The Fifth Age
By Glorfindel's Girl
Chapter 10: At the Sign of the Laughing Marlin
Disclaimer: Yes, as a matter of fact, they are mine. Don't own any of Tolkien's universe, or any of the Elvish Languages, for that matter. Not making any money, donations accepted with a smile. ^_^ Oh, and for those of you who are wondering, yes these various stories are part of one central plot line, and it's all going to come together here in a little while.
________________________
Isla Morada, Florida
Sean wandered the familiar streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the town's main drag. Gaggles of sunburned tourists clad in hideously loud and cheaply made tropical print shirts ("Just blending in with the locals," Sean thought in amusement) swarmed through the streets, men mopping their bald heads with handkerchiefs. Women wearing clothing that would have gotten them arrested for indecent exposure anywhere else in the world attempting to keep their children close at hand. The children in turn racing from store front to store front, gazing in at tie-dyed tee shirts and hemp jewelry, manufactured specifically for the tourist trade. Streetside vendors selling the same type of goods and souvenirs peddled their wares, hassling passers-by into buying some trinket or other.
Through all the organized chaos of the small key town, Sean passed inconspicuously. To the tourists, he was nothing more than another local – albeit a pale local, an unusually clean cut beach bum dressed in flip flops, khaki shorts, and tee shirt. The locals knew him by sight, if not by name, but were too preoccupied with the weekend rush of tourists to pay him much mind. If a few women turned their heads to watch him as he passed by, he paid no mind, except perhaps to offer a brief smile.
As he wound his way through side streets, the crowds of tourists grew less. He was coming to the part of the small town that was not frequented by many mainlanders, being the haven of the Key locals and better informed tourists. Houses with gingerbread edging dotted the streets, and small restaurants marked the way. At the end of the avenue, he paused at the entryway of a restaurant overlooking the shore. An old-fashioned wooden sign board hanging over the door proudly proclaimed "The Laughing Marlin" written in gilded script beneath a carved picture of a rather handsome blue marlin, leaping through the air with its mouth open in silent peals of laughter. He glanced down at his watch. 1:37. Good. The crowd would have thinned out.
A bell tinkled as he opened the door and walked into the restaurant.
"Oh God in heaven above, help us all!" cried a voice as he sat down at a window-side table. He looked up and smiled as a rather pretty, twenty-something, red haired waitress came out from behind the bar.
"Well good afternoon to you too, Julie," Sean said, grinning broadly.
"Yeah it was," she replied, smiling back as she pulled out a chair and sat down next to Sean. She propped her long sun tanned legs up on another chair, her dark jean shorts contrasting oddly with her skin tones.
"Oh look on the bright side. You could have an obnoxious, overweight tourist in here who would do nothing but stare at your ass for an hour," Sean replied lazily.
"Yeah," Julie said, pushing her thin, wire-rimmed glasses up. "But instead I have a ridiculously good looking, slightly mental Elf who's gonna do nothing but stare at my ears for an hour." She grinned evilly at his bemused expression. "Score one for the mortal," she said.
Sean laughed as he leaned over and hugged Julie as best he could while seated. The only mortal who knew who – and what – he was. The first person to befriend him when he moved to Islamorada six years ago. The only person who had seen past the façade he seemed to hide behind. And when she had asked him what he was, he told her, and she did not question or doubt. She returned the hug and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"The day's still young, Julie. I'll catch up yet," Sean said as he released her from his arms.
"Suuuure you will," she replied, standing up once more. "So…what can I do for you today?"
"Depends on what's on the menu…" he replied.
"Oh…where are my manners? The special today is jumbo butterflied shrimp, marinated in our signature lemon pepper sauce, and grilled over an open fire. That's served with seasoned fries, and soup or an exotic mixed greens salad," she recited. "A true bargain at only $7.99."
"Sounds good," Sean replied. "Hook me up. Have you eaten yet? Get yourself something and join me if you haven't"
"All right, I will," Julie said over her shoulder, as she walked behind the bar and up to the order window. "I need two specials," she called.
"Coming up," came the reply. "Is that my Sean I hear out there?"
"Yes, Magdalena," Sean called from his table. "How are you today?"
A woman in her early fifties looked out at him from the order window, brushing a wayward strand of graying hair behind an ear. "Simply lovely, dear. And you? We don't see you nearly enough anymore."
"I'm great," he replied.
"Well that's wonderful. Always good to be doing well." With that, Magdalena vanished back into the recesses of the kitchen to work on the food.
"You want soup or salad, Sean?" Julie asked, digging around in the mini-fridge under the bar.
"What's the soup?"
Julie straightened up, and cleared her throat. "Today's soup is a chilled raspberry puree, topped with fresh mint and garnished with whole, red, ripe raspberries," she recited in a delightfully dry British monotone.
"Is it good?" he asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
Julie dropped her formal pretense, looking at him in mock-disbelief. "Is it good? Honey, this stuff is better than sex," she said.
"Said the virgin," Sean added with a short laugh. "Score one for the Elf."
"Oh that was low, Sean," Julie said, shaking her head. "I should like, lick your plate before putting your food on it or something for that one. Now. Do you want soup or salad?"
"You know what? Give me both, and let's call the soup desert," he said.
Julie shrugged. "Sounds good to me," she replied, reaching into the mini-fridge again and pulling out two bowls of assorted salad greens and two bowls of the soup. She added tomatoes, mushrooms, croutons, and dressing to the salads, and sprinkled mint onto the top of the soup. Balancing the four dishes precariously on her arms, she brought them to the table and set them down.
"What do you wanna drink?" she asked, turning back to the bar.
"Whatever you're having's fine," Sean said, stirring his raspberry soup cautiously.
"All right," she said, reaching into another refrigerator and emerging with a couple bottles of Guinness. "Want a glass?"
"Nah," Sean replied. Julie popped the caps off the bottles and headed back to the table. She slid one bottle across the table to Sean, then took a deep swig of her beer before setting it down and falling into her chair.
"Sorry, but you did totally set yourself up for that last one," Sean said, taking a tentative spoonful of the soup. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Mm. This is good," he said, gesturing to the bowl with his spoon.
"Of course it is. I told you it was. And don't worry about apologizing," she added with an evil grin. "Considering that little fact about me could be considered your fault." She winked and blew a kiss across the table. Sean shook his head, laughing quietly.
"Seriously, though," Julie began, setting her spoon down, "What's going on out at sea? The fishermen all say that the fish are acting weird. They're having like, these huge schools of fish swarming up around the boats out of the middle of nowhere. Or they'll be floating along normally well-populated areas, and there will be absolutely nothing there. I mean nothing. No fish, no sharks, nothing! It's been hell for the all the fishing tour groups the past couple days. Old Jeremiah McKinley is talking about closing down until the fish start acting right."
"Well it's not like he can't afford to," Sean said. "Not like some of these other guys who actually rely on that income to survive."
"Don't I know it," Julie said, shaking her head. "But he's a good guy. Friendly. Leaves good tips. Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, as though remembering something important. "Did you hear about the dolphins?"
Sean shook his head. "No, what?"
"Whole pod of them beached themselves up on the mainland. There must've been about 20 of them. Of course, Animal Control and Green Peace and ASPCA and all of them pushed them back to sea, and wouldn't you know, the damned things turned right around and beached themselves again. Happened three times. They had to have someone come put them down. Man, Green Peace was pissed. But what else could they do? The poor things didn't want to be saved," she paused, taking a drink. "I don't know," she began again, "but it seems like the fish and dolphins and what not are acting like something's going on out there. Something big must be going on if even the ocean is troubled."
"Yeah," Sean replied, taking a bite of his salad. It was unusually good, he noted. Julie frowned.
"All right, keep your secrets. I can see that you're not going to tell me. Lemme guess, 'I'm happier not knowing'?"
"Most likely, yes," Sean said.
"Order up!" Magdalena suddenly yelled from the kitchen.
"Be right back," Julie said, pushing herself up out of her chair. She retrieved the plates, then, realizing that aside from the salad and soup utensils she hadn't gotten silverware yet, grabbed a couple sets and a handful of napkins.
Sean took the silverware and napkins from her, and she set the plates down on the table. Julie sat down, and traced a haphazard cross in the air over the table.
"Bless the food oh Lord. Amen," she said quickly. Sean snickered and broke a smile. It was a most endearing habit of the Edain, he thought. He picked up one of the shrimp from his plate and bit into it. Very tasty, he decided. An uncomfortable silence seemed to descend upon them as they ate. Sean realized after a moment that Julie was regarding him pensively.
"What?" he asked.
"You're going away, aren't you? That's why you came today," she said finally, putting her fork down. Sean frowned.
"It always amazed me how perceptive you are," he said sincerely.
"Mortal, yes. Idiot, no," Julie replied. "This has to do with whatever's affecting the ocean, doesn't it? And Lauren, too, I'll bet."
Sean nodded. "Yes on both counts."
"And you're not gonna tell me any more than that?"
"I can't." Sean felt a pang of guilt at the hurt in Julie's eyes. She arched a suspicious eyebrow.
"Can't? Or won't," she asked.
Sean shook his head. "Won't. Not now. Not just yet."
"I understand," Julie replied softly, looking down at the table. She cast a sideways glance at him. "When are you leaving?"
"Plane leaves tomorrow night. I've got to be on the mainland by late afternoon."
Julie suddenly laughed, shaking her head as she looked up with a wry smile. "You son of a bitch, you want me to housesit for you, don't ya?" she said. Sean broke a smile.
"Aye, you've figured me out. Do you mind?"
"No. Of course not. Just as long as you'll be back sometime in my lifetime," she replied.
"All right," Sean said, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it before resting it against his chest, over his heart. "Mellon nin3," he murmured, closing his eyes.
They finished the rest of their lunch in good spirits, Sean thought. Julie did not seem overly perturbed by the thought of his sudden need to leave. But then again, it was not the first time. She even managed to talk him into having a second desert. Chocolate cheesecake. If he had to give the Edain credit for anything, it was for the creation of cheesecake. They talked for a long while after finishing the food, until one of the other waitresses and the first of the late-afternoon customers began to drift in. Locals, mostly, who knew Sean well.
"Promise me that you're not gonna disappear without telling me goodbye," Julie said as she rang up the tab. Sean handed her the money.
"I don't need change," he said. Julie stepped out from behind the cash register, blocking his way.
"Sean, promise me," she said, "Please."
"I promise, Julie," he replied, as he swept her into an embrace. He kissed her gently. "I promise," he repeated.
"Tye-meláne, Sean," she whispered, laying her head against his shoulder. "Tye-meláne."
*Tye-meláne = I love you
