More Tales of MU

…or, How To Recognize Different Types Of Trees From Quite A Long Way Away

Having our names on the doors was a good thing. Without them Pelinor’s layout was a little disorienting, since the hall was set up so you could go around in a circle and the room numbers were just etched into little brass plates.

Fancy looking, but not easy to read at a glance as you went by.

It was a square building with the corners cut out, four stories tall not counting the ground floor/basement. Each floor had a hallway going all the way around, with dorms on the side facing the outside. The inner square had the stairwell, the bathrooms, and the lounge. There were ten rooms on each leg of the hallway. The third floor and fourth floors were freshmen housing. The first and second were open.

The entrances were in the “basement”, which was the ground level on the nexus side. It was off-center and not really the same size or shape as the rest of the building, so that the stairwell was actually in the back corner of it. It held the laundry room, but the main part of it was a big public area with the front desk. There was also a side door at the far end of the lounge from the nexus entrance. We took that on our way to the festival, since otherwise we’d be doubling back around.

The door came out below ground level, with some concrete steps leading up to the path. One sign warned us that the steps may be icy, and another proclaimed that it was a no smoking area. There were already cigarette butts littering the area, though.

“Nice,” Marlot said, looking at them. “Very classy.”

“Hey, I always put mine out in the tray,” I said. It was more or less true. Sometimes you just found yourself somewhere that there wasn’t a clearly-marked receptacle handy, though.

“I just feel bad for whoever has to clean those up.”

We tromped up the stairs and took the path through the M.U. grounds. It was sunny, and the campus was pretty nice. Some of the schools I’d looked at hadn’t had any trees to speak of. Anything small enough to be planted in a patch in the middle of a sidewalk didn’t count.

There were evergreen trees clustered around the east side of Pelinor and Burlew, though, and we passed some good sized leafy trees along the way.

The buildings on campus were pretty far apart. A side effect of the university being built in the middle of nowhere was that it had room to spread out. It would probably suck pretty hard during the winter, but it made for a nice stroll in the early fall.

“What kind of tree is this?” Marlot asked, thumping the trunk of one with her short staff as we went by it. She used it as a walking stick as well as her regulation weapon, and she focused spells through it. Yeah, Marlot was already casting. She’d taken some A.P. classes in high school.

“Oak,” I told her.

“How’d you know that?”

“We’re walking on acorns.”

“You can’t just tell?” she asked.

“No, I can’t ‘just tell’,” I said.

“What’s that one?” she asked, pointing to a box elder, with its little one-winged seeds clearly visible.

“I really don’t know,” I replied. Asking me to identify trees was something she did to annoy me. “It’s a tree, okay?”

“Some elf you are.”

“Right. Some elf I am.”

The welcome festival sprawled out over the plaza in front of the union, the big pentagon-shaped common area next to that, and the area around the fountain. Different campus groups and vendors and merchants from town had set up booths and stalls and tables. It looked like the illusionist students had been pretty busy. There were dancing mascots at a lot of the tables. The school itself was represented by three green dragons flying overhead. Pranksters were trying to add hats and change the color of the dragons, but the alterations were dispelled pretty quickly.

“Centaur!” Marlot said, grabbing my arm and pointing at a big, barrel-chested man with a horse’s body below his waist. “Look, Jamie!”

He was giving a couple of giggly girls a ride on his bare back. The one in front had to cling to his human shoulders and back, and the other one had to cling to her. Centaur clothing being what it was, it was pretty obvious what he was getting out of it.

“I can see, and don’t point and shout like that,” I said. “He knows he’s a centaur, I’m pretty sure.”

“Look, naked guy!” she said, pointing again at a hairy-looking guy with big ears who was strolling through the middle of the festival. The crowd parted around him, but he was attracting as many eyes as were averted. “Is that the world’s slowest streaker, or what?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a satyr or a faun,” I said. “Don’t any races that wear pants go here?”

“Oh, hush,” Marlot said. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and there’ll be a couple of nymphs.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m pretty sure nymphs don’t go to college,” I said.

“I thought I read that a few had, here. Anyway, why wouldn’t they?” she asked. “If fauns can go, why not nymphs?”

“Fauns aren’t bound to anything,” I said. “They can go wherever they please.”

“And nymphs can’t? That’s just sexist.”

“It isn’t sexist,” I said. “It’s nature.”

“Oh, a big whatever,” Marlot said. “Oh, look!”

She’d spotted a table with a rainbow weaving in an infinity symbol in the air over it and was making a beeline for it. Well, at least it didn’t have a penis. I caught up and followed alongside her.

The rainbow illusion was being maintained by a couple of—I’m going to say “dykes”, but only because they were—in black. One of them was tall and skinny, with either black hair that had been tinted red or the other way around. The other one was short enough, stout enough, and had thick enough fingers and coarse enough hair that she probably had a dwarven grandparent. Her hair was kind of chestnut brown.

“I still say we should shoot it over at the Khersians,” the shorter one said. “Watch the fuckers scatter.”

“Wait a bit,” the other one said. “We don’t want to start shit when there’s this much faculty hanging around. Oops, we’re losing it.”

The rainbow had started to wink out as they talked. It re-solidified as they joined hands and started chanting.

“Hi!” a long-haired half-elf said from behind the table. A lot of people think all male elves and elfbloods come off a little gay, but as somebody with elven relatives, I could say this one was actually flaming.

“Hi!” Marlot said. “Prism Pride?”

“That’s us. We’re also doing sign-ups for the Gay/Straight Horde,” the half-elf said.

“No offense, but how many gay rights groups do you actually need?” I asked.

“I’d say at least one more,” Marlot said.

“Huh?”

“If the two they had so far were enough, they wouldn’t need any,” she explained.

“Huh?” I repeated.

“I like you,” the half-elf said to her. He handed her a couple of sign-up sheets. “I’m Steff.”

“Marlot,” Marlot said. She wrote her name and room down on the sheets and handed them back, then took a “Sanctuary” door sticker from the table and put it in her bag. “What’s the difference between the groups?” she asked.

“The PPC is a lot more activist, but the G/SH is there for people looking for support or someone to talk to,” Steff said.

“Cool,” Marlot said. “I am definitely down with that.”

“Oh, honey, don’t say you’re ‘down with’ things,” Steff said, giving a little shake of his head and pursing his lips. “It doesn’t work.”

“It doesn’t?” Marlot asked. “I thought I pulled it off.”

“No,” Steff said. “Not even close. Sorry.”

“Oh, well,” Marlot said. “I tried.”

“You did,” he said. “Good for you.”

“Well, we’re gonna browse a little,” Marlot said. “Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, thanks for stopping by,” Steff said.

“Psst,” the taller lesbian hissed at him. “Have them sign the petition.”

“Yeah, we told you to push it,” the other one added.

Overhead, the rainbow started to waver and untangle again.

“But it’s stupid,” Steff said over his shoulder. “It’s not going to do anything, and it just makes us look petty and lame for bothering.”

“Both groups voted and agreed on the petition,” the taller woman said.

Steff growled and then turned back towards us with a great big smile. “Would you two like to sign our incredibly not meaningless petition while you’re here?” he asked, holding up a clipboard.

“What’s it for?” I asked.

“Getting a mention in the paper,” he said. “No, actually, it demands greater recognition of the contributions of blah blah, better protection, guarantees of safety and personal security, and so on. They had the same one last year. It doesn’t do anything.” He shrugged. “But if you sign it, you can feel good knowing that you made a difference.”

“Well, I am all about the feelin’ good,” Marlot said, taking the clipboard and signing it before passing it to me.

“Oh, don’t do that, either,” Steff said.

“What?” Marlot asked.

“Say you’re ‘all about’ something,” he said.

“I just want to try new things,” Marlot said.

“Hey, you’re the one who wouldn’t let me be James,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, my dad does that to me,” Steff said.

I signed the petition and handed back.

“Well, I think we’re going to mosey,” Marlot said. She feigned a look of deep concern. “Can I say ‘mosey’? Does that work?”

“Sure,” Steff said. “We’d also accept ‘shuffle’ or ‘scoot’.”

“Good to know,” Marlot said. She started to turn away.

“Wait a sec. Hey, Steff,” I said. “Can you tell what kind a tree is just by looking at it?”

“No,” he said. He gave me a look that was about half incredulous and half offended. “What the fuck, man?”

“Khersis Dei, Jamie,” Marlot said, swatting me with her bag. “Why you got to be so prejudiced?”

“I was only asking to prove a point,” I said.

“Yeah, that you’re a bigoted prejudiced bigot,” Marlot said. “Come on, let’s go before you embarrass yourself further. Bye, Steff!”

“Later!” Steff said.

“Well, she seemed nice,” Marlot said as we headed away.

“He,” I corrected, feeling a little smug at being able to tell the difference.

A lot of people had trouble telling the sex of elves and half-elves apart if they were just wearing human jeans and shirts and not something that screamed “female” or “male”, but I’d had elven relatives around when I was growing up.

“Are you sure? I thought there was a very feminine vibe there,” Marlot said.

“Probably just the gay thing,” I said. “But trust me. He’s butcher than my grandpa.”

“I don’t know.”

“Trust me,” I repeated. “Which one of us has elfblood?”

“You couldn’t even tell a tree,” she said.

“Neither can he,” I reminded her. “Anyway, it was a box elder.”

“Wrong! It was a maple tree,” she said. “Box elders are bugs.”

“Box elder is a type of maple tree,” I said.

“No, it’s a type of bug,” she said. “Ooh, apples!”

We’d just passed a table with little cups of apple slices and little things of caramel dip. Marlot turned mid-stride and doubled back to it.

“Hello,” the balding, gray-haired man behind it said.

There was a sign standing up on the table which said “Tapestry of the Tree Orchard and Vineyard.”

“Hi,” Marlot said. “How’s it going?”

“Very well, thanks,” he said. “The apples are free to try. We also have apple juice and apple cider. If you like it, you can buy a jug to take with you.”

“We might come back for that,” Marlot said, taking a cup of slices. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” the man said.

“You know you’re not going to buy any cider,” I told Marlot as we headed off.

“Probably not,” she said. “But I feel guilty taking a sample and not giving him at least some hope of a sale.” She munched on an apple slice. “I wonder how hard it is to get fresh fruit on campus?”

“They had apples and bananas in that little store in the nexus,” I told her. “And grapes.”

“Did they? I’ll have to check it out,” she said. “That’s going to be handy. I mean, we could be closer to the union, but it’s nice that they gave us something so we don’t have to go across campus if we need something basic.”

“Yeah, it seems pretty handy,” I agreed.

We looked around the entire festival. Marlot was a dedicated browser, but not a very methodical one. She went from table to table as they caught her eye.

There was a stall with cards for a weapon shop in town, with a selection of what they called “emergency weapons.” Considering the quality and minimal magic features, I think the “emergency” they were meant for was “Oh, shit, I lost my weapon on the trip and don’t have time to buy a new one.”

A representative from a leather crafter in Enwich tried to sell me a cover for my axe blade, but since it didn’t cut when it was hung on the loop, I didn’t bother.

Anyway, it’s such a showpiece, I couldn’t understand why anybody would want to cover it up. The blade’s gold, with a silver edge. The gold’s just a color effect woven into the metal, but the silver’s the real deal.

“You want to go back to the pride table and get a sticker for your dorm room?” Marlot said once we’d made the rounds.

“Uh, no thanks,” I said.

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s not like you’ve got a roommate to worry about.”

“How’s yours, by the way?” I asked.

“Missy? She seems okay. Normal-ish,” Marlot said. “Don’t change the subject, though. Why don’t you want a Sanctuary sticker on your door?”

“What if my mom visits?” I said. “She doesn’t need another reason to worry that I’m gay.”

“‘Worry’ suggests there’s something wrong with it,” she said. “Don’t you remember? ‘Jamie, you can tell me. We’ll understand. It’s different for us. Elves view homosexuality as natural.’”

“Yeah, they also think butt sex is cleaner than the regular type,” I said.

“Speaking as somebody who has sat for dozens of babies, I have to say it is cleaner, in the long run,” Marlot said. “Anyway, what’s this ‘they’ stuff? The way you talk, it makes me feel like I’m a huge disingenuous phony when I tell people my best friend is an elf.”

“You are a huge disingenuous phony,” I said.

“Anyway, are you saying your room’s not a safe place?” she asked.

“It’s not unsafe,” I said. “But what am I going to do if someone shows up looking for somebody to talk to? I don’t know any gay people. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“It’s a mixed dorm,” she said. “Who knows? You might get some cute lesbians feeling all conflicted over their deviant sexual desires.”

“Yeah, right,” I said.

“You’re right, what am I thinking? This is college,” she said. “All the girls are bisexual.”

“Are you?” I asked.

“Me? I just got here,” she said. “Give me time to develop a political identity first.”

“Well, I’m going to go have another cigarette,” I said. “You can work on that while I’m gone.”