Returning A Gift

Messages for the Enchanters' Guild
Lamaenor
Posts: 96
Joined: Tue Dec 06, 2016 8:05 am
Guild: Enchanters

Returning A Gift

Post by Lamaenor »

The guild hall was its usual flurry of activity. The chanting of spells could be heard, the breaking of glass bottles as experiments went awry, the puddles of arcana from experiments gone awry. Lamaenor ducked as a an errant spell whizzed past him. A spell gone awry. He toyed with the leather cord in his hand.

The elf grinned ruefully. If there's one thing that Enchanters did not have a problem with, he thought, it was trial and error, experimentation. Few in the halls were afraid to fail. He thought back on past experiments of his own. More than one had gone horribly wrong, leading to singed hair, clothing, skin, and all sorts of other...unpleasant side effects.

He looked down on his robes to check. Good. Only a few burn marks, and most of them he had cleaned up. Mostly. He was noticeably more well-kept than he once was. Hair tamer, fewer ink stains, clothes in one piece (more-or-less). In his younger years, he cared very little for appearances. Or rather, he didn't notice them. He was far too involved in his experimentation and tinkering to notice which tunic he was wearing, or if it was the fourth or fifth day since he had it laundered.

"Appearances are Everything!" -The Definitive Courtier's Guide, Volume Six
"Heed ye well, therefore, that initial impression upon which thou leavest a suitor. One chance, and one chance only wilst thou have with this, that engravened impression upon the mind that shall surely make or break ye." -Memoirs of a Master Merchant

When he assumed the office he had immediately read everything he could on statesmanship, the art of negotiating, haggling, even (tedious though it was) various almanacs to see which plants grew where and which conditions they favored. He knew almost nothing of any of this. So, like he was wont to do, he took to books.

Sadly, though he had grown fond of his old raiments, he had replaced them one by one with either a more fashionable choice (though he was always slightly behind the trends), or a more practical one, as in the case of the robe he wore. Robes. He hated robes.

He waved to Wrathbellum as he walked through the greenery into the practice and experimentation room.

Even his most prized possessions had to be replaced. He still remembered the day his Guildmaster had offered to dye one item for him. The flip-flops he saw in the cobbler's shop were his immediate first choice. He couldn't remember why, but he instantly fell in love with them. He grinned. How ridiculous he must have looked in the Bright Topaz Flip-Flops he once wore everywhere. And such a comparative pain to enchant.

He didn't care or notice at the time, however. They were a gift from one who had essentially taught him everything he knew of arcana, Enchanting, even navigation, negotiation, cartography. That such a powerful being would bestow upon him a gift was of immeasurable pride to the elf. So it was with great sadness that he replaced them. He couldn't stand to destroy them or sell them, the sentimental value to him was too great. And Deori knows he couldn't stuff one more item into his already-bursting-at-the-seams locker. So he left them in the High Enchanter's office. Hopefully the old Saurian saw them before the office was cleaned. And hopefully he understood what it meant.

They were a gift. And to destroy them or sell them or discard them, however practical it may be, would have been an insult that the elf could not bear. So he just left them in the office. As he thought back on it, he realized he could have left a note or mentioned it. But for some reason he didn't. He would do better this time. Yet again he found it was time to replace a personal effect which he held dear. He grinned as he remembered the powerful adventurer who sneered at his necklace. He couldn't remember who it was, but it was then that he started taking note of his appearance. It would hardly do to represent Devardec wearing the tooth of such a primitive and common humanoid strung around his neck. Besides, he had found its protective ward was not nearly as powerful as others he had found.

He plodded down the stairs into the office and knocked at the door before walking in. The venerated High Enchanter who kept the room while the Guildmaster was away looked up and nodded before going back to his work at a nearby table. Lamaenor greeted him and walked over to the desk of the Guildmaster. He reached into his robes with one hand and procured a letter, setting it on the desk. With his other hand, he unfurled the dingy cord he was clutching and let the snotler tooth attached to it fall on the letter. He smiled and turned to the High Enchanter.


"High Master, I'd appreciate it if you saw to it that Master Anera receives this."

He nodded and bowed with a smile before leaving the office. He knew better than to expect a response.

The letter on the desk read:


Guildmaster,

If you recall, this was one of the first pieces of protective arcana you helped me discover. I have worn it with pride since the day I crafted it but have regrettably found its usefulness surpassed by more appropriate gear, as is sadly the case for items which we adventurers don.

I hope perhaps it can help another novitiate should you see fit. Or at the very least serve as a memento to remind you of one of your more obstinate students.

I cannot express enough my gratitude for the exceptional guidance and leadership you have shown me this last half century.

I remain as ever your faithful student and guildmate,
Lamaenor

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