How fast the cycles move between winter and summer. It is so fast that we often fail to mark the changes till one day we suddenly realise the trees are high and green and we have awoken one year older into another spring. Soft mists rise like ghosts from the rain drenched fields emphasised by the light of a waxing moon and who but us can tread so soft that the world cannot hear. Great deeds now lay a path and our feet follow. So we shall walk a while in this silvered gloom till no more can we see and no more can we hear and then watch as the world stills to a whisper to reveal the truth. That great lady; you are a pivotal force within this story; even though you do not yet see it. Yet I say to you, before the year passes you will remember who you are and find strength. Do not ask how; I may not say! Though the Istari have the gift of foresight it is a dangerous gift beset with hazards and only the wisest can calculate all the outcomes. It may also be tampered with and bent to another’s will to show untruths that would aid our despair. I will not share this burden with you for it is mine. Ever he seeks to learn our intent but for now the door is closed to him. In that knowledge he prepares for war yet ever he seeks to prise open my thoughts and it wearies me. He means to attack from both within and without. It will come soon lady...sooner than we should wish, but the quest has unnerved him and he seeks now to end it in its infancy.