A/N: Well, I've decided to continue this, though it was supposed to be a one-shot. Many thanks to everyone for your kind reviews, and extra thanks to Rhys for all the ideas she gave me for this story. It was enough for quite a few chapters! Reviewer responses can be found at the bottom.
Chapter Two: A New Friend
Glorfindel was annoyed into consciousness by a persistent buzzing noise. He groaned and smacked the top of his alarm clock, hitting the snooze button. As he burrowed back into his blanket, a single thought drifted into his mind.
I have to cover a parade tomorrow morning…
Now where had he heard that before?
Everything flooded back to him. The parade! He tumbled out of bed, nearly falling over (being tangled in the blankets), and stumbled into the washroom. He quickly splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He never bothered to pull out of his face, which was better, considering the length and shape of his ears. No one questioned it, either. He was an artist. Everyone just assumed he was eccentric. He hurried into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee, adding way too much sugar. Since he had it in the Middle East a couple centuries ago, Glorfindel had become a coffee-addict, though American coffee tasted nothing like Arabic coffee. The latter was much stronger.
He grabbed his clipboard, jacket, and hat and locked the door behind him. With a grumble, he sprinted into the elevator. The parade was taking place a couple streets over. Thank Elbereth he lived downtown.
Evana stood at the corner, her arms crossed in a vain attempt to ward off the cold, which bit through to her skin despite the thick leather of her coat. She was quite surprised when someone – a tall someone – stepped up beside her and said, "Why, hello again!"
She looked over to see the blonde man from the café the night before. "Oh, hi!"
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said. Shyly, she added, "Thank you so much for the tip."
He shrugged. "It wasn't much."
"Oh, but it was!" she protested. "It was very kind of you."
"I'm glad to help," he said, smiling gently.
Evana looked down at her feet. What else to say?
"Well, you know I'm a waitress," she said after a time, "but what do you do?"
"I'm a journalist. Actually, that's why I'm here. I have to write about the parade."
"Oh, really?" Evana tried to sound interested, but other things weighed on her mind. She was late two weeks with her rent, and that didn't bode well for her, considering she was an orphan, and had nowhere else to go.
"Yes," he nodded. "What's your name?"
"Evana Williams. And you?"
"Laurence Fendell."
Evana gasped. "You're Laurence Fendell?" she asked in shock.
He raised his eyesbrows. "Ye-e-es. Why?"
"I love your articles!" she cried.
"Well, at least someone does," he said ruefully.
"What do you mean?" Evana asked.
"My boss isn't too fond of them. That's why I get stuck writing about parades."
"I especially liked the one you wrote a couple months ago. The one about aid to Africa?"
Glorfindel – or rather, Laurence – grinned. "That one almost got me fired."
"Really?" Evana asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous!'
"You are an amazing maiden," Glorfindel laughed.
Evana blushed at the compliment. "Thank you, sir."
"Here comes the procession," he said, almost contemptuous. A long line of drummers and baton-twirlers came down the street, with blaring trumpets and tubas. Glorfindel grimaced as the sounds assailed his ears.
Evana laughed. "Don't like brass bands?" she asked.
"No, unfortunately."
They watched the parade go by, Glorfindel scribbling down hasty notes about the people in it and the amount in the procession. He wrote about the balloons of cartoon characters that floated and bobbed overhead, the flower-covered floats that glided by. How shallow they are, he mused, feeling greatly annoyed. When it finally passed, he slipped his pen into his pocket and turned to Evana. "Thank you for keeping me company," he said with a bow.
Evana giggled. "Will you be at the café tonight?" she asked.
"I'm supposed to meet a friend there," he said.
"The dark-haired man?"
Glorfindel nodded.
"Then I'll see you tonight," she said.
"I look forward to it, Evana." He began to walk away, then turned back to her. "Is everything all right?" Being an Elf, he could tell something was wrong with her, though she hid it well.
"I'm fine," she said. "Why?"
"I was just wondering. If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm always free."
"Thank you, Mr. Fendell. I'm fine."
"I'm glad to hear it, Miss Williams," he tipped his hat and ambled off.
Evana sighed. If only she could tell someone. But she'd always kept her problems to herself, and intended to stay that way.
Maglor entered the café for the second time in two days. Glorfindel sat at the same table that they'd sat at yesterday, but this time he was typing away like mad at a laptop. He'd tap the keyboard, then frown, erase, tap again. He seemed deep in thought, but looked up at Maglor as he sat down. "Hello, finally."
"Always late, aren't I?" Maglor asked wryly.
Glorfindel nodded, but began frowning and typing again.
"What are you working on?" Maglor asked, getting up and leaning over the back of Glorfindel's chair.
"That hateful article for Mr. Hobbit," Glorfindel muttered.
They chatted about their day and made plans to go to the museum the next day, just to see what mortals made of history, and see how accurate they were.
Evana didn't show up the whole hour and a half they were there. To his own surprise, Glorfindel was slightly worried about her.
He and Maglor left at the same time that night, and waved to each other as they strolled off in opposite directions. As he passed a row of apartment buildings, he heard sniffling noises. Turning to see what the problem was, he was startled to see Evana sitting on the steps of one building, her arms wrapped around her knees and tears streaming down her face.
"Evana?" he asked.
She looked up and gasped when she saw him. Her hands flew to her face in an attempt to wipe away the tears. "M-Mr. Fendell?"
"Is everything all right?" he asked, walking toward her.
"Yes, everything's fine."
"No, it's not," Glorfindel scowled. "If it was, you wouldn't be crying."
"It's nothing."
"Tell me, Evana. Perhaps I can help you."
Evana sniffed. "I'm going to be evicted from my apartment in three days."
"Why?" Glorfindel cried.
"I can't pay the rent."
Glorfindel reached into his pocket. "How much do you need?" he asked, pulling out his wallet.
"Oh, no, Mr. Fendell!" she protested. "I couldn't!"
"Evana, you can't get kicked out. Do you have family that can help you?"
She simply shook her head.
"Fine. You won't accept money from my pocket? Then I'll help you earn the money."
"Why are you so determined to help someone you don't know?" she asked.
"Because you remind me of someone. Someone who was like a daughter to me, and lost much too early."
"But I'm not that someone," Evana said sadly.
"That doesn't mean I can't help a damsel in distress."
"I can assure you that I am no damsel in distress," Evana laughed.
"Well, you are a damsel, at any rate."
"How do you intend to help me?"
"Do you write?" he asked.
"A bit of poetry," Evana shrugged.
"Do you have anything you'd like to publish?"
"You would do that for me?" she asked.
Glorfindel grinned. "There's a contest going on in the newspaper, and if you win, you can win 200."
Evana eyed him suspiciously.
That time he laughed. "I don't intend to cheat! If you win, you'll get the prize money."
"I suppose I'll try," she sighed, without much confidence.
"But! I'll only help you if you'll let me pay your rent if you don't win."
Evana sighed again. "I refuse to letyou pay my rent."
"You have so little faith in yourself?"
"I do."
He looked at her intently. "You need to let others help you," he said quietly.
"But I can't be a beggar," she insisted.
"You aren't," he replied. "I'm offering to help you."
"But two hundred dollars, Mr. Fendell? People don't just give each other that much money."
"I do."
Evana smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Fendell."
"You're welcome. Go in and get some sleep. And you can call me Lor."
She smiled wider. "Thank you, Lor."
With a much lighter heart, he made his way to his apartment. At least one soul was eased in this bewildering world.
Reviewer Responses:
Kalayna: I'm glad you like it, and I like Evana, too. I don't know if she's part of their line, but since there's no way to know, I like to think that she is.
Rhys: I think they'd be very good friends, myself. ;) I must say, however, it's your fault I continued this. You gave me ideas! See what happens when I get ideas!
Ellfine: I must read your work. I've so much to do, but after all the reviews you've given me, it's only fair. I'm really glad that you liked the first chapter, and something tells me that this will continue for a while.
sqrt(-1): I'm very glad that you liked them! Here's another chapter!
BanbieBunny: It's okay that you don't update as quickly, because that makes me dance and rejoice when you do. In my opinion, I think I update too much. But that's okay with me. There you go, you little hinter. Out of curiosity, is this Banbie or her brother?
Cyhiraeth: I'm glad I've got you into reviewing again! And I've continued it some more!
Vana Tuivana: I am honored that you like this, and I didn't think about Maglor's relationship with Elrond when I wrote it. I did fix it, however, and many thanks to you for pointing that out to me!
jillian baade: I'm glad that you like it, and (hee, hee) I wasn't ready to end it. Blame plot bunnies!
A/N: Does anyone have a suggestion for Maglor's name? I'm lost.