[Undómë]

The stars were strange in Far Harad, and the Moon rode higher on his courses through the sky above that far south land, and the Sun was not kindly to the dry sands beneath her chariot by day.

The people of that far south land were gathering for war, and every man, woman, child, and beast was conscripted for the work of preparing for battle. Their old enemies, the cruel men of Gondor, would finally meet their fate at the hands of Sauron, Lord of Mordor.

Jack read over Aiwendil’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the small green letters floating on their black background. It was a bilious combination. And, though he had the adamantine constitution of the Fair Folk of old, it really did make him a little queasy.

‘’Let me just adjust that,’ he said, stepping around the older man and slipping his hand onto the mouse. In an economy of clicks the eerie screens had changed to a manageable black and white and the size of the text was now large enough to be read with ease. He scrolled back up to the top of the page. ‘Interesting title – The Simian Shadow of Far Harad. Now what’s got you so alarmed about it?’

Gilli played softly now in the background. The notes of her song seemed to push back the shadows that hovered along the edges of the walls; that gathered in the corners. He was glad she had come along.

He scrolled down the page at a steady rate, reading quickly the various messages.....no, ‘posts’ – that’s what the users of this site called their little writings. ‘It’s not this, is it? This part about Maleficent. Some sort of ape, is it? And a bad’un as far as I can see.’

He read aloud.....

‘Maleficent found his way into the city in the usual manner. He was old and thusly tired after a fruitless day. He watched the evening's activity in the square with vast but measured interest and retired to his corner in the battlements.’

‘He thought long and hard. Maleficent was older than anything he had encountered. Still searching for that Good Deed. Ahhh...this exile wearied him. He had lost count of the summers. For what purpose was this endless ageing?’

‘His old yet flexible mind moved smoothly up a gear and he achieved the familiar click of foresight. In the mists of events he sieved for answers. The city was shrouded in a fog that made any real prescience impossible yet shapes moved in the darkness. He closed his eyes. As the gloom of deep thinking opened ahead of his probing thoughts he saw clearly the bright shapes of the wolves. Why so many of the Old Race?’

‘His thought surged ahead again and he felt vitality seeping from his body as his mind drew into itself. The city was attracting what it needed. Events were in flux... He found the febrile cunning of the mouse Fedwie and wondered at such a place for the Hidden Kind. He realised that for such companions to be in confluence, the purpose must be terrible. He threw his mind out further, beyond the city walls, finding the crow, at wing, purpose unknown. The gorilla drawn to the city by forces it could not understand. What role for the Great Ape?’

‘Maleficent shuddered and came back to himself. The floor of his castle cranny was cold and hard. He drew some straw under himself but it was damp and he shivered again.'

‘Oh, this doesn’t sound good at all!’ Jack went on.

‘The night would be a long one. He knew many things but he did not know the dark hand that was encircling the city. He did not know the part he had in this play. Yet he could watch and assimilate. Maleficent was good at watching. He knew the wolves would not come unless there were great need.’

Jack scrolled to the bottom of the page. There had been the kidnapping of some human child. and something about wolves coming into the city.....and wargs..... The story, the writing had petered out. How like men to become sidetracked and leave something half-done. That Tolkien fellow, excepted, of course. But then, he’d been touched by faerie.....or so it seemed to Jack.

‘Is it the dark hand that worries you, Aiwendil? Do you feel it “encircling” the city?’ Jack cast his mind back over their short journey to the library. ‘Gilli!’ he said, turning round to look at the fiddler. ‘Remember that group of trick-or-treaters we passed by just as we left the alley? The one you thought looked like a troupe of circus animals. You said their costumes and their make-up was so well done; they looked so real, you said.’ He chewed at the edge of one ragged fingernail as he thought. ‘Perhaps we should have got a better look at them. Maybe they weren’t in disguise at all.’

He cast an eye on the young woman who'd come with Aiwendil. 'Darlarliel, isn't it?' he said, raising a questioning brow toward her. 'Did you happen to notice any.....persons in strange costume when you and Aiwendil walked here?' He laughed despite the serious atmosphere surrounding their little group. 'That is, more strange than usual on this night of ghosties and beasties and things that go bump in the dark?'