"Intelligent, Well-Educated, and a Little Drunk" (Nolan, Aiolos)

[div style="width:50%;opacity:0.5;font-size:0.85em;border-bottom:1px solid #ffffff;"]SATURDAY, JULY 8, 2000, 12:41AM[/div]

It was a bit of a rarity to find the Typh Acolyte sitting on a grassy hilltop devoid of any trees or brush, meditating in the open breeze.

No, wait, scratch that. It was a bit of a rarity to find the Typh Acolyte doing all of that, after midnight.

Having taken an extra shift at the shrine-proper, it was already past eleven-thirty at night when Aiolos returned to his quarters. Some wizards might have just gone to bed, but despite Aiolos' (professionally contained) whimsy and carefree attitude, the one part of his day that was both routine and absolutely necessary was his evening solo meditations. So, as if it had been six hours earlier, he returned to his quarters, changed out of his Acolyte's robes, into a pair of linens and (this time) a soft yellow T-shirt slightly tight around his chest, and manoeuvred his way through the hallways lit by (of course) magic until he passed the Zealot guarding the northeast exit of the Council complex. Different shift, different Elemental, but the guard recognised Aiolos and let him by without issuing a challenge.

Once outside, Aiolos frowned; the first quarter moon was obscured by heavy clouds rolling over and over themselves across the Highlands from the direction of the Minch. He could pick his way across the lawns and grounds easily to his usual spot, a high-crested hill a kilometre and a half away from the outer walls of the complex, and it was true that even the gloom and the threat of summer showers would not distract him much from his meditating. However, it was much later than he was used to, and he felt like indulging himself. He raised his left hand up to the sky and swiped it gracefully toward his target location, down and to the left, casting TYPH NIMBUS as he did so. The clouds split as it ripped in half, with the incoming bank from the west turning at that point to begin a mass exodus to the north; the clouds on the leaving side of Aiolos' casting bristled up against each other as they continued their trek down to Aberdeen. The illumination from the semicircle moon swept in front of him like the light itself was building him a road.

Complacently, Aiolos walked, and sometimes skipped, his way across the uneven ground, up one hill covered in woods and down its side to emerge into open fields again, and at last climbing to the peak of his "picnicking hill," as he sometimes jokingly referred to it. Down-a-way to his right, looking further northeast, he could see the suburbs of the city of Inverness, Scotland, twinkling and humming with the Friday night and Saturday morning buzz of weekend appreciation. Muggles across the region were drowning their stresses and celebrating the end of the work week in pubs and taverns, to be turned out by tolerantly amused bartenders in the even-more-wee hours of the morning. Something about the thought of such antics made Aiolos amused himself, but then he sobered into a calm smile as he sat down in the grass, folding his legs in front of him, and began to hum. He had conditioned himself to use humming as a tool to sink into a reflective state, going through a series of mantras he had developed that were designed to open his connection to the magic of the blowing breezes around him.

The uncomfortable thrum of an opposing Elemental magic began to eke into Aiolos' space, along with a fruity, yeasty smell that floated gently past Aiolos' nose from the direction of Leachkin. Aiolos thought he had more time to identify the source of the sensations, but a semi-familiar booming voice startled him before he even registered that someone had arrived. Apparently Aiolos had already gone deeper into his self-trance than he had thought. The loud, slightly slurred words were in English. Of course. The Typh Acolyte wasn't really surprised, since most of the world spoke it and he was smack dab in the crown of the United Kingdom, but for one reason or another the Council had never sent him anywhere he needed to learn it. And practically everyone spoke Council Gaelic... except, perhaps, when one was sloshed.

"Good evening, Zealot Nolan," he replied casually in conversational Gaelic without turning his head, the connexions in his mind clicking as he realised who was standing behind him. The Zealot was one of those exceptional members of his "opposing" element who he held in esteem, even if they didn't necessarily always get along. Aiolos as a Typh was very free-wheeling and open-hearted, while Nolan as a Demin was somewhat stereotypically bold and blunt. Aiolos had met him after his Initialisation, very briefly, as Nolan had been recovering after his recent release from Azkaban Prison. Still, that Nolan had even taken the few moments to congratulate him meant a lot. When the Zealot had returned after decades in absence, their paths had crossed more than a few times, and they had even talked before about the differences between their Elemental powers and ways in which they could be used more substantially.

"A cloud game?" Aiolos chuckled, slightly mistranslating Nolan's English to his native Greek and back into Gaelic. "Not at all. Very serious clouds. More serious than I needed for a nightly hour of tranquility. I don't suppose you'd like to join me?" Aiolos jested, working under the assumption that just as Nolan's Demin energy was awkward and unfamiliar to Aiolos, the Typh energy he was expending would be uncomfortable for Nolan.

Then, randomly, Aiolos' mind ran through a series of barely understandable thoughts, and he decided that his offer was serious. He stilled all the winds that he could with TYPH MINIMO, and patted the ground next to him. "That might make you less sick, I hope," he added for Nolan's benefit. "Was your late night as unusual for you as mine is for me? I'm normally up here on this hill closer to sunset than the middle of the night."

Somewhat to the Typh's surprise, since his counterpart was looking and sounding a little frustrated, the Demin took him up on the offer and sat down next to him on the hillock, brushing his hand back and forth along the grass as he did so. Oh yes, that's right, Aiolos remembered. Nolan has a second affinity. I will need to ask him about that. Mmmmmaybe not tonight. He's a little bit too crocked to be sensible, I think.

As if to give the lie to this thought, Nolan then grabbed a pebble and seemed to start coming to his senses very quickly. That makes sense too, Aiolos commentated internally. Just as being out in the open air cleared Aiolos' head and helped him focus and review the day's activities, being in contact with stone would probably bring Nolan down from his buzz - at least mostly. Nolan was courteous enough to reply in Gaelic, and Aiolos was quite pleased to see that he was willing to keep the thread of conversation going.

"There's little to be intrigued about," he replied to Nolan kindly. "You know even better than I do that as we age, our elemental prowess grows stronger. I may have the knowledge and experience to cast such Typh spells, but my aptitude pales in comparison to the Harbinger. Or even in comparison to you, when it comes to Demin," he complimented Nolan. "After all, you were already an accomplished Zealot when I was a mere Disciplus."

Pausing, he reflected on the Zealot's words... "zealot" was accurate. His devotion to his Elemental power was much like Aiolos' own. In many ways Aiolos considered himself loyal to Typh, rather than directly to the Council - but it was the Council that had told him what his powers were, taken him in, trained him, and helped him find his happy lot in life as an Acolyte. Nevertheless, certain opinions and decisions of most of the Council gave him pause. As it happened, the continued concealment of the existence of Elementalism was one of those opinions.

"It's a difficult concept to balance," Aiolos answered Nolan's suggestion, noting with surprise how quickly the conversation had turned philosophical - and then deciding it made perfect sense, since drink was involved. Booze made everyone ask questions. "We certainly could, and can, do a lot of good, and the job would be easier if we didn't hide. But after all, most wizards and witches don't take kindly to the idea that there are better fonts of magical power than their wands. Look at how they persecuted necromancers for a while. Look at how they treat Runes a-and Mysticism in the schools - like curious side subjects, like peeking through a window at some outdated notion of an older lifestyle."  Without intending to he had stirred up the winds around them a little bit; taking notice of this, he forced them to subside once again. "I beg your pardon."

He leaned forward, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his sinewy arms around them. "Then of course there's politics. Our Council probably wants to keep our existence hidden, in part, because it allows them to keep control over it. Just like the national Ministries of Magic want to keep control over their populations, so they will probably always espouse the superiority of wand magic and a suspicion of people like us. People who have tremendous power, and the possibility of misusing it. Like the rogues," he said, remembering the hostage situation at Beauxbatons not so long ago.

The little snort coming from the Demin did not go unnoticed, but Aiolos let it slide. Between the drink and the complete difference in their demeanors and backgrounds, as well as Nolan's considerably greater experience and a likelihood of looking down on Aiolos for his youth, he was sure they wouldn't see eye-to-eye on this issue no matter what. And that was all right with Aiolos. Like stone itself, Demin Elementals tended toward stubbornness and preferred to voice their opinions like beating people with boulders; Typh Elementals, on the other hand, wound their way around the firmer opinions of others, gave little care when others disagreed with them, and picked things up as they went on their way like the wind picked up sand, leaves, and other debris.

Nolan raised a rather good point in response, of course. Why should someone keep their identity hidden just because it was different from someone else? It was true, as Aiolos had already said, that discrimination and persecution were almost guaranteed to fall on them if the Council decided to publicise their existence. That wasn't the way things should be, but it was the way things were. But how would most wizards and witches know any better, learn tolerance as the correct way to live, if they weren't presented with an opportunity such as theirs? Times had changed. Grindelwald, and Voldemort - twice - had tried to divide wizardkind by touting banal philosophies of prejudice and exclusivity, and ultimately they had been not just defeated, but their ideals rejected. Surely people were more accepting of the wide varieties of magic in the world now.

On the other hand... Nolan certainly was persuasive, but where he said that wand users "think of themselves as superior," Aiolos couldn't help but think that the Demin thought of Elementals as being superior - and Aiolos believed them to be equal, but different. As he sat there staring into the night sky and thinking, surprisingly calmly, about all these things, he became aware that he had not actually answered Nolan's question. In the awkward pause that followed, a small trickle of the Demin's energy created a localised quake. Aiolos felt uneasy, but understood; he had done literally the same thing moments ago.

Nolan went on, but abruptly the tenor of his thoughts had changed. This seemed like where Nolan had been going all along. The Council, Aiolos thought uneasily. Were they controlling all other Elementals? Were they treating their underlings like "a petulant child"? Was he "hiding" in the Inverness complex? Even though Nolan asked Aiolos a direct question after all of these rhetorical ones, Aiolos couldn't answer right away. Sure, the Demin was drunk... but he raised valid points. He had to think, and deeply.

First, control. At first he thought, Of course they aren't controlling us. They're benevolently overseeing us. And of their treatment of the Rogues? They are responding. The Rogues acted in direct defiance of the Council's wisdom. Our policy regarding the Rogues is one of response and defence, nothing more. But did he ever do anything against the Council's wisdom? I've never been spoken to about my personal way of communing with my Element. Strange looks and inquiries, sure, but no admonishment. Still, the word "control" did nothing to alleviate the continuous disquiet that Nolan had planted in his mind.

Second, treatment. Aiolos thought Nolan probably had used the wrong turn of phrase because of his alcohol intake, but he was pretty sure he took the Demin's meaning. It's not that he thinks we are the petulant children being calmly disciplined by the Council; he thinks of the Council as the ones who have to have it their way. Which goes back to the idea of control. But they listen to us, respect us, make us feel like part of the community. An odd question popped into his mind: Why doesn't Nolan feel like part of the community? Has the Council started shutting him out, after they had worked to free him from Azkaban?

Third, hiding? No. Aiolos had chosen his path. He had wanted to be near his Elemental Shrine, to drink in its mysteries and really become one with Typh. And the other ranks? Zealots were free to come and go. They were asked to do work for the Council, not truly demanded. Advocates were given training while still allowed to live their own lives, should they so choose (Aiolos had not). Discipli were expected to be educated in their Elemental prowess, just as they were expected to be educated in magic in general at their schools.

"I just don't agree with that," Aiolos finally said to Nolan. "I don't feel trapped, or controlled, or co-opted here. But, my experience has been far different from yours, and also far shorter." He turned and looked the Demin dead in the eye. "What have you seen that makes you believe this - and should I be concerned, going forward?"

"Ah, there," Aiolos said with some satisfaction. "Common ground. I knew we would find it. You agree that the Council is a great educational tool for those who are just starting out, and I happen to agree that the Council should perhaps change with the times, and stop keeping us in hiding. But would we reveal our strongest first, and entertain the possibility of frightening the masses into mobilising against us? Or our weakest, youngest first, and entertain the possibility of underwhelming the populace, seeing that same discrimination we talked about, and having the Council retaliate with open war?" He paused, and then added, "I mean, I'm sure there are other options besides the two of those, which would hopefully turn out better."

No matter their differences, Aiolos had great respect for this man. He had heard many stories - some certainly not true, and some certainly very close to accurate. As he had said, Aiolos' experience was far different from Nolan's, especially because it had been far shorter. What it must be like to have experienced centuries of changing politics and powers, international conflicts and shifting borders, and the erosion and gradual change of the face of the earth itself! It was no wonder he asked about ambitions. Being on the sidelines - or more likely as a Zealot of many years, right in the thick of things - for so long gave him immense knowledge and experience, and his frustration with the conservative traditionalism of the Council probably stemmed from the way he saw changes being effected everywhere else.

"Going back to what you asked me. Ambitions? Certainly," he found himself saying to his slight surprise. "For instance, I would be honoured if one day I became the Harbinger Typh. I have my own reasons for believing that shall not happen, but what if it did? We could enact exactly the sort of change we have been talking about this fine evening. By such time certainly you would be named Harbinger Demin. One voice the other Harbingers might not listen to, but two they must consider. We could move the Council in the right direction, work out the best way to reveal ourselves, integrate Elemental magic with wand-wavers." He sighed, the faraway cloudy look in his eyes being replaced by a more present, clear gaze. "But that supposes a lot of things that we yet have no control over.

"What other ambitions could I have?" he went on, still answering Nolan's question but half-talking to himself now. "I chose to be an Acolyte rather than continue as a Zealot because I felt a stronger connexion to the spiritual side of our Elemental life than the physical side of it. I wanted to understand the underlying energies of my element, and be able to teach young new Elementals about that same energy. But many of the Discipli and Advocates who are coming up through the ranks will be ambitious, and will grow powerful, and certainly if I am to keep my value as a teacher and mentor, I ought to know more and experience more."

He looked at Nolan with real, true questioning in his eyes, more so than at any other point this night, despite knowing that Nolan was not yet at his most sober. "How would I reconcile that dichotomy - my affinity for such spiritual foundation and my need for greater knowledge outside of the Council?"

"Technically that's a misnomer," Aiolos said absent-mindedly. "Hellas didn't start democracy, they just made it famous. Tribal cultures exercised primitive democracy well before Athens made it the 'in' thing in the 5th century BC. Besides, they still only limited it to the rich free landholders." He gave Nolan a fish-eye; the Zealot's other information was incorrect too. Living in Hellas, Aiolos had to learn of its mark on history in primary school, before he even attended Beauxbatons. Democracy was 'invented' in Athens because the archons were tyrants over the hoi polloi and they were feuding with each other for who could be the most powerful archon, he thought. They established the Boule to allow the middle class to regulate their own laws. But the phrase "such a silly thing as democracy" went round and round Aiolos' head.

It sounded like Nolan preferred a "real leader" instead of the Council. And immediately Aiolos thought of Grindelwald, the man he had never known but heard so much about since his birth came about from the Dark Wizard's downfall. 'For the greater good,' he had said. And Nolan was making much the same argument. He even started talking about taking the lead to keep the Muggles from polluting the air - an extremely valid concern if ever Aiolos had heard one, but coming from Nolan now it sounded rather hollow.

"That is true," he said neutrally, smiling thoughtfully. "I'm no fan of pollution of any kind, but air pollution in particular bothers me. I can't blame it solely on the Muggles, but they do need to understand that there are other people besides them out there. Just like wand-wavers need to understand that we are out here too." He sighed. "Hopefully in our long lifetime, it will happen at some point."

He grunted, stood up, and brushed grass clippings off of his sweatpants - apparently he had been picking at the ground in front of him while he and Nolan talked. "You have given me much to think about, Nolan. Our responsibility to nature, and to our Elements, as you said, is paramount in our calling. I'll not deny that my thoughts are confused, but I believe in giving fair consideration of all viewpoints, and I'd like to mull over what you've said." He looked at the Zealot and smiled, then raised his gaze slightly to the Demin's forehead as his own forehead wrinkled with concern. "How's your head?"

Aiolos knew he had failed to sound as convincingly neutral as he meant to, but the twin realisation that (1) Nolan was leaning anti-Council, and (2) Nolan was still partially right, had completely unnerved the Typh Acolyte. The Demin Zealot had responded with what sounded to Aiolos like a cruel, impatient, snide remark and a sour, condescending laugh before standing up himself and brushing off his intoxication like nothing had ever happened. Aiolos couldn't bring himself to try and explain that he had meant he hoped Muggles understanding would happen at some point. Obviously Nolan was bound and determined to disagree with anything except a sycophantic puppet.

Nolan tried to sound as neutral as Aiolos had tried to, but he failed as well, as he bid Aiolos a good night. Aiolos was so distraught that he couldn't even muster a "farewell" in response. He watched the Demin stride back down the hill, heading toward the Council. He continued watching Nolan for some time, until the Zealot had crossed over the crest of the next hill and was completely out of sight. Only then did Aiolos let out a long, stress-filed exhalation of breath, a fierce whirlwind materialising with himself at the centre. Aiolos slipped halfway into his element automatically, nearly morphing and certainly toeing the line of transparency as he allowed the miniature maelstrom to levitate him a few inches about the ground. He basked in the calming influence of nothing but air, not letting his feet touch the ground and be "infected" by any more Demin or Madin influence.

There he stayed for another hour, not willing to cross paths with Nolan again before he had time to sleep on it. The Council has led us for centuries, he thought during his brief moments of conscious thinking. They have had to change with the times before. They will still do so. There is great wisdom in the way of life they espouse. There is great value in what they teach and how we all work together. But despite repeatedly thinking these thoughts, he could not shake the great unease in the pit of his stomach.

At last he phased completely back to a physical body, settled back on the ground, and began marching off to the Council without letting himself think. He kept nothing but Typh in his mind and hoped that after slumber and a day of duties in the Typh Shrine, he would be able to reflect on the uncomfortable events of the night more clearly. Yes, that would certainly do the trick. Comforted by the thought, he allowed himself a smile as he continued making his way across the highlands.