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For someone who has only just started working at a part time job that barely pays him enough to consider any big purchases, Eddie spends a lot of time window shopping for expensive things.
First was the guitar. She's still there, still waiting for him, sleek and black and perfect, but she's also way too expensive for him right now. Then there was the leather jacket. He'd found a good denim replacement at a thrift shop, which is right in his price range at the moment, but the creaky looking leather jacket on the mannequin in the window of the same store calls to him. The price tag makes him want to cry, but the jacket calls all the same.
Then there are the dice. In game shops across the city are sets of dice Eddie could have only dreamed of back in Hawkins. Dice carved from bone, made of stone, gems, crystals, items suspended inside, painted with gold, painted to look like the centre of the universe, translucent, opaque, pink and glittery, black and angry looking. He had even seen a set with tiny ships suspended inside, complete with sails.
A good set of dice, while still pricy, is reasonable.
He's standing by the game shop he's come to prefer, looking at the sets through the window, and when he senses someone nearby, he asks, "What do you think? Black with gold number or something like those translucent red ones?"
Then he turns and looks up. And up.
"Holy shit, you're tall."
First was the guitar. She's still there, still waiting for him, sleek and black and perfect, but she's also way too expensive for him right now. Then there was the leather jacket. He'd found a good denim replacement at a thrift shop, which is right in his price range at the moment, but the creaky looking leather jacket on the mannequin in the window of the same store calls to him. The price tag makes him want to cry, but the jacket calls all the same.
Then there are the dice. In game shops across the city are sets of dice Eddie could have only dreamed of back in Hawkins. Dice carved from bone, made of stone, gems, crystals, items suspended inside, painted with gold, painted to look like the centre of the universe, translucent, opaque, pink and glittery, black and angry looking. He had even seen a set with tiny ships suspended inside, complete with sails.
A good set of dice, while still pricy, is reasonable.
He's standing by the game shop he's come to prefer, looking at the sets through the window, and when he senses someone nearby, he asks, "What do you think? Black with gold number or something like those translucent red ones?"
Then he turns and looks up. And up.
"Holy shit, you're tall."
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"No shit," he says. "You're not fucking with me? Maedhros? The same Maedhros who swore an oath to retrieve the Silmarils from Morgoth?"
If so, he's going to have a heart attack.
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“The very same,” he says, curious and a little cautious but not hostile - not yet, at any rate. The city has many tricks; it is entirely possible that this is simply one of those. “Though I might wonder how you know that.”
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But Lord of the Rings? The Silmarillion? Eddie's been reading those books over and over since he was big enough to hold them.
"I read it," he blurts. "In a book."
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"Are you referring to the Noldolantë, then?" It's a trick question, as much as he can manage - the Noldolantë is a song and not a book, but, more importantly, it's also Maglor's baby, and writing it down would require his brother to first consider it finished. Maedhros is fairly certain that Arda will be remade before that happens.
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"It's called The Silmarillion. It's uh... a collection of um, tales. History, I guess," he continues. "There's a lot of stuff in there. The creation of Eä told as like, sort of a myth. And then there's a bunch about the war over the Simarils."
Oh god, he hopes he's not about to get punched.