[Child of the 7th Age]

Aiwendil blinked once, then twice, as he strained to get a better look at the small beggers who bounded up the steps and pounded at the door, yelling for treats until someone in the house responded. Most of those wandering the streets after dark were children or young teens, although the tiniest had a mother or father in tow who stood behind on the sidewalk waiting for their little one to scoop up candy and come scampering back.

Nearly everyone was dressed in costume. Even some of the adults had t-shirts festooned with pumpkins and black cats, or sported a clever hat. A few of the young boys wore clothing that made Aiwendil remember with longing his distant friends in Middle-earth like Aragorn, Treebeard, and Gandalf. The wizard had also counted at least one Galadriel and two Arwens by the time he walked the ten blocks and reached the center of town.

At the point when the two crossed the railroad tracks to continue into the tougher neighborhoods, the istar could not help but notice something else. Although there were a host of friendly types still roaming the streets, Aiwendil was struck by the number of teens who looked as if they were about to enlist in the army of the Dark Lord. Six hulking figures blocked the sidewalk in front of a decrepit storefront and glared at him menacingly as he strode past. They hung together in a single bunch, wearing an odd assortment of patched together clothing and implements: black robes, bat wings, fangs, bones, and axes smeared with gruesome make-believe blood. He even saw one miserable looking Orc tagging along at the back of the group.

Aiwendil had been walking for a long time. As they passed a small park overrun with weeds and trash, the wizard thought he saw a few grim figures flitting in and out of the bushes, glaring at him with menace in their eyes. A chill ran up his spine. These were not the elves or hobbits dear to the wizard's heart, but hints of things much darker and scarier, secrets hidden in the bowels of the earth that only reared their head on this single night of the year. He stopped for a moment and peered into the shadowed cement recesses behind the basketball court, but there was no movement or sound. He gazed confusedly from side to side, unsure of where he was. None of the streets looked familiar any more. Maybe Owl was right. Maybe he was going batty and would soon fade away.

After a long spell of silence Hedwig spoke. This time his sharp tone was softer and full of concern, "Where are we going, Master? Are you alright?"

"Patience, Hedwig! I haven't been here in a year. It's just that everything looks different. If you give me a minute, I will have us on the right road." But as much as Aiwendil stared, he could not figure out where he was. He had memories of a rambling Victorian house that should stand on this corner; it had been the kind of place with lilacs and rambling rosebushes that he instinctively liked. But now it was gone, apparently torn down and replaced by a parking lot that was meant to house more of the monster machines during the day when the residents of New Ford went to work.

Hedwig's eyes grew wide with concern. The Owl did not like how Aiwendil was acting. Perhaps the old man was truly going daft, and he should lead him back to the old shack in the woods where they normally made their home. But when Hedwig suggested that they might consider returning, the wizard had fixed on his face with a jaundiced eye. "Not tonight. I have things to do. Look here. That young woman. Perhaps she can help us." The wizard pointed towards a lone figure on the opposite side of the street. She was older than the teen but still young enough to have a look of longing and mystery in her eye. Her black hair fell down to the middle of her back. It reminded Aiwendil of the last time that he had seen Arwen. He sidled up to her and cleared his throat, "Excuse me. I'm so sorry to bother you. You see, I am trying to find my way to the library, the sacred hall where the books are kept. Someone or something is waiting for me there. And I must get access to a computer terminal." Aiwendil stumbled over the unfamiliar words and then continued. "But I am afraid I have lost my way. You wouldn't happen to know where that place is? Perhaps you could tell me or even lead me there."

For a moment the young woman stared at him, her face registering cnsiderable surprise. "I'm sorry," added the wizard, leaning on his staff. "I didn't mean to startle you. Let's see now...... Your name....your name is....."

For a moment the old man stopped. Sometimes the old osanwe trick let him peep into the mind of a resident for a single instant, just long enough to know by what name they preferred to be called. At first, Aiwendil glimpsed a plain simple name --the honest one that her parents had given her. But though sturdy and decent for the everyday world, this was not what a fine young woman should go by on a special night like this. He drew a deep breath and continued, "I believe you are Darlariel. My fine lady Darlariel, can you help me find the library?"