The Veil Lifted

[littlemanpoet]

The frosting on the cupcake sparkled in the porchlight, like little stars. Her words had been kind, and so Sid had fallen in love. Of course that was silly, she was a grown woman and he was just a twelve year old boy. But he was in love with the Queen of Faery, and this was she standing before him. Of course not really, but why not on this one night of the year?

Sid tentatively reached and took the cupcake in his hand, brushing her palm, sending shivers down his wrist. What if she really was the Faery Queen? Do you have another name, my lady?

"Uh, is it okay if I eat it now? Becca? Ma'am? My lady? Your highness?" he stumbed over his tongue and winced again.

[Celuien]

"Certainly. It's probably best to eat it now." It was best. Both because Becca wanted to see if she had given Sid the right cupcake and because she thought he might have questions for her afterward.

Becca suddenly chuckled. "You know, Sid, I really ought to be the one saying, 'Your Highness.' You are the King of Gondor, after all. And I'm just Becca the harp player."

[littlemanpoet]

"Me, king of Gondor?" Sid grinned. Becca was beyond nice. "Well maybe tonight." He took a bite of the cupcake. It was good. He looked at where he had bitten. It was glittery on the inside too. Sid wondered how she did that. He put the rest of it in his mouth. There was a tingle on his tongue this time along with the sweetness. He swallowed, and it went down smoothly; but it also seemed to go up into his head. Was this what strong drink was like?

He looked at Becca. Suddenly he knew that she was not the Faery Queen, but that she had been to Faery for real. He could see it in her eyes, in her smile, in her hair, like a glow that came off her skin.

"You've really been there, haven't you?"

Sid said it with a sense of awe. Then he felt a little tickle on his forehead. He put his hand up to itch it, but the urge stopped the moment he touched his skin; he could feel something different there, somehow, but not in a way that he could normally feel.

"What just happened, Becca?"

Her smile was softer now. "You have been given the Star of of the King of Faery. You can pass its borders now."

Sid's jaw dropped. He knew it was true. Becca had been there, but now she could no longer go there. Tears came to his eyes and his throat clenched.

"You can't go anymore. You're not old yet, why did you give it to me?" I would have liked to go there with you!

[Celuien]

The Star had been passed on irrevocably, and Becca's smile was now tinged with sadness. The paths to Faery were closed to her. That knowledge came with a pang, but one that was eased by Sid's understanding of the gift. She felt that she had chosen well.

She spoke, and her voice was low and gentle. "There are some gifts, Sid, that are too precious for one person to keep. Special gifts that are bigger than any one person. Gifts that aren't owned, but only held and loved for a time until they're meant to be shared. The Star is one. It was time for me to pass it to the next person, just as it has been passed on from one keeper to the next for more years than I know.

I can't go back. But I'll always know and remember, and that's more than any but a very few people can say. And, even more importantly, I know that someone else will come to know Faery after me. You."

"But why me?" Sid's eyes were still full of silver bright tears.

"So many reasons. But mostly, it seemed like you were meant to have it. On this one night, you were here, and you helped me. There's more at work in the world than chance, you know."

"I wish...I wish that you could still go too."

Becca brushed Sid's shoulder. "It's okay, Sid. It was time. And if there's anything I've learned from having the Star, it's that there's a little bit of Faery all around us, all the time, if only we keep watching for it. Look!"

They turned and looked out at the night, and the stars glittered in Becca's eyes.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Is it the dark hand that worries you, Aiwendil? Do you feel it “encircling” the city?’

Jack had said it far better than he could. This night was different than other nights, even different than those times in previous years when they'd trudged into the city to celebrate the passing of the year. But it was not a kind of difference that made Aiwendil terribly comfortable.

"Can you give me a hand with this door?" Aiwendil barked over to Gilli and Darlariel, his voice laced with worry. The door that they were standing by was not the back entrance they'd used to come inside the library, but the heavy wooden door that faced onto main street.

"But it's locked," someone objected.

"No, not tonight, and certainly not now." The three of them pushed with all their might. Then Aiwendil turned the handle and, as if by magic, the door spun open on its own. He walked outside and stood on the porch. For a moment everything was quiet. A single star glittered in the sky. "Perhaps I was wrong," he muttered to himself. He stood and waited to see if anything would happen.

It was then that he heard it: an ugly, rasping voice, full of menace and envy. Then other voices quickly joined in. They weren't really voices in the manner that a man might speak, but Aiwendil did not know what else to call them. The sounds made the istar tremble. Too many bad memories. Worse than that, the sounds were getting closer.

"Close the door now!" The old man whirled around and ran in from the porch, slamming the door behind him. He reached up and secured the latch and then looked over at Jack. "I don't like it at all. They are outside.....a whole crew perhaps. This shouldn't be happening. Not tonight....not now. And I have no idea how to deal with this. Elves and Balrogs.....at least I understand those. But Orcs, wicked Orcs and trolls, I have never understood. I thought that perhaps it would be a houseless Elf or two, but I never suspected anything like this. Well, my friend Jack, I am hoping you have some idea what to do. Either that or one of you. " He glanced around at the others. "I thought this place of wisdom would act as a refuge. Even an Elf who has lost his soul has some respect for books. But these folk are different. The building we have chosen as our fortress may turn out to be a prison from which there is no escape."

[Undómë]

Jack poked his head over the balustrade at the sound of Aiwendil’s voice. Three small books found their way into his coat’s large pockets as he raced down the steps; his long legs taking two or three at a time. Behind him, the shadows between the stacks seemed to move forward until they crowded in along the oak balusters watching the scene below.

‘Ah, good! You’ve got the door secured.’ He stood, hands on slender hips, thinking. ‘And the basement’s all locked up; I reset the keypad.’

The sounds grew louder, more raucous beyond the thick door. Jack looked up at the stacks, his eyes flicking round the circumference. ‘Guard your barrow well, my friends. We’ll see what we can do from behind our old foe.’

Jack turned back to Aiwendil and the two women. ‘Come, there’s a way beneath the grounds to the old library building. A nice dry tunnel where the steam pipes run. There are many less popular books stored in the old building, as well as a place where the book repairer works. We can cross over there and come up behind the foul Orcs and Trolls.’ He smiled grimly at the trio. ‘That is if you’re up to a little skirmish this fair night.’ He opened his long coat, the slender fingers of his right hand pointing to a tarnished blade that now hung by his side. ‘Gift from old friends above.’ He nodded to the shadows crowded on the upper landing. ‘Not all the Elves of Imladris sailed West. Some stayed; some died. Many of their fëar found familiar places of refuge.’ He raised his brows as he regarded the main door once again.

‘One could almost feel sorry should those creatures breach the entrance.....almost.....’

‘Shall we go?’ Turning toward the area of the main floor where the check-out terminal stood, Jack motioned for them to follow him through a small door behind the desk. It led into a small dimly lit landing at the head of a winding spiral of metal stairs.

Behind them the shadows had come down from the upper stacks. Good hunting..... came the soft murmuring of fair voices, though in an elder tongue not many now would understand.

[piosenniel]

Gilli called out after Jack’s retreating back. ‘Hey! Some of us need a little more light than you, m’dear.’ The soft-lit glow from the main room of the library illuminated the landing, but once the door had closed only a small rectangle of light shone in through the door’s little window. Gilli felt about on the wall just inside entryway until her hand found a switch. She flicked it up and down but no light came on.

She fished about in her pack, her hand finally finding her little flashlight. The light from it was wan and she muttered a curse beneath her breath for not remembering to buy new batteries.

In the soft, dim circle of light that wavered on the stairs from her torch, Gilli and the others made their way down the stairs. Their footsteps clattered and rang on the metal steps.

‘Shhh!’ Someone behind her called softly for a halt. ‘Listen!’

From the darkness pooled at the bottom of the stairs came muffled noises.....