“An interesting place indeed” he paused for a moment, taking a drag of his tobacco.
“Going there by yourself is dangerous, but you understand risks must be taken Balamor. I met a man who traveled there once; he called himself The Fourth Valorhorn. He said the Mog Brush is a very...sacred land”
Balamor sat quietly; an unbroken stare grew wide, and his mouth agape, lost at the sound of the ambiguous name. If Farjadis met the man who wrote the Sacred Lands, then surely that’s how the book found its way amongst the shelves of the Wisebeard library. His eyes drifted to the floor as he began to ask himself where the other texts had come from.
Suddenly he remembered there being very strange books which filled whole sections of the old library. Everything about them seemed out of place, their spines were empty, and some of their covers had symbols on them, which he now realized were runewords. But the pages had all been blank, not a word written on them. His thoughts escaped his mouth almost accidently.
“There’s...something else” he hesitated, “In the library I stumbled upon some...well, some very strange books. I have no clue what they are for. But some of these rune words were on their covers and I don’t—”
The jovial laugh of his grandfather interrupted him. The Wisebeard puffed his pipe once more as the silence hung over them. Their pale eyes met in a plume of smoke, blanketing their familiar features as the old hobbit spoke.
He reached down to the basket beside him, retrieving a thin book. Flipping the 6 pages between the covers as he continued,
“This was one of my own ya know? A favorite you could say. A mystic named Gantis Jacs gave this to me; you were only an infant at the time. I think it’s time you held onto it.”
He handed the old book to his grandson as he smiled.
The book was just as he described the others, but there was a detail he hadn't seen before. He studied the thin book; dark brown leather was stretched around a hardback. On it he found no trace of runewords, but instead six words which resembled common tongue sat at the bottom of the front cover. Each one separated by a dash,
Tyel - Aer - Hels - Theas - Maur - Firos.
Another piece to the puzzle he thought to himself as he flipped through the empty pages, each uneven in size and shape. He didn’t know how this could be used but he didn’t question the gift his grandfather gave him.