14: I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas

The house was on Evergreen Drive, on the northwest side of the town, sitting on a three-acre lot, half of which was woods. It proved to be quite large with five bedrooms and two baths. “And there’s a finished basement and a den-slash-library so there’s plenty of extra sleeping space should we need it,” Amroth told Finrod as the two toured the house. “And look at the garden! Or rather where the garden will be once spring comes.”

“It’s quite lovely and I know you and Nimrodel will be happier away from Edhellond,” Finrod said as they stood in what Amroth called the family room with its sliding glass doors that looked out onto the back of the lot. Beneath the snow they could see evidence of a gardened space that was fairly extensive.

“Misty wanted to move in with us, but Della thought it better for her to find her own place. I believe she, Helena and Anna are contemplating looking for a house of their own.”

“And Vorondur and Ercassë? Why did you four decide to seek accommodations together?”

“Simple economics,” Amroth answered. “The mortgage payments and utilities, not to mention property taxes and such, will be shared among us, making it easier on all our purses. Also, Ron and Holly had been talking about finding their own place after Roy and Sarah plighted their troth. It just made sense to look together and in truth I welcome them both. They will be very useful to us once the twins are born. So much of my own spirit will be devoted toward them and Della that I’m not going to be good for much else for the next few years. Having Ron and Holly living with us will make things easier.”

Finrod nodded, fully understanding what the ellon was saying. Amroth gave him a considering look. “You might think about getting your own place for you, Finda and Nell. Even when we move out, Edhellond is still going to be overcrowded.”

“Perhaps, but for now, we will stay there. We need to get situated first. Finda will begin his studies at the college in a few weeks and we are debating about whether he and his gwedyr should live in Edhellond, stay in one of the dormitories or find an apartment for themselves. If they eventually opt for an apartment, they will each need to find employment to pay for their expenses.”

“Many students work part time for that very reason,” Amroth said. “They could apply for work-study positions. It probably doesn’t pay as much as a regular part-time job, but it would give them the necessary funds to live off-campus.”

“So Glorfindel has explained to me,” Finrod said. “We will make a decision soon. They are holding rooms in one of the dormitories for us in case we go that route, but they cannot hold them for long.”

Amroth nodded. “Shall we go?”

“Thank you for the tour,” Finrod said. “It is getting late and I need to stop at the bookstore before it closes and give Nick my application.”

“You should have said something about it earlier. We could have done that after lunch. The tour could have waited.”

“I know, but I figured showing me the house would not take too long and this way you are not waiting for me. I will find my own way home.”

“Are you sure? I have no problem waiting for you. I have to pick up some items at the Safeway, anyway, as Della is cooking tonight and she gave me a list.”

“Then do your shopping while I go to the bookstore and I will meet you afterwards,” Finrod suggested and Amroth agreed.

They drove to the Safeway and parted company. Finrod paused long enough to check the skating rink but neither his son nor his niece was there, nor did he see any of the other Elves. He heard bells from somewhere chime three times and hurried over to the square and came to the bookstore. Entering, he saw Nick speaking with a couple of people as they stood before a section of shelves labeled ‘Cookbooks’ and waited at the checkout counter. Nick saw him and gave him a smile, speaking softly to the couple before leaving them to look over a particular book.

“I was wondering if I would see you,” the Man said as he held out his hand for Finrod to shake.

“I had a couple of meetings and this is the first chance I have had to get here.” Finrod retrieved the application from his coat pocket along with a passport. “Daeron helped me to fill this out,” he admitted somewhat shyly.

“Darren is good at helping people,” Nick said as he accepted the application and passport. “He helped me when I needed some advice.”

“Oh? Most Mortals are wary of accepting advice from us Elves, for we are reluctant to give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill.”

Nick shrugged. “All I know is that I needed help and Darren gave it. I haven’t regretted it since. Anyway, everything looks to be in order, even though we both know it’s not.” He gave Finrod a leer and Finrod laughed. “I’ll just make copies of the passport for my records.”

“When do I start?”

“Well, I could use the help now, but I’m willing to wait until after the New Year if that’s more convenient for you. We still need to discuss pay and figure out your hours and all.”

“I can come in for a couple of hours tomorrow so you can show me what I need to do and I can become acquainted with the store and how it is organized and so forth. We can discuss anything that needs to be discussed at that time. Then I will work for real beginning next week.”

“That sounds good. Can you be here around two?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll see you at two,” Nick said, handing him back the passport.

“Thank you,” Finrod said with sincerity.

“No. Thank you. You are the answer to my prayers. I had that sign up for over a week and even ran a help wanted ad in the Gazette, but you were the first person to even enquire about the job. I was sure I was never going to find any help.”

“And now you have,” Finrod said with a gentle smile. “Good day to you, sir.” He gave the Mortal a slight bow of his head and left, making his way back across the square to find Amroth just coming out of the Safeway carrying a couple of canvas bags full of groceries.

“How did it go?” Amroth asked as he allowed Finrod to take one of the bags while he fished out his car keys.

“I will go back tomorrow afternoon so Nick can show me what my duties will be and we can decide what my hours will be.”

“Good. Let’s get home.” They stowed the groceries and Amroth continued speaking as they climbed into the car. “You know, I once worked in a bookstore, oh, back in the twenties and thirties. I was living in England at the time, in the city of Nottingham. ‘Ye Olde Boke Shoppe’, it was called. Not very original, but it specialized in out-of-print books and first editions. It was pleasant employment.”

“Why did you not remain?”

“War.” Amroth gave Finrod a sardonic look. “Hitler invaded Poland and England got involved. I crossed the Channel to see for myself what was happening and ended up helping the Underground smuggle people to safety. That’s when I met Samuel Bradford and, of course, you know how that turned out.” Amroth’s expression became pensive.

Finrod just nodded, deciding there was nothing to say to that. They rode the rest of the way home in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. When they reached Edhellond, Finrod helped bring in the groceries, then excused himself, declaring he needed to rest. Amroth gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re all right? Perhaps I should call Laurendil or Vardamir.”

Finrod shook his head. “There is no need. I just find myself feeling tired and in need of rest.”

“You are still healing from the gunshot wound,” Amroth said with a nod, looking somewhat guilty as he put the groceries away.

“And the operative word there is ‘healing’ not ‘dying’,” Finrod retorted with a grin and Amroth gave him a brief smile of his own. “Good. No more feeling guilty, either of us. Lord Manwë would not approve.”

Amroth shook his head, more in wonder than in denial. “I still can’t believe the Elder King of Arda was sitting in the café with us drinking tea. It just seems… incongruous.”

“You mean, it is simply not done,” Finrod rejoined with a laugh. “The Valar are always willing to destroy our preconceptions of what is proper behavior for those whom we consider our betters. They enjoy flummoxing us, as Sador likes to say.”

“I am surprised he did not accompany you, considering how you and Glorfindel consider him your brother.”

“Oh, he would have come, but as Gil-galad’s Steward he had certain duties that necessitated his remaining behind. But never fear, Sador will make his way here eventually. Now, if you will excuse me, I will lie down for a time. I hope this weakness is only temporary. I find it very annoying.”

“It’s only been a month, and you left the hospital sooner than you should have, my friend,” Amroth pointed out. “Then holding Court the way you did so soon afterwards taxed your strength more than you let on, I suspect. You may be the great Finrod Felagund, but that doesn’t make you invulnerable.”

“Unfortunately. Well, it will be as it is.” And he gave Amroth a slight bow of his head and headed up the back stairs to his room, falling gratefully into bed. In minutes he was fast asleep.

****

During dinner Finrod and Amroth told the others about Lord Manwë’s visit. Most of their listeners gaped at them. Glorfindel’s response was typical of the ellon. “Manny, huh? Wearing a duster? I wish I’d been there.”

“So what did he want?” Findalaurë asked excitedly.

Finrod exchanged an amused smile with Amroth and shrugged. “He had some words of wisdom to impart to us,” he said, then held up his hand to forestall the inevitable questions. “His words were for us to hear. There were certain things that needed to be said between us and only between us.”

“Fair enough,” Glorfindel said, giving Finrod and Amroth a considering look. “Hopefully, whatever Manny said, you have taken to heart.”

“Oh, indeed, we have,” Amroth said, smiling shyly at Finrod, who returned it with one of his own.

“Good. Good. So, what has everyone else been up to today?” Glorfindel asked and after a brief moment of silence, Nielluin spoke up, describing her first attempt at skating and then others chimed in with their own tales and Lord Manwë was forgotten.

Later, Finrod wandered into the music room where he found Vorondur sitting at the piano. “‘Für Elise’ by Beethoven,” he answered when Finrod asked what he was playing. “I think your Secret Santa left you a clue,” Vorondur added, nodding toward an end table without stopping his playing. Finrod walked over to find an interesting looking statue that was perhaps three inches high. It appeared to be a female figure dressed in filmy robes and wearing a crown. She also sported gossamer wings of all things. Tied to the base of the statue was a slip of paper with his name on it, nothing else. He picked the statue up to examine it more closely. On the base was incised letters and he carefully spelled them out, though they made no sense to him.

“Who is this?” he asked, bringing the statue over to the piano.

Vorondur gave the statue a cursory glance and shrugged. “Titania, Queen of the Fairies, wife of Oberon.”

“Who?”

Vorondur chuckled and stopped playing, taking the statue from Finrod, giving it a closer look. “Titania and her husband, Oberon, are the rulers of Faerie, the Otherworld, the realm of the Elves, as it were.”

“You mean this is how Mortals view us, as having wings?” Finrod asked in disbelief.

“And standing about this high,” Vorondur replied, holding out a hand to about the same height as the piano bench. “They’ve rather confused us with the Periain, I think.”

“Ah yes, I had occasion to meet the Ringbearers,” Finrod said. “A most remarkable race.”

“Indeed,” Vorondur said in agreement. “At any rate, that is your clue.”

“A rather odd clue. Is the person saying that she, for it must be an elleth, is a queen?”

“Are they not all queens, my lord?” Vorondur asked with a knowing smile.

Finrod raised an eyebrow but did not comment, only nodding in understanding. “Thank you. Pray do not stop playing on my account.” With that, he left the room, taking his clue with him, pondering its meaning as Vorondur resumed his playing.

****

The next afternoon, he returned to the bookstore, entering it just as the clock at city hall chimed the hour. The store was somewhat crowded with young children and several adults. The children, who appeared to be around four or five years of age Finrod guessed, were all seated on the floor near the woodstove while the adults ranged around the perimeter. Nick was sitting before the children with a large picture book in his lap and he was reading from it.

“… Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

Nick closed the book and the children clapped. One of the adult chaperones then thanked Nick. “What do we say, children?” she asked.

“Thank you, Mr. Greene,” the children all chorused.

“You are most welcome,” Nick said with a smile as he stood. “I will see you all in the New Year. Have a Happy Christmas.”

“It’s ‘have a Merry Christmas,’ Mr. Greene,” one girl-child with golden locks said in all seriousness. Finrod hid a smile at the sight of the little one remonstrating with the Man, suddenly reminded of his sister doing something very similar when she was still a young elfling.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss Amelia,” Nick said with a little bow. “I forgot myself. Have a Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” the children echoed and then the adults were urging the children to find their coats and hats and after several hectic minutes they were ushering the little ones out the door. The children gave Finrod curious looks as they passed him, while the adults, who apparently recognized him, looked more surprised. No one greeted him but the adults, all females, gave him shy smiles. He smiled back. Once everyone was gone, Nick sighed, turning to Finrod with a grin.

“They are quite something,” he said.

“Is this something you do all the time?” Finrod asked.

“No. Once a week they bring the children from a nearby pre-school here for storytime. They could do it at the school with one of the teachers reading, of course, but by bringing them here surrounded by books and having me read them a story, we are trying to inculcate within them a love of books and reading. These children, as young as they are, are already quite adept at dealing with electronics, but they are not learning the skills that were deemed a necessity for success in an earlier time. We’re trying to reverse the trend. I would like to be able to expand the reading program to include the early primary grades as well, but I don’t have the resources for it yet. This is actually a pilot program. I’m hoping that it will be successful enough that I can have more such storytimes. They do something similar at the local library, but that is something that the parents need to bring the children to, it’s not school-related. At any rate, each Tuesday from one until two, they bring the children over from the school and I read to them a story. Since Christmas is this weekend, I read them ‘The Night Before Christmas’ by Clement Clarke Moore. It’s a favorite tale this time of year.” He paused and gestured for Finrod to follow him.

“Now, let me show you around. The books are organized by subject matter following what is called the Dewey Decimal system, which is used in libraries to categorize books so that it’s easy to find books on a particular subject. You don’t need to know the system itself, you just need to know where certain books are located. On this side we have non-fiction and you can see that the shelves are labeled: History, Cookbooks, Science and so forth. Then we have fiction on this side….”

Finrod listened to Nick explain the system of organizing the books, comparing it with how the libraries he had known (and owned) were organized. There were obvious differences and the range of subjects in the bookstore was broader than what was found in most elven libraries. When he looked over the different types of fiction available he marveled at the imaginations of the Mortals.

“These are all tales invented by these writers?” he asked.

“Yes,” Nick answered. “And you can see we have them organized by the primary theme of the story. For instance, we have westerns, those are tales told about the Wild West, as it was known, and there are mysteries….”

“Glorfindel enjoys them,” Finrod interjected.

Nick grinned. “Tell me about it. Every time he comes in here he’s looking for a new one. Anyway, then we have romances, those are very popular. Science fiction and fantasy are over in this area and then we have general fiction which covers things like the classics or stories that don’t fit into any particular genre but may be about a situation that is true to life in some way.”

Finrod glanced about, staring at some of the titles, shaking his head in wonderment. “We, of course, discovered printing ourselves, but we still have many books that are handwritten and illuminated. It is an art form that we chose not to lose and most of our printed books and such are utilitarian in nature. Anything of great importance is still done by hand.”

“Well, if you have all the time in the world, I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?” Nick flashed him a knowing smile. “We, on the other hand, no longer have that luxury. Gutenberg’s invention freed us from the tyranny of the Church.”

Finrod gave the young Man a surprised look. “Tyranny?”

“Well, perhaps that’s too strong a word, but until printing was invented, books were scarce and in the hands of the monasteries with their libraries. Only the monks were educated. Even the nobility often could not read or write save for their names. It was a matter of pride to be able to do so rather than just making a mark as the illiterate did and still do. Printing made books not only available but affordable and soon even commoners could read. The Church no longer had a monopoly on education or on what could and could not be written.” He gave Finrod a grim smile. “Education is a dangerous tool and an educated populace can be very dangerous under the right circumstances.”

Finrod nodded in understanding. “Yes, I imagine you are correct. So, show me how to work that contraption for purchasing books and we can then decide on my hours.”

Nick laughed. “That contraption is called a cash register and it’s fairly simple to use. How well do you understand our currency system?”

“Well enough. The Wiseman Elves, as we call them, have been at pains to teach us.”

“Good. So, here is what happens when someone wants to buy a book or anything else in this store. You use this scanner like so….”

It took a little longer for Finrod to catch on to how to work the register than he had anticipated and the city hall clock was chiming four times before he and Nick were satisfied that he understood how to use it properly.

“Right now, I can only keep the store open from ten until four on the weekdays and from ten until six on Saturdays,” Nick said when they began discussing hours. “I would like to open earlier and close later, at least on some days if not on all. I do not open on Sundays as I fully believe in a day of rest and Sunday is traditionally that day. So, when could you come in?”

“Whenever you need me,” Finrod answered. “My time, at the moment, is my own.”

“Well, how about we say you come in from nine until one on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, then if you don’t mind staying late on Fridays until eight, we can alternate taking Saturdays.”

“That would be acceptable.”

“Good. I’ll draw up an employment contract and you can sign it when you come in on Monday. I’ll be here to open up and will give you a key. After Monday, it will be your responsibility to open the shop but I’ll close up except on those Saturdays where you are working.”

“Do you need help now, though?” Finrod asked.

“Not really. I get a few more customers than usual this time of year, but next week will be soon enough for you to start. Oh, before I forget, and I should have done this yesterday, but I have your pins ready for you. I have them behind the counter.”

“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about them myself. How much do I owe you?”

Nick named the price and Finrod fished out some bills, looking them over. “I could give you part payment.”

“Give me what you can and then I’ll take the balance out of your paycheck over the next few weeks. By the way, do you have a bank account?”

“Um… no… I don’t….”

“Well, you may consider opening one. I can give you your pay in cash, but it’s really better all around and more legitimate if I can give you a check. Having a checking or savings account would help. Just something to consider.”

“I will ask Glorfindel about it.”

“Well, let’s close up,” Nick said, handing Finrod a plastic bag with the pins. In a few minutes the lights were turned off and Nick was locking the door. Snow was falling again. “Can I give you a lift?” he asked Finrod.

“Thank you, but I will walk. May you have a Happy Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Nick said as he pulled the collar of his coat up and headed for the parking lot, singing in a soft tenor voice, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know….”

Finrod looked at the snow falling about and grinned at the words of the song as he made his way across the square toward home.

****

Periain: (Sindarin) Plural of Perian: Halfling, Hobbit.