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Returning Magic (Private)

"This can be very tiring on people's hands, since everything needs to be written down after it's translated. We can take turns, translate one thousand words and pass it off so the strain isn't as bad. Happen to have any paper? I already have a small bottle of ink and a quill. Should be enough for this as long as no serious mistakes are made by either of us in translating. This is a team effort. We found the books together, and we can translate together. I really need your help, it's important." He makes eye contact with her. His eyes aren't that of a stranger looking upon another stranger. They are eyes looking upon an adventuring partner.

Also, it will make this a unique book, something with both of our handwriting, similar to... He leaves the thought unfinished and shakes his head.
 
She scrunched her face into a determined expression as she nodded to the elf saying, "I understand, I will give it my utmost effort to help in any way I can." She then broke the tension and lightly punched his arm with a smile, "Even if does end up being absolute hogwash." She was still not totally convinced that magic was real, but at this point she was willing to give the notion a chance to be real and not just mere fairy tales. "Not to mention the company hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be," she mused looking over his face.

She suddenly got up and jumped on his bed ruffling up the neatly made sheets in the process kicking up her feet as she placed her hands under head, "welp, let me know when it's my turn Elf."
 
The next two days Meara and Lightbloom pore over the ancient tome, referring to the alphabetic translation very often. To them, it feels like a very long time. They only take breaks for food, restroom use, and a few hours of sleep.

At last, the whole book has been translated. Lightbloom's small ink bottle was barely enough to get them through writing everything. As much as they referred to the translation, they are both understand and can recall at will 1/3 of ancient Elvish words.
 
Meara was the one to finish translating the last of it as she leaned back in the chair with relief. "I think we're good, now if only we can make sense of some of this because apparently the ancients weren't to keen on being direct. This stuff is so cryptic! I mean what does this mean, 'One of the temples you might seek can only be found by the meek. Travel to the land with much sorrow so that it may make your courage grow.'" She then shut the book in frustration. "After spending days translating the damn thing, now we have to solve some riddles?! This is ridiculous!" She thought as she folded her arms. Like a chameleon, sometimes when Meara would get upset or out of sorts her hair would change color depending on her mood and if her guard was down because she could most of the time control her ability. At the moment, her hair was turning an orange-reddish hue. By this time after the past couple of days, Lightbloom would have realized this odd quirk of hers.
 
Lightbloom observes Meara while she paces about with orange-red hair. From these past two days, he figures the cause is related to her emotions somehow. I swear the gods are trying to punish me with her presence... It's hard to think... He scratches his head while thinking about the riddles. "You have a point, but let's remain calm and level headed. Not many people can think straight when they're upset. The easier one I think is the one to be found by the meek. I memorized all the words in the latest human dictionary when it was released. The person we need to look for is quiet, gentle, and easily imposed upon. Which means he or she will be willing to help us find the first temple." He shoved all further thoughts about Meara being attractive from his mind, because there was a mission to complete. He puts the books in his bag and stands up, getting a good stretch after the last long round of translating.
 
At Lightbloom's words, she seemed to calm down as her hair slowly turned back to being pure white. Even though she had calmed down and stopped pacing, she was still in a fowl mood. She scoffed and said, "Well that's still a mystery. This meek person would need to be ancient or at least have very strong ties to their ancestors to pass along that kind of important information." She said starting to get together her equipment as well.
 
Lightbloom leaves the room. "Then we aren't finished scouring the town yet. It could be a while before we're able to find this meek person. Or we could get lucky." He walks out of the tavern, squinting from the bright sun after being inside for two days. Once his eyes have properly adjusted to the light, he puts a hand over his eyebrows to look at... Well, anything he can see from standing in this one spot outside.

He can see buildings, birds, different animals, but no one that looks like the person he needs.
 
Meara pulled her hood back over her head as she followed him out. She too looked around as she said to him, "How do we even know if this "meek one" is even in town? I mean it does say in the book to travel to the place with much sorrow. Maybe such a place is where we will find them." Thankfully, it was the busiest part of the day so now would be their best chance to find the person with way if they even were in town.
 
"The place with much sorrow could be somewhere that had an event with major loss of life, recent or way back. That's the only explanation I can think of. But since we're here might as well look around here. This area could have had lots of deaths in the past."
 
"I guess there is some logic in that," she responded. After a while of searching with no luck, she decided to try a hunch by going to the residential grave yard. She made sure to stay within the same general area as LIghtbloom as he did his own search in this part of the city.
 
As Meara looks around the residential graveyard, she doesn't realize someone is watching. Foot steps as silent as a ghost walk the ground to her left. A figure steps out of the shadows. "Hello there. Mind if I ask who or what you're looking for?"
 
As soon as Meara heard the voice, she reached a hand towards one of her daggers until she realized they didn't seem of threat to her... at least not yet. She warily answered the figure, "I am looking for someone... I am not sure of their name but they may be under the moniker 'The Meek One'? Would you by any chance know anyone like that?"
 
The wood elf noticed her movement toward one of her weapons. I'd react much the same way if I was approached unawares.

He raises his hands in the air with his palms facing out. "I know who you're talking about. He sent me to look for the tome, but you and your partner reached it first. It looked like he was having trouble with the orc so I put an arrow between its eyes." His movements are slow and deliberate, to avoid a hostile confrontation.
 
"I see..." she said as her shoulders slumped ever so slightly as she became less tense from his presence. "So that you then. Nice shot. But how did you know that we weren't the enemy?"
 
The wood elf lowers his hands to his sides. "The enemy never uses the highly intelligent humanoid races. Orcs are perfect because they tend to not question the orders they're given. Expect to see the occasional goblin too. They're only a bit smarter than the orcs but still around underling level if the enemy needs a smaller minion."

Not far away in the city, Lightbloom decides to search one more time. If he doesn't find anything, he's going to report back with a failure.

His elf senses tell him he's incredibly close, but nothing else is popping out at him. He turns away from his search and walks in the direction he saw Meara go.
 
"Fair point. May we speak to The Meek One?" She asked hoping he would say. She wouldn't know exactly what to do next if he were to say no. It was at this moment from the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar figure of a tall Elf walk around a corner. She waves over to Lightbloom once she saw him, mostly to let him know that she was okay with the present company and not in trouble,
 
"The meek one knows about the both of you. That's why I'm here, he sent me to come get you. Oh, and my name is Aegrandir." He smirks subtlety, turning around to lead her to the meek one. To Meara, it looks as if Aegrandir and Lightbloom are going to run into each other, since Lightbloom is jogging their way and the wood elf is slowly turning around. But right before the fated collision, Aegrandir sidesteps slowly but gracefully and Lightbloom trips on a tree root, falling flat on his face. "Ouch!" Lightbloom yelps, rubbing his sore face.
 

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