The Veil Lifted

[Celuien]

One. Two. Three. Tap, tap, tap. The sharply pointed heels on Becca's boots clicked against the concrete steps leading from the street to her front door. Shifting her heavy bag of groceries to the side, she felt for her keys in her coat pocket. She unlocked the door, turned the knob in its center, and hurried inside.

"Brr. It's cold!" Coat and beret quickly found their spots on the coat rack. The groceries went to the kitchen.

Purr, purr. A glossy black cat came out from under the kitchen table and circled Becca's ankles, rubbing its chin against the hem of her skirt in greeting.

Becca stooped and lifted the cat. The sound of purring increased as she scratched under the cat's chin.

"Hello, Midnight. We're going to be busy tonight! It's Halloween, and we've got to have everything ready. Candy for the children, and a Jack-O-Lantern outside the door! Now go on back to your spot. I'll have treats for us later."

She put Midnight back on the ground. The cat stretched out on the kitchen floor near Becca's feet, watching her with sage, golden eyes as she work at carving a face into a pumpkin.

"All done." Becca snatched a candle and scurried outside to place her creation by the door. The Jack-O-Lantern's eyes grew bright from the candle. Becca smiled, and shivering again in the autumn wind, swept back through the door with her skirt swirling around her.

The last preparations - pouring candy into bowls on a small table near the door - did not take long. Becca and Midnight soon settled into a chair with a cup of tea and a book to await their visitors.

[Firefoot]

"Mum says black cats are bad luck," whispered Raven, glancing furtively at the next house on the street. "'Specially on Barrow's Eve. An' there's a black cat at that house. I see 'im sometimes, looking at me with those big golden eyes..." Her little brother Tucker nodded in agreement, his eyes wide. Raven hoped she hadn't told him too many scary stories. It was their first year guising out on their own, and Tucker would be completely useless if he was too frightened to do anything.

"An' if that cat sees us while we're gettin' treats, it's bad luck for a whole year," said Tucker, remembering this part of her story.

"Unless we can catch it... and... well, first we have to catch it." She couldn't remember what came next, or maybe she was making it up, but Tucker could tell she had a plan.

"So I'm going to go up to her door and say 'trick'r'treat,' and when the lady comes to the door to give me candy, you have to knock on the windows on the side of her house so she goes to find out who it is. And then I'll run in and take the cat if I see it. Just don't let her catch you. Ladies with black cats can make-" Raven glanced around again, as if afraid someone would overhear, then dropped her voice, "evil magic." She straighted. "I'm sure she won't catch you, though. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Let's go, then. You go around the side of the house, and listen for her to open the door for me." After a brief hesitation, Tucker set off across the lawn while Raven bravely stepped up to the front door, noting the Jack-o-lantern as it seemed to leer at her. She shivered slightly, whether from the chill breeze or fear was undetermined. Three times the dark-haired girl dressed like a miniature Elf knocked on the door, saying as loudly as she dared, "Trick'r'treat!"

[Celuien]

Soft knocks on the door announced Becca's first visitors. She marked her place in her book and stood.

"They're here," she murmured, and pulled open her door.

A little girl clad the the guise of an Elf barely squeaked out, "Trick'r'treat!"

So shy. Becca smiled warmly.

"Hello! What a nice costume!" she cried. Her hand moved to the candy bowl. Becca scooped out a handful of candy and dropped it in the child's treat bag.

Suddenly, there was the sound of rapping on a side window that overlooked Becca's strip of garden. What could the noise be? She would have to check. But first things first. The tiny Elf was staring at her with saucer eyes.

"Happy Halloween, my dear Elf princess." She shut the door, not bothering to lock it as she walked to the window to see who was in the garden. Empty. Becca shook her head and laughed to herself.

"Well, Midnight, I think I'm losing my head at last." She turned back from the window and the smiled changed to a frown. The front door was open.

I know I closed it. I did.

Becca closed the door again.

"Midnight. Here, Midnight."

She had to make sure the cat was inside. It would never do for her to be outside in the city at night and alone.

[Noinkling]

‘AHH!! Stay away from me! The treat is mine! Stay away!!’

Bran picked himself up from the dusty floor where he’d fallen. ‘Back off you great oaf!’ he hissed pushing hard against whoever it was had bumped him over.

Tolly, a number of steps ahead of his friend, crammed the ball into the deep recesses of his pants’ pocket and picked his way back toward Bran. Moonlight filtered in through the dirty, barred windows lighting the cluttered room in muted patches. Tolly picked up a wooden slat from a pile on the floor and walked menacingly toward the intruder.

‘Well, who would want your old treat, you clumsy git!’ He snorted and shook his makeshift club at the fellow. He motioned for Bran to come stand by him. 'It's probably nothing but rubbish.'

‘Who are you, anyway?’ asked Bran, brushing what dirt he could from his shirt and breeches. ‘And why did you come skulking after us?’

[piosenniel]

…..tah ratte tah ratte tah ratte tah ratte tah ratte tah ratte….

Gilly reached out with the tip of her shoe and knocked the can over. A quick flip of her toe sent it skittering wildly down the long uneven stretch of pavement. ‘Throw a bit more wood on the fire, won’t you?’ she called out to one of the others nearer the burning can. ‘Got to see about getting these fingers of mine warmed a bit before I play.’

She drew nearer the fire and flexed her hands near the rising warmth. Her eyes caught the movement of someone coming down the alleyway. The coat he wore billowing out behind him like a great tan sail.

‘Jack! Is that you?’ She gave him a wide grin, welcoming him into the circle. ‘What business brings you out this night of nights?’

[Glirdan]

"Who are you, anyway? And why did you come skulking after us?" the second voice asked. There was a pause before he answered. "I am Armundo and I didn't follow you on purpose, you evil scum now stay away from me! This treat is mine! I stole it from the Big People!"

He tried to look around to see if he could escape back out into the street and run away. But there was more light in here and he would have been seen.

Well, no way out. Might as well make conversation, he thought. "Well, who are you? And why were you in the street? And is that you're stuff on the ground out there?"

[Child of the 7th Age]

"But why do we have to go into the city? You don't like it there, and neither do I?" Though never leaving the safety of his leafy perch, the bird stared down at the old man, demanding an immediate answer. Hedwig was a creature of formidable size and appearance: an eagle owl whose wingspan extended nearly two meters. The largest owl in the world, about knee-high to a human adult, Hedwig was quite capable of taking out a cat or even a small dog at a single blow.

The old man looked over and growled, "Stop asking questions. You know why we are going tonight. We go every year at this time. This is the one and only day when the poor men of New Ford can actually see and speak with me and the rest of the inhabitants of Arda. The rest of the year it is useless to try and get their attention. They have their ears plugged up with the noise of traffic and copy machines and subway cars, and their brains are fixed on such mundane topics as mutual funds and stock prices. There has been considerable decline since the days of Ellessar, I am afraid."

"Malarkey!" retorted the bird. "It is because you and the others have faded. That is why they can't normally see you. It has nothing to do with the New York Stock Exchange!"

"Faded?" The old man's eyes flashed with fire as he responded in a harsh tone, "I have not faded. I am a Maia and Maier do not fade. How often must I tell you that. And, as for the others, they have not faded either. It is only a matter of perspective."

"Not faded? How can you say that" Hedwig challenged. "I read it myself in a big, fat book."

"So you have been snooping in my copy of Lord of the Rings? A dangerous book--I told you to leave it on the shelf. Frankly, Hedwig, you must take everything you read there with a grain of salt. Remember it is the faulty recollections of a man, and what do men know of elves, or dwarves or hobbits or a Maia? They say things only to flatter themselves. It is not we who have faded but they. Their ears are not attuned to the sounds and sights of Arda. They have filled their minds with a lot of rubbish, and it is only on this one night of the year that they can manage to sweep that all away and see the world as it really is."

Hedwig stubbornly shook his head, "That's not what Mr. Shippey or Mr. Hammond say, and it's certainly not what's on the Barrowdowns website, the one we looked at last year when we tried out that terminal in the public library."

"The Barrowdowns? Those poor folk are even worse than Master Tolkien! Always carrying on with long vapid posts and never getting outside to mix with the animals and hobbits and even the occasional elf who still live on their own planet. No, I tell you the truth. Men pay such attention to dry details that they usually fail to see what is important in life, what lies just below the veil waiting for them to take a look. Truly, Hedwig, in many ways I feel sorry for Men. And I consider it my duty to go and have a look on this one night of the year and see if I can knock any sense into their heads. So no more complaints! Hop on my shoulder, and we'll be off to New Ford. Anyways" the old man conceded as an afterthought, "there'll be plenty of cats out roaming the street, so you may be able to pick up a bite to eat."

With that last assurance, Hedwig finally nestled on Aiwendil's shoulder, and the two set off to the east, striding on towards New Ford.

[Dimturiel]

So it was upon them at last, the spookiest night of the year, the night around which so many legends circulated. She had loved that night since she was a small child. She liked dressing up, and walking from door to door, friendly people smiling at her, with eyes twinkling with delight. Time had passed too quickly, she was older now, she could no longer do the things she had done as a chlid.

Yet she still liked to walk the streets on that night, being careful to have at her a bag of sweets that she would present to the children she met disguised as ghosts, or elves, or hobbits. She smiled to herself, imaginining how delighted these children would be, and how they would run to their mothers to tell them of the kind young lady that had given them candy because she had liked their costume. She even fancied she could hear such a child, talking quickly somewhere near her:

"And, Mum, do you know what she said? She said I was the prettiest Elf-maiden she had ever seen!"

She shook her head. In but a few years they would forget her, and would laugh at the way they use to wander the streets disguised as fairy-tale characters. Or else, they would become like her. Constantly dreaming, longing for a past that was so distant that the people around her had ceised believing in it.

When she was a child, she would tell anyone she met while trick-or-treating that she was an elf princess and that her name was Darlariel. And now, each Halloween night she walked the streets again as Darlariel. She thought-and she sometimes felt ashamed to admit this- that on one such night she would encounter a sign from the world in which she still whole-heartedly believed. Maybe she would run into a real Hobbit, or a real elf or ...or even...But what was the use of expresing such desire? Her mind told her clearly that it would not come true. And yet, her heart made her walk the streets at night, ever waiting for something to happen.