Myth and fairy-story must, as all art, reflect and contain in

Host:
The night stretched out like a heavy cloak, the darkness curling around the edges of the world, pressing in from all sides. The air outside was sharp with the chill of autumn, the streets illuminated only by the soft, golden glow of scattered lamplights. Inside the small, quiet bookstore, the smell of aged paper and ink mixed with the faint scent of coffee brewing in the corner. The faint hum of the city outside was nothing but a whisper against the heavy silence of the room.

Jack stood by a shelf, his hand brushing across the spines of books that seemed more like friends than objects to him. Jeeny sat at the counter, her fingers flipping lazily through a thick volume of poetry, her brow furrowed in concentration. The only sound was the rustling of pages and the occasional soft sigh from one of them.

Jack:
(he pauses, pulling a book from the shelf and glancing at the title)
"You know, I was reading something by Tolkien the other day — about how myth and fairy-stories aren’t just stories for the sake of escape. They have to hold truth — moral and religious truth, though not in the obvious, literal way. It made me think…"

(He trails off, his voice thoughtful but distant.)
"Maybe there’s more to those old stories than just adventure and magic. Maybe there’s something deeper buried in them, something we need to find."

Jeeny:
(she looks up from the book, her eyes searching)
"I think you’re right. I’ve always felt there was more to those stories, more than just the fantasy of it. Tolkien believed that myths weren’t just distractions; they were ways of showing us the truth about the world, the way things should be or the way they could go wrong."

(She tilts her head slightly, her voice calm but edged with curiosity.)
"But do you think he meant that these stories had to hold the same truths we live by? Or could they have a truth that’s more abstract, more universal?"

Host:
The air in the room thickens with the weight of the question, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows against the walls. Outside, the faint echoes of the world seem far away, as though the space inside the bookstore holds its own kind of reality — one where ideas can stretch and bend. Jack’s fingers tighten around the book, his gaze fixed on the words as if they might hold a deeper answer.

Jack:
(he ponders, tapping the cover of the book thoughtfully)
"I think Tolkien meant something different. He wasn’t saying the myths had to tell us exactly how to live our lives. But they had to contain elements of the truth — not in a straightforward way, but in a way that makes you feel it, in the hidden corners of the story."

(He raises his voice, as if his thoughts were gaining momentum.)
"Take The Lord of the Rings, for instance. It’s a story about good and evil, but not just in the way we see it every day. It’s about sacrifice, temptation, and the corruption of power. That’s what makes it resonate. It’s not a moral lecture; it’s an experience, something you can’t touch but still feel."

Jeeny:
(she leans back, her fingers playing with the edge of the book, her tone thoughtful)
"Right, and that’s what makes these stories different. They don’t give you answers — they give you questions, they make you confront things you can’t always see in the ‘real’ world. It’s not about learning the answer, it’s about experiencing the truth in a way that words can’t always capture."

(She pauses, her gaze softening.)
"The truth isn’t always something you can see with your eyes. Sometimes, you have to feel it in your bones, in the air between the lines. That’s what makes myth so powerful, and why Tolkien believed it was so important."

Host:
The light from the candles flickers against the shelves, casting elongated shadows that stretch across the wooden floor like ancient echoes. The air seems to hum with the weight of their words, both grounded and transcendent at once. Jack sets the book down, his fingers brushing the page as if searching for something that isn’t there, something more. Jeeny watches him, her expression serene, yet her eyes hold a hint of a question yet to be answered.

Jack:
(quietly)
"Do you think our world is missing that, Jeeny? The way the myths bring out a deeper, more universal truth? We spend so much time chasing the obvious — what we can touch, what we can see. But maybe we’re missing the point of it all."

(Suddenly, his voice tightens with the realization.)
"We need these stories to remind us of what’s beyond our reach, what we can't understand with just our eyes or logic. They teach us things we couldn’t learn in the ‘real’ world, things we don’t even know we need."

Jeeny:
(she smiles, a small glint of understanding in her eyes)
"I think you’re starting to see what Tolkien meant. He didn’t think that art, or myth, should just be a reflection of the world we live in. He believed they should show us what could be, what we should strive toward, even if it’s hidden in layers of magic and imagination."

(She looks at him, her voice soft and warm.)
"We can’t live our lives only in the real world, Jack. It’s the stories — the myths, the fairy tales, the things that seem unreal — that give us the wisdom to navigate it. They teach us the kind of truths that don’t just explain the world; they shape the way we see it."

Host:
The bookstore, the silence, the weight of their words — all seem to settle into a new rhythm. The glow of the candles reflects in their eyes, as if they, too, are beginning to understand the depth of what Tolkien’s words mean, not just for stories, but for life. The hum of the world outside fades away, replaced by the quiet certainty of the space they occupy — a place where truths are felt, rather than seen.

Jack:
(softly, his voice tinged with realization)
"Maybe that’s why we need these stories, Jeeny. To remind us of the things we can’t always see — the things that hide just beneath the surface of everything."

(He looks at her, a new understanding in his eyes.)
"They’re not just stories about things that happened. They’re stories about things that could happen, and about the things that should."

Jeeny:
(smiling, her eyes glimmering with a quiet satisfaction)
"Exactly. And the more we understand that, the more we realize that we’re living our own myths every day, whether we realize it or not."

Host:
The room feels almost alive with the conversation, the soft crackle of the candle flames the only sound now. Outside, the city stretches on, but in here, the world has narrowed to something deeper, more reflective. The truth, like the myths, is just out of reach — but somehow, it feels closer now.

As the night continues to stretch onward, Jack and Jeeny are left with the quiet understanding that the stories we tell, whether in the form of myth or truth, shape the way we see the world — and the way we live within it.