Words are amazing things. They are sight and sound, thoughts and feelings. They are both more than that and less than it, experiences codified into a tangible essence. They are something to be shared with others or to be secreted away, shepherded carefully against prying eyes. But sometimes words are not enough. Sometimes, even the most carefully crafted words fail utterly when they come up against something that cannot be codified. Something that cannot be listed or measured by something as limited as words. The Keeper’s library was one of those things.

Certainly there were words, many of them, which could be used to describe the library. Enormous, ancient, solemn, and full of a weighted wisdom. But these words could not truly encompass the full nature of the library. It was a place that defied description, an entity to itself that needed to be experienced for all that it was to catch even the barest glimpse of its true nature. Endless knowledge waited within the library’s shadowed recesses and far-reaching halls, if only one had the time and patience to seek out the answers to their questions. But today, for Acolyte Shim, The Keeper’s library was nothing more than a quiet place to mull things over.

The Keeper knew of Shim’s arrival, or course. It was in The Keeper’s nature to know things, especially the things which took place within the confines of his sanctuary. But it was unusual to find one of the acolytes wandering down the paths that Shim was taking. The acolytes were welcomed within all areas of the library, as only befitting the members of an order dedicated to knowledge, but Shim was an older acolyte and those tended to keep to well-known and familiar paths. Not that it was unheard of, but it was far more common to have to go searching for one of the younger acolytes who’d lost their way in the library after one too many fool hardly boasts to their peers. And Shim had never been one of the acolytes prone to wandering, not in the fifty-something years in which he had been allowed entry to the library. Something must be weighing on the elder acolyte’s mind, The Keeper knew. It was only right that he do what he could as head of Shim’s order to help ease the burdens which lay heavily upon the man’s thoughts.

“Good evening, Acolyte,” The Keeper spoke, his tone calm and soft. Despite the precautions, the suddenness of the words from the otherwise still air jolted through Shim, pulling a startled yelp from the old man and lifting him several inches off the ground.

“Oh, my pardon Keeper. I did not mean to disturb you,” Shim stammered, quickly regaining his composure in the face of the eldest. Even the deep lines that age had worn into the Acolyte’s face could not hide the flush of scarlet which flooded the man’s cheeks.

“Think nothing of it, Acolyte Shim,” the Keeper smiled pleasantly at the man, his blue eyes warm and soft. “After all, it was I who interrupted your meditations.”

Shim waved a dismissing hand at The Keeper’s words.

“Nay,” he said, “I am always at your disposal Keeper.”

“Shouldn’t I allow you the courtesy of having a little time to yourself, then?” The Keeper asked.

“I am an Acolyte,” Shim lifted his chin slightly, a sure mark of honored pride. “My life and purpose is to serve you and yours, Keeper. There is plenty of time for me to expect privacy when I’m not wandering mindlessly through your library.”

The Keeper chuckled slightly.

“Some would say that it is my life and purpose to serve, Acolyte Shim.” A single hand slid from the folds of his soft gray robe and tottered back and forth, giving Shim the impression that it both was and wasn’t. “So how can I help you?”

“Keeper?”

“You have wandered far into my library, and I don’t need to be The Keeper to know that something serious was on your mind. How can I help to alleviate your burden?”

“Oh,” Shim’s expression grew sheepish. “It is nothing, Keeper. There is no need to trouble you with the silly thoughts of an old man.”

“Nonsense,” The Keeper replied. He began to slowly walk down the aisles, gesturing for Shim to follow. The Acolyte dutifully complied. “What use is all of this knowledge if it can’t help with something like that?

“Gods above and below, Shim,” The Keeper snorted. “Everyone thinks that it’s the large problems that will bring about the end of the world.” The Keeper shook his head once, sadly. “It’s the small things that kill everything in the end, Acolyte. Even worlds.” The Keeper didn’t need to look to know that his words had had a shocking impact on the old acolyte. Still, the reaction was over in an instant, a sad look turning Shim’s face down.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you know,” Shim sighed, “you are The Keeper.”

A single snort shook The Keeper’s shoulders. “Nothing so arcane as all that, I’m afraid,” he said. Solemnity returned quickly. “Physician Acolyte Hollister informed me this morning after your examination.” The pair walked in silence across several rows of ancient tomes.

“Such a small thing,” Shim breathed out at last. It was a sad, resigned sound. A bony finger reached up and poked at the back of his mottled scalp. “Hollister said that I was lucky that the headaches alerted me so early. Said he can brew up some foul concoction to slow the spread of the thing. Give me another year, two if I’m lucky. But it’s not going to get any better.” Shim sighed again. “All downhill from here.”

The Keeper nodded. This, too, he had known.

“You could help me though,” Shim squinted as he eyed The Keeper. There was no question behind those eyes, and no hope. It was simply a statement of fact. The Keeper nodded again, his face gone cold and neutral.

“But you won’t.”

The Keeper nodded once more.

This time it was Shim’s turn to snort. The old acolyte dropped his gaze to the floor, focusing on nothing but the soft shuffle of robed feet across soft carpet. Several minutes passed as Shim and The Keeper made their way, though they were pleasant and knowing minutes rather than tense, hurt minutes. Finally, it was The Keeper who broke the silence.

“You don’t hate me then?” he asked. Shim simply shook his head sadly.

“No, Keeper,” he sighed. “I’m an old man and I’ve spent my life serving you. Your gift, your responsibility, isn’t something that can or should be used so lightly or for such trivial things.”

“Not lightly,” The Keeper rebuked softly. “And not trivial. Your life, your servitude, should never be called these things.” This time it was Shim’s turn to nod.

“Still,” The Keeper continued. “There is a time for all things to end. One day my time as The Keeper shall end, one day Althanas itself will end. Your time has simply reached you sooner.”

“It’s been a good life,” Shim mused. “I’ve helped people, haven’t I?”

The Keeper stopped and turned to Shim, a soft, sad smile on his face. “You have, Acolyte Shim,” he said, “more than even I know.” The words cracked something within Shim, something that he’d not even known was there. And Shim cried and cried while The Keeper stood by, reassuring the dying man with his presence. Finally, when it was over, Shim looked up at The Keeper, his eyes raw and blood-shot.

“Is it really something small that will end the world?” he asked.

The Keeper laughed, and Shim followed suit, and then The Keeper told Shim how the world ended.