#the intention was aw oops Object of ????? shenanigans

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

morinel's ridiculous time travel au – the fic

Part Three; in which arrangements are made part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

Tirion is very far from Mahanaxar, and Maeglin points out – rightly – that they have no idea how to ask the Valar, not really, and definitely not without causing panic.

Finduilas concedes, but insists they need to ask eventually.

“Either way,” Morinel says. “I think we shall need food, sooner or later.”

The others readily agree, though Finduilas frowns at the blood on her tunic. 

There is a problem with the current plan. 

Said problem is – none of them have the following: Money. Clothes. No weapons, but that is to be expected (though Morinel is rather put out she doesn’t have her runes but she makes her peace with it reluctantly.)

They each have one (1) pocket trinket

Maeglin has a little wooden sparrow, Finduilas has a tiny silver bell, and Morinel has her mithril thread.

Still, no clothes.

But–

Maeglin is wearing a cloak, and they all supposed that’s better than nothing although the hem is torn in several places. It covers the stain on Finduilas’ dress well enough at least.

They dust the grass from their clothes and wander down into Tirion.

As they follow the winding path, their priorities are discussed: occupation/lodging, gear/clothes, food, and if they can get it, transportation.

None of the three of them have particularly high hopes, but those are quickly buried beneath Tirion's life force, which is bustling with Noldor, smithying and glassblowing and building and laughing and singing — everywhere are songs!  — bright and shining and loud. 

They get... several strange looks as they pass people, and that must be because none of them have Treelight in their eyes yet -- or at all, she's not sure if that will happen or if it does, when.

(That will be an interesting explanation if/when she returns to the third age.)

She’s not sure what the lady they speak with regarding procuring lodging thinks of them at first because she squints at them, and studies them in silence for a while.

The lady speaks Quenya slowly, as if trying to make sure that she is heard clearly, and after a few moments, Morinel guesses that she thinks they're Sindarin Returned.

If Idhrin was here, she would think this is incredibly funny.

But Idhrin is not here, and neither are the rest of her friends, so Morinel bears it.

She asks where she may find the Weavers' Guild, and Finduilas asks about the Sculptors' Guild and to no one's surprise, Maeglin asks about the Smiths' Guild.

The lady eyes them with dubious intent, but answers them anyway. Thankfully, all three are roughly close to each other, near the center of the city. Less thankfully, they're all very close to the Palace, which gives them a much higher chance of running into family members much sooner than any of them would prefer.

The lady adds that the guilds are looking for apprentices -- and all three of them wince.

Starting as apprentices is ... less than ideal.

a) the wage -- and this is the main point, they need to afford lodging and quickly, b) Morinel knows that her own skill is much higher, and assumes it is the same for the other two and c) the time it will take to work up to journeymen level is... daunting and d) they don't know how much time they have.

They leave the wayhouse behind.

"You sculpt?" Morinel asks Finduilas and she shrugs.

"It is something I find joy in, yes."

Morinel would be lying if she said she was nervous about the prospects of visiting the Smiths' guild, but she shakes her head.

“Let’s go,” says Maeglin, “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

And Morinel agrees heartily.