere replied as he curled his fingers tight around the spear. “All they can think about is Priestess Merai.” Tamsin nodded. “It's all we'll hear about from the other acolytes too.” “Do you know where she and Priestess Tessa went? All I know is one day they both left on a journey and nobody would talk about it.” Tamsin lifted his snout and narrowed his eyes. “Nay, I know nothing. I know she's been through a lot these last few years. I wasn't here when she became a priestess but I've been told Yajiit herself appeared! The Aedra have put in more appearances here since Merai arrived then they had in the last hundred years. She's special and is meant for something. But I've no idea what it could be!” “We're all meant for something,” Elvmere noted. “Not a one of us was created without a purpose. Sometimes it surprises us.” “Like how both of us ended up here as acolytes!” Tamsin laughed and stretched out his back, dragging his heavy hoof-like toes across the stone with a steely scratch. “I'm glad you're here. It's a lot of fun getting you ready for patrol!” Elvmere grunted. “I mean no ill toward you, Tamsin, but I hope serving on Metamor's patrol isn't my purpose. I thought I knew my purpose once, but now... now I am trying to figure it out again.” He turned his snout and chuffed. “You will have to relearn it again someday too. I don't think you'll be an acolyte all your life.” “Few are,” Tamsin granted and drummed his thick nails along the spear clutched in his hands. “You still seem to love music.” He must believe I wanted to be a traveling bard; I've never said otherwise. “Aye. But we are more than duty.” Tamsin started to reply but his ears lifted as another round of footfalls echoed up the hall toward the Lightbringer temple. They stood at attention and offered pleasant smiles to the half-dozen Keepers who did all they could to keep from rushing toward the doors. One of them, a human man whose muscled physique and age implied he'd once been a woman, turned to the tapir and asked, “Is it true Priestess Merai has returned?” Tamsin nodded his head and broadened his smile as much as his long cheeks and snout would allow. “Aye, she has. Even now she assists the Lothanasa with the dusk sacrifices. You are not too late if you wish to join the prayers.” “Ah, thank you,” the man replied for what Elvmere concluded was his family, though given they were all different species and ages, it was hard to tell what their relationships must be. Was this man the father – and perhaps the mother before the curses were cast – or was he merely the most sociable of the lot? Was the young boy a child or a man trapped in a child's body? He saw two women among them; were either a wife or mother, or was the other grown man – now a wolf – the original father now forced into a pitiable relationship? After they passed through the doors, Elvmere and Tamsin relaxed a little and the raccoon turned to his friend to ask, “Did you know them?” “I've seen them before in the Temple and some at training for patrol, but no I don't know them,” Tamsin admitted. “Keeptowne is a big city. Did you see any bigger ones on your travels?” “A few.” Elvmere glanced back down the hall. “Big, small, they are all filled with people. None so unusual a people as here though!” Tamsin laughed. “In sooth! But where did you go?” “Oh, we traveled through western Sathmore keeping close to the mountains most of the time. We spent a little time in Silvassa and then crossed into Pyralis and made our way to Breckaris. Afterwards we parted ways and I began my journey home.” His claws dug into the wooden haft, wishing he could think of some way to change the subject. “But how did you manage it as a raccoon?” “Oh, we had talismans to cloak us beneath an illusion. Mine was lost on the return journey, but I'm sure Malger and Murikeer have theirs.” Not truly lost. I still have the pieces in a little pouch hidden within my small chest of clothes. Tamsin shook his head and drummed his fingers on the spear. “Maybe one day we won't need such things. Were the mountains as beautiful as ours?” Elvmere tipped his head back and closed his eyes, imagining the rolling peaks of the Sathmore range and the trees carpeting them. “They were beautiful, but a different beauty. The mountains of Sathmore are not as large nor as rocky. Snow tops some of them, but many are covered in a deep, lush green, and where they opened up we could see fields of wildflowers in a burst of color. The streams flowing from their sides were frigid cold.” “I've been in the Dragon Mountains,” Tamsin noted with a wistful eye. “Until the trees stop they are much the same. Perhaps your first patrol will take us there!” “Aye, it might. How long before the patrol?” Elvmere relaxed somewhat seeing the tapir's enthusiasm. “Well, it depends on your training, but in two to three weeks I suspect. We...” They both straightened as their ears heard the sound of footfalls from within the temple. Another gaggle of worshipers opened the doors and walked back into the Keep, murmuring in wonder and smelling faintly of the familiar dusk incense. They did not spare either tapir or raccoon watching them a glance. Being a guard is not my purpose in life. I hope. ---------- The long hours until midnight were at first filled with brief conversations interrupted by the comings and goings of the faithful. Not long after the dusk sacrifices were complete the halls turned empty. Tamsin and he spoke for a while of the rigors of patrol and Elvmere managed to keep the conversation there. Eventually as night settled in words faded and each enjoyed the privacy of their thoughts. So close to the solstice there were only a few hours to wait until midnight came, but those were hours Elvmere could use to resume pondering the first principles he had begun to sketch. By himself the raccoon was unable to master his thoughts. His mind swirled with patrol training and promises of ancient Lothanasi stories. He trembled, afraid he would falter in a time of need on patrol and enemies would claim Tamsin or another friend. Another part of him feared more he might enjoy it or prove proficient at it and find himself, like Tamsin, dedicated to the task of guiding other acolytes in their martial duties. He wondered about the stories Master Weiland intended for him. Were they like the parables and histories of the Patildor he knew since his first youth? Or were they more of the character of the fanciful whimsies the Writer's Guild of Metamor concocted? He suspected there was a little of both, each intended to teach some lesson to help guide the faithful in their lives. Wisdom was what Master Weiland wished him to learn. Was he a young man again because he'd never truly learned it in his first life? Philosophy was a comfort; but he needed to find the foundation first. All else was swirling sands and phantasms. “Well,” Tamsin said with a long stretch, “sounds like our shift is over.” Elvmere turned his ears and heard the sound of footfalls coming toward the door. There was something in the pace different from the worshipers, but he could not say what. When the door opened, two other acolytes dressed in the gray livery of temple guards emerged. The first, a woman who had once been a man, nodded and said, “Tamsin, Elvmere, good evening. Anything interesting happen?” “Nothing really,” Tamsin replied, giving his snout a single lift as he and Elvmere stepped out of the way for the woman and the teenager with her. “Just the usual; lots of rumors and gossip and everything else. No drunks this time.” “Those are always the best,” the woman agreed with a laugh. Tamsin and Elvmere wished them an uneventful watch and then entered the Temple proper. A dozen paces in and the tapir offered him his spear. “Elvmere, since it's your first night on guard duty you get to put the gear away. I'll check and make sure you did it right in the morning!” “I'll do my best. Good night, Tamsin. May the gods bless you.” “And you,” Tamsin flashed him another smile before shuffling off toward the acolyte's chambers. Elvmere carried both spears to the weapon room off the main corridor and carefully returned them to the rack where they'd claimed them hours ago. He took a moment to straighten them, making sure all of the metal points were aligned, before turning to follow the tapir to sleep. To his surprise, a young feline was just stepping out of the doorway leading to the archives. She was dressed in the white of a priestess and Elvmere chuffed when he realized it was Merai. The priestess flicked her ears and tail up when she caught sight of the raccoon standing only a few feet from her. Her hand flew to her chest and in a happy sigh exclaimed, “Oh, Elvmere! You startled me! And I thought cats were quiet on their paws.” “I was straightening the weapons and trying not to disturb anyone,” Elvmere admitted in as quiet a voice as he could manage. “It is good to see you safely home, Merai.” “Home,” Merai murmured and ran one hand along the door jamb up to the lintel. “It is a comfort... there are many joys and many struggles in these walls. So many good people I have loved. Even their memories welcome me back.” A smile twitched her whiskers. “We have not had a chance to speak since you joined us.” “Nay. But you have had a weary day of travel; you should get your rest.” “I am sure to sleep the moment I lay down! But a few minutes at least, Elvmere. Come; in with the weapons.” Before Elvmere could object the girl who in age was younger even than he appeared to be swept past him and back among the rows of spears, swords, and shields. Elvmere followed, jowls set tight, and eased the door shut behind them. Merai gazed upward at a polished suit of armor emblazoned with the crest of Dokorath ensconced in the rear of the chamber. She did not turn to face him; her tail batted from side to side in the languorous way of cats. “I know you must have suffered greatly, Elvmere, to place yourself in our care. You welcome me home knowing you will never see your own again. How can your heart not ache for what you lost?” Elvmere sighed and crossed his arms. “It does. I ache for it every day. I know the Pantheon is real and I want to learn more about them and to love them; and sometimes I know I do. But the heart's first love, the love I had as a child, cannot be forgot. The pain is part of the love. The Patildor Liturgy and its sequence of daily prayers were the bread and breath of my life for fifty years. I am a starving man learning to eat a different food who enjoys the taste but still wishes for the merest tidbit of the old. And I cannot help but wonder which is the true food, or whether we need both, or if there isn't some other possibility I have not considered.” He wriggled his jowls and added, “Until I figure it out, this is where I am and I must make of it a new home.” Merai smiled, feline eyes glancing downward for a moment before returning to the raccoon's face. “I think I understand what you mean; and even if you are able to return to your first home, it will never be the same.” “Aye. But it is not they who have changed but I. Elvmere's fur can never fit into Vinsah's skin.” “Nor Merai of today into Merai of yesterday.” Her eyes betrayed a hurt. He had tried not to wonder what had happened to the young priestess on her journey; now he pondered if any of the rumors he'd heard touched the truth. “Did something happen on your journey?” “Aye and nay.” Merai looked askance and she seemed to stare through the walls for several seconds, her tail unnaturally still, before shaking her head and clutching her hand to her chest. “I learned things... often because something I expected to happen did not. Like you, I wonder what the truth is, but my first love is still my first love. And then there's Brother Calvis...” She laughed, her voice coy as a young girl smitten by a handsome man. “You know, the Curse has made you quite handsome as well, especially when dressed as a temple guard! You probably turned a few eyes and tails today.” Elvmere felt a flush of embarrassment. “I fear they could only think of your return.” “In sooth. But what of the Silvassan priestess, Nylene? I saw how you looked at her when you first came to us.” His embarrassment flared. “An infatuation. She saved my life and I had but her for company the whole of my trip here. I've been... chaste for so long, and committed to a life given to the Patildor I doubt I could truly fall in love.” You offered to marry her so you could be together. Merai shook her head. “Infatuation is how it begins. Love doesn't stay there. Love grows and like ivy, binds two together so even when the flame of passion ends, the real love, the real yearning for the good of the beloved, is the only thing left. Suspira seeks to corrupt passion and keep us there so we can never really love. Velena guides us to see the wonders beyond passion. If Velena has placed this love in your heart do not push it aside, Elvmere.” “No matter what I may feel for her or she for me, she loves Silvassa more and will not risk the Curses.” “You journeyed all across Galendor already; in time even we will walk openly in those lands.” Elvmere nodded and sighed, tightening his arms across his chest. His tail flicked from leg to leg in agitation. “Perhaps. Perhaps. I will think on it.” Merai offered him an amused, yet sympathetic glance. “I could order you to write her, acolyte, as an act of devotion to Velena.” “Heh! I suppose I should do so then to be faithful to the gods.” “Do not be mocking now.” He curled his jowls. “I am not! I meant it. I have not given much thought to Velena and what I can offer her. Perhaps trying to be honest with my heart and honest before those whom my heart seeks is the right offering to make.” Elvmere's words were firm but he felt no confidence. Rather he was a man falling into a deep chasm wondering if there were any hands to rescue him. In whom was he placing his trust? Merai stepped toward him and offered him a comforting smile. “I know it is awkward for you to become Lothanasi, Elvmere. Much must change for you and much already has. Here you stand dressed as a temple guard! I saw you are training with Tamsin. Are you going on patrol soon?” “In a few weeks I think. I haven't played with swords since I was a young boy. Tamsin says I'm going to be fine.” “He's a good judge. You'll be fine. Perhaps in a few years you'll help other young acolytes with their patrols. Strange things happen in Metamor!” “Indeed they do!” “I know of your musical work. What else are you learning?” “Well, I have work in the Scriptorium copying old manuscripts. And after I return from patrol I am to be apprenticed to Master Weiland to learn the ancient stories. I fear my time as apprentice to Malger is following me here!” “Weiland is an archive all to himself. You will do well to listen attentively to him. You will learn not only what Lothanasi think but how we see the world.” “The world is the same no matter how you see it,” Elvmere noted. “But I will listen and learn.” Merai nodded and took another step closer. “Good. And this autumn I will ask Celine to partner you with Christopher so you might be tested for magical ability. I expect you to give it your best. Perhaps you have even more hidden talents than you knew.” Elvmere chuffed and nodded. “Of course, Sister.” “Now, thank you very much for talking with me, Elvmere. I think I am ready for sleep. We should talk more. Perhaps next time you can tell me more of the Patildor. We both want... need... to know more. Good night! The Light bless you!” She did not give him time to reply to her enigmatic comment before slipping past the still swirling raccoon and out the door. ---------- “Did you get lost?” Tamsin asked him as Elvmere climbed into the bunk above the tapir's. Elvmere leaned his head over and whispered, “Priestess Merai was there and wanted someone to talk to before sleep. Nay, I learned nothing of what she endured; she only asked after my training.” Tamsin snorted and shook his snout back and forth. “Did she seem all right?” “I think so. If we need to learn what came to pass we will.” “Ah well, then it is enough. I'll say another prayer of thanksgiving for her and priestess Tessa's return. Get your sleep now, we've practice again tomorrow!” Elvmere chortled under his breath and lay down hands folded over his chest. A prayer stumbled from his thoughts. Velena, I do not know how I truly feel about Nylene or what she feels. Help me understand and do what is right. If I must give all to be by her side, help me do so. If it is not to be, help me find the love I should have. Akkala, whatever hurt lies in the heart of priestess Merai, bring her solace and healing. Dokorath, help me find my bravery to defend my brothers and sisters of Metamor. Samekkh, help me learn the stories of wisdom given to the Lothanasi. He blinked and in the smallest place in his heart he whispered a final prayer. Eli, please do not abandon me. Elvmere closed his eyes, claws curling into his chest fur. Duty would greet him in the morning. He hoped his Lady would greet him in his dreams. Until then. First principles... ---------- THE END May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>