Carcírion was not upset at Seregrían for sneaking out of the house and visiting Mistress Gwathnim. In fact, when they spoke the next morning he was mildly pleased.
“So you boldly went to corner the dragon in her den! Little blood, let none say you lack courage when your ire is up. At least you return unscorched from your visit.”
“Perhaps not scorched, adarinya,” Seregrían replies, “but surely not unchallenged. I am invited to return today for a private lesson – I’ve not heard of such being done, how am I to read this riddle?”
“The same way, I guess, that you read her first riddle: with all the powers of mind that you displayed, but simply double them. Daughter-mine, I did none of this, arranged none. This is all your doing and that, I think, is what impresses the Mistress of the Gelydh most. Just keep doing what you are doing, and I deem you will surprise even yourself.”
The hour comes, and Seregrían appears at the house of the Lore-masters and is this time admitted openly, as she is expected. The door ward bids her enter the house, but to proceed down the foyer to the garden. She does so, and enters an open space with a terraced pavilion and a marble fountain. There sits Mistress Gwathnim, watching the waters of the fountain play with quiet contemplation. As before, she politely coughs to announce herself.
Gwathnim speaks without turning from the fountain. “Welcome once more, Seregrían of the House of Anorwë, punctual as you are curious. This is the Fountain Terrace, one of our meeting places. Can you deduce why I asked you here?”
“Yesterday you said I might find another lesson to hold my interest. That means my first visit was a lesson as well, and this is a continuation. One might conclude that I have been accepted into the Gwaith-en-Gelydh, and this is but another step on my path.”
“One with ambition might indeed make that conclusion. Others might consider your first meeting less of a lesson, and more of an evaluation. One that continues on to the next level. I asked you here, young elleth, so that I might determine what gifts you already possess and what may need to be expanded upon. So, let us begin. Come and sit by me. Clear your mind of all else and relax.” Seregrían does as she is bid and sits on the bench next to Gwathnim.
“Now, I bid you meditate upon the fountain, indeed the terrace as a whole. I wish for you to elaborate on your surroundings, to whatever depth of detail you might observe.”
Seregrían’s eyebrow raises slightly; her lesson was to observe a fountain!? Well then, she thinks, I shall impress her immensely! “I am seated in a classroom of sorts, with a fountain centerpiece. The fountain is the focus of the place, as all the seats are arranged so as to face it. The sculpture is of a large fish spewing water from its mouth, which falls into a basin then the pool; the waters’ action creates a pleasing sound. The basin is clean, but the pool has water plants floating upon the surface. The effect overall is to produce a space for tranquil thought and reflection.”
“Is that all there is to observe, young elleth?”
“Oh, there’s more! The waters make a melodious sound; the flow from the sculpture’s mouth first strikes a metal plate, placed so as to produce a bell-like tone. The terrace is also constructed so as to screen the view from the rear and somewhat from the sides; this is to further focus one’s attention upon the fountain. There is a scent upon the air, smoke from a brazier that is perfumed by the type of wood being burned; I recognize it as pine resin.
“There! a bell just rang someplace close by, sounding the hour. A chorus of voices are singing in low, repeated notes, more a vocalise than words. There are now two sources of water sounds than can be discerned: the fountain itself, and a spring and freshet somewhere close by.”
“Rise and walk with me, young Seregrían,” Gwathnim says at last. Seregrían does so and falls in at her side. The two pace around the terrace, circling the fountain in a slow stroll.
“What you have done just then was a simple thing,” Gwathnim explains, “but it is what too many others forget to do. As a scholar and aspiring Lore-mistress, you pay attention to the things that surround you. Your powers of observation tell you many things, much of which you use, but others you might not give a second glance. But it is you who chooses which to use in your deductions.
“As you made your observations and deductions, so I did to you. Your reasoning and observations were sound, and quite so; but you neglected one detail, and that was you remained seated, unmoving, and absorbed what your senses told you from that point of view alone. Had you risen and walked, as we are now, more information would have presented itself to you. Did you not hear the birds, singing in the trees near this place?”
“I had, Mistress,” Seregrían says, “but as you say, some pieces did not warrant mention; they had no bearing on the immediate observation. My focus was the fountain, then the surrounding terrace where the fountain sits – as was your direction.”
“Ah. Indeed I did; and you fulfilled my wishes, to the limits I gave you. Your pardon,” Gwathnim says with a smile. “So, let us consider: you demonstrated your powers of both observation and deductive reasoning – and your ability to follow instructions precisely, and to the letter of same. Most intriguing, especially accounting for the fact you have only just come of age.” The two Elves complete their circuit of the fountain before Gwathnim speaks again.
“That will be all we shall discuss today, young elleth. I bid you return tomorrow once again, at the same hour of the day. This time, when you return, I wish for you to display this to the door ward.” Gwathnim holds out a small brooch of simple work, which Seregrían takes in her hand. “The wards will admit you without question upon seeing it. I shall meet you here, at the fountain, at that time. You have my leave.”
Seregrían sees the dismissal for was it is and departs the house. But when she arrives back home, she is greeted by the laughing smile of Carcírion and the delighted squeal of Gilalaith’s laughter upon seeing the brooch.
“Daughter, do you realize what this means!?” Gilalaith cries amid her laughter. “That is an acolyte’s brooch – only a member of the Gwaith-en-Gelydh wears them!”
“You did it, little blood,” Carcírion says, “you are now part of the House of the Lore-masters, probably the youngest in memory. Proud I am of you!”
And Seregrían, staring at the brooch in her hand, allows herself a sigh, then a breath, then she laughs as well.
Next Chapter: An Unexpected Trap
