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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

16: Zombie Hunter Boot Camp and Other Money Makers While Waiting for the Apocalypse

“So what do you want to talk about?” Alex asked Vorondur when they were settled in the sunroom. He and Derek were sitting together in a settee while Vorondur sat in a chair facing them across the coffee table.

“Your attitude,” Vorondur answered.

“My attitude or our attitude?” Alex countered, narrowing his eyes, as he gestured to Derek to include him in the question.

“Both,” Vorondur said, then raised his hand to forestall the two Mortals. “Alex, you are still a very dangerous person, more so than you probably realize. Your attitude downstairs tells me that, the undercurrent of anger, the disrespect toward us Elves, all that points to an explosion ready to happen.”

“And what about me?” Derek demanded, looking somewhat affronted, as if he resented being tarred with the same brush as Alex.

“You are in danger of becoming angry because Alex is,” Vorondur replied. “For all your laid-back, aw-shucks persona, Derek, you and Alex are very much alike, only you tend to keep your anger better hidden behind glib responses and sardonic smiles, but it’s there. I can feel it and so can the rest of us.”

“And this all concerns you how?” Alex asked, not exactly sneering but coming close.

“It concerns me because you are still under my care, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“But I’m not,” Derek pointed out.

“True, but you and Alex are gwedyr, mates. You have his back and he has yours and all that, which means what affects one of you affects the both of you. You’ve seen that with Finrod and Glorfindel.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Derek allowed somewhat reluctantly. “So, okay, I’m angry, not for myself, you understand. I don’t care what you people think of me, at least not much. Snobs are snobs no matter where you go and we Mortals don’t have a corner market on that, but Alex has proven himself worthy of your respect, and hell! he’s supposed to be related to some of you. That makes him kin, so I think you people should be a little more friendly toward him.”

Alex gave Derek a warm smile. “I appreciate you sticking up for me, but I think I can fight my own battles.”

“Of course you can, mate, but we were talking about anger.”

“And Derek, I hate to say this, but sometimes kinship means little to some Elves,” Vorondur interjected. “Remember the kinslayings you learned about in the history class?”

“Yeah, I was sort of forgetting that part,” Derek admitted ruefully.

“But it does not invalidate what you have said. Alex is considered kin, though the actual relationship is murky to say the least. At any rate, I think we need to talk about your anger, Alex.”

“Frankly, I’m not interested,” Alex said, standing. “I’m getting tired of being your whipping boy and having everything that goes wrong here be my fault.”

“I haven’t said that,” Vorondur retorted mildly, standing to block Alex’s path. “Please sit down, Alex. We’re just talking here, nothing more.”

“And if I don’t want to? How are you going to stop me?” Alex gave him a disdainful look.

For a second, no one moved and then before Alex could react Vorondur was on him, grabbing him by the shirt lapels and, in a move too swift for mortal eyes to follow, brought the startled Mortal down and Alex found himself staring up in awe at the immortal.

“I was a warrior long before I ever became a psychiatrist,” Vorondur said quietly. “I have fought in more wars down the long ages than you can ever hope to count and I have done my fair share of killing. Do not mistake my present demeanor for that of a coward or a pacifist. I assure you, I am neither.” He stood up, releasing his hold on Alex. “You’re free to leave any time, Alex, as are you, Derek,” and there was a finality to his words that meant more than permission to exit the room and both Men knew it.

For a moment or two the tension between the three was almost a physical thing as Alex continued to lie there staring up at the impassive expression of the Elf still standing over him while Derek sat holding his breath, wondering what his gwador would do next. Alex climbed to his feet and stared at Vorondur, who never moved, never blinked.

The Mortal licked his lips, giving Derek a sideways glance, and then he cleared his throat. “And pass up on Loren’s pot roast? I don’t think so,” he said, giving the Elf an uncertain smile.

Vorondur held his gaze for a long moment and Alex forced himself not to flinch or look away. Finally, a slow smile crept over the Elf’s face. “As good a reason for staying as any, I suppose. Shall we sit and talk?”

Alex nodded and resumed his seat next to Derek and Vorondur took his own seat. “So, why don’t we start over again? Alex, Derek, my apologies for anything I may have said that upset you. I assure you that was not my intent. There is too much anger and frustration running loose here and I need your help in containing it, but you can only do that if you have your own anger in check. Do you understand?”

Both Men nodded. “Good. Then let’s see what we can do about it, shall we?”

****

Dinner was a subdued affair, which Alex found unsettling, for, whenever he had eaten with the Elves before, they had been regular chatterboxes, talking about everything under the sun, or so it seemed. Those Elves who had been out earlier, unaware of the drama that had unfolded under their roof, were naturally upset when they learned what had happened. Alex watched Finda and his two mates and Nell sitting quietly at the table along with Laurendil and Manwen, or Randall and Manuela, as they insisted they be called by everyone. They had come home all excited about their day out, ready to tell them all about their adventures, but now they sat quietly and Alex could see that Finda, especially was upset, casting furtive looks at Finrod and Glorfindel, sitting at opposite ends of the table as was their custom.

“So how long did it take you guys to find the center of the ice maze?” he asked as he dug into his pot roast, almost as good as his mother’s.

For a moment, no one answered, but then Finda shrugged. “We did not pay attention to the time.”

“The better question is: how long did it take you to find your way back out?” Derek interjected, giving them a knowing smile.

Cal actually snickered. “I’m sure it’s this way or, no, we definitely came this way. Blast! I knew we should have carved a symbol on the ice as we went.” Finda reddened in embarrassment and several people chuckled, Finrod casting a fond look at his son. Surprisingly, Nell did not sneer or make any cutting remark. She just shook her head, giving them a rueful smile.

“By the time we finally found the exit, I was feeling cold,” she said, then turned to Finrod. “How did you stand it, crossing the Helcaraxë?”

Finrod shrugged. “We did, or rather, we simply endured. Glorfindel insists that not all of us who survived the crossing physically did so mentally.”

“I watched some of the people who followed Turgon,” Glorfindel said. “I am pretty sure not all of them came away from the experience completely sane. I know I wasn’t and it took a long time to put that experience aside and concentrate on simply living in a new land.”

“So you went from a place of relative peace and comfort to carve yourselves new kingdoms and identities in the wilds of Beleriand,” Derek said.

“And wilds they were,” Laurendil responded. “In fact, in many ways, Alaska reminds me very much of Beleriand, except there were no Mortals there at first.”

“It was not an easy time for any of us,” Finrod said with a nod. “And you are right that in some ways coming here has a similar feel of starting over again, except we do not have to build our cities from scratch.”

“You know, I was thinking,” Alex said. “Gavin mentioned that most of you are feeling a bit useless because you lack employment and I suspect that’s where a lot of your sense of frustration originates. Well, I may have a possible solution.”

The Elves all gave him considering looks. “Please tell us your thoughts,” Finrod said.

“Okay. Gavin said something about training and I am assuming that means training for this war that’s coming. I know you’ve been commissioned by the Valar to begin training us Mortals though everyone seems a bit vague on just how you plan to go about it. You’re not setting up training camps or anything.”

“Not yet,” Laurendil said. “We plan to wait until spring to begin implementing such things, but it has to be circumspect. We cannot simply open up a training camp out of the blue.”

“Why not?” Derek asked and when the response to that question was raised eyebrows, he grinned. “Yeah. Open up your training camp, only don’t call it that. Call it something like ‘Wilderness Survival Camp’ and you can advertise it on the internet. Hey! You can use the zombie card.”

“What?!” more than one person exclaimed, including Alex, who gave his friend a bemused look.

“Sure,” Derek said, warming to his subject. “In your advertisement you can say something like, ‘You bought your AR-15 and you have all the gadgets for hunting down zombies, but do you really know how to survive in the wilderness when World War Z hits? Come join your fellow zombie hunters at Camp Edhellond and learn how to survive any apocalypse.’” He stared around the table, grinning like a loon. “Boot camp for zombie hunters. How can you miss?”

“And that’s a camp that you could hold throughout the year, because, let’s face it, the zombies are not going to be accommodating as far as the weather is concerned so your clients will want to train in all kinds of climate conditions,” Alex said.

“What are zombies?” someone asked.

“Oh, man, you do not want to know,” Alex said with great feeling. “Another of those Mortal things, but Derek is right. The zombie hunter thing is pretty popular with the airgun players. Creating a place where they could actually ‘play’ in the wilderness would be a good money drawer.”

“Plus, it would give you another lead in recruiting people to the cause,” Derek added, “and, of course, you can use it to train those of us already in the know. Have summer camp for the kids, at least the older ones. Many of them are probably already playing zombie tag with their friends.”

“You could get the rangers involved, too,” Alex suggested. “Some of them like Paul Pettingill are former military. I bet they could help.”

“That is something to consider,” Finrod said after a moment, casting a meaningful look around the room. “Do you have any other ideas?” he asked Alex.

“Yeah, I didn’t think about the boot camp thing, but you’ve got the internet.”

“And how does that help us?” someone asked.

“Ebay,” Alex answered. “You sell stuff, stuff you’ve made, jewelry, metalwork, even embroidery and such. Or create your own website where you advertise your wares. Trust me, you’ll have people from all over the world willing to buy craft stuff and I imagine you can make some very unique items. You’ll need to look into the logistics and the legality of it all. I know you can buy guns and ammo online, not sure about knives or swords or whatever. Other stuff like jewelry wouldn’t be a problem. Basically, you create a cottage industry with a world-wide market.”

“And if you don’t want to do the internet just yet, why not open up a place here in Wiseman where you can sell stuff?” Derek said. “Then, when you’re more comfortable with the idea, expand to the internet and watch your sales triple overnight.”

“But how does that help prepare us for the coming war?” Manwen asked.

“It doesn’t, not directly,” Vorondur interjected. “After all, how does Finrod working in a bookstore prepare anyone for the war? But he is earning his keep and interacting with the Mortals, which means that they are learning more about him and by extension the rest of us, especially you newcomers. I think Alex and Derek’s ideas have merit and should be considered carefully. Opening up a shop where you sell your handicrafts would be a good start, and if you have a workshop where people can come and watch you, that will be a better draw.”

“You could even offer classes through the adult education center, just like Loren and the others do now,” Derek pointed out. “There’re tons of ways for you to find work and you don’t have to wait around for some of us to buy the farm and leave an opening that needs to be filled, because there’ll be Mortals who are probably better qualified than you to take those jobs that do open up.”

There were considering looks all around as people contemplated what had been said.

“May we help even if we are attending the college?” Finda asked. “I am intrigued by the, what did you call it, Derek, Zombie Hunter Boot Camp?”

“Your studies come first, my son,” Finrod admonished him.

“They do not seem all that important now,” Finda retorted.

It was Alex who responded, though. “No, that’s not the right attitude, Lawrence. Yeah, sure, the boot camp thing sounds exciting and even selling stuff on ebay can be a thrill, but your dad is correct. You and Cal and Alan and Nell should continue with your college plans. Nell’s idea of helping at a daycare center is perfect, for she will be able to interact with the little tykes from the get-go. You three could eventually earn your teaching degrees and that will give you an in with the education system. There are many possibilities and because you’re going to be around long after the rest of us have gone to our eternal reward, eventually you’ll all be able to own this town and most of the surrounding area. But get your degree first.”

“Baby steps,” Derek said with a smile. “Don’t try to do everything at once. It doesn’t work, but if you take the time to plan it all out and take the long view, I bet Alex is right that within a generation, two at the most, you will be firmly entrenched in this town and even the naysayers will hopefully see the light and realize that you’re not a threat to them.”

“Your words are wise, Derek Lowell, as are yours, Alex Grant,” Finrod said. “I thank you both for offering your ideas for us to consider. I would still like to know what zombies are, though. Are they like orcs?”

“Oh no, Finrod,” Glorfindel said, “they’re nothing like. Zombies are reanimated corpses and if they bite you, you become infected and you die, but you don’t stay dead, you become a zombie too, a mindless, killing machine that knows nothing of pain or sorrow or love. Let’s hope that the Enemy doesn’t employ them for real.”

“He never bothered to before,” Daeron said. “I’m not sure he can now. As an army their only strength is in numbers, but they are mindless and need to be directed by an intelligence.”

“But you say that there are people out there who style themselves as zombie hunters?” Gilvagor asked. “How can that be if there are no zombies?”

“It’s a game,” Derek answered. “Most times it’s just shooting at targets, other times people get together and have war games, pretending to hunt zombies, using paintballs as bullets. You can use that to sell your wilderness boot camp.”

“Well, you have given us much to think on, the both of you,” Finrod said. “I am glad you have decided to stay and help us.”

Both Alex and Derek gave him surprised looks. “How did—?” And they both gave Vorondur glares.

Finrod smiled. “No, Vorondur did not tell me anything, but we all heard him taking you down, Alex. It does not take a Maia to figure out what happened in the sunroom. I imagine Vorondur gave you the choice to stay or leave.”

“Yeah, but that Námo dude already did that with us, at least with me,” Derek said. “Whatever our disagreements with you lot might be, we’re both in it for the long-haul. There’s no backing out now. We know too much and I for one have no desire to go back to being blissfully ignorant of what’s really going on.”

“Me neither,” Alex said softly. “And I’m sorry about anything I may have done or said to upset any of you. I guess I’m still dealing with issues.”

“You have much to deal with,” Finrod said with a nod, “but know that we are behind you and are willing to help you, both of you. You need only to ask.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, then, deciding it was time to change the subject, he gave Glorfindel a sly smile. “So, any dessert?”

Glorfindel grinned back. “Help clear the table and we’ll see.”

“Deal.”

Dessert turned out to be chocolate cream pie.





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