Disclaimer: This AU assumes that Ea is another universe entirely and not an early history of our own. Arda has entered it's Industrial Era and many changes have been made to the society. The changes to the universe will be fleshed out in the progression of the story.

She had been traveling all day. She had gotten up before dawn to travel to the EOHISEN railroad station in Zone 49. The distance being some 40 km from Zone 51's station house, she had raided the attached stable for a suitable horse. She had ridden the mare she found as far as Zone 50's station house to dispatch one her team to monitor station 51. By the time she dismounted at the GITComm Station 5, she had almost missed the 7:00 EOHISEN to Osgiliath. There were not many stops between Station 5 and Osgiliath, so she arrived at the Osgiliath Station around noon.

As the EOHISEN slowed to a stop, vendors assaulted the cars, shoving their wares high to the windows for the passengers to purchase. She looked down at the tray in front of her. The tray was piled high with colorful sacks filled with various meats and breads. She noticed the mark of Mandos on the side of the tray, glowering judgment on any who stole. Hunger clawed at her stomach, she had only brought a couple apples with her from Zone 51's station house. She leaned out the window, snatched up a bright green bag and dropped coins onto the tray with the other. Settling back in her seat, she unwrapped the green sack to reveal a meat and vegetable pastry, two little flatbreads and a new pack of cigarettes. She bit into the pastry and tasted the distinct, sweet flavor of horse. If a horse became too old or injured to continue, the meat could be sold. There was good eating on a horse. While horse was not a rich man's meal, it was filling and there were a multitude of spices and vegetables that could complement it. The two circular flatbreads next to the horse-meat pastry were stamped with a mallorn leaf. She smiled. This baker seemed to be one of the many who claimed to have obtained the recipe for the famed lembas of history. It need not be said that all of them tasted distinctly different. This baker seemed to have used both wheat flour and yeast, though she wondered if the lembas of legend had so much butter and sugar in them.

When she had finished eating, she shook the crumbs off the now-flat sack. She tucked the empty sack into her luggage and pulled out the little player and headphones. She settled the headphones over her ears, pressed play and searched for her matches as the player began with Lesson 12: Where Are You From? She thumbed open the new pack of cigarettes, tapped one out and lit it. The smoke tasted good and she felt herself relax. Traveling always made her nervous, the EOHISEN had a great track record, but it didn't take much to derail it. She did not hear him enter.

"Don't you know smoking kills?"

She looked up.

"Smithson."

"Echorillion. You're looking…good."

Vardamir Smithson was not only a sharply dressed man he was the best dressed on the train. His dark coat contrasted nicely with his white tunic. His boots were polished to a bright shine. He made her feel shabby in the only dress she owned.

"City life seems to have been treating you well."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I've been riding all day and trains make me nervous."

He frowned. "I could have sworn that your office was in the city."

"My door is in the city. My office never left the field."

"Of course." She could see him tallying up his feathers-in-cap and his black-marks. She could almost see the tally herself. She puffed at her cigarette and tried not to think about how much she detested him.

Vardamir Smithson was the most jealous man she had ever met. Jealous over something as stupid as the name she was born under. He hated that his surname was, in fact, Westron while hers was honest-to-Eru Sindarin. He hated that his family's roots were traced back to Rohan and that hers could be traced back to Númenor. He had no reason to hate. The family Smithson was wealthy and influential and Vardamir himself was best negotiator the company had. She watched the conductor change the sign from STATION 5 TO OSGILIATH to OSGILIATH TO MINAS TIRITH and inwardly sighed at the truth. Smithson would be accompanying her and the rest of the team to the Eryn Lasgalen project.

Lucky for her, her grim mood was swiftly broken by an addition to their party.

"Cal!"

"Túrost!" She broke into the first grin in what seemed like weeks. Túrost Penmeneladar strode towards her, looking for all the world as if he just stepped out of King Elessar's court.

"Túrost, what are you wearing?"

"Do you like it?" He spun slowly to show off each and every shining bit of thread adorning his courtly robe. "They are tailoring one specifically for each member of the Lasgalen team. Apparently the Eldar are rather particular about their ceremony."

"It looks great, T. I am sure not even the Eldar will have any problem with it." Behind him, she could see Vardamir beginning to turn red. If there was anything that Vardamir hated more than her surname, it was being ignored.

He glanced up at Vardamir as if only just now noticing his existence.

"Ahh, Smithson, perfect. We will have need of your charming personality." A disarmingly big grin split his handsome face. It was enough to soothe Vardamir's foaming and boiling anger.

"I will talk to you later, Cal. Got some more boxes from the office to load up. Smithson, why don't you come help me put together the briefing. I have so much sightseeing to do in Minas Tirith and I want to spend none of it working!"

He shook her hand before it devolved into a bear hug and strode off with Vardamir, one hand hooked around the other's shoulders, all while talking excitedly.

As he left, she could feel the smile droop and slide off her face. Her cheeks hurt. She sat back in her seat and lit another cigarette. Her last one had fallen to the floor in the shuffle of the hug and had gone out.

Túrost Penmeneladar had been a good friend from trade school. Rising up quickly in the ranks of the GITComm, he had established himself as team leader. He was especially known for managing even to get personalities like Vardamir Smithson to work well with the technicians and even the usually sullen construction crew. He was warm, charming and he was probably the only man she knew to ever get that excited by new clothes. He was also an old sweetheart.

She paused, muddled by the thought that had quietly sneaked behind the ever-vigilant lines of Ithilien tobacco. She wondered if it was a sign from beyond and then briefly considered which of the Valar governed over matters of the hearts of two people who hadn't seen each other for ten years. She shook her head and took another puff of the cigarette. A contract was not the time to rekindle an old flame. Especially an old flame who didn't even live in Ithilien. He consistently worked in the city, with people like Vardamir. Locked in old town Osgiliath around the old buildings where efficiency was lord and master, he had not contacted her in years. She wondered if he even remembered the feel of the wind through his hair as he climbed the telephone poles in the dawn light.

There was a whistle and a lurch. The EOHISEN was beginning to get underway. She stared out the window at the buildings. She probably wasn't going to be back in Ithilien for a while. An old chapter was closing and a new one was opening. She took a long breath and looked ahead towards Minas Tirith, towards Eryn Lasgalen, and towards the future.

Author's Note: Constructive criticism please, especially on setting and language. I try my best, but I am no linguist like the Professor. Any issues with the technology, I would be happy to discuss through private message.