Feanor grumbled under his breath as he strode hurriedly down the sidewalk. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trench coat and agilely sidestepped the steaming remains of a recently discarded cheeseburger. It was turning out to be just another day in the city, even if he was half and hour late. He crossed the street at a jog, barely avoiding being hit by a taxi. He ignored the curses that were flung at him by the driver.
He drew his hands out of his pockets as he neared the bookstore. It was a bland cream colored building hidden between two larger offices. The door's green paint was chipping, and Feanor reminded himself that he would need to repaint it. He inserted the key and slipped inside. The alarm near the door began to trill, but he punched in the security code and it was silenced.
Feanor stretched languidly and cracked his neck. He flipped the lights on and looked around the small shop that was his life. Over the last few years, he had blown gently on the embers of the dream until a small fire had blossomed into existence. Will power had been his mortar, and the books that lined the shelves his stone.
He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the chair behind the counter. Gazing out the window, he pulled his hand through his straight black hair that was long enough to brush his shoulders. His mortar was weakened and his stone was crumbling. One day soon he would have to say farewell to this dream he was living. Unbeknownst to him at the time, Feanor had purchased a shop in one of the most valued locations in the entire city. The income he made was just not enough to keep it afloat. Soon he would have to sell it. With a sigh, he turned away and propped the door open. He set up three collapsible tables outside on the sidewalk, displaying his sale items. It was painful to think that soon all of this would be gone, and he would have to move on.
"Fay!" Sara bounced up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Feanor looked at the young woman that had been working with him for the past three years. She wore black t-shirt and jeans. He grabbed a lock of her hair and gave it a friendly yank.
"What's this?" He looked at the purple and blonde strand between his fingers.
She pouted and punched his shoulder. "I like it."
He laughed warmly. "Well, then, I should better get used to it, eh?" She nodded and whirled inside. He arranged the books to his liking before following her.
Sara had plopped down on the chair behind the register and thrown her boots beneath. Her bare feet greeted him from atop the counter. Feanor grinned and swatted at her feet. "Get them off!" His deep voice was lowered in a friendly growl.
She wiggled her toes, but did not move them. Her face suddenly fell. "Do you know what we are going to do?"
Feanor shook his head. He honestly had no idea. "You had better start looking for somewhere else to work." He sent a half-hearted grin in her direction.
"What about you?"
This time he laughed. "I'll be fine. I've survived worse than this."
Her eyes flashed. He noted that she was in a spunky mood today, he had better watch what he says or else he might end up in a pissing contest with a twenty year old. "Like what?"
He shrugged. "I don't know." He had always been truthful with her, probably because she never seemed to give a damn about his problems. However, he had never told her what bothered him most. "My earliest memory is of opening this shop. Everything before that is . . . blank." He watched her brown eyes widen at his confession.
"You mean, you don't remember anything?" He shook his head. "Were you in some kind of accident?"
"I don't know."
"What about your family?"
He spun around, and snarled fiercely, "I don't know!" Sara sensed his sudden change of mood and took her feet from the chair and sunk deeper into her seat. He pulled a hand back through his hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. You didn't deserve it."
While frightened by his outburst, Sara realized that whatever it was had passed, and that her old friend was back. "Damn right I didn't."
"Watch your mouth."
"But . . . ." she sighed. "You would have been what? Thirty? When that happened?"
He rested his elbows on the counter. Why did he even bring it up? "Nothing happened. . . . that I know of, Sara."
She rolled her eyes. "How old are you anyway?"
"I don't know." He pushed himself away from the counter. "Go call Kallie, she should be here by now." As if summoned by his mere thought, two people entered the shop. One was Kallie, his blonde employee, and the other was Jim Dennis, her other half who also happened to work for Feanor. They greeted him before dropping their bags behind the desk and wandering to the back.
The day was just as Feanor had expected. A few customers came in around nine, and then a couple more at noon. They were practically busy at two, but then everything faded out. By three, all four of them were lounging by the desk. Kallie was resting her head on Jim's shoulder; he was flipping through a magazine. Sara had curled up in a beanbag to read after she finished all the paperwork. Needless to say, with everything finished, there was nothing for any of them to do. The question of Feanor's past had not been brought up again.
Sara broke the silence, flipping a purple lock away from her eyes as she spoke. "Have any of you guys read 'the Silmarillion?'" All of her companions shook their heads. "I just started it, and it's really good." A few grunts of approval were her only answer.
Feanor finally looked up. "What is it about?" He did not really care, but it was only polite to ask. Anyway, Sara seemed to be very interested. Not waiting for her answer, he looked back down at the inventory list he was going over.
"It's about these god-people, the Anoor, and –."
"Ainur, it's pronounced like an 'i.'" Feanor surprised them all with his comment, meanwhile he did not even look up.
"Well, the Ainur and their creations. As well as dwarves and elves. One elf, Feenor –."
"Feanor."
Sara laughed. "I was talking about the book."
"I know," he looked up, "It's pronounced Feanor."
"How do you know?"
"It's my name isn't it?"
Sara looked unconvinced. "How do you spell your name?" While she had worked with him for years, she had never actually seen her employer write his name.
Feanor rolled his eyes. "F-E-A-N-O-R."
"So you're named after a book character?"
Callie cut in before he could answer. "That's weird – no offense or anything."
Feanor chuckled. "None taken. Anyway, I don't know where my name came from."
Sara slapped her knees impatiently. "I was telling a story!" She whined. The other three laughed and motioned for her to continue.
"Well, Feanor," she put emphasis on the word. "He created three perfect diamonds –."
"Sara," Feanor moaned. "They aren't diamonds."
She crossed her arms and pouted sulkily. "You've read this before!"
He shrugged. "No."
"Then how do you know?"
"I – I'm not really sure."
Jim smiled mischievously. "I wonder if our illusive boss is actually an elf in disguise." The girls laughed and Feanor snorted, not the least bit amused.
Sara flipped through the book, mumbling beneath her breath. "Here!" The others looked over at her, wondering what she had found. "It says he was tall, dark-haired, silver-eyed . . . . what the hell?"
Feanor leaned over to read the passage. "What?"
"Don't you see?" Feanor shook his head in confusion. "It's you!"
Author's Note: I'm trying my hand at a really AU fic here. This particular little story has been brewing in my mind for a long time. Please review and tell me what you think! Hope the first chapter was somewhat interesting.