A Elbereth Gilthoniel, or a Noldo-dump in Hanoi

It was an ordinary Hanoi evening at Truc Bach Lake. The sun was setting behind the triangular roofs of tall, narrow colonial-style houses. The scooters were buzzing around with farting noises. In a cafe with a big terrace, some people sat at low tables, drank coffee and ate trendy desserts - or rather, took countless photos of them on their plates, but never finished them. Strange, unusual, creamy tastes of fruit tarts and basque cheesecakes were still too foreign for the regular Vietnamese customers. A foreigner arrived at the cafe; he was sitting on the back of a scooter, driven by a plump middle-aged, untidy local man. A plastic cap with loose belt was dangling on his head, long and narrow, like French colonial building. He got off the bike, paid the driver, trying to bargain with him in slightly broken, but not bad Vietnamese, and, eventually getting his 20k discount, sighed and walked up the stairs of a terrace. The man’s name was Tyler; and he was an independent journalist and a poet. He mostly wrote articles about Vietnamese life and culture for a struggling travel magazine back home. Besides that, he taught English online at a Chinese company, as the money he was earning at the magazine wasn’t enough to sustain at least a half decent life in Hanoi. Tyler wasn’t a fussy guy; he could happily live off bun cha and a cup of instant noodles per day, - if he didn’t drink almost daily. Booze, though it sometimes was cheaper than water, was a substantial expense for him. Booze - and his Vietnamese girlfriend, Duyen. She also was a journalist, but, unlike Tyler, worked at a really boring local newspaper and wrote columns about exhibitions, writers and poets, othen full of propaganda. She was pretty well-paid for a local, and didn’t have to spend money on visas and paperwork, but still, somehow expected Tyler to pay for nearly everything. Despite being a struggling writer himself, Tyler still paid for their dates and sometimes even helped Duyen with money, - mostly because he knew, that he won’t likely find another local with such good English and such good upbringing, educated and witty. Besides being intelligent, Duyen also was exceptionally beautiful - she was slim, petite, with gentle harmonious features and thick black eyebrows set in flight above her shiny almond-shaped eyes. She often reminded Tyler of an animal, wild and untamed. But still, somehow, very expensive. Today, Duyen was running late, as always. Tyler sat at the terrace, close to the entrance, and ordered himself a black coffee. After a whole afternoon of teaching, he needed to wake up a little. Duyen eventually arrived on her little mint vespa, wearing a red dress with a slit and a tiny black bag with rhinestones hanging across her body. Her normally straight black hair was now freshly cut and curled. It seemed like she went to a salon right before date. Tyler stood up to greet her. Duyen shook his hand lightly, and sat down at the table next to him, to his left side. Despite being able to study abroad and working for a newspaper, meeting all sorts of bohemian people, Duyen was still a very traditional Vietnamese lady. She would get insanely embarrassed when Tyler sometimes tried to kiss her in public, even lightly; she never allowed him to hug her in front of people, so they only held hands. In a way, Tyler liked that about her - it meant, that Duyen would not allow anything of a similar kind to happen with anyone else. It meant, that she was reserved and modest, and belonged only to him.

• You look spectacular today - he commented, as him and Duyen sat at the table.
• Thank you, - Duyen smiled and blushed a little. She indeed looked even prettier than usual after all the salon manipulations. Tyler noticed, that besides doing her hair, she also did her nails in sparkly red,with gel extensions, and wondered, how much it costed her. "She’ll be asking me to lend her a couple mil in the end of the month, I swear, - he thought sadly. - And I, of course, will give it to her, and live off cup noodles for a week. If she wasn’t such a gorgeous doll, I swear to God, I would’ve already dumped her." Sometimes, in his dreams, Tyler imagined him and Duyen living a peaceful life somewhere in Ninh Binh, in the middle of nowhere, among small limestone mountains and paddy fields, where in the spring, occasionally, you could see pale lotuses stretching their long green stems towards the bright blue sky. But some part of his soul knew it was never going to happen. He, most likely, will never earn enough money to buy a house in the countryside in the next two years, and women like Duyen, despite being modest and kind, always had their options. Perhaps, in two years from now, he thought, his Vietnamese lover would be happily married to some Korean engineer or an American pilot, living in one of those ridiculous terrace apartments that reminded him of golden cages. And him, Tyler, would be alone. In a way, the journalist had quietly accepted the fact, that most likely, he will end up alone in the dawning of his life. So he preferred not to think about future too much and enjoy the moment, while it still lasted.
• What do you fancy, my lady? - Tyler asked, looking at Duyen. - Shall we go to have some roasted duck after this? I saw a very nice little beer garden just down the road on the way here...
• Oh, not a beer garden again, please, - Duyen rolled her eyes. - I’d rather you not drink tonight at all; still can’t forget that time when you got pissed ass and almost fell off my bike! But if you insist on drinking, let’s go to a Korean barbecue place. The food there is delicious, grilled meat, just like you love! And the beer is too pricey for you to get drunk, - she added under her breath, but Tyler could hear her anyway. He sighed. Right now, his first urge was to burst into a long rant about how the capitalism ruined everything for good people, and how she, Duyen, a Vietnamese lady, from a commuinist country, should be ashamed of herself for supporting this terrible heartless lifestyle. But he knew that a rant wouldn’t solve anything. He nodded and tried to smile, an, looking at Duyen, made another comment:
• I really like your hair today. Did you curl it yourself, or did you go to a salon?
• Oh, of course I went to a salon, - Duyen chuckled. - It’s a perm! Cost me quite a bit, but it’s worth it, don’t you think so?
• Yeah, certainly worth it, - Tyler replied with a slightly weary sigh. - What would you like to drink, my darling? Duyen didn’t reply; instead, she took a deep breath, and with a deep voice, surprising for her petite body, bellowed across the cafe:
• Eeeeeeem oooooooiii! The waiter showed up almost immediately, smiling attentively. Duyen chirped in Vietnamese, ordering some crazy fruit drink with boba. She always ordered fruit drinks with boba. Tyler looked at her, looked at the fairy lights wound around a big tree in front of him, and sighed again. Despite loving the Vietnamese culture and his life here, that was way cheaper than back home, he always felt slightly out of place. Always a little bit alien. He sighed again and reached into his pocket to drag out a pack of "Thang Longs". Then, he smoked and looked at the opposite bank of the lake. The sun had almost sat, and only a faint orange glow touched the roofs of tall narrow houses. In a way, Tyler reminded himself of such house - tall, rather slim than bulky, with broad shoulders and ridiculously cluttered rooftop, - and old. Even though he was only thirty-five, Tyler sometimes felt very old. While the couple were sitting at the terrace, discussing their magazine work and an upcoming art exhibition, where they intended to go together, a new foreign customer walked into the cafe. It was a tall, lean man, seemingly in his early fortiess, with a strange, old-school haircut, which had an asymmetrical fringe covering half of his high, straight forehead, and loose long threads of hair hanging on the back. His hair was raven-black, straight like sticks, and very thick. The man was dressed in a pair of worn grey jeans with a few paint stains, and a black T-shirt; on his side, there was a small black bag with a camera. The man walked to the table next to theirs and smiled at the waiter, and then, looking at the couple - at them.
• Would you mind if I take a picture of you? - he asked. His voice was high-pitched, almost boyish, slightly nasal, but full of unusual warmth and curiosity. Tyler hesitated. He didn’t really like to be photographed, mostly because he wasn’t very conventionally handsome - he had a long, dagger-like face with a large nose and a pair of sad, brown, close-set eyes. His chestnut, curly hair was long, and could look beautiful - but like many men with alternative style, he didn’t really take care of it and rarely washed it. However, Duyen, immediately got excited about the improvised photoshoot. She loved taking photos of herself and the endless desserts and strange fruit drinks she’s been ordering. And, moreover, she just always looked good - and that was one of the reasons why Tyler chose her. Being a sad lone philosopher with far left views, he still appreciated the beauty.
• Of course, sir, - Duyen chirped, looking at the stranger and fixing her hair. - Tyler - she looked at her companion, - would you like this man to take a photo of us? Come on, we don’t have any photos taken together!
• Right, - the journalist and the poet sighed. He didn’t like the fact that his girlfriend sometimes could be so shallow, but also knew, that if he resisted, Duyen would most likely dump him. And she was one of very few things that somehow brightened his sad and lonely existence. Her - and also his friend, Rory, with whom they would occasionally get drunk at biahois and sing English socialist anthems. Rory was one of very few people who understood Tyler and accepted him for who he was.
• Perfect, - the black-haired man grinned, like a very satisfied cat, - Thank you very much. I have stared learning photography a couple months ago, so I sometimes ask random strangers to be my models. Tyler noticed, that, despite the fact that the face of the stranger looked overall pleasant, he had a long nose with a double end, that resembled of an animal muzzle. And - moreover - that his sharp small teeth were irregular and in a quite bad condition. They didn’t go together with his relaxed appearance. In general, the stranger was pretty good-looking - he had big, expressive greyish-blue eyes and a thin oval face with sharp chin and a small mouth. He resembled one of Tolkien’s elves - the way that Tyler imagined Tolkien’s elves, before the PJ’s movies came out.
• You seem to be quite skilful with your camera, - he said to the black-haired man, while he was taking pictures of him and Duyen. The man nodded and said "Thank you". He was completely absorbed in what he was doing - changing the exposure, finding the right angle, crawling around their table in a squat position. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of taking photos, he finished and returned to the table, where the waiter had already placed a green, sweaty bottle of "Saigon" beer.
• I will send the pictures over to you, as soon as I edit them, - he said and handed Duyen and Tyler the camera. - Take a look. Delete some, in case you don’t like them. And, while Duyen and the poet were examining the photos, he took a sip of his Saigon and uttered, looking at the tree with thick branches woven with golden fairy lights:
• Isn’t this a beautiful evening? It’s such a great time to be alive.
• Look, - said Tyler, returning him his camera. - You must be extremely talented, as all of your photos are just perfect! Thank you so much for taking them; even I, who is normally not very photogenic, somehow look attractive on them!
• Thank you for your warm feedback, - the man grinned again, placing the camera on the table and taking another sip of his "Saigon". - I feel happy when people appreciate what I do. I feel almost extacic when I know, - his high-pitched voice suddenly became very solemn, as if he was giving some sort of a speech, - that I could make someone happy. My main goal is to make people happy.
• Happiness, though, - he continued after taking another sip of his beer, - is such a strange concept. I once thought that I owned happiness. I wanted it to be portable, so that I and other people could take it with them - but that was the main reason why eventually I have lost it. A big, bright star appeared in the darkened, velvety-blue sky. The man looked at the star and sighed.
• At least, - he said, - while the starts still shine, there is still some hope that one day we will all be happy. One day.
• Tell me, - asked Tyler, while Duyen was ordering another fruity drink, - where do you come from? And what is your name? I honestly feel like I’ve met you before, but I cannot quite tell, where and when.
• My name is Arthur, - answered the man, and looked at the journalist with gleaming light eyes. - And I come... Well, I come from far away. Let’s say, that originally I’m from England, and... Where I have been throughout my life is sort of another story. And what are your names, young people?
• I am Tyler,nice to meet you, - the poet reached his hand out to Arthur; he took it with his big, meaty palm and shook it.
• I am Duyen, - smiled the Vietnamese lady, and also reached her hand out with a graceful movement. She indeed looked very pretty at this moment. Tyler looked at her and felt a tiny sting of jealousy. She definetely liked Arthur as he was handsome. Arthur, however, seemed not to - or pretended not to notice her welcoming warm glance. He took her hand and shook it as well.
• Nice to meet you, lady Duyen, - he said and smiled again. They sat at the terrace for a while, talking about art and poetry and books. Arthur, to Tyler’s delight, seemed to be into mythology, and, more importantly , Tolkien; he loved the "Lord of the Rings", however, when the poet mentioned the "Silmarillion", his face suddenly changed.
• Ah, I’m not a fan of this book, - he said quietly. - It a rightful, but a very blunt, cruel book. I didn’t enjoy reading it.
• Right, - said Tyler, - I’m sorry that I’ve asked you. Let’s talk about something else. Maybe, you’d like to talk about the Arthurian cycle?
• I am familiar with Arthurian cycle, - the man chuckled, - very familiar. My name is Arthur, after all. However, right now I feel like I’m living in my own, mmm, Arthurian cycles. Get up in the morning, go to workshop, finish work, roam around the city, stop at a cafe, have a few beers, go home, read a book, fall asleep, repeat. You see, there are many lovely people in this city, but to be honest, I haven’t found anyone who would understand me yet. They’re good as drinking buddies - but unfortunately, most of them don’t make very good friends. Fortunately, I still have my sons, but they’re all young, and have their own jokes, their own ways of living. So I’m mostly alone.
• I see, - Tyler nodded. - Well, maybe, if we can exchange contacts, you’d like to hang out with me sometime? Where do you live?
• In the Old Quarter, - Arthur answered. - Actually, between the Old Quarter and Truch Bach. A walking distance from here.
• That’s good, - Tyler nodded again. - I live in Dong Da. I guess we could sometimes meet, hang out at a biahoi, eat buncha. Do you like buncha, Arthur?
• Oh yes, - the man got visibly excited. - Meat and vegetables! Even though, his voice got a little quieter, - I think I sometimes like me a good beef stew. My older son is a chef, he makes amazing beef stews! The only drawback is that when he cooks, he completely ruins the kitchen, and the rest of us have to clean after him! Tyler laughed, Duyen giggled. The drinks, meanwhile, were finished, and it was time for the couple to pay and walk off.
• Shit, - Duyen exclaimed grievingly, reaching into her small purse, incrusted with little rhinestones. - I forgot my wallet! Honey, could you pay this time, and I’ll pay next time?
• We know there won’t be a next time, - Tyler’s voice, relaxed before this moment, suddenly became slightly bitter. - You ALWAYS forget your wallet! Arthur looked at him and frowned.
• If money is a sensitive matter, - he said, - don’t worry about it, I’ll pay for your drinks.
• Thank you, - Tyler felt a little embarrassed, but still, decided to accept help. He, as we know, wasn’t earning that much, and the fact that his frivolous girlfriend earned more than him, and somehow always ended up making him pay for everything, quietly enraged him. - It would be very kind of you. Arthur nodded, and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out 200000 note.
• And I’d like another Saigon, please, - he said to the waiter, as he reached him with the bill. Eventually, Tyler and Duyenn got up.
• It was lovely to meet you, the poet smiled at him and handed Arthur his phone, so that the man could find himself on Facebook. It took Arthur a while before he could do that; he didn’t seem to interact with smartphones very well, although, just a few minutes ago, he was dancing around with his camera like he’s been using it forever.
• Thanks for the conversation, - said Arthur, after finding his account. He stood up from the chair, lightly hugged Tyler, shook Duyen’s hand with his both hands, and smiled. - I hope you two will have a wonderful evening together. And... If you ever need help, call me. I’m always happy to sort out good people. Tyler nodded. Him and Duyen walked out into night and headed to the Korean BBQ restaurant not far from the cafe. Arthur sat alone at the terrace and looked at the night sky. The tiny nature sprite who was hiding behind the tree before, finally came out, and sat next to him like an invisible presence. Arthur couldn’t see her but felt that she was there.
• A Elbereth Gilthoniel, - he said, looking at the big bright star above the horizon. For everyone else, the star was Venus; but for Arthur, it was one of his Silmarils. And he knew, that one day, he will have to release them. All three. So the world could become better, for people like Duyen and Tyler, and for everyone else.