Dust
"Achoo!"
Why did books always attract so much dust? Mithrandir suspected that even the Valar probably had no explanation, save that it was just another sign of the Marring.
He stifled another sneeze as he searched the shelves, still irritated that the Archivist had confiscated his pipe (though the man had promised that it would be waiting for him along with some refreshments once his research has been completed for the day). He was sure he remembered seeing that particular codex...
Ah.
The white goatskin of the binding had yellowed to a mellow gold over the intervening years since its making but the mithril leaf embossing still glimmered as freshly as the day it had been laid. The sigil of Isildur flashed in the lantern light as he pulled the tome from the shelf.
"...The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom..."
With a sigh, the wizard settled to read, the dust forgotten.