Concerning Hobbits, Tag: Arthur

[George Wells]

Sunday, April 29th | 12:45 P.M.

George had only been in town for a few days, but in that time he had already unpacked most of his things from their boxes and had come to realize that he didn't have all of the books that he normally had on his bookshelf back home, which meant that one or more of the boxes had accidentally been left in his flat back in England. He knew that he could get his former flat-mate to mail him the boxes, but George decided to take an inventory of his books and make a list of those books that he didn't have here with them, and then visit the local bookstore to purchase those books that he really wanted to have here with him in Evergreen. At the very least, he didn't mind having more than one copy of the books he especially liked--for the future, if he did get the books sent to him from Camden--and by buying the books from the local bookstore, he would be helping to stimulate Evergreen's economy.

The inventory of his books complete, George realized that he needed to go to the local bookstore as soon as possible. Well, if he wanted to revive the fiction side of his book collection, that is. It seemed like he had all of his non-fiction books and most of his fiction books, but he was missing a box of fiction books: mainly the box that contained the literature of his fellow countrymen such as those of Doyle, Tolkein, Wells, and Wilde, to name a few.

His mind made up, George changed into what he was going to wear for the day and headed out to Everbooks. Once there, he easily found his way back to the fiction section of the bookstore and decided on looking for J.R.R. Tolkein's books first for his escapist fantasies reading.

Depending on the size of the bookstore and the amount of books in it, sometimes the authors with the last name starting with a T's books were at the bottom of a column of shelves and sometimes they were at the top; or, if the bookstore were big enough and had enough authors with the last name starting with a T, the books would stretch from the bottom row of one column to the top row of another column. As Fate would unfortunately have it, Tolkein's works were on the very top shelf of one of the bookshelves. George didn't think he could reach the books, but he decided to try. Even though he were 5'7", the top shelf was sometimes too high for him. He briefly wondered how the females of an even shorter stature managed, as he had seen no step stools on which to stand.

Reaching up with his left arm, George immediately realized his error as his left arm seized and stiffened up. He knew that he should have known better, as that was his shoulder which had never fully healed after the surgery following the car crash in which he and his parents had been involved. That is, as good of surgeons as his doctors were, there would always be scars and scar tissue around the rotator cuff and ball-and-socket joint of his left shoulder. Sighing to himself, George quickly lowered his left arm and began to flex his hand and roll his shoulder in an effort to try and loosen it back up again. After a moment of that, George tried to reach the book again, but this time with his right arm and even standing on tiptoes.

His second attempt to reach the book failed, and George sighed and shook his head as he rocked back on his feet and flattened himself onto the floor once more. It was then that he noticed a stranger come around the corner of the stacks and George looked over at him. The man had dark hair and was at least half a foot taller than he. George had never seen the other man before in his life and, as embarrassing at the thought was to ask him for help in reaching the books, he figured it would be better to ask this stranger than to ask one of the bookstore employees for fear that they would remember him as the shorter-than-average British bloke who couldn't reach the top shelf of books on his own.

"Excuse me," he started, looking over and up at the much taller newcomer, "could I ask a favor of you?" he asked, his face already beginning to flush at having to ask such a question of a man he didn't even know. "Could I get you to help me get some of those books off the top shelf there?" he asked as he motioned toward the group of Tolkein's books, the blush haven risen from his neck into his ears and cheeks by the end of his question.

[Arthur Toulson]

Despite the ever-growing collection that cluttered the room Arthur used as his office, he typically ended up at bookstores at least once a week. It wasn't as if he planned it--he usually got drawn in as he drove by, wondering what new book had hit the shelves or if any of his favorite authors had published anything new. Stephen King in particular he liked, because not only did those novels make a person think, King published pretty often, so there wasn't too much time between each new book to read. Millions liked Stephen King for that exact reason. And many of those millions--including Arthur--loved having the crap scared out of them on a psychological level, rather than the sudden screams that tended to happen in most horror movies.

He had a small collection of books to buy, some he had picked up because he found them interesting, some he had picked up after he'd told Elizabeth about them and realized that he didn't own them to let her borrow. He got along very well with her and was delighted by it. She was a great partner, and he wondered most times after a conversation with her how exactly she'd become so mature for her age and how he had gotten matched with her. So really, spending a few bucks on books for her was more of a present for him than for her, a way for him to thank her for sticking by him despite what he considered his flaws.

"Excuse me, could I ask a favor of you?"

The comment drew him up short, engrossed as he was in the first few pages of one of the books he was getting for himself. He saw a somewhat smaller man facing one of the bookshelves with his head turned towards Arthur. There was a moment of confusion for Arthur as he came back to reality where he suddenly gave the character in his book this stranger's appearance and then wondered how the character had come into the real world, but that moment was thankfully short and he stopped walking.

"Could I get you to help me get some of those books off the top shelf there?"

He followed the man's pointed finger towards the bookshelf. He couldn't understand why he would need to reach the book for the other man, but then he realized he was quite a bit taller than this stranger, and the man looked positively pink with embarrassment. He nodded briskly and set his own pile down on the floor and straightened with a small smile.

"Sure thing," he said, reaching to grab the books the man was pointing to. He was't sure exactly which books the man wanted, so he grabbed a few and pulled them down. "Sorry, which of these did you want specifically?" He held out the four he'd pulled down in a sort of fan formation to the smaller man so he could choose the ones he wanted.

[George Wells]

George was more than embarrassed to have to ask the taller man for help reaching the books on the top shelf, but that embarrassment soon passed when the stranger took up his offer and helped him out. However, as quickly as his embarrassment had passed, it reappeared when George realized that he hadn't specified which book he wanted and was now standing in front of the dark-haired man as the taller one was now holding out a fan of four books toward him.

It seemed that the stranger happened to grab all four of Tolkein's books, so now George only had to choose which one he wanted. Well, he could have taken all four at once, but he figured that he could take one of Tolkein's books now and get the others later. Besides, if he only got one of Tolkein's books now, then he could justify getting more of the other authors' books that he wanted; such as getting one from each of the authors that he was 'missing' and then get more of theirs later, on another trip to Everbooks.

"Um," he started, staring at the books as his dark blue eyes flicked across their titles and he brought his right arm forward to stretch out his fingers and select a book. After only a moment's hesitation, George decided which book he wanted and reached out to grab The Hobbit from the stranger's grasp.

"Thanks," he replied humbly, lifting the book as one would raise a glass in a toast before he let his arm holding the book drop down to his side. Then, he quickly switched the book to his left hand as he held out his right hand for a handshake as he introduced himself. "George Wells," he greeted the stranger, purposely leaving out the 'Doctor' part of his name. Even though he had gone through all the schooling and had done all the hard work in order to receive the degree, he didn't like to use the title unless he needed to, as he felt like it was a title that only should be used when needed.

Giving the taller man another small, grateful smile, George let his eyes flicker down to the short stack of books that the other man had set down before he had helped retrieve the books for George. "Find anything interesting for yourself?" he asked, nodding toward the small pile of books, both out of pure interest and intellectual curiosity and to at least try to get somewhat of a conversation going between himself and this man who had just helped him out. After all, who knew? He could have just met his future best friend and confidant in the bookstore and just not known it yet.

[Arthur Toulson]

Arthur watched as the shorter man took The Hobbit from his grasp and smiled. He remembered reading that book in high school when one of his teacher put it on the required reading list, telling his class that it wasn't a part of the curriculum, per se, but that they all needed to read it before they died and he was going to be damn sure they did. Arthur had actually gone and thanked that teacher later that week once he had finished the book.

"No problem," Arthur said. "Arthur Toulson." He met George's hand with one of his own, shaking twice before dropping it. He reached back up to put the books back in their proper places before ducking to pick up his own books. "I've found a few books, but some are for my wife. This King book, this Ice and Fire thing, and the Nujood ones are mine, but the Bradbury and the Patterson are for Elizabeth." He looked down at his pile of books, looking at the Bradbury before smiling sheepishly. "[/b]I actually already have a copy of Fahrenheit 451 at home, but that one's mine and I don't really like letting other people touch it.[/b]"

Arthur was furiously protective of that copy of the book. He'd gotten it when he was just in university, having found it at the bottom of a stack at his university's bookstore. It was a first edition copy, slightly beat up but relatively well taken care of given its age, and Arthur had bought it in a heartbeat. He'd originally bought it just because he thought it was novel owning a first edition of a famous book, but then after he read it he enjoyed the story so much he read it another three times by the end of the week.

"I'm particularly looking forward to reading the I Am Nujood auto-biography though." he added, showing the book with the young smiling Yemeni girl on the cover. "It's about a young girl who was 10 at the time she was married and then obtained a divorce from the Yemeni court. It seemed really interesting and so many people were talking about it, so I figured I would pick it up."

Realizing he had been rambling on, he stopped and grinned a little sheepishly. "What about you?" he asked. "D'you have anything else you're buying other than The Hobbit?"

[George Wells]

George gripped Arthur's hand in a firm handshake and smiled at him in thanks again. He was glad that the taller man knew how to shake hands. George knew that everyone shook hands a little differently, but there were 'proper' ways to shake hands for different circumstances. Also, the grip had to be 'just right' as well: not too firm where it hurt the other person's hand, but not too limp where it felt as if one was holding a dead fish in their hand. Then, there was also the length of time to hold the other's hand and the number of shakes to give to take into consideration. Overall, George had a very good first impression of Arthur just from his handshake; and he returned the handshake in a likewise manner and fashion.

He nodded again in a silent response to Arthur's answer to the question George had asked him, giving the taller man a small smile and a genuinely interested look as his eyes glanced from Arthur's face to the books in his arms and back to the taller man's face. "I see," he said with interest, his eyes flicking over the titles on the spines of the books in Arthur's hands. George's small smile then slid into a smirk when Arthur admitted to getting a second copy of Fahrenheit 451 so he could have a second copy to loan people instead of worrying about them having 'his' copy of the book. "Don't worry," he started with a chuckle, "I know how that is. With some of my favorite books, I have duplicates so I can keep one all to myself and let other people read the other book."

George then looked at the book Arthur was showing him, listening to the explanation the other man was giving him. "That does sound interesting," he replied with a nod, slowly lifting his gaze from the book cover to Arthur's face, a slight crease in his brow. "Does it say how old she was when she obtained her divorce and what she did after that?" he asked, that question being the most logic place his mind went in the sequence of events.

"Well, I seem to have all of my non-fiction books from home, but one of my boxes of fiction books didn't make it here, so I'm mostly shopping for fiction books," he replied with his own sheepish grin--sheepish that all of his boxes hadn't made it 'across the pond' with him. Instead of worrying about that, though, (because, after all, everyone misplaced or forgot something at one point or another in their lives) George continued on with his train of thought. "I was going to look for H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds and possibly The Time Machine, Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, and then head over to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books and pick up a few of his Sherlock Holmes stories," he added quickly, smiling softly as he readily stated the authors and their books.

George paused for a second as he considered how to phrase his next question and how it would sound the best. "I'm new in town," he started, "so I'd love to ask you some questions, if you don't mind following me around the bookstore?" he offered, posing it as a question. "Of course, if there are any more books that you want, I am more than willing to wait while you pick them out as well," he added quickly.

[Arthur Toulson]

Arthur's eyes lit up as he realized George knew exactly what he was talking about. He'd met people with more than one copy of a certain book, but none who'd had more than one copy for that specific reason. "It's the only possible way to keep a good book safe," he said, nodding eagerly. "I figured it out when I lent a copy of a textbook to a friend in college once. He returned it with a stain on it and refused to tell me what happened, but I found out from other friends he'd had a bit of a crazy night one night and hadn't kept his dinner down." He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the memory. "Thankfully it was only a textbook."

He glanced at the back of the book once more and scanned the information there again to see if he'd missed anything. "Says she was married and divorced at age ten," he said looking back up at George. "Doesn't say what she did afterward, but I suppose that would just be spoiling the book for the reader." He grinned a little. "I guess she went on to write this book--it does say she's the author of it."

"Oh The Time Machine is one of my favorites," Arthur said. He hadn't read it in a while, and he didn't have an extra copy in case of emergencies, but science fiction was one of his favorite genres and H.G. Wells wasn't known as The Father of Science Fiction for nothing. "Have you read it before?"

He nodded with a smile. "I'm a bit new here, too," he admitted, "but I'd be happy to answer any questions as best as I can. And don't worry about my book needs--I've already picked out all the ones that I wanted." He gestured to his little pile of books before nodding to show he was ready to start wandering when George was.

[George Wells]

George and Arthur shared a silent moment of solidarity in understanding the other about what it meant to have a duplicate copy of his favorite book in order to loan out the other copy to friends or relatives who might want to read it without chancing something happening to the original copy of the book. George nodded in affirmation before he crinkled his nose at the mental image that formed in his head when Arthur discussed how one of his books had been accidentally ruined by a friend who couldn't hold his liquor. Then, he shook his head before he began to tell his own story. "Mine was that I loaned a set of books to a classmate in college, thinking she would enjoy reading them, but then she moved houses and I never got the full set back. It was only a cheap set of paperbacks, only $10 or $15 for the whole set of five, but I only ever got half of those books returned to me."

Instead of worrying about the past, though, as George had remedied future situations such as that one by merely buying an extra copy of books he really liked and knew that he would want to share or loan to friends and family, he concentrated on what Arthur was telling him next. "Oh, I see," he said with a nod, responding to Arthur's answer to his question on the plot line of the book. "Yes, they make you buy the book before you can find out what happens," he added with a chuckle and a wink. Yet, that was the point of books, really. If the synopsis intrigued you enough, or if a friend had recommended the book, you would go out and buy the book in order to read it and enjoy it for yourself.

His face lit up again as Arthur commented on his selection of book choices and a small smile crossed his face. Nodding, he responded to the taller man's queries. "Yes, I've read it before. I prefer The War of the Worlds more, as I've always found the ending to The Time Machine to be rather . . . well, anti-climactic." George paused then, as if considering something, before a sheepish look crossed his face and he added, "My parents named me after H.G. Wells, actually. I'm no relation to him, but I guess they wanted me to aspire to something. I didn't become an author, but I became a doctor. . . ." he chuckled, trailing off at the end of his sentence, hoping that he hadn't said too much already, because he normally didn't tell people that about the origins of his name and his occupation.

George chuckled and nodded again, in a silent thanks to Arthur. "Okay," he said softly before he gestured with his hand to indicate that they should go around the corner to the opposite side of the stacks so he could get the other books that he wanted from the W section. George led the way, Arthur followed him, and while George picked out the next couple of books for which he had come, he began to ask the taller, younger man his questions. "How do you like it here in Evergreen? How did your match from The Vow work out? I was only just matched, and I'm going over to her place for dinner this Wednesday night, but I have to admit that I'm a little nervous about the whole prospect of this match-making service, in general, even though I know that I signed up for it of my own freewill."

[Arthur Toulson]

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Only half a set?" he asked. "That would drive me insane. Can't stand only having half a series." He had always had a complete set. It was one of his rules about books, the others being "never write on or mark up any pages" and "never dog ear a book." The rule about owning a full series was more than just a rule about aesthetics though--it was a practical one. He'd been to a number of libraries that only carried on or two in a series and it was just an inconvenience. If he read the first in a series, then went on to read the second but found out as he returned the second that the third wasn't in stock, what was he supposed to do other than never return to the library again and hunt down the third book elsewhere?

Arthur grinned and nodded at George's observation about buying the book before you get to the ending. It would defeat the purpose of buying a book if you knew the ending before you even bought it, Arthur supposed. It would be a waste of money to buy it if you'd had it spoiled for you.

"Oh but that's the brilliance of The Time Machine!" he said excitedly. "It's so much more realistic that way! I mean, come on, not every adventure is going to be epic battles between good and evil with the one victor. The fact that he gets away so easily is sort of the best part, and it shows the degeneration of mankind if we sit on our laurels like the Eloi and Morlocks apparently did. And I just have to add that the best part is that he's going into the future and it could potentially not be the future if certain things don't happen or do happen or happen differently. Maybe I'm reading too much into that though. Either way, I think it's all brilliant!" He paused, realizing he'd given a mini-lecture and blushed. "Sorry, I just think it's just one of the best science-fiction novels ever."

"I wasn't named after anyone, much less an amazing author," Arthur said. "And I doubt I'd ever be able to be a doctor. There's entirely too much to know when you're a doctor, or at least that's how it seems. That's why I went with the police force. The academy was difficult but not entirely too difficult. What kind of doctor are you, if you don't mind me asking? That is, if you've a specialty."

Arthur followed George to the next aisle, hefting his pile of books to one arm so that he would be able to use the other if the need arose. He peeked at a few of the books the shorter man was picking out but didn't see any that caught his interest too much. Besides, he really needed to stop spending money on expanding his library at home--he read a lot, but he still had books that were sitting in a pile, unread.

Listening to George's questions, he got a little grin on his face as he thought of Elizabeth. He was excited for his wedding--they'd finally decided on a date for it, and their meetings had gone well. He was sure that they'd get on brilliantly, and their age difference was less and less of an issue in his mind. Sure, her father was a little wary of a man fifteen years her senior being her husband, but Arthur was determined to get the approval of Mr. McCabe in order to marry this young woman. She seemed worth it, and Arthur found himself almost forgetting that they'd been matched in the first place.

But he was getting ahead of himself--George had asked about the town first.

"Evergreen is a nice enough town," he said. "Seems a little boring sometimes, but it's very pleasant and there's plenty to do if you look and you're creative. There isn't a whole lot of crime here, which I guess is good for the town, but for a cop like me, it makes things a bit uneventful. As for The Vow... They do a great job matching it seems to me. Elizabeth and I were matched and I don't think I could have ever found anyone as amazing as her. So I don't think you'll have to worry about your match. Sure, I've heard of some matches ending badly, but I've heard of more ending happily."

[George Wells]

George wrinkled his nose in an unconscious mirroring of Arthur's facial expression as the taller man expressed his own dissatisfaction with the idea of missing half a set of book due to loaning them to a friend and the friend never returning them. "I know! My thoughts exactly!" he sighed in a mock-indignant manner as his face crinkled in an almost exasperated, desperate, and disbelievingly look.

He couldn't hide the smirk or keep down the chuckle as Arthur excitedly regaled George with his own thoughts on The Time Machine. Even if he didn't always agree with the other's opinion, George could at least appreciate the furosity and fervor with which another could express their thoughts and opinions on a topic that interested them; and Arthur seemed to be one such person. At least Arthur could express his opinions without belittling or putting down George's own or making George feel bad for not necessarily agreeing with him. Instead of responding to all of Arthur's 'argument', George picked part of it to work into his own conversational reply. "Like The Butterfly Effect?" he asked. "You know, where you step on a butterfly and the future changes?"

George ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders in response to Arthur's admiration at his namesake. He always felt slightly embarrassed whenever he admitted whom he was named after to anyway. To him, it was a like his parents had named him after a book character. Although, Arthur did have a point: H.G. Wells was an amazing author; so George was proud that his parents at least named him after a famous and well-known author, even if George's Wells family was of no relation to the author himself. "In the academy . . . don't you have to learn to shoot a gun and have to do a lot of physical exercise and training?" he asked, interested in Arthur's occupation as much as Arthur was interested in his. "As for me, I don't have the most glamorous of medical jobs. I'm a medical examiner, so I actually work a lot with the deceased."

He listened to the taller man answer his questions about the town and the match-making process, nodding as he collected the two H.G. Wells' books from the shelf. "Mmm, yes, I thought moving here . . . with the slower pace of things . . . might be helpful in a calming manner." He paused in his conversation to crouch down and pull The Picture of Dorian Gray from the shelf as well before he stood back up and resumed conversing with Arthur. "Oh, that's good! It makes me feel more comfortable about my own match to know, well, that one of the first people I've met here in Evergreen's match worked out."

After he collected his books from the W section, George traced his steps back to the other side of the bookstore, where the authors with last names starting with letters at the beginning of the alphabet were located, As he stood in front of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books, George seemed to be thinking both about what books he wanted to purchase but about something else as well. After a short pause, he looked up from the books and back to Arthur. "So, do you want to tell me about Elizabeth?" he started. "I saw how you looked when you said her name," he added with a knowing look and smirk.