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“You… want me to celebrate Yule with you?”
Before Adolf stood Merituuli, his old master’s selkie familiar. She held up a mirror, and within, the warden’s face was reflected.
“Won’t you?” A serene smile played on Lindel’s lips. “The College is giving you time off for the holidays, no? It wouldn’t hurt to pay me a visit.”
“Well, that’s true, but… I wouldn’t be in your way?”
“Not at all. In fact, you could help me ward! I’ll be needing an extra pair of hands to help me gather mistletoe from the trees. I was thinking of hanging some linden this year, too, in honor of Nevin’s passing. And I’m sure the dragons would enjoy visiting with another human who isn’t me, for a change.”
Filled with relief, Adolf let out a small sigh. To be surrounded by such powerful magi and alchemists every day, when he himself no longer had the innate ability to practice magic… everyone was incredibly patient with him. His old master, especially— the scene with his younger self, fallen to his knees before Lindel, never ceased to haunt him. If he could be of some use, then…
“Well, I hope you’ll at least allow me some time to find a present for you, first.”
“Oh, let me help you with that!” Merituuli piped up excitedly. “I wanna find him one, too!”
---
As soon as Adolf landed, a saw was placed in his arms. He was to climb the nearest oak and cut down mistletoe for Lindel to catch. This was a reoccurring theme for the warden— passing the dirty work onto his apprentices. At one point in time, he might have been exasperated, but as of now, he only felt nostalgic.
“Yes, tie it up like that. You remember well.”
“The magi of the College celebrate Yule, too. It gets a little lonesome around this time of year, as all the students have gone home, so sometimes I help with the decorations.” Adolf finished tying the last of the mistletoe together with branches of spruce, yew, and linden, to create a green wreath. Soon, it would be hung over the entrance way to Lindel’s tent as a ward.
“When night falls, we’ll also be burning a Yule log.” He must have given off a scary look, because Lindel began to laugh, and continued with, “Ahaha! Don’t make such a face. It’s already been cut.”
“I was about to say. Please don’t scare me like that. I can handle cutting down mistletoe just fine—it’s light! But preparing an entire log?”
“You’ll be rewarded for your hard work, Adolf. Don’t worry. If the weather permits it, I’ll have the chance to show you something special tonight.”
“Special…?” A flower viewing, perhaps. Lindel was well known for his songs, which sprouted hundreds of flowers from the ground in a vivid, enthralling display. Adolf looked to the snow beneath his boots with a frown. There was just one problem.
“Yes, it’s exactly as you’re thinking.”
“But… how will that work? Even if it doesn’t snow, there’s still layers and layers of it covering the ground. It was a miracle the oaks had mistletoe left to gather.”
There was something soft in his old master’s expression Adolf couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t disappointment—he was always checking for disappointment, and would have noticed it in a heartbeat. No, Lindel’s gaze was omniscient, unyielding, mysterious; over the several millennia the man had lived, he had come to master the poker face of wisdom. There was something on his mind he wasn’t telling him.
“When a will exists, it finds a way to accomplish what it must. Have you noticed it before, Adolf? How the smallest and weakest of weeds break through concrete, through the sturdy beds of stone, as they reach for the skies?”
Adolf gave a nod. Plants breaking through pavement was often used as a metaphor for strong wills. They taught that sort of mentality to their students at the College, as a form of self-motivation.
“If flowers can overcome even the toughest of stones, why would a little snow stop them from coming out for us tonight? Well, watch, and see for yourself.”
From a scientific viewpoint, it didn’t make any sense. That was the difference between magic and alchemy, however. Magic was intended to work miracles like this. Adolf didn’t say anything in reply, as he was too busy searching for the hidden meaning behind Lindel’s words.
---
The Yule log was lit, and the moon was bright. Conditions were set, and, it seemed, Lindel was intent on carrying his plans through. Along with the dragons, fae were already beginning to gather for the first night of Yule, which would last for twelve days altogether.
“We have quite the audience, don’t we?”
“Are you really about to do this, Lindel?”
“I am. Ah, also, I’d like you to hold something for me— you can do that, right?”
“Hold something…?”
“Why, yes. It’s your Christmas present.” Lindel presented to him a handful of flower seeds, which he poured into Adolf’s cupped hands with a smirk. “Move them to one hand, so you can hold mine. And, when I give a signal, I want you to let go of my hand. Okay? You’ll cup those seeds again, and gently blow into them.”
What was the purpose of this exercise, he wondered? Nonetheless, he listened. Lindel’s hand slid into place with his, and they stepped outside of the tent into the cold.
Merituuli began pounding her drum, and at once, lights danced across the snow. The surrounding area was filled with a soft, resounding glow, which grew stronger and stronger with each passing second, until Lindel opened his mouth to sing, and it reached equilibrium.
It was exactly as Adolf remembered— like the stars had fallen just to listen to the sound of his master’s voice. They filled his vision, and, amid his awe, his hand tightened around the warden’s. Some of the light collected together, and elves sprung forth from it, as if appearing from thin air. One by one, flowers burst out of the snow, dotting the hills of the valley near and far with colorful blossoms.
This… was the power of magic. Raw, genuine magic, which called on nature, only for nature to give its own call back in response. It wasn’t an act. It wasn’t conjured from nothing. It was a relationship between a magus and their surroundings.
It was something Adolf would never be able to have.
Before such negative thoughts could consume him, Lindel pulled him back to reality by squeezing his hand. Was that the cue? At once, he let go, and, doing as he was told, brought his hands together again. Gently blowing on the seeds in his hand, which were otherwise unmoving, he wondered what would happen.
Suddenly, a sprite appeared beside him. “Ooh, are you trying to make them blossom? I’ll help!”
What? Help?
His hands began to glow, and one by one, the seeds grew into small flowers with a ‘pop!’ It wasn’t long until he held a small, messy bunch of them. Was this… was this Lindel’s doing? When he glanced over to the warden, he was met with a knowing smirk. His song carried on in the background, repeating as the sound ricocheted through the valley, as the fae, dragons, and elves danced together amid the snow and flowers.
“What did you do?”
“That wasn’t me, Adolf. This was your doing. When you ask for help from those around you, you’ll typically receive an answer— and that’s what you did. You borrowed the magic from me, and asked the sprite to help you grow those flowers.”
Speechless, tears welled within his eyes. It wasn’t like him to cry so readily… but becoming a magus had been a lifelong dream for him, crushed in his younger days when he was unable to help his master. Had Lindel known this entire time? Had he sensed his insecurities?
“You blame yourself and worry over things that aren’t your fault. Adolf, you’re not as weak as you perceive yourself to be. We talked about this, didn’t we? How even the weakest of plants can break through the concrete to bask in the light of the sun.”
It began to dawn on Adolf—the purpose to him spending this year’s Yule with Lindel. Despite no longer working under him as his apprentice, somehow, he was still allowed to learn from the warden, and witness the small miracles his magic brought to the world.
He wasn’t a failure. What had happened in the past wasn’t his fault. That was what Lindel was trying to tell him.
“Ah, you’ve realized. Shall we eat dinner, then?” With a pat to Adolf’s head, Lindel turned back towards the tent, leaving him there, immobilized, with his mouth agape and tears freely flowing down his cheeks. “After all, there are still eleven more days of Yule we must prepare for, child!”
“Yes— yes, Master!” Finding his voice, he scurried after Lindel into the warmth of the tent. Thank you for believing in me.