The End of a Month

We come to the end of a month. It is also the end of an era at the College of Wyverns. In the autumnal stirrings of this time, we sense a restlessness of the sort that comes when a coterie of pigeons realises that it is getting cold on the streets; there are no more crumbs of comfort and the sun is setting on the bleak tarmac.

In the morning, at the beginning, was light and life and the pursuit of legitimate aims. As we wind down to the end of this era, we peer into a steadily increasing darkness. It was not always so. It will not always be so. But it is indeed getting darker. There is often no individual to blame for this sort of thing. It is just the end of an age.

What are the signs? In every milieu, different signs are said to portend the passing of an era. It is said that if the ravens leave the Tower of London, then Doom is at hand. Likewise, when the last Elvish Historian leaves the realm of Middle-Earth to head across the sea. After that, as Tolkien might have said, it is all about men and the loss of magic as heroism and mighty deeds become legend and then dust.

I spoke with the Lady the other day; she left long ago and went across the Sea. She said that the Dark Lord had put his hand across the face of the lands, and the world was no longer the place it had once been.

But I remember how the story works out. At the end of every age, it seems as if all hope is lost. But the one thing that does not disappoint us is hope. Hope and steady endurance prevail, as long as the faith is defended and the heart is right.

I thank God that I have worked among the elves and had a hand in the crafting of wondrous things. I know now that even if the Dark Lord crafts a single ring of power and uses it as an instrument of fell control, the good done by the others does not completely pass away.

There is still good in Middle-Earth, and the light of the sun will return one day to the College of Wyverns.