voidtreckerexpress | Egret, Day 23

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Egret, Day 23

Who: Glorfindel and Open
When: Day 23
Where: Kitchen
What: Food and knives!
Warning: Sharp things

Having taken Evie's class and learned how to use the stove, Glorfindel was able to take part in his Team's chores of preparing the meals. Although, technically, that was what some of the more experienced cooks did. Glorfindel was more of a sous chef (chopper of things). Today he was making some quick, portable snacks that people could come and take with them if they wanted to go to the gym or the library or elsewhere on the train.

[What do people want? Come and ask! You might not get what you hope, but it will be interesting!]

He has also made an concerted effort to go through the kitchen and sharpen every blade in the room, except the butter spreaders.

[You can come help or just chat about sharp things!]

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"You look in need of a bracing beverage," Glorfindel said. He found a mug that was just the right combination of holding a lot, but not so big for a Hobbi...smaller person's hands. "May I interest you in a snack to go with it?" He placed the mug on the counter, letting Conan pour his own. He pulled down a similarly sized mug for himself and a bag of tea.

He filled his mug with water and heated it. It wasn't something he often did back home, but there he tried not to remind the others that he was more than just another elf. Once the water was steaming, he dunked the bag of tea in it."I could use a break, if you'd like some company." It wasn't quite a lie, he had been going non-stop for well over an hour, sharpening knives. His whetstone could certainly use a break.

"No, just the coffee is fine. I just wanted some caffeine." Conan takes the mug and holds it securely in both hands.

"I wouldn't mind some company." He frowns. "I don't really have anything to do right now."

It was a good thing that he wasn't spending all his time here solving murders. Really it was. But it did mean that boredom had become a real struggle.

Glorfindel pulled out the milk and honey for himself. While straight tea was perfectly fine, having the finer things in life were what made it living. He also tossed a few sweet and savoury items on a small plate as well and set them on the table.

"So what do you usually do, when you are not here?" Glorfindel asked, sitting down in his chair and pulling out his tea bag, now that his tea was steeped.

"I'm a detective at home. And also a first grade student."

As he speaks Conan puts his mug on the table and climbs up onto one of the chairs.

"You are both a detective and an honors student?" Glorfindel asked. He'd never heard it put quite that way before, first grade, but different cultures had different names for things. "That is quite impressive."

Conan has to laugh a little at that.

"Well, I am that. But at home first grade just means what level I'm in. First grade means I'm in the first year of schooling."

Glorfindel put down his tea cup and looked the bespectacled human in the eyes. "You are in your first year of schooling." He did not sound as though he believed Conan.

"That's right. At home everyone starts schooling at around six or seven years."

Glorfindel considered the person in front of him. Yes, he looked quite young, even for a human. But his aura was that of an older, more world-weary person. Plus, his chosen career did require a certain level of knowledge and experience. "Forgive me, but, how many times have you been a First Grader?" he asked. Perhaps Conan was similar to him, having been reborn, just as a child, rather than as an adult, as he had been.

"Just once. Why?"

He'd gotten very good at lying in response to that question.

One did not need the power of a Maia to know someone was lying, even with such an innocent air. Glorfindel was almost 5000 years old and had help raise Elrond's twin sons and his daughter.

He gave Conan a solid look over the edge of his tea cup, then set it down. "If you do not wish to tell me the truth, that is fine, but I prefer not to be lied to," he said.

"Why would you think I was lying?"

Conan wasn't about to give up that easily.

Glorfindel smiled wryly and picked his cup up again, looking into it. "Have I unfairly judged you? Please forgive me. I am sure you are indeed a seven year old self-styled detective who helps the little girls of his acquaintance find their missing dollies."

He looked over the edge of his teacup at Conan. "How long have you been a detective, young Conan? What kind of cases do you tend to solve, and how many have you been successful with?" If he wanted to continue lying, Glorfindel would not force the truth out of him. He was not that kind of elf. But he was curious about what type of person his young companion was.

"You did just accuse me of lying after knowing me for all of five minutes," Conan points out.

Not that he was wrong, but he felt like that was worth mentioning.

Conan stares down at his cup for a long moment.

"Homicides mostly," he says at last. "And I've been a detective as long as I can remember."

Both were the truth. But they had the advantage of being truths that very few people believed. It was easier for people to believe that they were just stories and exaggerations created by a child's imagination.

"If it helps, remember that I am not human. On the other hand, again, if it helps, I am not entirely typical of elven-kind either. Most elves have an ethereal air, almost a glow to them...I actually glow with the light of my people's sun. I have the powers of...the Maia are halfway between Elves and Valar...gods."

He sighes and looks down at the calluses on his hands. "I am also almost five thousand years old, have trained countless elves in fighting, scouting, hunting, and dealing with orcs, humans, dwarves, etc. We only killed the orcs, just in case you were wondering. I have been the Captain of the Guard for Imladris for most of that time, and...I helped raise Elrond's three children, who were quite the handful. So even without the abilities Manwe gifted me when he brought me back from the dead, I'm a pretty good judge of character."

glorfindel smiled at the answer. He was certain this time it was the truth, but it also left a few things unsaid. He decided not to press too much on the subject. "I'm sure, if you were so inclined, you would have many interesting stories to tell."

"I have no idea what most of that means," Conan informs him bluntly. "There aren't any elves in my world. Or orcs or dwarves."

A frown. "Perhaps a few? Most people aren't really interested in my stories.

Glorfindel laughed hard. "So that is what you concentrate on, of that? That your world doesn't have elves or dwarves? I am deeply glad it does not have orcs."

"I am not most people," Glorfindel said. "Remember a moment ago when I told you that?" His eyes twinkled in merriment. "Are there any you would would like to share?"

"Most of my stories are about murder," Conan tells him bluntly. "Not really something anyone except detectives want to hear about."

Glorfindel leaned in a little. "I am the Captain of the Guard in Imladris. Try me."

Conan considers trying to brush him off again. He was rather irritated at this insistence. But finally decides that the fastest way to get around this was just to give him what he'd asked for.

"The famous detective I lived with at home was invited to meet a local diplomat. When we arrived, his wife unlocked the door and went up to him. Only to discover that he was dead. The only other key to the room had been in his pocket, and no one else had been in the room."

"Interesting," Glorfindel said. "We don't use keys very often, so I've not come across such a situation before. What was the cause of death?"

"Poison. The wife had used a sleeping drug on him earlier. When she unlocked the door in front of us and walked up to him, she used a poisoned needle to kill him. She had previously hidden false evidence to make everyone think that the door had been locked after his murder using a different trick. The plan was an attempt to construct an alibi. If everyone believed that she had been talking to us when her husband had been murdered, she would have gotten away with it."

Glorfindel shook his head. "That she had such depth of feeling to prefer him dead. How did you figure out it was her?"

"Opera," Conan says. "There was music playing, louder than it should be. And a stack of books placed to prevent any of us from seeing the victim's face from the door."

Glorfindel nodded. "You are very observant. You must be quite famous where you are from. Even for one who seems so young."

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deductiongeek - 2020-05-21 23:44 (UTC) - Expand

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