106: The Tour Continues

Olórin, still unclad, and now joined by Fionwë, watched as Finrod led the others down the street.

*You know, we seriously should have sold tickets, or popcorn, or something,* Fionwë said.

Olórin’s aura went incandescent with laughter, and while none of the mirroanwi heard it, the air seemed to brighten somewhat and the Mortals in the general vicinity found themselves smiling for no particular reason.

*The poor dears,* Olórin said, and if he’d been incarnate, he would have had a fond smile on his face. *Young Findaráto is ready to commit murder and I don’t think Ingwë is far behind.*

Fionwë’s aura shifted slightly to indicate agreement. *I think Findaráto is finally getting a clue, as they say. Now he knows how Glorfindel and the other Wiseman Elves must feel at times.*

*And he’s quite forgotten his own reaction to the first time he ever heard a siren,* Olórin pointed out. *I have never seen Glorfindel look that embarrassed and disgusted at the same time, not even when I lived among them.*

Fionwë nodded. *Too true. Turucáno is the one who will need close watching, though. I thought it telling that in his panic he wanted Glorfindel and thought Findaráto was Ecthelion.*

*He does have issues,* Olórin allowed.

*Well, I had better get back to the encampment and make sure no one there does anything stupid,* Fionwë said. *Let us hope there are no more upsets. I swear, I would rather be herding cats!*

Olórin laughed again as Fionwë thought himself away, then idly made his way down the street, leaving behind a fresh scent that lifted the spirits of the Mortals whom he passed.

****

For the most part, the Elves ignored the stares and the whispers from the Mortals. Ingwë, deciding to put a brave face on it, acted as if he were walking down a street in Vanyamar, and forced a smile, giving the Mortals cheery greetings in English. “Hello. Lovely day. Do you think it will rain later?” Most of the Mortals just stood gaping but a few of the braver ones actually answered back.

“Weatherman says not, but I wouldn’t trust the idiot to get it right,” an old Man walking with a cane said with a laugh and Ingwë dutifully laughed back and nodded as if he knew what the Man was talking about.

Finrod rolled his eyes at the exchange but otherwise did not seek to stop his uncle from conversing with the Mortals as they headed into town. Both Ingwë and Olwë stared after the old Man as he shuffled down the street, neither one having seen an elderly Mortal before. Arafinwë gave them a sympathetic smile. “First time I ever saw an eld Mortal, I was shocked, yet, it is as Eru has made them.”

Ingwë nodded, still looking disturbed. Elrond, seeing it, said, “Do not trouble yourself, Uncle. Mortals see things differently and if you were to ask the Man, he would probably tell you that he has lived a full life and has few regrets.”

Ingwë gave Elrond a shrewd look. “Elros?”

Elrond nodded. “In his last letter to me. It took me a long time to accept his words, but over the long years of treating the Mortals who came to Imladris, I learned the truth of them.”

The ap Hywels, meanwhile, were busy answering Celeborn’s questions about Cardiff and Fairbanks, the four comparing the two cities with Wiseman.

“Wiseman is just a large town, not a city,” Gwyn explained. “It’s only as large as it is because of the college, otherwise I doubt you would have anything here but a few hardy settlers who are content to live in the wilds. When it was decided to build a community college for this part of Alaska, I think that’s when the town really came into existence.”

“And I bet the Valar had something to do with that,” Gareth chimed in. “I understand from what Nell told me that the Valar have been inspiring people to settle here in Wiseman for a good century or so. Long-term planning, I think they call it.”

By now, they had reached the center of the town and were nearly at the square. The Elves had slowed their walk to gape at the stores, peering into storefront windows at the displays, softly commenting on what they were seeing, comparing the goods being displayed with those found in the markets of Aman. They all gathered around one particular window of a shop where TVs were being sold. Several of them were showing some movie simultaneously. They gaped in awe at the moving pictures and Finrod had to explain what they were seeing, though he admitted he little understood the science behind it.

“It would be considered magic by the Mortals of an earlier time,” Tristan commented. “Well I remember when television became a reality. I kept thinking, ‘Surely a Noldo was behind its invention,’ but I knew that was daft, for there were no Noldor in Middle-earth anymore, or so I assumed.”

The streets became more crowded and traffic was heavier and slower. Finrod was careful to see that everyone made it safely across the street and led them into the square.

“That large building on this end of the square is where everyone does their food shopping,” he explained and the Elves stopped for a moment to watch Mortals walk in and out of the Safeway.

“How do the doors open of themselves?” Olwë asked, his tone one of awe.

“It is difficult to explain,” Finrod answered, “but it has to do with something called electricity. The Mortals discovered it and learned how to harness it to do everything from lighting their homes to opening doors. Come. The bookstore is this way and we can also visit the store that Erestor and Lindorillë are planning to open soon.”

They headed down the square, admiring the various shops. Gareth pointed at the café. “I am told that one can find Lady Estë serving food there,” he told his parents and Gwyn. “When I was here last, though, she did not make an appearance. Perhaps she’ll be there tonight when we meet with Alex and Derek. Oh! I wonder if Derek will be up to coming. I should call them and find out, but I don’t have their numbers.”

“When we return to Edhellond, someone there will know how to reach Alex,” Finrod assured him. “Ah, here we go.” They all stopped to look over the store front.

“Trust you to find work next to a bakery, yonya,” Arafinwë said with a grin.

Finrod grinned back and opened the door, ushering them all in. They all managed to squeeze in and then the Valinóreans just stared in amazement at the shelves upon shelves of books.

“Hey! Welcome to the Aurora Borealis Bookstore.”

They tore their gaze away from the books and saw a young Man standing behind the counter, smiling at them. “Quite a crowd there, Quinn.”

“Hello, Nick. Everything okay here?”

“Sure, though I’ll be glad to have you back once the wedding’s over and done with. I’ve gotten used to having a real person talking back at me. These books don’t have any opinions about anything.”

Finrod laughed lightly. “They are full of opinions, my friend. You just have to open them up to see what they are.”

“I did that once just for fun,” Nick said. He came around the counter and grabbed a book off one of the shelves without actually looking at it. “So, tell me book, what do you think of the President’s new economic policies?” Then he opened it to a random page and started to read out loud but stopped suddenly, looking embarrassed, shutting the book and shoving it back onto the shelf. “Yes, well, as you can see, the conversation is all one-sided.”

The Elves smiled and Finrod began making introductions. Nick bowed to them all, greeting them politely in Sindarin, which seemed to impress them. Arafinwë asked a few questions of Finrod about his duties and Finrod explained what he did. He and Nick encouraged them all to explore the shop.

“While I’m here,” Iseult said to Nick as the others began to wander through the stacks, “do you have any books on the religious traditions of the native Alaskans? I teach comparative mythology back in Wales and I’m always looking for new material to use for my classes.”

“We have a small section on native Alaskan culture,” Nick said. “Quinn, you want to show her where it is?”

Finrod nodded. “If you would follow me, my dear?”

Arafinwë watched as his son and heir led the elleth to a section of shelves against the wall, pointing out certain titles and speaking quite intelligently on the relative merits of the books in question. Then he left Iseult to herself, returning to the front and saw his atar looking at him oddly.

“What?”

Arafinwë shook his head. “Nothing, yonya. Do you suppose after our tour we can stop at the bakery for something sweet?”

Finrod grinned. “I won’t tell Ammë if you don’t,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper and Arafinwë grinned back, placing a finger to his lips.

They spent a few more minutes talking with Nick and looking about before Finrod ushered them out the door. Iseult told Nick that she planned to come back after the wedding when she would have more time for browsing. “We’re here until Tuesday, so I’ll stop by on Monday,” she said.

Back in the square they went next door where the clothing store was to find Erestor already standing outside waiting for them. He was wearing a strange orange hat.

“Safety helmet,” he explained when he noticed the enquiring looks on the faces of the Valinóreans. “I would let you in to take a look but the place is a mess and it’s already crowded with people. You can see through the window what we are doing. We should be ready to open in another couple of weeks, three at the most.”

Everyone took a turn peering through the window. They could see Barahir, also wearing a safety helmet, directing certain people, some of them Mortals, as they worked on some shelves. Everything seemed covered with sawdust and there was a very unfinished look to the place. Finrod, meanwhile, told them the story of how they had come to purchase the store in the first place. There were appreciative chuckles among them and Ingwë wished Erestor luck. Then, they made their way back down the square toward the Safeway, taking a side street with Finrod assuring them that they would visit the Safeway on the way back when Galadriel asked about it.

“And don’t forget the bakery,” Arafinwë said with a grin.

“And I would be interested in seeing a… phar…um… pharmacy, is that right?” Elrond asked.

Finrod nodded. “There is one not far from here,” he assured him, “but first I would show you the town hall.”

Finrod explained how the town was governed and the various types of offices that could be found in the building as they stood outside it. “This is where I came to obtain my learner’s permit so I could begin taking driving lessons. Look, here is my permit.” He fished out his wallet and showed everyone. “I even had to take a test before they gave it to me.”

“A test?” Turgon asked in confusion. “You mean they did not just give you this permit as is your due?”

“No, Turgon,” Finrod said. “I had to earn the right to have this permit, just like everyone else, including Glorfindel and the other Elves who remained here. Am I not correct?” He addressed this last to the ap Hywels.

Tristan nodded. “Yes, and really, it’s better that way. Just being handed everything because of who you are teaches you nothing about yourself. Having to earn something, whether it’s a driver’s license or a degree in physics, makes it that more precious to you.”

“But you are a commoner,” Turgon insisted. “Of course you must work for what you get.”

For a moment, Tristan just stared at Turgon, not sure how to answer the prince. His wife gave them a sniff of disdain while their sons bristled at the implied insult. Before anyone else could respond, Ingwë said, “Which just tells you something right there, yonya. I am of the opinion that commoners have more sense than we who consider ourselves royal or noble. Tell me, Turucáno, were you simply handed Gondolin?”

Turgon gave him a surprised look. “Why do you ask that? It took me seventy-five years in secret to build Gondolin.”

“I am assuming you did not build it all on your own,” Ingwë said with a nod, “and perhaps you picked up no hammer or chisel, but you stood beside those who did and directed them. You worked alongside others to see your dream of Gondolin come true, did you not?”

Turgon nodded and his expression became more thoughtful. “I helped carve the images of the trees that graced my courtyard, but I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Did you feel a sense of accomplishment when the final stone was laid and the city was complete?” Ingwë asked. “Would you have felt as much pride for your city as you obviously do if Lord Aulë had simply brought the city into existence and invited you to move in?”

“No, of course not,” Turgon allowed.

“Then there you have your answer. When I decided to build Vanyamar, I worked alongside my people in bringing our city into existence. I did not sit back and watch, nor did I go to the Valar and ask them to build it for me. When Elindis and I walked through the streets of the city once it was completed it was with great pride at what we and our people had accomplished, and I suspect this is what Finrod feels at having earned the right to carry this permit.”

“Yes,” Finrod said. “When the clerk handed me the permit and wished me luck in learning to drive, I felt much pride and I also appreciated better what the Mortals have to go through to obtain their licenses. Driving is far harder than it looks and I am nowhere near being ready to try for my actual license. I have much to learn yet, as have we all. Now, you wished to visit a pharmacy, Elrond?”

“Yes, but we need not do so this very minute. Why do we not look at the Safeway and then visit the bakery before Arafinwë decides to bolt and go on his own.”

Everyone chuckled as Arafinwë protested that he would do no such thing. “Besides, none of us carry any coin of the realm so I would not be able to purchase anything anyway.”

“Unless someone takes pity on you as you stand outside the bakery looking wistful and offers to buy you something,” Olwë said with a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” Gwyn said. “We’ll buy you something if no one else will.”

“It is a good thing that I am a working stiff, as Glorfindel would say, and can pay my own way,” Finrod said with a sniff. “I will treat you all later. Shall we continue?”

“By all means, lead on,” Ingwë said.

They continued back to the square and were waiting to cross the street. Finrod pointed out the area where the ice rink had been, telling them about learning to ice skate. The others appeared intrigued by the concept of skates and then stared in astonishment when a couple of teenagers came whizzing by on inline skates while a third was on a skate board, none of them even giving the Elves a glance, too intent on their own conversation.

Olwë turned to the ap Hywels. “Do you also do that?”

“Are you daft?” Tristan exclaimed with a laugh. “Strictly for the young.”

“Well, Gwyn and I go skateboarding once in a while,” Gareth interjected. “There’s a skateboard park not far from the university where we sometimes hang out.”

“As I said, strictly for the young,” Tristan repeated in a confidential manner to the others, who all chuckled, though Turgon seemed to have a wistful look on his face as he watched the teenagers zoom away.

Gareth noticed and said, “Hey, if there’s time before you all have to leave, we’ll show you how to skateboard. You can even buy your own and take it with you. You’ll be the envy of everyone back home, I’m sure.”

And while the older Elves all raised eyebrows at that thought, Turgon actually smiled somewhat shyly, thanking the younger ellon. Then, Finrod motioned them and they crossed the street into the parking lot, moving between the cars until they were at the entrance, but before they could go in, the doors opened and Alex was coming out, carrying a bag. He gave them a surprised look, clearly not expecting to see them, but then he nodded in greeting.

“Hey, Quinn, how’s it going?” he asked.

“We are fine,” Finrod replied. “Derek?”

“Oh, he’s okay. Sore as hell, of course. I’m buying him some ice cream for lunch.” He held up the cloth grocery bag, giving them a thin smile. “I am his most abject and devoted slave, seeing as how it’s my fault he’s been injured.”

“Just do not let him take advantage of it,” Finrod said.

“Oh, no worries there,” Alex said with a chuckle. “I draw the line at the bathroom door. I’ll help him to it, but he’s on his own after that.”

The others smiled.

“Are you and Derek still up for dinner tonight?” Gwyn asked. “I was going to call you later to see.”

“Oh, we’ll be there,” Alex said. “Derek refuses to let a couple of cracked ribs keep him down for long, though he’s on sick leave from work for at least a week. Well, I’d better get home before the ice cream melts. Later, okay?”

The others nodded, expressing their wishes for Derek’s speedy recovery, but as Alex started to move away, Turgon blocked his route. Alex, for his part, just raised an eyebrow but did not otherwise utter a protest or try to move away, waiting for Turgon to explain himself.

“Are you really my grandson?” Turgon finally asked.

Alex did not answer immediately, casting a glance around at the others, all of whom waited with the patience of granite to see how he would react. When he returned his attention to Turgon, he shrugged slightly. “So I’ve been told, though hundreds of generations probably separate us, so I don’t think it really matters anymore, does it?”

Turgon shrugged back. “Generations do not matter to us as much,” he replied. “Fionwë’s Bane,” he muttered contemplatively as if trying to puzzle something out. “It is hard to believe you are able to take out a Maia.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotten taken down a couple of times by you Elves, one of them, Ron.”

“Who?”

“He means Vorondur,” Finrod supplied.

“Your shrink took you down?” Tristan couldn’t help saying with a knowing grin.

Alex looked embarrassed, but shrugged. “I deserved it. I was acting like an idiot. Sorry, I really need to get going. The ice cream’s melting and I left Val looking after Derek.”

But Turgon held out a hand to stay him and Alex gave him an impatient look. “What?”

Sérener and the other guards stirred slightly at the Mortal’s tone but Finrod shook his head at them and they settled back.

“I cannot believe you took Fionwë down. A Mortal besting a Maia? I find the idea absurd.”

“Can’t help you there, mate,” Alex said. “Believe what you like, but I don’t think Maiar are in the habit of lying, are they?”

“No, they are not,” Finrod said forcibly. “Turgon, drop it and let Alex go.”

Turgon still looked puzzled and ready to argue, but Elrond stepped in, laying a hand on Turgon’s arm. “Come, Daeradar, Galadriel is anxious to see the store. You do not want to get her upset, do you?”

Turgon stole a glance at the elleth, standing there with a serene smile on her face and paled somewhat and shook his head as he turned back to Alex. “Forgive me. I did not mean—”

“Hey, not a problem,” Alex said graciously. “I know it’s hard to believe that I could be your descendent. Hell, I find it hard to believe. Gwyn, Derek and I will see you-all around six, okay?”

“We’ll be there,” Gwyn assured him.

Alex nodded to everyone in farewell and headed away, pulling a key fob from a pocket and pressing the button to unlock his car.

“Shall we go inside and take a look?” Finrod asked and everyone nodded. Elrond took it upon himself to get Turgon to move, for the ellon remained standing, watching Alex drive away.

Inside the Safeway, the Elves huddled near the entrance trying to make sense of the seeming chaos of people checking out or coming in and grabbing carts. Most of the Mortals glanced their way but otherwise ignored them as they busied themselves with their own affairs. Finrod noticed the almost hungry looks on the faces of the Valinóreans when a Woman came in carrying an infant, the mother cooing at her little one as she settled the carrier onto the cart while the infant burbled and cooed back, waving its arms and legs, then sucking on a fist as the mother strolled off down the aisle. Finrod gave them a sympathetic look, hugging Amarië and kissing her.

“I have thought to have photographs taken of children to send back to Valinor so they could be shown to our people, to show them that bringing children into the world is not a bad thing. Glorfindel told me, though, that photographing children is forbidden in this culture.”

“Why?” Amarië asked.

“It has something to do with protecting them,” Finrod answered. “One has to obtain the permission of the parents or guardians. To randomly take pictures of children is considered a form of endangerment because of their vulnerability.”

Ingwë nodded. “A very commendable practice.”

“There will be children at the wedding though, won’t there?” Iseult asked and when Finrod nodded she continued, “Well, then, you can take pictures of them there as long as it’s a group shot with their parents. I’m sure Roy and Sarah have hired a photographer to take the necessary pictures and others will bring their own cameras. I don’t think you will have a problem getting people to share their photos if they know why you desire them.”

“Thank you,” Finrod said. “I will speak to Glorfindel about it. Now, we could wander through here all day if you wish, or we can return to the bakery before Atto faints from hunger. You decide.”

“Oh, by all means, let us return to the bakery,” Ingwë said with a smile. “I am feeling a bit faint myself.”

The others chuckled as they followed Finrod back out of the store and across the street into the square. Five minutes later they were oohing and aahing over the baked goods, trying to decide what they wanted to buy. The six guards, however, stood outside, guarding the entrance. Every once in a while one of them would steal a glance through the window and sigh.

It was a good half hour before the others finally exited the bakery, each one clutching a small bag of goodies. To the surprise (and delight) of Sérener and the other guards, the ap Hywels handed them their own small bags.

“Wasn’t sure what you might like so we just picked out our favorites,” Gwyn explained and the guards thanked them profusely, though Sérener cautioned the others to wait until they were off duty before indulging. Still, the guards appeared lighter of mien and step when they set off again.

They stopped briefly to look at St. Mary’s, but at this hour of the day the church was locked and Finrod did not see Father Charlie’s car. “It’s quite beautiful inside and perhaps before you leave we can arrange a tour,” Finrod told them.

They continued on, eventually reaching Edhellond where Finrod invited them all in to take a look. By now, it was going on noon and as Manwen and Laurendil happened to be there making some soup, they were invited to stay for lunch. Glorfindel and Daeron arrived around the same time as Finrod was finishing showing them around, looking triumphant, and so, once they had divested themselves of their suits and were dressed in more comfortable clothing, they joined the others for lunch around the dining room table, though Sérener and the other guards were allowed to retire to the back garden where they enjoyed their own lunch.

“It looks as if we have a deal for more dormitory space for our students next term,” Glorfindel told them as they ate. “And we may be able to purchase more land to build our own dormitory, but that deal will take some time to come to fruition. So, how was your day? Did you see anything interesting on your tour?”

“We saw a dragon,” Turgon said.

“A what?” Glorfindel asked in surprise.

“He means a fire truck,” Finrod said and then went on to explain what happened.

“Ah, well, I can see where you might be confused,” Glorfindel said judiciously to Turgon and it was obvious to them all that he and Daeron and the others, even those who had come with Finrod, were hard-pressed not to start laughing.

“It was not funny at the time,” Ingwë insisted.

“No, I imagine it wasn’t,” Glorfindel said soberly. “Well, no harm, no foul, as the Mortals would say. So, what else did you see?”

The Valinóreans then began describing all that they had seen while Glorfindel, Daeron and the others from Wiseman listened, answering questions and making their own comments about the town. Thus it was mid-afternoon before the Valinóreans made their way back to the encampment.

And all the while, Olórin, still unclad, stood watch over them.

****

Mirroanwi: (Quenya) Plural of mirroanwë: an Incarnate, i.e. an Elf or Mortal.