Vert

 The sun was setting, painting the sky a deep shade of orange as it slowly dipped below the horizon. The air was crisp, the scent of autumn leaves lingering in the air. A lone figure stood atop a hill, their back turned to the setting sun. They wore a long, flowing robe that billowed gently in the breeze, the hood pulled up to shield their face from the chill.

A voice, deep and rich, called out to them. "Greetings, traveler! May I ask what brings you to our humble village?" It was the elder, Jorah, who spoke. His graying beard waved gently as he bowed his head in respect.

The figure turned slowly, their hands resting on the hilt of the sword at their side. They had eyes the color of the ocean, pale and piercing, framed by long, dark lashes. "I have come seeking shelter and a place to rest," they replied, their voice soft and melodic. "I am weary from my journey."

The villagers, who had gathered around, exchanged glances. It was not often that strangers came to their village, and even more rare that they spoke so eloquently. Their attire, though worn and travel-stained, bespoke of nobility.

Jorah stepped forward, gesturing toward the center of the village. "You are most welcome, my lord... or lady. Our huts are humble, but we have a spare one that you may use for the night. Food and drink will be brought to you shortly."

The figure nodded, inclining their head. "Thank you, elder. Your kindness is greatly appreciated." They began to descend the hill, following the elder toward the village. As they walked, the villagers parted to let them pass, their curiosity piqued by the mysterious stranger who had come among them.

The hut that was offered to the traveler was small and cozy, with a bed of fragrant straw in one corner and a wooden chest at the foot of it. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows against the earthen walls. The traveler knelt beside the fire, warming their hands, as the elder returned with a steaming bowl of stew and a hunk of fresh bread.

"I hope you find this to your liking, my lord... or lady," Jorah said, offering the food to the traveler. "We are not accustomed to such fine cooking in these parts, but we did our best."

The traveler took the food gratefully, a small smile playing at the corners of their lips. "It smells wonderful, elder. Thank you." They began to eat, savoring each bite, as the village around them slowly settled down for the night.

Jorah, sitting on a nearby stool, watched the traveler with curiosity. "Forgive my impertinence, my lord... or lady, but you did not answer my question earlier. May I know from whence you come?"

The figure set their bowl aside, wiping their fingers on a cloth before answering. "I am from a place far to the west, elder. It is called Gondolin. Perhaps you have heard of it?" They looked at Jorah expectantly.

The elder's eyes widened in surprise. "Gondolin? The city of the Noldor? Truly, you are a figure of legend, coming to our humble village!" He bowed his head respectfully. "I am honored by your presence, my lord."

The traveler inclined their head in acknowledgment. "Your hospitality is appreciated, elder. I hope that my stay here will not cause any undue hardship for you or your people."

Outside, the wind picked up, rustling the leaves on the trees and sending a shiver through the traveler. They rose to their feet, stretching and yawning, the movement making their lithe form seem even more graceful. "If you will excuse me, elder, I think I shall retire for the night. Thank you again for your kindness." With that, the traveler disappeared into the small room, leaving Jorah to ponder the events of the evening....