Farjadis let out a plume of smoke before reaching beyond his shirt revealing a silver necklace fixed with a small ruby pendant. He knew it needed to be protected; Balamor needed more time. But the effects of the strange potion he had just received were completely unknown to him. Caressing the pendant in his palm Farjadis observed the gem closely, it was just a piece of a puzzle to him. He knew there were more, and Farah Lenook was undoubtedly after them.
"The Mystic you speak of gave me this necklace, he said it was merely a fragment of the true stone it once was. I was to keep this away from Farah Lenook at all costs along with the books in the library... All these years I have held on to it, I would rather have casted it down the Faric, but I knew my duty, my role in this world."
The old mans steel blue eyes became lost in the ruby before he quickly tucked it beneath his white shirt. He retrieved the vial from the small table before he continued,
"I'm sorry you were brought into this, it is strange that Gantis would choose you and your mother to carry out such a task... Perhaps he wanted to ensure the safety of this potion. Well no matter his purpose, I believe you have done your duty Mr. Treadfoot, now I will do mine."
Jabit watched as Farjadis reached out his bony hand to meet his own. He felt the importance of the old man as their palms met. He wasn't sure what would fate the Wisebeard now, but he knew his journey home would begin once their handshake ended. The two looked one another in the eye once more, each having a feeling it would be the last time they would have the chance.
Farjadis watched as the messenger departed the small village, he held the glass vial in his right hand until the sun began to dip beyond the horizon. He was unsure what would happen when he took the strange tonic, he could only have faith in Gantis — he trusted him.
Just as the night fell over the hobbit village the old Wisebeard lifted himself from his rocking chair and started for the Wisebeard library. The air was still as he walked the dirt path, the moon was full and shining bright in the sky, owls hollering in the distance. The trek across town seemed to take ages as Farjadis became absorbed in his thoughts.
He thought back on his journey to the city of Delsis with the Mystic Gantis, he knew that Farah Lenook would never stop her search for the books, but more importantly the pendant which Farjadis hoped he could pass on to his grandson. He asked himself how many times the Mystic could keep good away from the grips of such evil. And how much could a dying old man do to escape that evil?