[Ithaeliel]

Angalos sat with both hands holding a mug of sweet ale, all the while talking to Jadae. When she asked his opinion of the book, he shrugged nonchalantly. "I am somewhat undecided when it comes to believing in such things as could easily be a false tale spun by a storyteller. However, this book- Wanaparma- seems like an interesting prospect, and it could well be real, but might contain otherwise than what we expected: it could be the history of a race that already exists. If that were the case, even the information that we find could be as good as that of an entirely lost race. So I believe that it is quite possible for this book to exist, even if it is not all we say."

Jadae nodded, listening with intent. Angalos was surprisingly insightful, more than she had expected him to be. "That may indeed be true," she agreed, somewhat sadly. "We may find nothing of a lost race."

Angalos smiled as he read the worry in her voice. "Yet as like as not, we may find the lost race. Who knows," he elaborated, "we may find it there: on a pedestal, bathed in blue light, its cover and spine dyed a deep red, embroidered with silver in a strange and alien script... and upon opening the dusty book, we would see more than we'd ever looked for." Angalos envisioned all this vividly, and as he spoke his head went into a dreamlike stance. "The lost race of Middle-earth... a further sundering of the dragons, or the elves who fled from Oromë at the Pool of Life; maybe a completely different race that none ever knew of save the Valar. Think of it, Jadae!"

"It is much to hope for," Jadae answered, bringing Angalos suddenly and brutally back to reality. His head almost ached. "Yet we must hope for that much, if not more. Otherwise, why go on this journey at all?" he said.

Jadae smiled and nodded. "I suppose you're right, Angalos. We must not waste our reasons and dash our hopes. We leave Dale in the morning, and that must be final."

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]