York, Part III

Satisfied with securing a seat by the window on the top floor of the library, his gaze wandered over the old campus of the University of York. It was a sea of grey and green. Large trees, bursting with leaves, towered over the university buildings, the colour of asphalt. Behind them, shimmering specks were visible, the university’s river, running through the campus like silver snakes.

The quiet shuffling of bags, whispers, and the almost inaudible turning of pages of books interrupted the silence of the library. Yet, they were peaceful interruptions, noises that somehow made reading so much more enjoyable than in one’s own four walls.

He had to read four essays. One on Tolkien, another two on World War One, and the fourth one was on the legacy of The Lord of the Rings and its impact on modern history. He already knew that this last essay would more or less state that without Tolkien’s experiences as a soldier in World War One and without the dark days he lived through during World War Two, The Lord of the Rings would not have been written the way it was. He had created a work of companionship, fellowship, and friendship broken apart by the horrors of two world wars.

He sighed and began to read, not noticing the ever-shifting landscape outside. Leaves were moved by the northern winds. The colour of buildings, trees, the river, and clouds was changed by the slow decent of the sun.