The Night's Wanderer

28. Through Death's Doors

The further forward they walked the more hesitant became their steps.

The light of the sun, which was little but enough as their eyes adjusted, soon vanished. 

Morel remained confident in her steps, soon taking lead with Aragorn beside her. Her confidence in her steps, on where she walked, contrasted the others as they lurked in the shadow realm. 

Aragorn stumbled over an object on the ground. On picking it up he found it to be a torch, which Morel lit with a snap of her fingers. The blue flame changed to orange as it burned the cloth. 

At least now they could all see, in some sense of the word.

The further in they drew the colder it became. 

Faint green figures of horses and men crowded around them. Hands out to grasp at the trespassers in their Kingdom.

Aragorn ignored them, having been warned of what lurked here. 

Legolas seemed hesitant but showed no fear. He had seen worse and more bizarre during his time on Arda. 

Morel strode along. Not even noticing what tried pulling at them. 

Gimli was much more wary and hesitant.

"How are you so relaxed, Lass?" Gimli muttered. His attempt to blow away the phantom limbs that tried to grasp to each of them being unsuccessful.

Morel casts him a backwards glance to where she could hear Gimli's heavy steps. The ground beneath her feet had changed from stone to bone, providing her no sight.

"You're seeing stuff?"

A grunt came from the dwarf, Aragorn biting his tongue to keep in his laugh.

Of course, these pale green phantoms before them held no material body, just like fire, so Morel did not know what clawed at them.

Offering a small chuckle, breaking the tension in the air, Legolas gripped Morel's forearm as she stepped forward. There was hesitance in her steps, although hard to notice. But he understood why as Aragorn told them not to look down.

"Mist filled arms are grasping at us, you less so. The owners are watching us in the dark." He described quietly.

"Cold grips are working through my armour, I thought it was just the wind." Morel murmured. Glancing back to where Gimli still grumbled under his breath Morel offered him an answer. "I cannot fear what I cannot see, which at this point is everything."

Gimli gave her a huff, appreciating her honestly.

It did make a lot more sense now at the ever calm, or at least reactionless, nature presented on the Night Wanderer. Even up against the Balrog the grey elf's eyes hadn't widened, which at the time Gimli found unsettling.

What spawn of hell did one need to see to have no reaction to such a foe? Well, that had been his first thought. But with the answer so simple as given Gimli decided it would be best to leave this conversation out of any stories once he got home. He would save his pride, as well as keep Morel a mysterious character.

Huffing out at a nearing hand Gimli returned from his thoughts, quickening his pace to draw closer to the elven couple ahead of him. Bones under feet crunched and cracked, soon stopping on entering a bigger room. 

Morel rested hands on her blades, back to being able to see as she let the often-spoken spell pass her lips. 

The cavern was a hall. Vast and of stone, steps to one end with a throne on top. Opposite was the natural cave, deep and dark.