feanaro_curufinwe | (no subject)

Current Location: middle of nowhere

(no subject)

Fëanáro stands alone at the side of a black road, stretching in a straight line from horizon to horizon, sere grasses waving on either side, stretching just as far. The breeze ruffles his hair as well, carrying the smell of sun-warmed earth and those same grasses, as well as smells unfamiliar to him, but welcome nonetheless.

Because he never thought he would stand here, never thought he would see the line where earth meets sky again until the end of all things, and so even though this place is nothing like what he would ever have chosen to be in himself... He can enjoy it and appreciate it, for at least as long as it takes to find his way to some kind of civilisation.

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"If you do not mind staying up all night with me," Fëanáro says, "I would not object to the company."

Clark and Martha shared another of those looks before Clark nodded easily enough.

"I don't mind staying up. I've still got plenty of energy, honestly."

"Excellent. Prepare yourself for a barrage-" a word he got from the JAG play "-of questions."

Which made Clark laugh just a little.

"I'm looking forward to it."

Martha looked between the two of them and there was something fond but slightly worried in her eyes. She was remembering another friend that Clark had made... and how that friend had hurt him so sorely. She hoped this turned out better. She could only hope.

"Well," she said as she stood up, turning off the television as she twisted to give them both a smile, "I'm going to head up to my bed, get some reading done. Early day tomorrow."

"I'll be up to help, Ma."

"Thank you, sweetheart. It's always nice to have you around on market day. You two have a good night, though. And enjoy the pie.

"You're not having any?"

"I had some for breakfast since I was feelin' lazy. That's good enough for me."

She offered a quick bow of her head before putting her knitting in its usual spot and heading up towards her bedroom. Clack looked over at his guest.

"We can stay here until the pie's done, have some of that, and then head to the barn. Sound good?"

Fëanáro nods his agreement.

"It sounds just fine to me. What sort of pie do we await?"

"This one's blueberry," he admitted as he took up the old easy chair in the middle of the room. It was his father's, the one he'd always sat in. Fëanáro had taken up his own usual chair (which was large and sturdy and comfortable), and Martha had sat in her own chair.

"Blueberry... I do not know that I am familiar with it, though that may merely be unfamiliarity with the word itself."

The television goes to another 'commercial', as loud and obnoxious as the others, and Fëanáro makes a face at them.

Clark reaches over to the remote and clicks it onto 'mute' while the commercial's playing.

"Better?"

"Let me examine that device."

That's a 'yes'.

He held out the remote to the Fëanáro, passing it off happily enough before sitting back and letting his eyes slip closed. It's clear he's not sleeping, only relaxing, settling into his home, acclimating himself to being among familiar smells and sounds and sensations.

It is nice to see someone so comfortable in their place. Not that he much pays attention to Clark, once he has the device in his hands.

It takes him maybe thirty seconds to work out how to disassemble it, to spread out its insides on the little side table, turning the lamp there on them, so that he can better see the nooks and crannies and details.

Clark doesn't often watch television, mostly because he can hear and see so many other interesting things easily enough. For the moment, though, he's content to meditate and let the elf disassemble his remote control as he so pleases while the pie bakes.

He takes it apart, lays out all of the pieces, one by one, before putting it back together again... and then taking it apart once more, the better to determine the method of its function.

"Ah! So it sends the light from this crystal to something in the television, yes? And by that, you may control the functions, and maintain your distance. A clever device, if rudimentary."

He has already thought of perhaps a half-dozen improvements that may be made.

It was a very old television, so Clark would probably agree with most of the suggestions.

"Got it in one again," Clark said, with obvious delight. He was glad that his new friend seemed to be enjoying his new world as opposed to being overly vexed.

"They've gotten a little more advanced over the years but you're right. It's pretty simple. Usually, the stuff that most people can own and keep in their homes tends to be simpler than the most advanced technology possible."

"Is that so? Where may I access some more advanced technology then?"

After all, he can hardly create new, better things if he merely retreads old ground.

There's an almost immediate answer in his eyes that's dropped as he considers the question a little more thoroughly.

"Many people are working on it, in different areas. But you may want to get an idea of the world around you before you start looking into the cutting edge of technology." He considers how to put what he means. "Building blocks. The basics of how our technology works."

He frowns slightly, not wanting to be held back by anything, but-- But he learned the ways of his predecessors in other things, and in this too, it would seem he has much to learn.

"Perhaps it would not hurt to take some time to study these 'building blocks'. Although I am curious--"

"Ask and I'll see if I can answer," Clark said genuinely.

"What was the first thought you had, when I asked taht question?"

Clark opened his mouth and it was clear enough to anyone with eyes that an easy lie was on his lips. Then he looked at Fëanáro a second longer and closed it again, swallowing it whole. The answer to that... it was the greatest secret he had. But on the other hand, he was talking to an ancient King of the Noldor. If he could tell anyone, look to anyone, it would be this man. Or elf.

"I was thinking that the most advanced item in the world is right here on this farm."

It was clearly difficult for Clark to say aloud, a secret that was being shared with great faith.

And Fëanáro can tell; there is a gravity to Clark's statement that cannot hold any other meaning.

"I thank you for this trust; I can tell that it was not easy for you to say as much, and so I also thank you for your honesty."

He swallowed some of that weight, feeling it drop into his stomach.

"I hadn't lied to you yet. I couldn't quite make myself do it. It's not who I am."

He looked up at the room his mother had disappeared to.

"It's not who they raised me to be."

Then he turned back to the elf.

"Please keep it to yourself. The only other person alive who knows is my mother and we've all paid enough for that secret to last a lifetime."

"I understand the nature of such things, you may rest assured. Though now my curiosity is truly piqued, Clark, about what this technology is."

He held up a finger.

"If you promise not to disassemble it for the time being," he said slowly, "I'll take you down to see it. It's mine, after all."

The only thing he had from his birth father, the world he'd come from.

He laughs a little, and inclines his head a little.

"Very well."