A/N: This story was inspired by the following prompt: 'There's an old house at the end of the lane that's not abandoned, but no one ever sees the occupant. One day Character A finds out why.'
A book shop isn't a substitute for a house, the house will appear later on. It's just that I couldn't bear the thought of confiding poor Kili to four walls and had to give him more space to breathe in :)
Generally, Fili wasn't curious about overly suspicious things and just left them be. It was safer this way. That rule seemed especially reasonable in light of the fact that he's barely had the chance to adjust to the new location that was about to become his new home for the next year, at the very least. It was a nice, simple house with no redundant luxury. Cozy enough for a proper relaxation, but not expensive enough to require a rigid set of working hours. In other words, it was a perfect solution for someone who had no desire to wear himself thin in pursuit of money, but was in dire need of escaping social distractions and focusing solely on fulfilling his end of the bargain.
On the surface, his story was bland enough: a writer who had lost his inspiration amidst other entitlements but, for some frankly insensitive reason, wasn't given a reprieve in the form of a deadline extension. It was also a believable cover-up version, so he just went with it whenever anyone asked. The truth, however, was a little more entertaining. It was indeed accurate that he couldn't to stay in his city flat, which obviously needed to be paid for. Unfortunately, unfinished books didn't bring money to their creators, and he hated the mere thought of an advance payment, almost as much as he hated the thought of continuing to stay in that flat, alone and with no means of freeing himself by going somewhere busy. That last bit was not publicly revealed, but, if Fili was honest with himself, it might have been the core reason behind his decision.
The lack of inspiration wasn't something that bothered him on a frequent basis, and it wasn't the case this time. He wanted to write, and he felt engaged enough to translate that desire into the increase in word count, which was basically the second major to-do thing in his field of work. Having only published a small book of short stories, he never really considered himself a professional writer. Something that could be called 'profession' took much more years, and more effort than he was giving, or even prepared to potentially give. It was definitely one of his life milestones, though. Was it paramount to his success? He had no answers for that. All he knew was a sudden, sharp need to escape and, by doing that, open up a new page of his life. At first, he'd entertained a mostly ridiculous idea of turning it into a mutual writing experience. But that would require a bond, and he had a shortage of these at the moment. Escaping for the sake of escaping was also too indulgent. He would certainly regret that later. All things considered, a final decision was relatively quick. He would work, to the best of his ability and, by doing that, avoid a self-made guilt-trip. The rest would be left to chance when, or if, it was willing to appear.
Could that chance be a strange scene he was witnessing now? He had no idea, but his free-spirited side was quickly leading him in the direction of the potential discovery.
He's just had the time to unpack, shovel things around, with the hope of re-arranging them more decently later, and go out in search of something to eat. As one would expect from a small, undemanding town, the streets were narrow and modestly-looking. Still, his eyes were instantly drawn to the crooked book shop with a hopelessly blurred sign. Admittedly, his need of food was much stronger than his need for new books and, subsequently, new distractions, but he could never resist. Maybe he could hunt for some research materials while he is at it? It couldn't hurt, could it?
The door gave a plaintive squeak, but opened easily enough. He half-expected to hear a ringing of bells above his head – a trademark of small, cute shops, but instead, his senses were overwhelmed with an intense smell of chamomile. Apparently, the owner fancied chamomile tea. The thought was innocent enough, but the feeling evoked by it was almost unsuitably unpleasant. Getting suddenly attacked by the images of ill-fated endings to the 'small town' stories was more than ridiculous, especially in the middle of visiting a shop, but here he was, feeling a cool touch of uncertainty wade where only too-recent feeling of confidence used to reside. Still, he scolded himself for being silly and closed the door behind him.
It was a spacious enough room, considering a rather meager-looking exterior. There were two more doors which seemed to lead to smaller rooms. He'd not be surprised if the space was packed with books, but it wasn't the case. There was definitely a decent amount, but it wasn't overflowing. By the look of them, the books were old, probably used before. In fact, it reminded him more of a library than a shop. By the time that thought appeared, the danger alarm in his mind subdued completely, replaced by a sudden, but very familiar thirst for a new adventure. Even if it was only a fictional kind of adventure.
Before he could push through the awkwardness of calling for someone to acknowledge his presence, one of the back doors opened slightly, as if uncertainly, revealing… no one?
"Do you wish to buy something?" the voice asked, before Fili could consider the strangeness of the situation.
"Um. I haven't chosen anything yet, so no. Not right not, at least."
Was it one of those shops that didn't let you leave until you bought something?
"Sorry, I can be too forward at times. Just generally excited about people buying stuff, I guess. So feel free to ignore my question."
Fili supposed he could do that. But ignoring that voice was going to be much harder. For some odd reason, it reminded him of sunshine.
Fili dismissed the ridiculous thought and cleared his throat.
"It's totally fine. I-I will just look around, then, I guess. If I see anything I like, I will…"
"Talk to me about it?" the voice asked, uncertainly, and Fili felt a strange pang in his chest.
"Yes, of course. If you wish."
"I do," the voice sounded pleased, and the pang disappeared, replaced with a sudden warmth.
Fili tried to clear his head enough to make sense of situation, but it seemed like the only thing he could do was to proceed gradually from one unexpected turn of events to another. Well, he wished for an adventure, didn't he?
The exploration was worthwhile. It distracted him from overthinking, and his mind was continuously supplied with new, exciting ideas, further fueling his sense of discovery.
He's been at it no less than half an hour but he had yet to see a single hardcover. There were just piles and piles of paperbacks, arranged in a highly peculiar order. Single-author books could easily be found at different sides of the room. There wasn't any thematic consistency, either. Yet still, he felt there had to be some semblance of order to all of this, even if it wasn't instantly noticeable.
There was one more oddly fascinating thing: he couldn't remember a single title, however hard he tried. Was it some very local literature? He wasn't a language and lit major, but he had always been an avid reader and had little trouble memorizing book titles or at the very least plots. Neither of these were even barely familiar to him. He wasn't usually against the idea of wandering into an alternate universe, but he wouldn't mind some rational explanation, either.
After a few more minutes, he wished that he had at least taken a scrap of paper and a pen. If he walked out of this shop and it disappeared, no one would ever believe his crazy adventure. Not that some scribbles on paper would be much of an evidence, but one day, when he is old and his memory is poor, they could become a considerable consolation by assuring him that his life wasn't that trivial, after all.
The last thought made him chuckle and remember one crucial fact. Wasn't this a shop? If It was a shop, it means that he could actually buy things. Somehow, that fundamental truth got lost amidst his surprise, and its rediscovery made him feel silly and excited at the same time.
He didn't know how much time has passed. It must have been nearing an hour, which meant that he had to pull himself together, choose a few books and take care of more urgent matters. His stomach was on the verge of growling, and would soon begin eating him from the inside if he didn't cooperate and fed it.
It took him five minutes to make a final choice, which involved three massive books. He did have the money, but he wasn't sure if it would be enough. There were no price tags on the books.
"You didn't talk to me," the voice said, sadly, and Fili nearly jumped out of his skin. Then, he wanted to slap himself. What was it today with forgetting things? And shop owners?
Under natural circumstance, that statement (complaint?) would've been odd at best, and yet Fili couldn't quite fight the sudden feeling of guilt that followed.
"Um. We can talk now. If you want?"
The voice huffed, sounding almost petulant.
"You were going to ask me about price tags and then go away. Not exactly talking time, is it?"
Yes, definitely petulant. Sulky even.
Fili rubbed his forehead, not quite sure what to say. Under natural circumstances, he would just make a joke and be on his way, but that voice, and the effect it was having on him, definitely didn't fall under the category 'natural circumstances'.
"Look, I'm so hungry that I'm not sure I will be able to maintain a standing position much longer. And I need to… um, explore these books. If you want, you can come with me and help me find something to eat. Talking in exchange for a town tour, how's that?"
He wasn't sure why he didn't want to bother the owner with book questions, but the mere thought was making him uncomfortable for some reason. Anyway, what would he even say? "Sorry, but I think these books do not generally exist? Maybe I'm wrong, though?"
The strangeness of the invisible owner would pale in comparison to that statement, and he's had enough adventures for one day.
"I can't leave the shop."
Sad again. Fili sighed.
"And the books are for free. You don't have to pay money. Just take whatever you want."
Fili squinted his eyes towards the door, but he still couldn't see anything, however much he tried.
"I don't have to pay in money. But I have to pay in something else, right?"
A delightful chuckle followed, and, against all reason, Fili felt himself relax.
"You're quite clever, aren't you? If you agree and take these books, you will have to come back and talk to me. That's the payment."
"And if I don't?"
"Well, you will have no more books, then," the voice answered, just as delightfully.
"Like, in general?" Fili asked, barely keeping the mirth from his voice. He could also play this game.
"Maybe," the voice answered, mysteriously.
"Maybe doesn't do it. If I understand correctly, we're making a deal here? All terms and conditions have to be specified. Yes or no?"
The voice went silent for a moment, and Fili thought he heard a little growl.
"No. I wouldn't be that malicious, what do you think? In fact, it's a little offensive that you even have to ask. Write your book, or whatever, in peace. You will only lose the books you've taken from this shop."
"Sounds more like a library to me," Fili answered, whereas a thousand of questions appeared in his mind.
Did he just nearly sell out his potential book? The thought sent shivers down his spine. Also, he how did the owner even know about the book in the first place? His head was beginning to hurt.
Probably, he should've just left the books alone, but for some reason, he couldn't. Couldn't refuse that chance at a discovery, and definitely couldn't let go of that voice by giving up future encounters. Anyway, it was a sealed deal now.
He took the books, suddenly uncertain.
"What's your name?" he asked, after a short moment of hesitation. After all, it was only logical to know the name of the person you're dealing with.
Silence at the other end made him a little unnerved, and before he could revoke the question, the answer was given.
"Kili."
Kili? So now they had rhyming names on top of it all? Fili wanted to laugh.
"And I am… but wait, I think you already know?"
Judging by the huff, he'd managed to offend the owner for the second time.
"Why would I? I don't usually spy on people. And people don't usually… come here at all," the last words were just above the whisper, and Fili had to strain his ears to make sense of them.
And he did. Actually, now it was making a whole deal of sense.
All of a sudden, his chest felt cold.
"I'm Fili. And I'm sorry. I will come back. And we will talk."
A quiet humming only served to squeeze his heart further.
"Yes. But be sure to actually read these books."
"What? It wasn't among the initial conditions!"
"Well, it is now, I guess."
Now, it was Fili's turn to huff.
"You are a librarian, after all."
Kili chuckled.
"Far from it. Go before your stomach explodes."
"I never said it would," Fili answered, indignantly.
"Judging by your bitter complaints about hunger, it was a close enough thing."
Fili weighed the book in his hand, making sure to look demonstrative.
A loud squeak was his answer.
"If you even think about doing that, I will make you stay here. Forever. And… and drink tea with me."
That was as far from the believable threat as humanly possible, but the word about tea made Fili pause. Suddenly, he was aware of the chamomile scent once again. It was no longer sharp, he must have adjusted to it, but it was still there. Suddenly, his anxiety resurfaced.
"Why do you drink that tea?"
"I don't know… I just do? Why?"
Kili sounded unsure, and Fili didn't like that one bit.
"No idea," he tried to shrug it off, but the suddenly tense silence didn't quite let him.
"This scent… it gives me a strange feeling."
"Fine. What do you drink? Tea with lemon, tea with berries, tea with-"
Fili felt a chuckle rising in his throat.
"Coffee for me, I guess," he answered.
"Yes, of course you would drink coffee, wouldn't you? I think you just enjoy contradicting me."
"Well, I should have at least an ounce of power in our arrangement, shouldn't I?"
"You do." Kili said, quietly, and Fili realized that he'd better go away before their jokes turned into something neither of them was comfortable with.
"Go eat, write you book, whatever."
He half-expected to be reminded of the deal arrangement, but nothing followed. Fili cleared his throat, mumbled an awkward goodbye and went out, never catching quiet sniffles that followed him.
He felt overwhelmed. And confused. And wonderful. His physical hunger was long gone, replaced with hunger for the voice still ringing in his ears.
Quiet snowfall has developed an absurd, but striking resemblance to the sunniest day of spring, and he was fully content with the illusion.