The idea of this story originates in a review I made to Virtuella's story A Week In The Life Of A Simian Bibliophile. I recommend that you read this first.
You might want to skip my comment though, as it would act as a spoiler for this story.
Elrond, my dear friend, now that we are alone, let me tell you about a discovery I recently made, a discovery that is so strange that I do not yet know what to make of it. It has a lot to do with books, which seem to have more meaning or power than I had thought. It may be that this is a part of Eru's gift to his younger children.
What do we know about books?
In the undying lands we do not have much use for them. In fact, before the arrival of the firstborn we Ainur did not have any writing at all. Now you elves have invented books and have written your share, but still you prefer the spoken word or song to tell your tales. Why should a young elf read up the stories of old, when there are people around who can give him a first hand account?
Men though are quite fond of books have written many of them. They do have their minstrels and storytellers too, but their short lives mean that those have to pass their stories from generation to generation. Every now and then someone would change a story to make it sound more interesting, heroic or easier to understand and after some hundred years the origin is completely blurred, if nobody writes it down. The accounts I have heard about the Last Alliance and the events that followed Sauron's defeat varied so greatly, that I am very glad of human habit to eternalise their history on paper.
There may have been big libraries in Numenor, but those were forever lost. The biggest library in all Arda today is probably the royal library of Minas Tirith where my tale begins.
For weeks I had been searching for useful information about the ring. I wasn't even sure whether there would be something to look for, but finally I had found a diary written by Isildur himself. With trembling hands I flew over the pages until I found the point where he described how he first took the ring.
"It was hot when I first took it, hot as a glede, and my hand was scorched, so that I doubt if ever again I shall be free of the pain of it. Yet even as I write it is cooled, and it seemeth to shrink, though it loseth neither..."
Suddenly I became aware that someone was watching me and I turned around sharply.
"I felt your presence. Speak, who are you?" But I what I saw almost made me stop in mid sentence.
Standing there was a creature that looked like a small troll covered in reddish brown fur. I had never seen anything alike. It did not look as ill-natured as a troll, I thought, but I could not know what creatures the enemy may have subdued.
"Ook," was the only reply.
"What is your business in this place?" I wondered whether it was even able to answer. Radagast once told me that the more intelligent animals can speak well, if one knows just how to listen. Well, this one did not look dumb at all, but I do not have Radagast's experience in listening either.
"Ook," it pronounced again and out of a bag it carried handed me a small tan object. I took it and when I shook it gently, it rattled. It seemed like something from Yavanna's Gardens, some kind of nut perhaps, but in these desperate times one cannot be too cautious.
"I do not know what this thing is that you show me. My heart warns me against taking anything out of the hand of such a strange creature. All too easily could a wrong step at this time endanger all hope that is left to free Middle-earth of the shadow."
"Ook?" Although it only repeated the same syllable again, the creature made it sound questioning. I began to think that although it could not really answer me in an intelligible way, it did somehow understand my words.
While I was thinking about a way to communicate with it, the creature looked around as if it were searching for something. Then, all of a sudden, it swung one of his long arms forward, took my hat and tried to fit it on his own, much too big skull.
Now that was too much! Whether it was trying to play a joke on me to distract my attention I do not know, but my anger was aroused.
"Give that to me! Who let you in? How much have you heard? Declare yourself, or you shall feel the wrath of Mithrandir!"
"Oook!" Again the same sound, soothingly lengthened this time, accompanied by a mystical gesture with both its big hairy hands. But now I had had enough of ooks and inexplainable behaviour, so I grabbed my staff and pointed it towards the intruder.
"I am Mithrandir, wielder of the flame of Anor and I command you..."
"Eek!" it shrieked and was on the run.
As big the the library was, there was not much place to hide and it had only one door. I did not expect it to be a long chase, as it was running away from that door. But I should have expected something, since it had entered without rousing all Minas Tirith. After passing two rows of shelves it simply vanished.
A/N: Many thanks to charli800 for patient and thorough beta reading. Remaining mistakes are mine.