Alchemy in August by Lferion

Alchemy in August

“Note it down, child, note it down,” Master Farin’s voice was gruff, but not unkind, “Controlled chaos is what’s wanted here, not unrepeatable results.”

“Yes sir,” Anglithiel said, reaching for her slate and scriber. She hadn't quite mastered alchemical notation without looking at what she was writing, (especially since the School of Alchemy insisted on Angerthas Moria for the script) but that was all right, and if she copied it out fair as soon as this particularly fascinating process had settled down, she’d be fine. And she did want to be able to repeat it! Not only was it potentially useful, it was gorgeous.

So: metals, salts, minerals, liquids, powders, proportions, temperature, glassware. Order to add. What to watch for. There, that was it. And she hadn't lost sight of the process, either, which had come to its resting-state, and could be — should be — left to itself to cool.

August in Eregion was not cool, but quite warm and dry. Inside even the cleverly ventilated workrooms and gathering spaces were hot and a little breathless, but they never reached stifling. The forges would be very hot indeed. She would relish that heat in winter, but was just as glad she was not there now. She was even more glad that she was not stuck in her foster-mother's formal parlor, tasked with embroidery or lace-making or anything textile and delicate. Her fingers would be making a horrible mess of any thread put in them. But writing equations, measuring powders, stirring things just so — that she did not tangle up.

Her stack of carefully copied notes on her work desk was growing rapidly. She’d need to bind them soon. Something new to learn! It was a good problem to have. But that was what Ost-in-Edhel was all about, really. Though she’d want a recommendation for a bookbinding teacher. No need to repeat the awkwardness of discovering she already knew more than that unfortunate Metalworking for Sculptors fellow.