#silmaril saga of scholomance

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

more in my Silmaril Saga of Scholomance

The first problem is the people on horses pointing swords at them.

The second problem is that the language they speak is totally unfamiliar.

And the soldier-cosplayers don't speak English. Or Swahili, or Spanish, or any other language Elrond speaks.

(The third problem is that Elros has now picked up how to say "I'm sorry, we're very lost. Do you have a phone to call our parents?" in half a dozen languages. He hopes the Scholomance doesn't give him spells in all of them - though at least Elrond will be there to help him out.)

It's still very clear that the people with swords are suspicious of Elros and Elrond.

They initially gesture for the twins to dump their bags right there on the muddy path.

Elros mimes losing things in the grass, and then gestures at the castle. He gestures dumping the bags.

There's a bit of conversation among the people with swords, but they eventually nod, and agree that the twins can empty the bags at the castle.

It's not as good as getting to actually keep their possessions, but it gives them a chance of recovering the things they'll desperately need to survive.

(Although Elrond has never heard of an induction happening late. They might not get the Scholomance at all, just living with the Feanorians for four more years, hoping that they aren't such alluring bait for mals that Caranthir refuses to let them share a house with his son.)

(And it won't even help if their mother sends the Silmaril, in a house that's very well warded but far from the Void. They'll have the mana they earn, and as much protection as the Feanorians wish to give them. No more.)

Elrond and Elros continue up the hill, surrounded by strangers on horses pointing swords at them.

Elrond tries to be polite, and introduce himself. Even Amras had looked at Elrond less as dead weight when he started calling him by name, rather than just "one of Elwing's brats".

"Elrond." He taps his chest.

The nearest soldier laughs, but the leader looks tense.

Elrond hopes his name just sounds like a swear word in this language, not a threat or insult. He tries again. "Elrond, my name is Elrond. My brother's name is Elros." He taps Elros's chest, then points at the one who laughed - though he keeps his finger very firmly in his own personal space, far from the sword at the man's hip. "What's your name?"

"Cirmacin." And then the man shook his head and said a long sentence containing Elrond and Elros's names, and a sideways gesture that Elrond couldn't interpret but was unsettlingly near to the height of his neck.

If introducing himself was already leading to death threats, Elrond ought to keep quiet.

That just gave him more time to worry though. He tried sending messages to Elros through their rings, but then he stumbled and lost track of the dots and dashes.

Besides, there was no real way to plan, not until they knew why these people were so offended by them.

Elros's message of "Amish but older and swords" was one guess as to what was happening, but incomplete. Elrond had just replied "ears", as the idea of a cult eschewing all modern technology except plastic surgery was even stranger.

The walk to the castle was only a mile, but it took far too long. Especially as neither twin had eaten breakfast or drank water that morning.

Elrond tried etymologies to pass the time. Cirmacin didn't speak Latin, but maybe his name was in it? Or Greek?

He nearly fell over when he realized it. This man with a sword was named in the conlang that Feanor invented - named "sharp edge", even!

Had the Feanorians been teaching everyone except the twins their father's secret language? Including a band of historical reenactors with bad tempers? It made no sense!

Still, Elrond wanted his twin to know. "Name is Feanor's conlang."

Both Elrond and Elros spoke it, but Elros had studiously avoided the habit of guessing a word's root language. The number of loanwords in English made it too great a risk.

Elrond was not expecting his brother to act on the information, they just tried not to keep secrets, and two heads were better than one to figure out what was going on.

Elrond was certainly not expecting Elros to immediately ask, "I still intend to go to the castle, but can anyone understand me?" in the language the two of them had been told for years was as great a secret as the Silmaril itself.

Nor was he expecting the leader of the soldiers to draw his sword and command a halt in the same language.

"How long were you planning to keep the naive act up, little spies?"

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

This will make more sense if you've read my take on adapting the Silmarillion plot to the Scholomance, but all you really need to know is that these are modern!magic! Elrond and Elros.

Elrond and Elros have spent the last four years frantically studying and getting in shape and trying to learn what they need to survive.

Elrond has learned that he has an affinity for healing spells. Elros's is a less common one; he makes structures stabler and harder to destroy. He's hoping to spin it into making portable objects more durable and less likely to turn on you, but that's tricky on alchemy track.

They have their packs - everything is in trashbags, but Maglor assures them that he went in with the same to save weight.

They have several mana crystals each, though not as many as some people bring. They will have to trade for more storage before graduation, if their parents don't send the Silmaril. (Maedhros is including this in the letter.)

They can both read tengwar and speak Feanor's conlang, along with English. Elrond can speak Latin, Spanish, Finnish, Greek, Swahili, and German.

Elros knows how to brew a wide variety of potions. He can make a paint that works as a tripwire ward for your door, and knows a recipe for one that bites but takes more mana. He knows a potion that enhances senses, and has some of it in an old disposable water bottle in his bag.

They give each other both buzzcuts two hours before induction, and shave their pubes as well for the weight. Maedhros has a number of useful alchemical reagents wrapped in wax paper, and they will get as many of those as can fit in their weight allowance, in packets down to ten grams for precision.

There is a kilogram of completely mundane protein powder in the top of Elrond's trashbag. It will help them keep up their strength even if they eat poorly, but they could easily do without it. There's also a spare outfit in the twins' current size, complete with shoes. It's all there in case Elwing arrives at the last minute to "actually do something for her sons' survival," as Caranthir put it.

They have enchanted rings that will let them communicate with the other in Morse code, a gift from Maglor. There are plenty of mals that kill you slowly, and they might be able to help each other. The rings only weigh a few ounces, and are so stubbornly paired that they'd be no use to a large enclave. They were commissioned from the Feanorians' grandfather, just for the twins, and Maedhros yelled at Maglor for wasting Mahtan's willingness to work with them on something so trivial.

They have a small number of healing bandages, and Elrond knows the spell to sing on existing cloth to make more even though he doesn't have the mana capacity yet. They have another roll with the spell worked on from when the fiber was first woven, that will heal anything short of amputation. Elrond knows spells for the fifty most common mundane diseases or injuries.

They have sharp knives for fending off mals. They have empty canteens, and water purifiers. They have larger clothes appropriate to spending the next four years indoors. They have caffeine pills and multivitamins. They have toothbrushes, and one comb, and all the other necessities.

Maglor hugs them, and after a moment so does Maedhros. Caranthir vacuums their shoes and has them climb on the scale one more time. Amrod nods at them, and says nothing, but then he rarely speaks. Amras shakes their hands.

They feel the pull, and expect to wake up in separate rooms and immediately head for the cafeteria.

They are completely unprepared to arrive instead facing each other on a muddy path.

Neither of them has ever heard of induction failing like this. If they had exceeded the weight, they'd just be stuck in the Feanorians' house.

Also, this is the first time they've been outdoors since they were nine years old, and their first time off the Feanorian's property since they arrived as six-year-olds.

(Elros and Elrond know to be polite. They arrived at the Feanorian compound, they weren't captured. They are being taught how to survive, not trained to be good pack mules. Their parents are in Manchester but they grew up elsewhere. If they want allies for graduation, they can't look desperate.)

(If Elwing sends them the Silmaril, they might be able to fight through without backup. But that's a big if.)

They have absolutely no idea how to find their way in the wilderness.

"While, we're on a path. Right or left?" Elros says

"Right looks like it leads uphill, let's try that and see if we can spot anything."

They can in fact spot something heading uphill: An actual castle.

And the castle appears to have spotted them, with people coming out on horses with swords?

"I hope we didn't crash someone's Ren Fair, that would make this even worse."

"How could this get worse?"

"People at a Ren Fair are having fun pretending to believe in magic. A mal eating your leg would be all part of the show, not a wild coyote."

"If it's all part of the show, so's fighting it off, and my brother healing my wounds with a shower of golden sparkles."

"None of my healing spells do sparkles."

"I can do the sparkles if it will let mundies believe you're fixing my leg."

"Deal."

By this point, the horses have reached Elrond and Elros.

Whatever Renaissance Fair they crashed on is apparently high budget and into fantasy, because the armor and swords are gleaming, and the riders all have pointed ears.