[Child of the 7th Age]

Aiwendil turned towards the young woman and smiled gently. He did not look surprised, only tired and resigned. "You may be right, my friend, or perhaps you are just talking to a batty old man who clings to half muddled stories and forgotten dreams. But you are the only one who can weigh what we have said and try to see what lies behind the words. Words are important, very important, yet they can only take you to a certain point. It is the truth behind the words that we must try to hear and remember." Under his breath, the old man muttered to himself that this was something Master Tolkien with his great affection for words had not said clearly enough. Aiwendil waggled a finger at the woman and then went on to explain, "I come to the city but once a year. There were other years when I spoke with someone living here, and they heard my words and understood a little. But the next morning, by the time the sun arose, they had forgotten my name, who I was, and everything else I had told them. So try to remember Darlariel, Try to remember the meaning that lies underneath the words."

As Aiwendil finished up his little speech, the two stood in front of the New Ford Library. It looked dark and foreboding. The front door was securely locked, and the old man could not even see any hint of movement in the bushes. "They must be around the back," Aiwendil muttered to Darlariel, but did not bother explaining who "they" might be.

"Follow me if you like. I am meeting someone . Yet I must warn you. I am not all that sure what is inside. Usually, the library is a warm, safe place filled with books and memories. Perhaps it will be so tonight as well. But Hedwig has heard that strange things may be going on." Here Aiwendil nodded at the owl before continuing, "I don't care for danger myself. I prefer peace and quiet and the company of birds who sing their tunes amid the forest trees. Still, the world is the world, and sometimes fears must be faced. This seems to be one of those times. But the choice to go forward or turn back must be yours alone."

Without stopping to wait for her answer, the istar strode forward and, with an easy grace surprising in one his age, climbed the old iron fence, thrust his body over, and landed safely in the back garden. Hedwig flew up and over the fence in one swift bound.

Inching forward in the dark, Aiwendil whispered huskily, "Jack, is that you? I am here, and I am afraid Hedwig has brought me some bad news." Two shadowy figures stood under a tree just a few paces in front of the wizard. "Let's go inside and I'll explain," the old man urged. "Safer there than here. But who is that with you? And how are we going to get inside?"