Passersby ➵ ONC 2021

➵ doors of shfashara

The long horns of the oryxes pierce the very air which they walk through. Their soft white flanks soothe it.

"You are one of us," a female voice sounds as they are all three bound and led in the opposite direction through the grass fields and then into the near woods. "And yet you are not. You share our height, our disposition, our features, and yet you are not from these lands."

It is the voice of an elf, who is speaking directly to Legolas. But she is different from the elves back home. Her skin is much darker, not nearly the deep, sweet shade of Ulvinowyn's, but more the hue of copper. Her straight black hair falls over her shoulders with just as much majesty, and all the elves accompanying her seem to match this palette. They are beautiful, and they find Legolas just as strange as he finds them.

"You are pale," remarks an elf next to her, who wears his hair tied back in one long tail. He rides an oryx of pure white — one-handed; he appears to be missing half of his opposite forearm — and looks upon them with equal fascination. "And you bring a pale friend."

Gimli gives a quiet, gruff nod as they are ushered farther into the forest, heading in the direction of a great stone wall. The female elf rides her oryx to the gate in its center, stopping and calling to two guards who stand stilly behind it.

"Henaino i nen fen!" she greets them, and they immediately move toward her, tipping their heads in a slight bow. "Eyes of Water Door!"

"Adaneth Nînthel," the guard on the left replies. "Woman Nînthel."

"Open the gates," she commands, "and prepare the Kraal of Questionment."

"Minnsui cin iest," the guard answers again, pulling open the iron-and-ivy-barred gates. "Enter as you wish."

It is with great haste that Legolas lets himself be ushered through the vast, exalted passage. His two companions are slower to comply.

They move forward to a second entrance, this one made of iron and gold, moss growing between its slatelike fissures and homing small, colorful insects that none of them have ever before seen anywhere else. The guards, after securing the first entrance again, let Nînthel and her oryx through the second, the others following closely behind.

They are guided to a clearing between the trees, occupied by an enclosure of sticks, large, flat stones and many leaves between. Nînthel and the elf with the hair tie that follows her lead them both inside, the other elves gathering their oryxes and bringing them away. The door shuts behind them, and the three are left in the tent of nature with one another in silence. There is a roof of animal hide above them. Gimli wonders internally what it is made of, but Ulvinowyn understands that it is cow skin. She is familiar with it. When she was a cat in her own home on her own lands, she would eat it like fruit.

Nînthel is the first to speak, her eyes cold and calculated on their sitting bodies.

"I am Nînthel, battle commander of Shfashara," she introduces herself, turning to the male elf standing slightly behind her. "This is my apprentice and second-in-command, Elu."

Legolas nods to them both, but Gimli returns the words with a guarded glare. The cat looks at them head-on, not providing nor denying respect, staying entirely neutral.

"State your names and your business in our lands," Nînthel continues with a long individual glance at each of them, "or be imprisoned until you speak."

Soft light filters through the thin leather roof above them, the long-passed storm leaving miniature droplets of rain on its edges. The small one steps forward, deciding to start with himself.

"I am Gimli of Ered Luin," relays the dwarf. "This is Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We come from Middle Earth. And this is Ulvinowyn of the lone island Iggrim."

The cat bows her head in greeting while Legolas, who is sitting cross-legged on the moss floor and cannot bow in such a position, does nothing at all, other than answer the part of the question that Gimli has quite clearly forgotten.

"We are sailing to Aman," he replies. "My closest relatives and friends are there now. Although I do not believe I am going there to stay permanently, it has been decided that life is too long to not fill it with adventures back and forth."

"We lost our ship in the storm," Ulvinowyn explains, her deep, full voice making the walls themselves sigh at it. "We have no means of sailing off again. So we are here."

"I see," speaks Nînthel, narrowing her eyes as she casts long looks into theirs. "To Aman, is it, that you say you are heading?"

"Yes," Gimli replies, and Nînthel casts Elu a silent yet meaningfully thoughtful look.

"The next ship of ours to leave for that continent is scheduled six moons away, Adaneth," Elu speaks. "Until then, we have no extra boats to spare. We may have good use for three extra bodies here if they are willing to wait, although we will have to talk to our sovereign about the situation."

Nînthel nods and turns back to the three, motioning strongly at the grass floor.

"Before we let you in, we will give you the chance to discard of any hidden weapons that we have not already confiscated," she commands. "They will be returned to you when you have proven your benignity."

Gimli throws down a small dagger as Legolas sets an extra set of arrows aside. He keeps his bow; they haven't taken it yet despite its blatant existence on his back and he imagines it is not considered a weapon if not in reach of something that makes it lethal. Ulvinowyn, picking at her toes with her teeth, discards eight metal claw guards sharpened to a point, which neither Gimli nor Legolas had been aware of her having.

Nînthel regards the pile of weaponry with a raised brow. "Quite a lot of arms for a group who considers themselves passersby."

"Cautionary measures were in order in case Gimli became too annoying," Legolas responds without thinking, and he sees Elu smirk amusedly down at the dwarf before hiding his reaction again.

"Unfortunately, neither of us would eat him," Ulvinowyn adds. "What a waste of a body."

"Yes, which is another fair motive for being here, I'd think," Legolas replies. "Perhaps we could feed him to the oryxes."

"Don't make me reclaim the blade I just got rid of to sever your throats," Gimli warns gruffly, and Nînthel looks down at him with an emotionless breath of regard.

"Once you three are prepared for a sagacious conversation, you may follow us to meet our Lady Longil," she informs them shortly. "I advise that this occurs within the next few moments."

"She means that she wishes for you to grow up," Elu paraphrases humorously, although it isn't at all an exaggeration, "ignoring that you are all likely many, many years of age."

Nînthel remains unmoved by the sentence as she stares them down, opening the door of the enclosure and readying them all to see the queen of Shfashara.

Realistically speaking, Legolas himself is unable to grow up any more than he already has. He must always be this young. He does not know why. But he keeps this thought to himself, along with many others, following the strange new elves and his two seaward companions out of the door of branches and back into the open earth.

"Ah, and Legolas," Elu adds, holding out his left arm, which bears no wrist, in expectation. "You will need to turn in your bow."

Legolas tightens his jaw in disappointment, lifting the weapon off his back and setting the handle in the crook of Elu's elbow, which holds it just as well as his other uninjured one ever could. His feet trample leaves on leaves as they walk.

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