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[wouldnottakeit]

Faramir will not go far into the woods. He was warned about them on his arrival, and, although he has no doubt in his own skills as a ranger, he arrived with no weapons and a wound that still is not entirely healed. So he forgoes any urge to examine them more closely for now and instead sits on a large rock near enough to the woods, but within easy

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[myrddin_wyllt]

The Merlin is on his way out of the woods, actually, robes flaying in the gentle summer wind, and his face is quiet, almost at peace. He may be on his way to looking for his housemate, actually, and will nod politely at the young scholar as he passes him by.

[wouldnottakeit]

Faramir almost doesn't notice him, caught up as he is in his reading, but he returns the nod once he does. Although he has never met the other man, he feels familiar. "Good day to you."

[myrddin_wyllt]

The Merlin certainly has things in common with Gandalf, though his meddling is usually less successful and much more angst-inducing. This is a good day, however, and so he smiles. "Fine day, is it not, m'lad?"

He calls everyone that, so it is hardly surprising that he would do so a stranger.

[wouldnottakeit]

"It is indeed, sir." The resemblance to Gandalf -if not in looks, then in general wizardness- is more than a little odd and catches him a bit off guard. He has never met any other wizards.

[myrddin_wyllt]

He smiles, a little. "Lucky for you it will not rain, with all your library about."

[wouldnottakeit]

Faramir looks at his neat stack of books with a smile. They are only the latest in what will most likely be a long line of borrowed works. "It is lucky, for I would not return them to their owner ruined by the weather and my own carelessness."

[myrddin_wyllt]

Merlin takes out his pipe, sets to preparing it. "Ah, you didn't get them from that big madhouse, boy? Best as much to borrow from the library rather than individuals. It, at least, does not have a return policy."

[wouldnottakeit]

"I did borrow them from the library." He looks mildly confused for just the slightest moment. "Does it mean they belong to no one if they come from there? Even if that was so, I would still return them to their original place so that others may read them. And I would never ruin a book, regardless of where I received it from."

[myrddin_wyllt]

Merlin's eyes twinkle with appreciation. "Of course you would not, dear boy. You love books about as much as they love you, clearly." He takes a first heavy puff of his pipe, something clove-scented and pleasant. "As for the books, they belong to everyone and no-one - and fear not. Should you forget to return them, the library will claim them when your need is sated."

[wouldnottakeit]

"'Tis a magic library?" He thought it had seemed rather strange, but not that strange.

[myrddin_wyllt]

Merlin smiles a little, amused. "As is just about everything else here, a little bit of wonder has fallen into its making, doubtless."

The library is a mysterious thing. To some, it is always orderly, to others, it constantly needs tidying. It is, to our knowledge, never lacking in what one needs from it, and sometimes inconvenient and disturbing works appear in the wrong hands. To Merlin, certainly seems to have a mind of its own.

[wouldnottakeit]

"It makes me wonder if there is a thing here which has not been touched by magic in some way." He has a great respect for it, of course, but at the same time it unsettles him to see it in such frequent and (apparently) harmless use.

[myrddin_wyllt]

"The question is good, but I have no answers to yeild to it," Merlin replies, thoughtfully. "But forgive me, we have not been introduced."

He bows, a wobbly thing that a man does only when he's accustomed to bowing by courtesy, and not necessity.

"I am the Merlin."

[wouldnottakeit]

Faramir returns the gesture, although it is much more polished and graceful in his case. "Faramir son of Denethor."

[myrddin_wyllt]

"Well met, Faramir son of Denethor," he replies, very politely. "Now, I'll wager you're not from Britain, aye?"

[wouldnottakeit]

"My home is the city of Minas Tirith in Gondor, but I have heard of Britain, and met men from of that place, since arriving here."