After the two men had entered the editor's office, Mr. Hoskins slammed the door shut. "What the hell is this, Jack?" he barked at the other man while pointing to a sheet of paper in his hand.
"I am telling you, Joe," replied the younger man, "it will be the greatest story this newspaper has ever published."
The editor looked again at the document for a moment, and then said, "Alright, you can write it."
"I can?" asked the reporter, doubtfully.
"Yes," replied Mr. Hoskins, "right after you're done with the piece on the Easter Bunny's serial murders."
Jack let out a sigh and then said, "Do you know that most people in this country now believe that the UFO phenomenon is real?"
The editor threw himself down on his desk chair. "Are you listening to yourself," he said, "Tolkien-loving extraterrestrials, really? Not even Hollywood could have come up with such a load of bull."
"But this is different, Joe; I have evidence," replied the young man. "The material from the alleged crash site is too weird and advanced to ignore, and on top of that, no one can tell how they were able to carve those Tolkien characters on the fragment without altering its structure."
"You know," said Mr. Hoskins, "I think you're letting your Tolkien addiction get the better of you; perhaps you should consider writing instead one of those kooky fanfiction stories."
Jack moved to the window and gazed down at the street. After a moment he said, "You've always told me to follow the evidence."
Mr. Hoskins exhaled loudly. "Tell you what," he said, "find me one respected scholar that will support your wacky story and we'll talk. Till then, I want you to stay with the piece on the governor's secret rendez-vous."
On the following morning, as Jack and his fiancée Lina were having breakfast, he said to her, "Remember that strange fragment I told you about, the one that was supposedly found at a UFO crash site? I took it to a materials lab the other day, and according to them, that kind of stuff cannot be made using any known technology."
"Come on, Jack," she said softly as she slid her finger slowly along the back of his hand. "You know alien stories are not the kind of fantasies I want to hear about."
"There's more, though," continued the young man, intent on staying on topic. "The scientists also told me that the material exhibits some ridiculous properties - one of them even described it as magical. And according to an Oxford scholar I spoke with, it appears that the weird symbols carved on the fragment are indeed Tolkien characters."
"Tolkien characters, huh," she said. "Did the thing also come with pixie dust?"
The young man twisted his mouth and gave her a look of playful contempt. "Have you read the Silmarillion?" he asked after a moment.
"Nah, never got around to it," replied Lina.
"You should," he said. "Anyway, it seems that at least some of the symbols on the fragment are Tengwar characters, a sort of Elvish alphabet; and that scholar, the Tolkien expert I mentioned earlier, was able to identify two words written in the high-elven tongue: 'Valar' and 'keepers'."
Lina drew a long breath. "I'm sorry, love," she said, "but if those big-headed gray aliens that go around abducting people are supposed to be the fair folk, Tolkien's sense of aesthetics must have been really screwed up."
"They're not supposed to be the elves of Tolkien's legendarium, I don't think," said the young man, "but perhaps there is a connection,"
Lina took some time to think about it and then said, "Hmm... I suppose the pesky critters could be some sort of elven droids sent here to spy on us," and following a brief pause, added, "Or maybe the little bastards have a sense of humor, and decided to carve Tolkien symbols on their crafts just to mess with our heads."
Jack rose to his feet and said, "I got to go."
Lina walked up to him and gave him a kiss. "Worry not," she said. "I'll read the Silmarillion and have this all figured out in a couple of days."
A few days later, as Jack and his fiancée were finishing their dinner, he said to her, "I went to see a scientist today to ask him about UFO's. I thought that perhaps he could help me convince Joe to let me write a story on the fragment."
"Did he kick you out right away or just laugh at you?" said Lina.
Jack ignored the snark and went on, "His name is Dr. Boulanger. He is well respected and has even worked on NASA projects, but he has some pretty weird ideas when it comes to UFO's."
"What did he tell you?" she asked.
"He basically thinks that the whole thing is a product of our collective unconscious - some sort of material realization of our archetypes," replied the young man.
Lina rolled her eyes and then said, "And who in hell is supposed to be causing those realizations - Eru, Zeus?"
"My conversation with the professor was already getting too weird," said Jack; "I did not feel like going there."
"So what now?" asked the young woman.
"I don't know," he said as he rose to his feet and walked over to the couch. After taking a seat, he added, "By the way, are you done reading the Silmarillion?"
"Nope, just finished Beren and Luthien," she replied.
"Well, since you are now done with the Ainulindalë and the Valaquenta anyway," said the young man, "perhaps you can explain to me why the Quenya words for 'Valar' and 'keepers' would be found carved on a piece of highly-engineered material."
"It is quite simple really," replied Lina; "the Lords of the Blessed Realm are in on the government cover-up."
Jack threw his head back on the couch's backrest and set his eyes on the ceiling. "I must be losing my mind," he said, after a short while.
"You are not losing your mind; I'm sure there is a logical explanation somewhere," said Lina. Then she came to sit next to him on the couch and began to caress the back of his head. "But if they do come for you, at least you'll have a bunch of former Navy pilots to play cards with at the asylum."
"All those pilots saw was a number of odd-looking crafts doing impossible things in the air," said Jack; "they did not see an elf or maia or whatever."
"And you did?" asked Lina, mildly astonished.
Jack sat up slowly, let out a long sigh and then began, "As I was leaving Professor Boulanger's house, I was approached by two men, and yes, they were wearing black suits. They questioned me about the package I had received and then told me that I was not to talk or write about it. They also wanted me to hand it over, but I told them that it was no longer in my possession, which is of course not true."
At that moment he paused, drew a long breath and then shook his head at the absurdity of his own tale. After a few seconds he continued, "While the mysterious men were talking, I spotted a very tall fellow who stood on the snow-covered field across the street. He wore a medieval-looking hooded cloak, which made it impossible to get a good look at his face. As the men in black prepared to leave, the enigmatic stranger turned around and vanished among the trees; but when I went to the spot where he had been standing, I could find no tracks on the snow anywhere. It was spooky, as if he had simply walked on top of the snow without disturbing it in any way."
Lina looked at him dubiously for a short while, and then said, "Hmm… on second thought, I think you may indeed be ready for the madhouse."
"I need a drink," he said as he arose and walked over to the liquor cabinet.
On Monday evening, after work, Jack felt like he needed a little time to think, and so he went for a stroll on the grounds of Boston Common. As he walked along one of the many pathways, he espied from afar a tall man who was wearing an outfit very similar to the one worn by the stranger he had seen across the street from Professor Boulanger's house, and decided to follow him. The figure in the hooded cloak came at length to the edge of an ice skating rink and stopped there to gaze at the skaters as they glided swiftly past him.
"Nice costume," said Jack as he came close.
But the tall stranger was not startled or surprised at all by the sudden appearance of the reporter. He turned around slowly, then bowed his head slightly and said, "Well met, Jack Connors."
The young man, however, was not in the mood for pleasantries. "Why have you been following me?" he said bluntly.
The tall fellow seemed to hesitate for a second, and then said, "My ultimate aim is unclear, even to myself."
Though he tried, Jack could not get a good look at the stranger's face, as his hood hung far out over his forehead. "I have a pretty good idea of what it is you are after," he said.
The stranger seemed to nod slightly. "That item in your keep is not what you believe," he replied.
The young man gazed fixedly at the strange fellow for a few seconds, as if trying to size him up. At length he said, "I suppose you believe that the piece would be safer with you and the rest of the Brotherhood of the Pointy Ears, don't you?"
The hooded figure tilted his head a bit, as if puzzled. "I know not of this brotherhood you mention," he said.
The patience of the newspaper reporter, however, was beginning to wear thin. "Listen Mr. … Mr. ah … "
"I am Ingwion son of Ingwë," said the tall fellow.
Jack snorted. "Why of course you are," he said, with a wry smirk. "And I suppose Manwë is waiting for you at the corner pub." The hooded figure however remained silent, and after a brief moment the reporter continued, "Say, your English is pretty good for someone who comes from so far away - you know, from outside the circles of the world and all."
"Many a long sojourn I have made in these hither lands since Ælfwine the Mariner appeared on our shores," replied Ingwion.
The reporter raised his eyebrows. "Ælfwine the Mariner," he said. "I didn't know we were also doing the Lost Road."
"I know not the meaning of your words," said the hooded fellow.
"Never mind," replied Jack, and following a brief pause, added, "But tell me, why was the arrival of Ælfwine so important to you?"
At that moment the hooded fellow turned away slightly, as if he had heard something, then he turned back towards the reporter and said, "To us, the coming of the mariner heralded the beginning of a time of great change."
"But that was a long time ago, wasn't it?" asked the young man.
"Not to us who dwell in the Undying Lands," replied the tall fellow.
"Right, right, of course," said Jack, twisting his mouth. After a brief moment he continued, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but were you guys not supposed to stay put in your fair realm and sing praises to the Valar unto the ending of the world?"
"Things have come to pass which cannot be ignored," replied Ingwion.
"Still, this is supposed to be the time for the Dominion of Men, is it not?" said the reporter.
Ingwion remained silent for a short while as he appeared to consider the question. At length he said, "The account of the making of the Great Music and of the coming of the Ainur that has passed to you was written by those who followed Fëanáro Curufinwë into Middle-earth after the Darkening of Valinor, and it tells not all that is known in the Blessed Realm. For though the Valar had no part in the making of the Third Theme, things they gleaned of the coming days which they have revealed not to the elves who dwell upon the slopes of Taniquetil, and less yet was said to the Noldor."
Jack took a moment to think about what he had just heard, and then said, "Are you saying that the Valar think that something big is about to happen?"
At that moment there was a big tumult on the ice rink, for a child had fallen and hit his head, and Jack turned at once to look at the distressing scene; but when he turned back his head, he found that Ingwion had vanished. For a time the reporter remained motionless, as in a daze, with the uneasy feeling that things were about to get even weirder.