Flowers
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all canon characters belong to the BBC and associated employees. The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. The Elanor flower shop, their customers, and their employees are from my imagination.
Note: This takes place during The Power of Three, right before the Doctor arrives at Amy's and Rory's anniversary party.
The bell twinkled as another customer walked into the shop, alerting the teenage girl working the desk.
"Welcome to Elanor, where the best flowers come for small prices. How may I help you, sir?" the bored teenager droned.
The customer smiled, his eyes alight with childish wonder as he gazed around at the myriad of flora around him. He wore a tweed jacket, suspenders, and a bowtie, and he had floppy hair that could use a trim. Less than amused, the employee quirked an eyebrow at his whimsical clothes and attitude.
"Elanor," the man sounded out, his tongue tasting and testing the word as it tumbled through his mouth. "Isn't that Sindarin?"
"Sorry?" the employee said, drowning in the tedium of her job.
"Sindarin. A form of Elvish from The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien. It's a fascinating choice for the name of a shop," he replied, picking up a daisy.
"Yeah, that'd be Miss Laerduin. She's absolutely bonkers for all that rubbish," the teen sighed, rolling her eyes.
"Oh, it's not rubbish," he argued, moving to the sunflowers. "It's actually quite brilliant. I attended one of his lectures once, you know. Theories were a bit off, but that's the fifties for you."
"Right," the teenager responded, not really listening to the customer.
The man stopped, racking his brain for something.
"What was I here for again? Oh yes, flowers!"
"Why else would you come to a bloody florist?" the teenager muttered under her breath.
"I need your best arrangement, the biggest you've got," the man continued, either ignoring her remark or oblivious to it.
The teenager had completely lost interest in the customer at this point, and was daydreaming about the end of her shift. The man waited for about a millisecond, before impatiently fidgeting and wringing his hands.
"Could you help me, Miss…" he asked, peeking at her nametag and grinning, "Lily? Oh, how cool is that? A Lily in a flower shop!"
Lily-the-flower-shop-employee glared at the customer, describing through her stare: Wow, it's not like I've EVER heard that one before. She let out a heavy sigh, glancing at her watch, before sliding slowly off her chair and trudging out from behind the desk.
"Well, Mr…."
"Doctor. Just the Doctor," he answered cheerily.
Lily blinked, inhaling heavily through her nose before shaking her head.
"Well, Doctor, we've got tons of arrangements that are considered the 'best' and 'biggest' of their kind. Do you have a favorite species in particular?"
Lily hadn't noticed, but as she began to walk towards the customer, he had completely frozen. His right hand was outstretched, his face was melancholic, and his other hand was clenched in a fist. His eyes, impossibly old and remorseful, were fixed on a gorgeous bouquet of red roses.
"I'm not so sure if you want that bouquet, Doctor," the teenager quietly interrupted his reminiscing.
"No, you're right, that's for a different me," he murmured.
"Yeah, and it's awfully powerful in its meaning. Red roses symbolize passionate love, and I get the feeling this isn't a declaration of love," Lily replied, a bit more interested in the topic. "Even if it was that, I'd recommend red tulips. They're not as cliché yet just as beautiful."
The Doctor kept moving, until he halted yet again, as if struck by a physical blow. This time, his gaze was focused on a towering collection of forget-me-nots, delphinium, and white carnations.
"That's one of my favorites, actually. Remembrance and boldness. I used to give that one to my mates on their birthdays. They never understood the meaning, though," Lily now animatedly commented.
"Mates," the Doctor whispered, before retracting his gaze and hastily continuing down the aisle.
"Slow down!" the employee called, scampering after the bipolar customer.
Once again, the eccentric man stopped so suddenly that Lily nearly crashed into him. Directly in front of him was a humongous and rather peculiar bouquet that was rarely purchased.
"How about this one?" he questioned. "It's big, bright, and colorful. I love colors. What do they mean?"
Lily titled her head.
"This one? It's big, all right, big on meaning. The little yellow flowers are actually mustard, which could mean intelligence…or pain. Then you've got daffodils, which mean esteem, regard, and unrequited love. Finally, that's yellow yarrow, which also has two meanings: healing of heart and war. It's a good bouquet for a friend in a medical occupation, but it's also got all those double meanings. If you're gonna buy it, I hope your friend likes yellow."
"No, no, no! I wanted to get some flowers for Amy and Rory, not take a trip down memory lane!" the Doctor angrily cried, before turning on the employee. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"
"Of course not!" Lily indignantly replied. "Why don't you let me pick out a bouquet? I've got one up my sleeve that I think is perfect for you."
The Doctor submitted, following her through the many rows of flowers, before stopping in front of a gorgeous blue, green, and white creation.
"I'm a surprisingly good judge of character, and I think this might be what you're looking for. Blue salvia for wisdom, white poplar leaves for time, stephanotis for desire to travel, and American arborvitae leaves and white amaranth for immortality. What d'ya think?"
He stared at her for a long time, with a sort of dumbfounded look that Lily reckoned he didn't wear often. His forehead was all wrinkled up, which caused her to remark on how odd his eyebrows were, considering that there weren't any.
"Um…no," he slowly stated. "Though that was a remarkable analysis."
"Really?!" she happily exclaimed.
"You have no idea," he murmured, before catching something in the corner of his eye.
He bounded over to an incredibly large arrangement slightly farther down the aisle.
"Let's see…that's anthurium right there; it means hospitality. Sometimes it also means happiness or abundance. Orange oriental lily-that's happiness, optimism, hope, etc. And those big ones are peonies, which are omens of good fortune and a happy marriage. The last two are green amaranthus and orange calla lily, the latter of which is used in weddings and-"
"It's perfect!" he declared, cutting Lily off. "Lovely. How much?"
"Well, it is an exceptionally large bouquet, so I'd wager it's around 45 quid."
She led him back over to the register, where she did check the price to be that amount. He reached into the depths of his pocket and pulled out a couple notes before grabbing the bouquet with excited hands. Before Lily could even take the notes, however, he bounced away through the door.
"Thank you, Lily-the-flower-shop-employee!" he called as he opened the door. "Now, where did I park her?"
Lily picked up the notes, immediately realizing that he had overpaid her.
"Wait, Doctor! Don't you want your change?"
He chuckled as the bell twinkled, his jacket swirling behind him as he exited the shop.
"Keep it!" he called, sticking his head back in for an instant with a great, big, child-like smile, before he was gone forever.
She sighed, gazing back down at the notes with a confused smile.
"Why on earth would he give me two tons?" she murmured, turning the £200 around in her hands.
She shook her head and opened the register. Once she had taken the appropriate amount for her tip, she glanced at the clock to discover it was closing time. She closed up the shop, locked the door behind her, and began to walk down the street.
"Pity," she muttered to herself once she got to her flat. "I never got to finish telling him the meaning of that bouquet."
After all, it may have been important to know that amaranthus meant hopelessness, and that calla lilies were also used for funerals.
"No," she said, locking her door. "Those meanings were all old wives' tales anyway, right?"