[Child of the 7th Age]

Is it the dark hand that worries you, Aiwendil? Do you feel it “encircling” the city?’

Jack had said it far better than he could. This night was different than other nights, even different than those times in previous years when they'd trudged into the city to celebrate the passing of the year. But it was not a kind of difference that made Aiwendil terribly comfortable.

"Can you give me a hand with this door?" Aiwendil barked over to Gilli and Darlariel, his voice laced with worry. The door that they were standing by was not the back entrance they'd used to come inside the library, but the heavy wooden door that faced onto main street.

"But it's locked," someone objected.

"No, not tonight, and certainly not now." The three of them pushed with all their might. Then Aiwendil turned the handle and, as if by magic, the door spun open on its own. He walked outside and stood on the porch. For a moment everything was quiet. A single star glittered in the sky. "Perhaps I was wrong," he muttered to himself. He stood and waited to see if anything would happen.

It was then that he heard it: an ugly, rasping voice, full of menace and envy. Then other voices quickly joined in. They weren't really voices in the manner that a man might speak, but Aiwendil did not know what else to call them. The sounds made the istar tremble. Too many bad memories. Worse than that, the sounds were getting closer.

"Close the door now!" The old man whirled around and ran in from the porch, slamming the door behind him. He reached up and secured the latch and then looked over at Jack. "I don't like it at all. They are outside.....a whole crew perhaps. This shouldn't be happening. Not tonight....not now. And I have no idea how to deal with this. Elves and Balrogs.....at least I understand those. But Orcs, wicked Orcs and trolls, I have never understood. I thought that perhaps it would be a houseless Elf or two, but I never suspected anything like this. Well, my friend Jack, I am hoping you have some idea what to do. Either that or one of you. " He glanced around at the others. "I thought this place of wisdom would act as a refuge. Even an Elf who has lost his soul has some respect for books. But these folk are different. The building we have chosen as our fortress may turn out to be a prison from which there is no escape."