Elf Academy by Fiondil

---

Chapter 8: Conversation In a Café

---

8: Conversation In a Café

Glorfindel was still troubled when he woke the next morning. He remained quiet and excused himself from the others who were talking about taking the bus to Fairbanks to do some shopping after breakfast. Instead, he wandered into town with no real purpose in mind. Eventually, though, he found himself standing outside the Gold Nugget Café and Emporium where they apparently sold everything from alcohol to aspirin. On a whim he went inside. Most of the place was taken up by the store with its low shelves stocked with a mishmash of items in no discernable order that Glorfindel could see. The café area was along the front on the left as one entered the building, marked off from the rest of the place by a trellis gate with fake leaves and grapes draped over it. Incongruously, Christmas lights were strung through the lattice, making the entire thing look gaudy and tacky, yet at the same time, there was a sort of whimsical charm to it. The café was empty. Deciding it was as good a place as any for thinking, Glorfindel took a booth by the window and, after ordering tea and a slice of apple pie which the waitress assured him was homemade, he stared out the window, watching the rest of Wiseman go by.

"So, are you one of those hippy types?" the waitress asked as she plopped the plate of pie on the table along with the green ceramic teapot and white mug that had the logo ‘I Heart New York’ on it.

Glorfindel looked at her in surprise. She was middle-aged, perhaps in her early fifties, though with Mortals and plastic surgery it was difficult to tell sometimes. Her dark auburn hair was up in a bun and Glorfindel suspected, given her age, that it was dyed. Her brown eyes looked tired, though it was only ten in the morning. To Glorfindel, she looked used up, yet her voice was surprisingly mellifluous, a velvety contralto, and he suspected she was the type who sang in her church’s choir. He read the name tag on her blue gingham dress with its white apron that seemed to be the café’s uniform: Esther. An old-fashioned name, that. He wasn’t sure if it suited her but decided it wasn’t his problem.

"Hippy?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Your hair," she said, jerking her chin in the general direction of his head. "I ain’t seen long hair on a fella since the sixties."

Glorfindel shrugged. "I guess I just don’t like barbers," he said ingenuously and Esther barked a laugh.

"Good one, that," she said as she moved away to attend to another customer who had come in after Glorfindel. "Holler if ya need anything."

"Thanks, Esther. I will." Glorfindel said and poured some Earl Grey from the teapot into the mug and took a grateful sip. The pie was indeed homemade and it had been warmed, which made it even better. He forced himself not to eat it in two bites, but took his time, savoring the cinnamon and nutmeg and the flaky crust. Still, it was gone sooner than he liked and he signaled for Esther to come over.

"Excellent pie," he said. "I think I’d like some more, please."

She gave him an appraising look. "I’ll get you another slice. You want some ice cream with it?"

"No, thanks. Just the pie will be fine," Glorfindel answered.

She nodded and went to the counter where the pie was set on a round stemmed tray under a glass cover. "You know, you could have breakfast," she said diffidently as she shifted a slice, larger than the last one, onto the plate, popping it into the microwave for thirty seconds or so.

"I already had breakfast, thank you," Glorfindel said.

"Suit yourself," she said with a smile as she brought the pie over and then stood there looking indecisive, as if she wished to say something but was afraid to offend him.

He smiled at her. "Is there something on your mind, Esther?"

"No, but I think there’s something on yours," was the surprisingly blunt answer. "Your aura is sort of a muddy green with spikes of yellow."

He stared at her in consternation, feeling bemused. "Aura?" was all he could think to say.

She nodded. "You seem to have a lot on your mind."

"Is it that obvious?" he couldn’t help asking, giving her another smile.

She gave him a jaundiced look. "Honey, I’ve been in this business way too long not to know when someone is troubled. Like I said, your aura is a sickly green with yellow spikes. Not at all healthy."

"And the cure?" he asked, now intrigued.

"Usually, talking it out with someone," she answered, "but I think you’re the type that don’t like talking about things too much."

He nodded. "Sickly green with yellow spikes," he said with a quirk of his lips. "What color should it be?"

The waitress gave him a hard stare for a moment and then nodded, turning to the one other customer which the café could boast. "You alright, Nate?" she called out to the man sitting at the counter. Nate nodded, lifting his coffee cup in salute. "Well, you need anything, you just holler. I’m gonna put my feet up for a bit." With that, she plopped herself down in the booth across from Glorfindel.

"Normally, I suspect your aura is a deep green tinged a bit with blue," she said without preamble. "Course that’s just my guess. Auras are not static, you know. They shift according to the person’s mood and health and... and spiritual state."

"And everyone has one," Glorfindel said, making it more a statement than a question.

"Yup," Esther replied. "Now, you don’t look like you’re in ill health or anything, so I think it’s because you are deeply troubled about something that’s got your aura in a twist and, honey, you’re much too young to be that troubled."

Glorfindel took a sip of tea to avoid answering right away. He slowly put the mug down and stared out the window, not really seeing the people as they went by on their way to wherever. "I am older than I look," he finally said, still staring out the window, "and there is indeed much on my mind of late." Now he turned to look at her. "However, I don’t think talking it out will help, for I see no solution."

"Maybe that’s because you’re too close to the problem," Esther said with a snort. "It’s like you can’t see the forest for the trees, as the saying goes."

Glorfindel gave her an appraising look and smiled. "Shouldn’t you be working?"

"Honey, do you see anyone else here but you and Nate?" she asked, throwing her arm out to take in the café. "And Nate can take care of himself, can’t you, Nate?" she called out and Nate lifted his coffee cup again in salute before taking another sip. She turned back to Glorfindel. "You see? The usual breakfast crowd is long gone and the lunch crowd won’t be coming in for another hour or so. I’ve got plenty of time to listen to your sob story."

Glorfindel couldn’t help but laugh at that and in spite of himself found his mood lightening. For as long as he had been living among Mortals, they never ceased to amaze him. No Elf would have been so bold or free, especially knowing who he was. He remembered Mithrandir saying something about how one could learn all there was to know about Hobbits and their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they could still surprise you. Men were much the same.

"Ah... your aura is not so spiky now," Esther said with a pleased smile.

Glorfindel smiled back and then came to a decision. "If you would be kind enough to freshen my tea, then I will tell you what I can."

Esther raised an eyebrow, and he suspected that she had not really thought he would confide in her. Nevertheless, she got up and took the teapot. "I’ll give you a fresh bag as well. Don’t worry, I’ll only charge you for the one." Half a minute later, she was back and retook her seat, remaining quiet and not pressing, for which Glorfindel was grateful as he gathered his thoughts.

"My friends and I lost our jobs last year," he told her and she nodded.

"Happening all over the place," she replied with a scowl. "I got a cousin in Fairbanks who lost his job recently and he was with the company for fifteen years. He’s got a wife and three kids and a mortgage he can’t pay." She shook her head. "They’re thinking of moving out of state in search of work."

Glorfindel nodded. "Anyway, we were at loose ends and were looking about for something with which to occupy ourselves when we learned about this Elf Academy at the college here."

Esther’s expression brightened. "Elf Academy! So you’re gonna be an elf for Christmas?" She chuckled. "What a hoot! But I don’t see why you’re going around with the weight of the world on your shoulders over it."

Glorfindel sighed. "Something about it all just doesn’t feel right," he said, groping for a way to explain without explaining anything. "There have been too many coincidences involved."

"Such as what?" she enquired.

He shrugged. "Such as the fact that we all lost our jobs almost at the same time, jobs that were quite secure for the most part. Darren, for instance, was all set to receive tenure at the university, but then he was suddenly let go with no real explanation as to why."

"And you? What about you?"

"I was in Search and Rescue," Glorfindel replied. "Then there was a budget cut, but as I had seniority, I should have been kept on. Instead, they decided it was cheaper to keep the newer recruits or something, so it was ‘adios amigo’." He made a farewell gesture with his right hand.

"That’s tough," Esther commented solicitously. "So then you all applied to this Elf Academy."

"Yes," he said with a nod. "Darren had this plan...." He shook his head, grimacing somewhat. "I’m beginning to think this wasn’t a good idea."

"You talking to me or you coming here to this Elf Academy?" Esther asked, her eyes narrowing.

He shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "Ever since coming here... I find myself doing things I would never do in front of Mo... um... other people and the same is true for my friends. We’ve been so careful...." He trailed off, suddenly afraid that he had said too much or too little. He took another sip of his tea and stared out the window. When he felt Esther’s hand on his arm he looked at her in surprise at the familiarity.

She stared at him with an intensity that unnerved him. "Perhaps you’ve been too careful," she said softly and there was something about her that belied the image of a tired waitress with sore feet that sent shivers up and down his spine.

"Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely, suddenly feeling afraid and that was not something he often felt. Fear had no place in his life but at that moment fear was taking over reason and he found himself reaching for a sword that had not hung on his belt for centuries.

If Esther was upset by his sudden change of mood, she did not show it. Instead, she leaned back with a slight smile on her face. "A friend, Loren, nothing more."

Now he started to rise, becoming alarmed and angry. "How did you...?"

Esther pointed at his shirt. "That’s your name, isn’t it: Loren DelaFiore?"

He stared stupidly down at his shirt and felt himself going red with embarrassment. He had completely forgotten that he had donned one of his old shirts with the Search and Rescue logo on the pocket and his name neatly embroidered above it along with his rank. He sank back down into the booth. "Sorry," he muttered.

"That’s all right, honey," Esther said equably. "You were thinking that maybe I have some spooky powers and can read minds and all?" Her laughter was self-deprecating and now Glorfindel simply felt foolish.

He hid his confusion behind another sip of the tea. "What did you mean about being too careful?" he finally asked, latching on to the last thing she had said.

"You said you and your friends have been so careful," she replied. "I ain’t gonna ask careful about what, but what I will ask is this: do you think the universe is out to get you? Do you think there’s a conspiracy in all this?"

"Rather far-fetched," Glorfindel retorted with a dismissive snort. "The universe doesn’t care if I live or die and the only conspiracy of which I am aware is the one that my roommate and my friends are concocting to short-sheet my bed tonight."

Esther laughed, slapping her knee, and Glorfindel noticed that even Nate, still sitting at the counter nursing his cup of coffee, was smiling, having overheard. "You are wrong about one thing though," the waitress said once she calmed down. "The universe does care if you live or die, or perhaps it is better to say, the One who created the universe cares."

Glorfindel nodded, having no argument there. "Still, the idea of a conspiracy... who is conspiring against us and why?"

"Why God of course," Esther said in a tone that suggested the answer was obvious. "We are all caught up in the One’s ultimate conspiracy, a conspiracy of love."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "A rather odd expression."

"But true nonetheless," Esther rejoined. "I think somewhere along the way you lost faith and that is what troubles you the most. Can you not find it in yourself to have faith that whatever is happening is for your benefit? Losing your job... coming here... it may all be part of a plan...."

"Or not," Glorfindel countered.

"But honey, there’s always a plan even if you don’t see it," Esther said with a smile. "‘This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man’," she quoted, much to Glorfindel’s surprise. "William Shakespeare said that," she added. "Something you and your friends should remember. That’s why I said that maybe you’re being too careful, not being yourselves and therefore not being happy. Have faith, Loren. Have faith that all will work out as it must and that only good will come of it."

He stared at her for the longest time, not sure how to reconcile the image of the waitress in a two-bit café on the edge of nowhere with the deep wisdom that she spoke. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he had lost his faith somewhere in the past. For all that he had enjoyed being in Search and Rescue, he realized now that his life had been in a holding pattern for quite some time now. The same probably could be said for the others. Perhaps losing their jobs as they did and coming to Wiseman, Alaska, was the universe’s way of telling them that it was time to move on to (hopefully) better things. He didn’t really know, but he did know this much: that what Esther had said about being true to one’s self was the highest goal to which everyone, Elf or Mortal, should aspire. Nothing less and nothing else mattered. He realized now that it was a truism he’d forgotten in the exigency of living in the Mortal world where Elves no longer had a place.

He nodded as this last thought skipped through his mind and smiled at the woman sitting patiently across from him. "Thank you," he said with all sincerity. "Thank you for the tea, the pie and the words of wisdom."

"You’re more than welcome, honey," Esther said warmly.

"So how much do I owe you?" Glorfindel asked as he started to rise, reaching for the wallet in his back pocket.

Esther waved him away. "It’s on the house," she insisted. "You come back anytime you feel a need to talk, okay? The door will always be open for you." She gave him a brilliant smile and suddenly she did not seem as used up as he had originally thought. He gave her a respectful nod of his head. "Thank you again," he said, then turned to leave the café, stepping out onto the sidewalk and walking past the window, waving at Esther, who was still sitting at his table before crossing the street at the light to continue on his way back to the college. He never noticed the sign that hung discreetly in a corner of the café window which proclaimed: ‘Café Closed for Renovations. Will Reopen in October’.

****

Estë watched as Glorfindel crossed the street, a sad smile on her face. "Poor Child," she said with a shake of her head. "He takes too much on himself, doesn’t he?"

Námo, sitting at the counter, nodded. "He’s always had a heightened sense of responsibility," he commented. "That has never changed."

"Let us hope that our little chat will do him some good," she countered.

"We all live in hope," Námo stated somewhat sententiously.

Estë snorted good-naturedly. "Well, I’m for home," she said with an exaggerated sigh as she rose from the booth, smoothing the gingham dress and apron. "What about you?"

Námo shook his head. "I think I’ll stick around for a bit. The Arctic Fringe is playing tonight."

"Hedonist," Estë said with a laugh. Námo smirked. "Clean up for me, will you?" she requested as she faded from view.

The Lord of Mandos continued sitting at the counter for a few more minutes contemplating many things before giving a sigh and rising. He walked over to the booth where Glorfindel had had his conversation with ‘Esther’ and began clearing the table, quietly humming a popular tune.