Teal's School Essay

My best friend is Caedmon Mellicai. He was born on Talpin, the only son of Patal Mellicai, our island’s most trusted healer. He is 5 feet 11 and a half inches tall, with a nut-brown complexion, laughing hazel eyes, and soft, wavy brown hair that is usually closely shorn. Because of his slim build and refined appearance, Caedmon doesn’t strike people as being particularly athletic, so they are often surprised by his energy and endurance. It would be difficult to identify a single, distinctive physical characteristic of his; perhaps what distinguishes him most is the mobility of his features. His face seems infinitely expressive, the better to reflect his swiftly changing moods and to mirror the emotions of those around him.

I’ve known Caedmon practically my whole life—since my father, Billy Peggotty, brought me to Talpin as an infant. Seven years my senior, Caedmon became devoted to my father after my father saved him from drowning when he was five years old. Caedmon always spoilt me, but after my father’s vessel was wrecked around the Meropis Isles, he showered even more affection on me than before. He was a constant presence in the Peggotty household when I was growing up—that is, until he left Talpin at eighteen to be apprenticed to a luthier in Pasaria. Fortunately, he returns to Talpin several times a year—I particularly look forward to his extended visits during the summer months.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Caedmon embodies the spirit of music itself. His primary instrument is the harp, with whose lilting chords he is capable of melting the hardest of hearts. Everyone on Talpin is familiar with the story of how Caedmon persuaded a band of marauding orcs to spare his life by playing his harp for them; and there are other less dramatic (but equally wonderful) illustrations of his musical magic—for example, when a quiet tune revived one of his mother’s patients who had been unconscious for more than six months.

Since music is the very essence of his being, it’s hardly surprising that Caedmon’s talents are not restricted to a single instrument. In addition to the harp, he is a master of the flute and the hammer dulcimer, and seems to become proficient with any instrument he picks up within a couple of hours. And his voice! Though Caedmon often remarks, half-jokingly, that I have the kind of voice that “can lure sailors to their doom,” my vocal talents pale in comparison with his. With his velvety baritone and impressive range, Caedmon is capable of transforming the simplest ballad into a moving performance, calling forth in his audience precisely the emotions that the song evokes for him.

But Caedmon is no mere performer. While his impressionable artist’s soul is open to diverse experiences and ideas, he is passionate about his convictions and is one of the most principled people I know. He has scant patience for the unjust, especially the rich and the powerful who abuse their poorer neighbors—such figures are often the targets of his satirical songs. Conversely, the outcasts of society—the homeless, the downtrodden, the stigmatized—can find no better friend than Caedmon. When he lived on Talpin, Caedmon could often be found busking on the beach with a large gang of street urchins during the high tourist season. He always donated all his earnings to his children—besides, tourists were always more receptive to the trinkets peddled by the children after being regaled by his pleasant melodies.

Above all, Caedmon has taught me what true friendship means. A few years ago, I developed a strange skin condition: whenever my skin came into contact with ocean water, it would become scaly and I would break out in these strange growths on my arms and legs that resembled fins. At first, my school mates teased me mercilessly. They called me “sea monster,” and, looking at the slimy, fishy appearance of my limbs, I could not help but think that they were right. I was a monster.

One summer afternoon, Caedmon found me tied up on the beach. My school friends had abandoned their cruel game, but I was wretched and weeping uncontrollably. Because I felt I was an abomination. A freak.

Yet even amidst my noisy sobbing, I could hear his voice. Gentle, reassuring, strong.

I was in such a state that I could barely make out what he was saying. But his affectionate tone and earnest expression were enough. The uncontrollable sobs subsided, and through my tears I saw to my surprise that tears were streaming down his face. “How could they do this to you?” he asked as he untied me, splashing water on my sandy limbs and gently washing the source of my misery. “These are beautiful fins, Teal! You’ll have to show me how well you can swim with them!” I’d always been fond of Caedmon, but in that moment and ever since, I loved him. He made me feel human again.

Since that episode, Caedmon has continued to make me feel loved and accepted as I am. But more than that, he inspires me—through his words and deeds—to become better than I am. Sometimes I’m afraid, because so much of what I believe in, my highest aspirations, are so closely connected with Caedmon’s ideals. I know I’m a better person for his influence, but without Caedmon, would my sense of purpose fade away? At any rate, such is my esteem for my best friend: my very potential for good draws sustenance from the music of his soul.