| ... anyone wanna play? |
[13 Dec 2004|02:16pm] |
After his rather unedifying meetings with Finduilas and Nimloth, Fëanor returns to his premises. Morosely, he looks at his preparations, angry that he did not get any further and practically wasted the day.
Then, with a sigh, he sits down and begins to transform the fabric he bought into clothing; not the sweeping, meticulously cut robes he saw people wear in the streets but the simple, multi-layered, flowing sets of tunics and plaids he is used to from his former life.
Only a few days later - now dressed in a way that feels more appropriate for him - he leaves his rooms again in the hope to find tools, or the Dwarves, or both. Taking in his surroundings, he wonders at people's calm ways of walking about, meeting, talking, buying food, without ever seeming to do anything else. Nobody seems to work here, nobody seems to look for order, and everybody seems to assume that things are going to stay this way. He shakes his head; he cannot imagine that. Yes, most people appear to be reasonably happy; but once everything has settled, once they all get so used to being alive again that their open-eyed gratitude subsides, once they run out of the money they are now spending so readily - then, certainly, they will no longer be happy; chaos is certain to come out of this. As far as he can see, there is no one here who looks after the proceedings in the city, to order things; no king, no lord, not even a council of citizens. Again he shakes his head.
Briefly, he wonders whether he should point that out to the people around him. Would that be meddling with the Valars' great plan - he is not so certain of its greatness, but he will not voice that openly, at least not until he has regained his treasure - then he will refrain from it; but what if it would be a help from them? Then probably they would be cross with him for not speaking up in time, accusing him of waiting self-contentedly until chaos struck... he groans. This probation business is more complicated than he first thought.
He decides to think about it some more. For now, he merely wants to get his workshop running.
He walks on, not quite knowing where he is going, but hoping that he will find what he is looking for.
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