[Diamond18]

“Where oh where is Merisuwyniel today?”

Pimpiowyn Took stood by the bedside of a sleeping patient in the House of Bettifordeth, and gazed out a window at the patter of rain pattering against said window. “Oh where oh where could she be?” she mused. It was not like Merisu to be late for work, even if it had started to rain. Despite the fact that she was young, single, ridiculously attractive, and had bad taste in men (or technically, half-elves and orcs) Merisuwyniel had no social life, so Pimpi was certain that she was not nursing a hangover or entertaining a guest. There was always the chance that she had remained abed to weep and pine over the shadows of the past, as people with lost loves are wont to do, by Merisu wasn’t given to depression, so Pimpi doubted that as well. No, Merisu had gone somewhere. Pimpi was as sure of this notion, as she was sure that Vogonwë could mangle even the most promising rhyme in ten seconds flat.

“Why would she go somewhere without me?” she wondered, feeling hurt. “I came here to help her, I wouldn’t be emptying bedpans and cooking bread pans and sewing bedspreads and nursing dead heads if it wasn’t for Merisu, so how could she take off a day of work without telling me???”

“Good gutting glory!” the erstwhile sleeping patient sat up in bed and glowered at her. “Are you going to stand there chattering to yourself and overusing punctuation or are you going to scrub my dentures?”

“I’m sorry,” Pimpi apologized. Then she smiled prettily and said with practiced politeness, “You speak very clearly for not having your dentures in.”

“I do have my dentures in,” he spat. The faux teeth flew from his mouth and landed on the bedspread. “Swubum!” he ordered, wiping a long trail of spittle from his chin.

Pimpi looked down at the not-so-pearly-whites. They were actually a bit yellow. Except for a few places where they were positively black. A dark stain of saliva slowly spread out across the comforter around it, and a foul odor rose up to assault Pimpi’s nose.

“I hear one of the doctors calling me,” Pimpi said, and spun around on her heel, knocking a glass of water from the bedside table as she did so.

“Hey!” the patient complained, but Pimpi ignored him. She took off her nurse’s cap and apron and made a dash for the door, donning an umbrella to shield from the rain. If she knew Merisu (and she did, read the first part of story if you doubt me) then there was only one place the lovely Elf could be, if she was not out of the city already—the stables.

As Pimpi was leaving Bettifordeth, she spied Vogonwë darting across the street, dashing in between raindrops. Being an Elf, even a half one, has it’s merits. Unfortunately, defying raindrops takes a lot of energy, and even the most vital Elf will want to just stand still for a moment or two. So yes, Virginia, Elves do get wet. And yes, this is non-canonical information you are being fed. But I digress.

“Vogonwë!” Pimpi called out, “would you like to come under my umbrella?”

“Gladly!” Vogonwë replied without hesitation.

(What? If he had hesitated, he would have gotten rained on. Haven’t you been paying attention?)

Pimpi skipped down the steps, tripped up on her skirts, and began to fall, nearly poking Vogonwë’s eye out with the tip of the umbrella. But he dodged out of the way and caught her in a chivalrous fashion, getting wet in the process, but who cares. They began to walk down the street, arm in arm under the umbrella in a cheesily romantic manner.

“Where are you off to, Pimpi sweetie pie?” he asked, “was it time to get off work already? Wow, those votive candles lasted long today…”

[Editor’s note: the rest of this document has been gone through carefully, and such phrases as “sweetie pie”, “cuddly muffin”, “velvet teddy”, “sugar lips” and “bunny bunbuns” etc. etc. etc. have been removed, so that you will not become ill. So let it be unwritten, so let it be undone.]

“No, I’m taking a break to go look for Merisu,” Pimpi replied. “She didn’t come into work today, and I think she’s going off riding without me!”

Vogonwë rolled his eyes. “I see. But, Pimpi, darling, maybe Merisu wants to go riding alone today…”

“Whatever do you mean?” she turned to look at him sharply (banging him on the head with the underside of the umbrella in the process).

“I mean, maybe she wants some time to herself…”

Pimpi blinked.

“What I mean to say, is… um… how shall I put this…” Vogonwë mused. “Well…”

“Oh, look! A rainbow!” Pimpi exclaimed as the rain abated. She lowered the umbrella (Vogonwë dodged to the side to avoid getting his head closed up inside it) and breathed in the clean, rainwashed air. She swung the umbrella back and forth and smiled around at the shopkeeper’s stalls. “I do so love the smell of the city after it’s rained,” she said happily. “The damp hay from the stables, the moist refuse in the gutters, the moldy canvas of the awnings in the marketplace…”

“Yes, as I was saying—” Vogonwë paused, momentarily distracted by putting his arm out between the umbrella and a passerby. “I was saying, that ever since the ‘Incident’ you’ve been quite attentive to Merisu, which is nice, and all, but I was thinking… watch out for the pottery, dear.”

“Oops,” Pimpi said, as she knocked a row of ceramic pots off a shelf with one ill-timed swing of the umbrella.

“Hey! Watch it!” shrieked the potter. “What is this??? Storm the marketplace day???”

“Terribly sorry!” Vogonwë called over his shoulder as they hastened away. “You can, uh, send a bill to the Daily Floss!” They left the shopkeeper muttering invectives under her breath, and Vogonwë continued, “As I was saying, I’m sure Merisu appreciates the company, most of the time, but I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if she wanted a bit of ‘Merisu time’ once in a… a very great while, so maybe today it would be best to—”

“Oh, Voggy, don’t worry about that,” Pimpi said breezily, brushing him off with a sweep of her hand (he leaned out of the way in time to avoid injury). “Poor Merisuwyniel doesn’t have a sweetheart to spend time with, and she hasn’t really ‘fit in’ with the other nurses at the H of B, so whenever I’m with you she’s all by her lonesome self. She has plenty of alone time!”

“Yes, well… the fact remains that she skipped work today and didn’t tell you…”

“Oh, Voggy, you’re just being jealous,” Pimpi tossed her damp golden curls saucily (he didn’t mind those whacking him in the face). “Merisu is my friend, and I want to know where she went. So there.”

“Jealous? Who says I’m jealous? My point was simply that you don’t have to follow her wherever she goes, and so—”

“Oh, go write a poem about it,” Pimpi said snippily. “You’re just such a grump from working in that awful little spider’s den at the newspaper office.”

“You’re right—my creativity is stifled here,” Vogonwë replied. “I haven’t been able to write a single line of new poetry in weeks, I’ve just been recycling old ones… If I spend much more time working in Minus Teeth like this, I may forget how to rhyme entirely.”

“That would be a tragedy.”

“Indeed.”

Vogonwë fell into a contemplative silence, calculating how easily he could arrange a vacation in the next twenty minutes. He didn’t even notice Pimpi rolling her dewy blue eyes and mouthing “Indeed” with an impertinent toss of her head.

“Oh look!” Pimpi exclaimed as they neared Sethamir’s Stable, “there she is, I knew it! And is that Lord Etceteron she is speaking to? Whatever could this be all about?”