The Veil Lifted

[Celuien]

What on earth? Bad luck?

Becca hadn't been expecting that answer from the children. She knew, of course, that black cats were supposed to be unlucky, but didn't think that anyone took the idea seriously. She didn't. If anything, Midnight had brought her only good luck since the day two years earlier when Becca picked a tiny jet black kitten from a neighbor's litter. She scratched behind the cat's ears and Midnight nestled her head into the crook of Becca's arm, purring.

The children looked more nervous by the moment.

"Black cats bad luck." Becca shook her head. "I suppose you think I'm a witch too."

The girl looked more startled than if she had been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. "Ye-n-n-n-no," she stammered.

It was Becca's turn to be startled. Startled and amused at the silly notions in the girl's head. The corner of her mouth twitched, hinting at a grin despite her irritation.

"Now that's just silly. Hmmph. What's your name?"

Terror entered the girl's face. "R-r-r-a--v-ven...and this is my brother Tucker." Becca forced herself to stifle a chuckle. Raven wasn't about to give her name without making sure that her brother was identified too.

"Well, Raven and Tucker. Though I'm sure we're almost neighbors, we don't seem to know each other very well. That's a shame, but it seems the way of the city these days. I can tell you that I'm harmless and that Midnight is the sweetest cat who ever lived, but I have a feeling you won't take my word for it. What do I have to do to fix that?"

[Forest Elf]

After she had gotten over the fact that he hadn’t noticed it, she decided it was probably better to climb down rather than be stuck up in a tree all night, “besides, Jacinta, you’re not the sort to wait in a tree all night. You’re the kind who’d much rather chat with you’re friends, no matter-AYAZ!” she yelled, as her boot slipped and she hung upside down, bending upwards, frantically trying to keep her skirt from turning upsidedown. Her foot was caught between two branches, and she was still a good four or five feet from the ground.

Her palms began to sweat, a shiver went down her spine and fear’s icy fingers took hold of the back of her throat. “Okay, Jacinta, don’t panic, what ever you do, don’t panic.” She whispered to herself and started to think logically, whispering the thoughts to herself as she did so, “If I move my leg, so much as an inch, I’m dead, well, fallen out of the tree and down onto the next few branches then on the ground…and the other branches are too weak to support me, other than the one right below my head…better to call for help than to stay up here all night trapped in a tree. HELP ME!!” She called out into the night, causing a bird that had not noticed her before, suddenly cry out and fly off into the night sky.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Aiwendil turned towards the young woman and smiled gently. He did not look surprised, only tired and resigned. "You may be right, my friend, or perhaps you are just talking to a batty old man who clings to half muddled stories and forgotten dreams. But you are the only one who can weigh what we have said and try to see what lies behind the words. Words are important, very important, yet they can only take you to a certain point. It is the truth behind the words that we must try to hear and remember." Under his breath, the old man muttered to himself that this was something Master Tolkien with his great affection for words had not said clearly enough. Aiwendil waggled a finger at the woman and then went on to explain, "I come to the city but once a year. There were other years when I spoke with someone living here, and they heard my words and understood a little. But the next morning, by the time the sun arose, they had forgotten my name, who I was, and everything else I had told them. So try to remember Darlariel, Try to remember the meaning that lies underneath the words."

As Aiwendil finished up his little speech, the two stood in front of the New Ford Library. It looked dark and foreboding. The front door was securely locked, and the old man could not even see any hint of movement in the bushes. "They must be around the back," Aiwendil muttered to Darlariel, but did not bother explaining who "they" might be.

"Follow me if you like. I am meeting someone . Yet I must warn you. I am not all that sure what is inside. Usually, the library is a warm, safe place filled with books and memories. Perhaps it will be so tonight as well. But Hedwig has heard that strange things may be going on." Here Aiwendil nodded at the owl before continuing, "I don't care for danger myself. I prefer peace and quiet and the company of birds who sing their tunes amid the forest trees. Still, the world is the world, and sometimes fears must be faced. This seems to be one of those times. But the choice to go forward or turn back must be yours alone."

Without stopping to wait for her answer, the istar strode forward and, with an easy grace surprising in one his age, climbed the old iron fence, thrust his body over, and landed safely in the back garden. Hedwig flew up and over the fence in one swift bound.

Inching forward in the dark, Aiwendil whispered huskily, "Jack, is that you? I am here, and I am afraid Hedwig has brought me some bad news." Two shadowy figures stood under a tree just a few paces in front of the wizard. "Let's go inside and I'll explain," the old man urged. "Safer there than here. But who is that with you? And how are we going to get inside?"

[Dimturiel]

Darlariel listened to the old man fascinated. Never had someone spoken such words of wisdom to her. Not in the real world, anyway. When she read The Lord of the Rings-and that would happen quite often-she fancied she heard the characters talking near her. And their voices sounded just like Aiwendil's-soft, gentle, yet also persuasive, as if urging her to understand. She knew quite welll what Aiwendil meant when he told her about the meaning behind the words. Yet she could never explain that meaning save only through blurred visions and dreams.

She remembered a dream she had once had, not a very long time ago. She was sitting on the grass of a sunny glade with Aragorn. And he was talking to her, in the same deep and gentle voice that Aiwendil had used with her. When she had woken up, she could not remember what he had said, save only that his words had been full of wisdom and comfort. Even now when she thought of that dream she felt her heart invaded with peace and joy. Yet also, there was a pang of sorrow, and the beginning of a great emptyness. She could not recall his words. She had tried many times to bring back into her mind if only a sentence from that conversation, yet it had all been in vain. Would it be so this time also? But no, she would not let it happen. And plus, this was not a dream. She was wide awake. Or was she?


They had stopped in front of the library. Aiwendil then began talking of something she could not quite comprehend. He spoke of danger and of choices. She felt puzzled about what he had said, so puzzled that she had little time to realise that he had headed to the back entrence without waiting for her. She ran after him, and caught up just in time to see him jumping over the huge fence with an agility that was amazing at a man his age.

Darlariel frowned. Entering a deserted yard near midnight on Haloween was not exactly what she felt like doing. Who knew what struggle would take place there, or what creature of darkness had found refuge in that place? She had never considered herself a warrior, she could not even fight with someone from her world, let alone some unknown peril that Aiwendil was now ready to face. Maybe she should turn away and go back to the safety of her home.

Yet she found out that she could not. Not now, not when she knew who her aquaintance was. She would not turn back, and risk turning this meeting into a dream, an unsure vision of a much too troubled soul. Not matter the cost, no matter what lay in store for her. Therefore, she too climbed over the fence and ran after Aiwendil. She saw that he was now accompanied by two figures but she did not care. She ran until she reached him and spoke to him in a quiet, yet pleading voice:

"I do not know what lies there. I am sure I have little power against it. Yet I cannot turn back. I am afraid but I cannot turn back. Please, please let me go with you. If my thoughts have indeed told you so many things about me, then I have no doubt you will unerstand me and let me come with you."

[Undómë]

Jack stepped forward from the shadows as Aiwendil approached. ‘An old friend,’ he said. At least for this little span of life allotted her he went on, speaking mind to mind with the old man. ‘Gilli, the fiddler. We were just about….’

Before he could show where the entryway was, another figure….a girl, slender and fair came running up. All out of breath from exertion and a little fear, too, it seemed. And quite in a rush to assure Aiwendil of her intent, and her need, to carry through.

‘I do not know what lies there. I am sure I have little power against it,' the girl said. 'Yet I cannot turn back. I am afraid but I cannot turn back. Please, please let me go with you. If my thoughts have indeed told you so many things about me, then I have no doubt you will understand me and let me come with you.’

And aren’t you the naughty wizard! Jack’s eyes glimmered with amusement. Reading her thoughts were you! Recruiting her for some adventure on this night?

Jack looked the newcomer up and down. She was comely enough he thought, looking at her in a mortal’s way. So young looking. Though, if he looked a little closer he thought there was the shadow of some old sorrow sat heavy on her brow.

Plucking out the two slender volumes he’d put in his coat pocket, Jack tucked them securely beneath his arm. ‘Well, I suppose we should be heading in before anyone else shows up, eh?’ He cocked his head and grinned at Hedwig. ‘You don’t have some feathered friend you want to come along, do you?’

Jack led the little group around to the rear of the building. There was a short paved driveway leading down to a small loading dock where the library took in shipments of books or sent them out for any major repairs. To the left of it was a heavy metal door with the tag on – Staff Only, and next to it a small metal box with buttons.

‘Let’s see,’ he said, running the fingers of his right hand lightly over the numbered and lettered keypad. 03J92 he tapped out, listening closely for the familiar click. There was none. He screwed up his mouth. ‘Ah! The woman’s changed it! Clever git!’ He turned round to the others. ‘Tis a game we play. The head librarian and I. She’s a fan of The Professor. Now, let me think, let me think.’ He rubbed his forehead as if the act might prise some hint of the new code.

ScullHammond came next – the door remained firmly locked. Followed by Snergs and next, Hurin in the off-chance the woman was looking ahead. No hint of tumblers sliding back could be heard. Cellardoor? No!

Then his fingers tried out a long ago password. Delighted laughter spilled from his lips as the handle turned and the door opened to the old six-lettered word.

‘Well, come on in, m’lord, m’ladies!’ Jack said, holding the door open for the others. He made a sweeping bow, his right hand gesturing toward the dim lit basement room.

The librarian had left a small light on at the far end of the room for him. Jack smiled and dug deep into his pants’ pocket, searching out the small green jewel he’d brought for her this time.

[Esgallhugwen]

Tonight is especially important to me, maybe more important then Christmas. When the veil is thinnest, it seems I can feel things that people can't or things they choose to ignore. I call them 'things' because I don't even know what they are. Ghosts, spirits, the memories and feelings of a past life. A gift my spirit carries granted by the powers that be. Was I meant for something in this world?

I've always felt like I don't belong. This isn't my time, I cannot tolerate humans, my heart is numb and sick. Have I lost something , am I not human like them? What am I, there is something inside i can feel it gnawing away.

The red head looked up from her reverie her bangs almost in her eyes. A grey wizard and a blue wizard laughing alongside eachother. Children. One was even wearing the quintessential bluish-grey pointed felt hat.

She smiled at their innocence, happily shovelling sugar into their faces, more then likely not even knowing what this night was intended for. She left food and water out for the deceased before she left her house for the evening, a custom to ease their passing in mortal lands.

All Barrow's Eve was a mingling of emotion to be sure. Sadness and mirth, she could be both. Questioning one's self was not all together a bad thing. Her long leg swung out in front of the other. The woman's graceful body turned into the tight corner of an alley way, her thick mane of hair flagging out behind her.

Her pale complexion disappeared into the darkness like a phantom. All the while smiling to herself the way she did when no one was looking. The sudden threat of realization made her stop, the tingling of others. "Help me!", the voice of a living girl.

It came from the end of the clutterd alley. She hurried her pace finely hopping over a misplaced garbage bag to find a girl hanging haphazardly by one leg from a tree. She cocked her head to the side and stared at the girl a moment a grin of subtle amusement on her face.

[littlemanpoet]

Sid cleared his throat. "Uh, Becca, ma'am, all the kids think you're a witch because of your cat. If you invite them into your house for a cup of cider, they're sure they'll be thrown in your oven."

Raven's and Tucker's eyes widened, as if Sid had 'hit the nail on the head'.

"Well that's just plain silly," Becca said.

"Mebbe," Sid said, "these little hobbits ought to just go trick-or-treating some more and leave off cat stealing. Here, I'll show you two the way. I'm Aragorn son of Arathorn. You're safe with me."