[Child of the 7th Age]

Aiwendil

Will you tell me?

Aiwendil's first impulse was to turn to Rôg and deny he had learned anything, and that his 'talking' to the larks was nothing more than the wandering vagaries of an old man. But something inside stopped him from doing that. The birds were sharp eyed observers. The lark had described what he had seen, and the story had the ring of truth, the kind of truth that needed to be passed on to others so the Men could protect themselves. And Rôg could be trusted. The young man had earned his respect and gratitude a hundred times over.

Still, he hestitated. He had always honored the bond of secrecy that Manwe had required of him. What right did he have to go back on his word? Then, like the gentle parting of a curtain, came the knowledge that had always been locked within his mind, but which he had not understood before. That day in the garden, Manwe had made him promise not to reveal his identity until the hoped for day when the great danger would depart. But that had not been the end of their meeting. Manwe had continued, speaking of the new Age of Man. In the days and years following, when grey mists and soft shadows still remained to mar the beauty of Arda, Aiwendil would remain across the Sea. And there would be no blanket prohibition on disclosing something of himself, only the usual warning to say no more than must be said.

For the first time, Aiwendel understood that his presence in Middle-earth, however puzzling or unwanted, was not a punishment or the result of some gigantic error. It was something Manwe had foreseen as likely even from the beginning. This was what Olórin had tried to tell him that day in Bombadil's house, only he'd been too upset to listen or understand. He was here for a reason. What that reason might be he still could not fathom. But he felt the first faint glimmer of hope that someday he might actuall understand.

Turning to Rôg with grace and self assurance, Aiwendil spoke as clearly as he could, "I know it is strange. But my people hail from across the great Sea, and they have gifts.....wondrous gifts: gifts far greater than the few I bear. But I can sometimes hear and understand what the creatures say. And what I heard today signalled death and destruction for innocent folk. The male lark saw a hooded figure of evil, one of the two-leggeds, striding in shadow across the desert with hideous purpose in his step. He spied two fellows digging a well and a circle of tents in the distance that were filled with music and story. The evil one concealed himself and continued towards the tents. I do not know what he means to do, but I fear it will not be good."

He looked across at Rôg, wondering if he should say more. Then he slowly continued, choosing his words with care. "I feel that I am being asked--no, we are being asked--to do something about this. But what that might be, I have no idea."