[GK]Over the Mountains... and Far Away

"I lassi lantëa menen,

Síra ná nin vantë.

Hantal le, Annalënen,

An-marë nórë.

An sí lúmë nin leliën,

I Yávië Isil ná tiënyassë.

Ñustan i misto, ar nwalma tanen,

Ar ninna menë..."

The forest stood silent, save for the sighing of the wind through ancient boughs. Echoed the notes from a lyre, mingling with the soft chant of an elfin maiden. Between the swaying trees, where dappled moonlight fell, the shadows pulsed in time with the lament, while leaves rustled as if the great Ents themselves were humming along. At the grove's heart, a small campfire flickered against the gathering dark, dying, crackling. For the brief moment, all mortal utterances and celestial melody wove together in enchanted harmony.

And then, with a soft cough, everything ended, and all was dissolved into the night.

There remained only the sound of a knife drawing from its sheath. Kiroranke examined its edge with a satisfied grunt, and sliced into the roasted venison. He tossed a piece to the eagerly waiting halfling, and then turned, casting a glance at the figure holding the lyra, who had fell silent and lost in thought.

With a sigh, he asked, "Even your appetite fails, Asirpa?"

Asirpa eyed the morsel, swallowed, finally accepted it. With the meat cradled in her palms, her brow furrowed. "This is too dry, Kiroranke."

The dwarf grunted and fished out a leather pouch, sprinkling salt over the meat. Before he could pass the pouch to the half-elf, the piece of meat had already vanished from her hands. He chuckled softly, "Seems it wasn't too bad, eh!"

"Ha ha, is there really anything to be sad about?" A low voice drifted from the dark corner, "In a way, isn't this a kind of liberation?"

Both the dwarf and the halfling stopped chewing and turned their heads towards the voice. The man was leaning against a trunk, one leg propped up, arm resting on his knee, loosely holding an empty flask. He seemed to notice their questioning stares and finally met their eyes. "Is there something wrong?"

"Not cool, Ogata," the halfling said with a tint of hurt. "Saying something like that at a time like this..."

But the tallman seemed indifferent. "...When someone dies, they die. Those who are alive still need to eat. You can do it, but I can't talk about it?"

Shiraishi seemed about to say more, but the young elf tugged at him.

"Yeah... maybe you're right. Now Adar has returned to Mandos, perhaps he has found peace." Her voice trailed off.

Though she spoke those words, it was clear she was only trying to comfort herself.

They had come from the east, journeying through dense jungles, crossing rivers of molten rock and glaciers, finally reaching the shadowed foothills beneath the black peaks. This was once the Dark Lord's stronghold, which withstood centuries of sieges. In the wake of its recent fall, its gates lay wide open, allowing wild beasts to roam freely. Yet it was rumored that his most fearsome minions still roamed Beleriand like shadows of darkness with their maws and talons.

Her father's prison was close, almost within reach—though in the orc-infested dungeons, he was barely recognizable. His features distorted, his hair sparse, there's nothing left to resemble the proud Noldorin he once was.

This statement, however, earned her no sympathy.

"Mandos? Ah, I read about that in ancient texts, a place across the sea where dead ones wait for rebirth... But if I recall correctly, that's a place for elves, isn't it?" Those dark eyes twitched, barely holding back the cruelty. "But your father—is he still an elf, or has he transformed into something else?"

It seemed to set everyone on edge. Asirpa almost stood up, and now it was Shiraishi's turn to look at her uneasily. Kiroranke clamped his pipe between his teeth, even though there's no tobacco burned within it.

Ogata watched them with his keen gaze, as if he worried they hadn't fully grasped his meaning. "I come from a humble human kingdom, and have only ever heard tales—but aren't orcs created by the Dark Lord from tortured elves?"

Upon these words, Asirpa abruptly rose to her feet. Her face contorted with pain, her eyes filled with grief, yet no sound escaped her tightly pressed lips.

For some reason, this sight reminded Ogata of Sugimoto, the loyal attendant who had always accompanied her. If Sugimoto were still alive and with them, he would have to be more careful with his words. Still, seeing another man's anger flare up, even if it meant getting beaten up, it might be worth it—the elf usually intervened before things got out of hand. She appeared young, almost childlike, but it was counted in elfin years.

Yet here she was, making the same mistakes as whom she had lost, allowing herself to be provoked so easily.

"N-no... That's not it..." She finally gritted her teeth and spoke.

Ogata lifted an eyelid, dark eyes meeting the approaching blue ones. "How do you know it's not?" he asked casually. "Weren't you raised by men? How much could you possibly know about the elves?"

Clearly, it must have struck a nerve, bringing back memories of ones who had cared for her, one after another passed away at the end of their short life, until the freshest death. Her delicate features turned even paler.

Finally, a low, rumbling cough interrupted the tense atmosphere. Kiroranke, with his pipe still in his mouth, said, "Hold your tongue, tall man." He scratched at the root of his beard. "You're making things worse."

It was as though he had no part in it. Ogata sneered at the thought softly, avoiding Asirpa's eyes as he slowly rose to his feet. He brushed the dust off his travel cloak. "I don't even know why I bother." He slung his crossbow over his back and started walking deeper into the woods.

Behind him, the dwarf was offering words of comfort to the other two, but Ogata paid no mind. Perhaps he would come back, perhaps he would leave, though it made little sense. After all, he had already gotten what he came for, hadn't he?

The prize pressed warmly against his skin, and just the sensation was enough to bring him satisfaction. When he had set out, he hadn't truly believed he would manage it.

He walked along the forest path for a short while before stopping, hiding behind a tree many times thicker than his own body. He surveyed the area, ensuring that no one was following him, and then carefully reached into his collar and pulled out the item.

Ogata's eyes fixed on the ring. Small, smooth, crafted from a black metal, and embedded with a clear crystal. Now, holding it in his hand, it no longer felt burning hot, but a simple, chilling sensation.

When he first found it deep within the crypt, he could hardly believe how easy it had been. Such a tiny thing, in such dim surroundings... It was as if it wanted him to find it, calling out to him in the darkness.

But, what was it for? Ogata tilted his head, examining it closely.

The ring seemed too small, as if crafted for someone with a more delicate build. His own fingers were too thick to fit. Had he made a mistake?

He recalled the consultation with the royal advisor before his departure. Tsurumi hadn't actually told him what he should be looking for, let alone described the shape of a ring. He hadn't even mentioned that it was a ring at all. The advisor had merely peered into the orb and said that Ogata needed to set out, heading north, then west. He couldn't remain in the city any longer.

Ogata didn't need to be told. He already knew he had to flee this place of troubles. Especially after the sudden demise of the rightful heir to the throne.

"The answer is out there," the royal advisor had said so vaguely.

What did he mean by that? Ogata couldn't tear his eyes away from the ring. Maybe he'd try it, provided it fit. Could there be some miracle?

Miracle? Ogata gave a wry smile. Maybe something that could bring him back in time, before Yuusaku was struck down—no, perhaps even earlier. If only he would return to the night Tome passed away. Better yet, go back to before the crown prince ever stepped into her cottage.

Many things could be rewritten, though he himself might never have existed. But perhaps only that was his only answer.

However, it wasn't long before a familiar voice called out from behind. Ogata's head popped out from behind the tree trunk, and he saw Kiroranke standing there.

The dwarf stated matter-of-factly, "This place isn't safe. The moon is coming up, and we need to move under its light."

Ogata emerged slowly from behind the tree. "How do you stay so calm?" He folded his arms. "Keep telling lies in front of that little elf."

Kiroranke fully grasped what Ogata meant and didn't pretend otherwise. "It's better for her this way. And better for him too." He fixed Ogata with a steady gaze. "Sometimes, you have to shoulder the burden of your conscience and make the right choices for them. You understand that, don't you?"

Ogata held his eyes for a moment, but said nothing.He wasn't sure how much Kiroranke knew. Finally, he walked past the dwarf and made his way back to their fire.

Asirpa didn't even look at him, busy packing the freshly dried venison. Shiraishi pouted as he cleaned up the fire pit. Before long, they were back on the trail.

Ogata wondered how much longer they would travel together. Maybe once they left the vast forest behind, they could go their separate ways. And then what?

Go back? He had no idea if the warrants for his arrest had been lifted.

Maybe he'd continue traveling to distant lands. Asirpa and the others were heading to find her father's kin to deliver the tragic news. The Western elves' city, he had heard, was a place of white walls and seven gates, filled with wonders brought from the lands of the gods. Perhaps there he could find someone knowledgeable enough to tell him the true usage of the ring.

For some reason, the others slowed their pace. Shiraishi listened intently, looking extremely tense.

The halfling whispered softly, "Someone's out there…"

The dwarf and the half-elf also appeared to hear something. Ogata, being the Secondborn as he was, remained standing still for a moment before following with their directions to hide behind a tree, despite not hearing anything himself.

From his position on the ground, the dwarf murmured, "Four. Moving very lightly." He even took a sniff of the soil. "Not beasts, humans."

Ogata's eyebrows lifted. The tall men were clearly outmatched in such skills, though they didn't need to flaunt it so much. However—a faint rustling sound finally made its way to his ears.

Their movements were so light, almost bouncing along. Their shoes seemed to be made of a material that made their footsteps sound like the rustling of leaves. They appeared to be in high spirits, chattering softly among themselves. Ogata recognized it as some form of Elvish, and glanced at Asirpa. Perhaps she should step forward and take a conversation, rather than letting them hide there like trapped insects.

But Asirpa's eyes were filled with confusion and fear. She bit her lip and remained silent, her small hand pressing against Ogata's shoulder until the humming voices and footsteps faded away.

Finally, she let go of his shoulder and exhaled deeply. Ogata took this as his cue to speak.

"Who were they?" he asked, finally standing up straight. "If they're elves, why are you afraid of them?"

Asirpa looked hesitant. "Well, yes, but…" She finally loosened her grip on her bow. "They are…"

"Wood elves," Kiroranke finished for her.

Ah, that made more sense. Ogata knew of these beings. They are quite...different from Asirpa's kindreds.

"Yes," Asirpa whispered, "I was worried about disturbing them. We're on their territory." She gestured vaguely at their group. "And we look suspicious."

She was likely speaking the truth. A halfling far from his homeland, a wanted criminal, a dwarf and a half-elf getting along—what could be more suspicious?

Kiroranke murmured, "Ever since Doriath fell, these elves have become utterly lawless. If their guards catch you, there won't be any trial by their king and queen, given that they no longer have any."

Ogata looked at the others and already felt bored. Lazily, he said, "Just a few wood elves. I've dealt with them before. They're as easy to break as twigs." Recalling the humming from the forest, he added, "As easy to fool as children…"

Suddenly, a sound caught his attention.

But Shiraishi was quicker. "Ogata, look out!" The halfling grabbed Ogata's cloak and yanked him aside with surprising strength.

There was a sharp whistle of feathers cutting through the air, followed by the dull sound of something thudding into the tree trunk.

Ogata spun around to see an arrow lodged in the tree where his head had just been, its mottled fletching still quivering.

"Get down," he commanded coldly, reaching for the large crossbow on his back. However, the others didn't seem to follow his order, instead drawing their own weapons. Even the halfling pulled out his small dagger—the one Sugimoto used to peel fruit.

Ogata felt a surge of irritation. "Stop it. Wood elves are devious creatures. You're out in the open, and they're hidden, and you won't stand a chance against their ambushes."

Kiroranke thought for a moment, then nodded. "I have an idea."

Ogata hid behind the branches, completely still. The great forest was eerily silent. It had once been alive with insects, but many parts had been burned by the wildfires of war. Though the rains had allowed the trees to regrow, the crickets had not returned.

The group had parted ways with him for now. They had found a clearing and built a fire to attract attention. In the meantime, his task was to remain hidden in the darkness, waiting to see if anyone would fall into their trap.

Though Ogata doubted that the wood elves would investigate like curious children. Perhaps a millennium ago, before Arda was marred, they might have been so carefree. But now, they have grown suspicious and wary. Many elves looked ageless, but their hearts were burdened by time and loss.

When he first met Asirpa, he thought he had found an exception. He remembered how she used to laugh and play, seemingly untouched by the harsh reality.

But now, it seemed even that glimmer of innocence would fade, replaced by an ancient sorrow of her people.

Ogata's thoughts drifted as one hand unconsciously moved to the ring hanging around his neck. The once cool metal had gradually warmed to the touch.

Innocence, ah, what a luxury it was, something even the kings would cherish and guard it like a precious gem. Poverty made people grow up too fast, while wealth corrupted them; short lives drove people to strive and scheme, while long lives lost their sparks. How could anyone truly live without worry or burden, free of cares and concerns?

These wood elves—they say they only drink dew, eat leaves, sleep in the trees, and sing all day. But even their good days have come to an end.

There was only the sound of wind, and after a while, even the wind died down. The moon was now high in the sky, and Ogata's shadow was concealed in the tree. His crossbow looked like just another branch. His finger hovered over the trigger.

Sometimes he told himself that elves were just another kind of creature. If he pulled the trigger, it wouldn't be any different from shooting a deer or bringing down a swan.

Even with other humans, when necessary, the trigger must be pulled.

Suddenly, he sensed a slight trembling in the branches, even though the wind had ceased.

Ogata held his breath. He couldn't afford to turn around, as he needed to remain part of the tree in the eyes of the observer. Any movement would give him away.

The branches continued to sway for a few times, but he resisted the urge to move. Eventually, the movement stopped. His theory was proven correct—as long as he kept pretending, there was no evidence against him.

The trembling branches moved forward, seemingly heading towards the direction of the campfire. There, the wood elves would only find the dwarves' ambush.

Ogata lowered his crossbow. After a while, he heard an explosion and screams, making his face twitch.

He vaguely recalled Kiroranke mentioning how the craftsmen who repaired the crown had been brutally killed in the elven king's hall. But was it really necessary? These patrol guards likely never even had a chance to see the crown. Ogata rubbed his stiff neck, planning to climb down from the tree.

But for some reason, he hesitated. Then he identified the source: the ring around his neck had grown warmer.

"What's happening…?" he muttered to himself, feeling the heated metal. Under the moonlight, the crystal seemed to glow. When he clenched it in his palm, he could even feel a faint vibration.

He could even hear the vibrations, like the hum of bees threatening to sting right by his ear.

He didn't like this feeling—he didn't like being threatened. But why was it—

Then he noticed a shadow flicker in the nearby bushes.

Ogata swallowed hard, subtly pulling back the leg he had almost moved. It seemed there was still something left unattended.

He tried to get a clearer look, but it was impossible to tell what exactly it was. Could it be one of the wood elves? But why that one didn't follow?

He couldn't see past the dark shadow. He was just an ordinary human, after all.

Still, the burning sensation of the ring made him think. Maybe it served as some kind of warning. He carefully hung it outside his clothes, but it was still unbearably hot, nearly scorching his shirt. He had no choice but to take the chain off and hold the ring in his hand.

If not for the ring, he would have climbed down and been caught off guard.

Suddenly, his mind cleared. The fog that had once obscured his path was swept clean, revealing everything in sharp detail. The burning in his hand felt insignificant now, and he found himself tenderly caressing the hot object. His fingertip traced over it, and he realized the metal had softened, almost malleable.

Ogata extended his pinky finger towards it.

The ring's edge seemed to yield, wrapping snugly around his nail. It felt almost alive, pulsating and inviting, drawing his whole finger into its embrace.

The warm sensation tightening around him nearly made him groan aloud. His skin felt tingling and hypersensitive, much like his lips and eyelids.

Ogata felt an intense heat beneath his eyelids, odd, but pleasant.

He recalled when he cooked at home, he opened a pot lid without shutting his eyes, and the steam from the hot rice would come forward directly. Though it stung a bit at first, it soon turned into a soothing feeling. This was exactly how it felt now.

Ogata blinked, making sure that he wasn't hallucinating. He could indeed see more clearly now.

He stared at his hand and crossbow, noticing how the patterns on his skin resembled the woodcraft. When he looked up at the canopy, he could make out the detailed veins of the leaves and even the paths left by slugs. The moon seemed unbearably bright, its craters starkly visible, making it seem imperfect. He quickly averted his gaze.

The darkness of the forest was more comforting. He could—he could see everything. Squirrels scurried about, busy retrieving nuts from tree trunks. A colony of ants was busy relocating. All bird nests were empty, looking as though they had been deserted for some time.

His gaze fell on a branch, and a grin crept onto his lips. Inside a large bird's nest was a sneaky elf, crouching there, trying to remain hidden.

But no matter how hard the wood elf tried, Ogata could still see him. He first noticed the elf's absurd hat, which was as pointed as his ears and poking out behind his head. Then came the narrow, clear eyes, staring intently ahead, blinking occasionally with lashes that fluttered like the tails of a butterfly.

Those eyes were fixed on the rear sight of another crossbow.

Seeing the arrow pointed in his direction, Ogata felt stunned for a moment, but soon found the elf wasn't ready to shoot.

If the elf could see clearly, why hadn't he done it yet?

Perhaps he only had a general idea of Ogata's location and didn't want to risk an inaccurate shot. The crossbow didn't look particularly powerful, and he had to be accurate to be lethal. He just didn't want to waste his chance.

In other words, Ogata would seize his.

The ring gripped his finger, as if a tiny hand was holding onto him, encouraging him. Ogata adjusted to a better position, aiming directly at the elf.

He still hadn't fired, even though he was now in a position where he couldn't miss.

What's his excuse, then? He questioned himself. Did every kill need a reason?

Each time, he had justified his actions. She lived a life of negligence, perhaps death brought her some attention. He was like a caged bird, maybe only death could set him free. He was lost, and perhaps dying would preserve a good memory for those who loved him.

He stared at the nervous elf, gripping his bow handle tightly, his pale skin flushed and damp with sweat. But still, he looked—What misfortune could this elf have? Maybe his own folks would have cherished him too. And what right did Ogata have to offer a merciful death?

His finger twitched, but it was a sign of hesitation.

But the small hand held him back.

He could have let go, but from somewhere, someone began to whisper softly.

"You're letting him go?" The voice was gentle, like a child's, and oddly familiar. "But will he let you go?"

It must be all in his head. Ogata hesitated. Maybe if he waited long enough, the elf would get tired and flee.

"Really?" The voice continued, worried. "But, big brother, he'll blame you for his fallen friends!"

Startled, yet Ogata didn't dare turn around. The voice behind him was unmistakably Yuusaku's, though it sounded like when they were children.

Back then, they were both young boys, the same age, the same height, both with childish voices, and it hadn't felt strange then.

Now, Ogata was a grown-up, while Yuusaku remained a child—and more importantly, Yuusaku should have been dead.

But his brother's voice sounded so hurt, as Ogata was ignoring him. So he whispered back, "I know. Just don't push me."

He steadied his grip on the bow even more, but still didn't pull the trigger.

Yuusaku continued to urge him, "Why don't you continue?"

Ogata gritted his teeth, staring ahead, his mind racing for a reason to take down this stranger.

And then Yuusaku let out a soft sigh, his small hand resting on Ogata's larger one.

"Big brother," he heard the voice say, "don't overthink it. Please, just feel it—"

"Shut up, shut up!" Ogata began to lose patience, partially because he understood what the voice was referring to.

The power surged upwards from its source, the ring, and he could feel it in his vein. This is wrong, he thought. This shouldn't be for a mortal. He could feel his blood, his muscle, his existence was rapidly transformed and merged into this raw power, making him one with the weapon. Him as flesh was fading; him as the divine destruction was uprising. He had to release, or the arrow rest on his finger would break, and it would feel like the ruin of his own person.

And maybe he was actually yelling. For he had sensed something in the air moving quite sharply—

The small hand suddenly tightened, yanking at him. "—Be careful, brother!"

The child's voice cried out in something that resembled panic. Ogata instinctively moved to avoid whatever danger was coming, but his finger had already pressed the trigger. The arrow's out, and the recoil from the bow shoved him back.

The last thing he remembered was falling from the tree, while desperately trying to protect his bow. His head hit a rock on the ground, and he blacked out.

The earnest voices calling out to him sounded like those of a child, though he couldn't tell whose they were.

When Ogata woke up, he found a drowsy halfling slumped by his bedside.

Normally, he would sleep with his bow to ensure no one would dare have any idea about it or him. But this time, he didn't feel the urge to get up and fetch it.

He felt around his pinky finger, only to find it empty.

Ogata suddenly sat up, startling Shiraishi. "What's going on?" he rubbed his eyes. "Ogata-chan is finally feeling better, that's great," he yawned and then jumped off the bed. "I'll go tell the doctor—"

But Ogata grabbed him by the arm. "Where did you put it?" he hissed menacingly. Surely, a halfling thief like him—

"What are you talking about?" Shiraishi cried out, trying to pull away. "Let me go!"

Hearing his scream, Ogata felt his ears ringing. He was more sensitive than usual—sounds, sunlight—he moved away from the sunbeam streaming through the window. He found himself shivering despite the warmth of the room.

Yet, he didn't stop his interrogation. "You know, my—" he lowered his voice, "ring."

Shiraishi stopped struggling and blinked. "Oh—that! It took quite some effort to get it off," he scratched his head. "The doctor said it was cutting off your circulation! Sugimoto nearly had to chop your finger off to remove it!"

Sugimoto—Ogata thought, he must still be unconscious because wasn't that person already—

However, the cold sneer from the doorway shattered his hopes. The man who should have been dead a thousand times stood there, like he had just come back from hell. His face bore even newer scars, and the horrific gash on his forehead was Ogata's latest handiwork.

Worst of all, he held a chain in his hand, from which dangled a small object that glinted even in the dim light of the room.

No, Ogata thought desperately, reaching out. That's mine, my—

Sugimoto should have come to kill him, but now he asked in a disinterested tone, "You killed me for this?" He glanced at the ring with disdain. "It's completely useless."

Indeed, the ring had shrunk back to its original size, too small even for a halfling.

"Probably because it doesn't want to be worn by you." Ogata sneered.

His insults were kind of too subtle, and the other man didn't fully understand, only sensing a slight annoyance. He rolled his eyes and started to leave. Before exiting, however, Sugimoto seemed to remember something.

"Oh, right," he said. "I'll have to turn you over to the authorities. Not for what you did before, but for this." He waved the chain. "The Noldorins say this thing isn't clean, and you need treatment."

So—they had already reached their city? He thought, perhaps Asirpa had found her kin by now, and soon she wouldn't need her human servant anymore.

It was said that these days, the elves were evacuating. They finally realized it was time to leave this world, which was meant for the creator's favored children.

If a mortal fantasized about staying with his elven master and following her to a land where they could live forever, it would be a foolish fantasy. The reverse might be possible, though—an elf staying on for the sake of a mortal, even as everything would crumble around them, given time.

Thinking about it, Ogata couldn't help but laugh. His head throbbed painfully at the back, making him feel dizzy.

He remembered that night's clarity. Everything was so clear, so real. Everything was under control.

Except for that voice. He clenched his teeth.

He'd need that back.

Finally—finally.

The white worse was simply happy to be out of the stable, finally, completely unaware that she was stolen from her home.

She thought a rider without a saddle would be easy to handle. However, the man pummeled and kicked, pulling hard on the reins, forcing the horse to run at full speed.

For the first time in her life, the elven steed was being abused. She reared up on its hind legs, trying to throw off her rider. But the small man clung tightly to her neck, refusing to let go. He then leaned forward and whispered something.

The horse's ears twitched, and her head lowered obediently.

Ogata satisfiedly removed the ring from his finger and let it dangle on his chest. Now that he had mastered its pattern, he feared nothing.

The ring had many benefits, as well as drawbacks, but with careful control, he could harness its power without compromising his own well-being.

He already knew that the ring would sharpen his senses, making his shoot incredibly accurate. He could see clearly at night, like a nocturnal creature. Moreover, he had discovered that when he spoke with the ring, anyone would listen. Really listening, be they human or animal, they could not refuse his requests.

He wouldn't wear the ring under ordinary circumstances. He was careful and measured. He only put it on for the briefest moments when absolutely necessary. Each time, he made sure to remove the ring before that voice reappeared.

Such small doses should be safe. He might feel a bit dizzy and see black spots, but it wasn't a big issue. During his escape from the elven city, he had commanded several guards, and he only got a minor nosebleed.

He couldn't help but feel a bit excited. With the power to command anyone, he could accomplish so many great things. Now was the time to return.

The chancellor was getting old, but his youngest son was both ambitious and incompetent. As for the royal advisor, though he had once helped Ogata, who's to say he didn't have his own schemes?

When Ogata returned, he could claim what was owed to him. He wouldn't need to worry about the others anymore.

The horse trotted, but Ogata was still not satisfied, giving her another kick in the belly to urge her to go faster.

In this wilderness, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

It was likely just the wildlife, though. Lately, they had been particularly noisy and active.

Ogata felt a bit bored. For days on the road, he had been eating bland roasted pheasant every day. When he reached the next town, he would take a good rest, tidy up, and enjoy some warm soup, preferably with fish. After all, with the ring's help, an invitation to such pleasures shouldn't be too much to ask.

He got rid of the white horse at the river. The poor creature always looked unhappy, finally ran off without looking back after Ogata gave her one last command.

Then an old fisherman invited him to eat and even gave him new clothes.

Everything had been too smooth. He touched the spot where he had worn the ring. It had started to feel tighter, but he had managed to take it off just in time.

However, he had to put it on again to ask the ferryman if he could take him across the river. Ogata was used to being refused, but now the other man just readily agreed. He didn't even want to keep the fish Ogata got earlier.

"There are so many kind people in this world, don't you think?" suddenly, he heard someone say. It was a young voice, not quite a child's, but more like a teenager's.

Ogata quickly took off the ring, cold sweat already forming on his brow.

Soon he arrived at a bustling city. The city was built by elves, but with their lord marrying a mortal woman, they invited men to live among them. Over time, their population grew even larger than that of the elves.

Amidst the magnificent marble buildings, farmers in conical hats and straw sandals went about their business. They were quite accustomed to this strange mix, serving plain porridge in the elves' exquisite porcelain bowls, and casually handing them to Ogata, who was asking for food.

As he sipped the porridge and took in the sights around him, Ogata began to understand why, in his own land, people could starve despite having magnificent cities. This place might be a glimpse into the past of his home, and perhaps it could face a similar fate. Gradually, the marble would yellow, and statues crumble. And then there would be no longer any elven artisans left who knew how to repair them.

He recalled passing by the palace of Thingol, though no one dared to venture into the maze now overrun by giant spiders. Perhaps one day, this city too would be abandoned, and its residents would flee, or get trapped within the urban jungle, wandering like specters.

Ogata thought of the wood elves. Perhaps they had once lived happily. Ah, now he found his reason. Living with hatred and watching the world turn into what it is now, that couldn't have been what they wanted either.

Lost in a daze, he seemed to see an arrow flying from his fingertips, straight toward that shocked face.

"So, I helped him after all?" he chuckled softly. "Rest well in Mandos, and don't come back."

He thought he heard someone chuckling and checked to make sure the ring was still around his neck. It must have been his imagination.

Ogata surveyed the road ahead. Nearby were hills, further out a river valley. The rivers had changed their course and were no longer the same with the map. Perhaps one day, the rivers might turn into an ocean, and the ocean a mountain range. The world wrapped around its pillar like a delicate sheet of paper, and he could return home without a long journey.

He hummed the song that Asirpa used to sing, even though he couldn't understand the lyrics or remember the tone correctly. The wind in the tower sounded like someone singing along with him. Turning around, he thought he glimpsed a familiar, tall figure, but upon closer look, there was no one there.

Just then, he heard the sound of wood being hit. Ogata spun around and saw the quivering feathers at an arrow's end, marked with the familiar speckles.

"Why?" he sighed, as if his gift had been rejected, "Why did you come back...?"

Through burning eyes, he found his follower under the starlit sky. The wood elf was hiding behind a pavilion in the rooftop garden across the boulevard. He had fired an arrow and then immediately rolled into the flower bed, thinking he had blended in with the azaleas.

Ogata slowly unslung his crossbow, fitted the bolt, and steadied it with the iron plate on his little finger.

"Don't miss this time, brother," he heard a young man's voice from behind him. Perhaps something had changed in these days—perhaps that thing had got what he needed. Nourished. All grown up.

He remained silent, and the presence continued, "Look at him, he's suffering. Even if he wants to smile, he can't."

Ogata then noticed something different. The wood elf lifted his head from the flower bed, revealing a concealed face. Seemed to help Ogata understand the situation better, the ring tightened snugly around his finger, inflicting some pain but sharpening his perception.

He now found himself capable of seeing through the cloth covering the elf's face.

What he saw was... fear, rage, and bitterness. He saw pain. He saw the scars on the both sides of cheeks, the torn skin, the rough stitching, the inflamed wound, and the crushed dignity.

The voice that sounded like Yuusaku continued, "So sad... you're making him suffer more. He's damaged, and still has to hold on." He took a step forward, fully entering Ogata's view instead of hiding behind him. He gazed into the distance, then turned to look at Ogata. "A merciful person would clean things up."

He blinked, his face cloaked in darkness, except for those golden eyes gleaming in the shadows.

Ogata remembered Yuusaku's eyes. There had once been golden, truly, like flowing honey. Now, the gold was more like molten lava.

He raised his crossbow, recalling how he had fallen from a tree after shooting an arrow that night. The tree had only been a few meters high, but this tower was several stories tall. He lowered the crossbow.

"Not today," he said, trying to loosen the ring that clung tightly to his finger, almost digging into his skin. "I have more important things to do."

After the seven rivers, the blue mountains softened into rolling hills. The sea breeze swept through the forests and across the plains, bringing warmth and moisture. This place had once been blessed by a demigod, and the life here had been carefree. But since their departure, the rains had grown unpredictable.

As Ogata made his way back, he saw flooded roads and devastated farmlands. He had planned to stop by a cottage for a meal, but even with the ring's influence, could these farmers produce food out of thin air?

He couldn't understand why no one was fixing the riverbanks, or coming up with any solutions at all.

But the farmer let out a sigh. "Ah, they are working on it. The chancellor has sent a fleet to request assistance from a kingdom across the sea. I doubt they will return empty-handed either way."

With that, he carefully bent down and retrieved a fingernail-sized shell from the flooded field. Then, with utmost respect, he presented it to Ogata.

Ogata looked at the shell, didn't take it, then continued on his way.

Behind him, he heard a sigh.

"It must be hard," he murmured to that shadow, "you used to believe that when you become a king, you could make a difference."

The shadow, who had been following him closely these days, seamlessly took over the conversation. "Ah, yes. Once I'm in power, everything will get better."

Ogata paused, pondering how a deceased prince could possibly save everything—

"How?" he asked, pointing to the water pooling around their calves, even though they were walking on higher ground. "It's not raining, yet the land is submerged. Water flows downhill, but we're already close to the sea—where else can it go?"

But Yuusaku didn't respond. Ogata turned to look for him, only to find that he had disappeared. His finger began to throb again, reminding him to stay focused.

In the hills they had come through, he spotted a small brown dot, slowly following them.

Ogata felt tired, but turned and continued trudging through the mud.

Before reaching the city gates, he had planned to put on the ring and bluff his way through, repeating the same trick at the palace. However, when he arrived at the gate, he found no guards. Not even a single person could be seen on the streets.

The doors of the houses were wide open, but no one was inside. A flower vase at one entrance was shattered, petals and shards scattered in the dirt. The city streets were now littered with debris, as if people had discarded their belongings in their haste to flee.

After scanning the area for some time, Ogata finally spotted a figure hurriedly driving a cart towards the city gates.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

With no choice, the man turned and reported, "Leaving here!" he shouted desperately, unable to break free from the spell. "This place is going under!"

Under? Does he mean the city?

"The people in the palace—where are they?" Ogata asked the man, who looked like a palace servant. "The Chancellor? The Royal Advisor?"

The man shook his head vigorously. "The Chancellor... he's already on board the ship. The Royal Advisor... ah, he went to pray in the high tower."

The high tower stood opposite the royal city, closest to the port, offering a panoramic view. As Ogata climbed the stone steps, he could see through the windows. People were scrambling to board the ships, but there was only limited space. Royal guards were holding back the peasants, but soon found they had no place on the ships either, and turned their weapons on the knights.

"If I ordered everyone to stop fighting, what would happen?" he murmured.

Yuusaku's shadow chuckled, as if entertained by the thought. "If only it were that simple!" He sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm still too weak."

Ogata grunted noncommittally and climbed to the top of the tower. In the center of the platform, a man was tending to a small flame on an altar. Sensing the other's presence, he turned around and beckoned Ogata over.

"Excellent, just as my prophecy told," Tsurumi exclaimed happily as he saw Ogata, though he didn't seem particularly surprised. "Not a minute too early, not a minute too late."

Ogata was puzzled. "Your prophecy?"

The Royal Advisor touched his waist, as if searching for his manual, but then realized it was long gone. He held out his hand. "Please, bring it to me."

Tsurumi gave no further explanation, but Ogata knew exactly what he was referring to.

"I hope you know what you're asking for," he said, taking a step back. "The power within is something you may not fully understand."

"I understand that I don't understand," the Royal Advisor replied, somewhat agitated, glancing towards the harbor outside. "But I know enough that it's tied to our lineage. As long as it's here, it can protect us."

"Protection?" Ogata frowned. "This is a cursed weapon..."

But the Royal Advisor seemed undisturbed and continued. "Ah, time is running out. But since you want an explanation..." He withdrew his hand and reached behind his back—then pulled out a long, curved sword.

"My apologies, Your Highness," he said insincerely, almost mockingly. "The ring is invincible, but it still needs a bearer. It seeks obedience, and a king is the best vessel, whether found or made." He said sadly, "Even if one must be destroyed first."

"But it's in my hand now, isn't it?" Ogata showed the ring to Tsurumi. It had been there for days, untouched. "I've mastered it. Learned how to coexist with it," he said softly with a smile. "Like a forgotten child, it waits to be discovered for its true potential. You must know that well, don't you?"

Tsurumi seemed ready to explain. Oh, he could explain, like countless times before, reassuring Ogata that all was worth it, all for a greater purpose. But he didn't know the specifics of what the ring truly did.

Ogata spoke softly, "Put the sword down."

Tsurumi's face twitched. He must have had resistance training. But in the end, he was just a mortal.

With a sharp clatter, the sword fell to the ground. The Royal Advisor's face contorted in pain. "You have no idea what you just did..."

A ray of light illuminated the altar, breaking through the dense clouds above. The sky seemed to have opened a small gap, listening, waiting. Tsurumi collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. "Quickly, place it on the altar—"

Ogata was deeply confused. He had been manipulated into doing many things, and now, he would not make the same mistake again, allowing Tsurumi to use him with only cryptic stories. Now, he's in control.

"I don't think so," he said, gripping the ring tightly, as the ring itself was clinging to him helplessly. "From now on, I make my own decisions."

Tsurumi's eyes welled up with what appeared to be genuine tears, though he had shed many fake ones before. "Please—please! This is our final chance—"

Ogata knew Tsurumi was lying. He had to be. But his heart pounded violently, and his eyes kept darting towards the altar.

The sacred light there shone brightly, waiting for him, so it could cleanse the world of its stains. The ring on his hand grew scorching hot, as if in panic.

He muttered, "Ah, even you can be afraid too, aren't you…?"

He heard Yuusaku's trembling voice, "Please, don't kill me! Don't!" He clung to Ogata like a true brother, sobbing and pleading, "They won't show mercy!"

Mercy. Ogata stood still, accepting the embrace, thinking about everything he had seen in the aftermath of the war in Beleriand. He remembered how the gods was supposed to show mercy, as they had vanquished the Dark tyrant.

But if they were merciful, why hadn't they struck sooner? Why did they wait? And if they were merciful, why did they send both the innocent and the sinner to their doom, just because they were all from this land?

When the primordial, pure power of the gods came crashing down, Beleriand shattered. Birds had long since fled, and beasts had already bolted. People clung to their loved ones, futilely climbing onto ships, hoping for a salvation that would never come.

"Tell me, Tsurumi," Ogata whispered, "why do you think that if I give them what they want, they will stop this disaster?"

Tsurumi stared directly at him, and after a moment, he actually laughed.

"Ah... indeed. Sacrifices, bribes... how can we be so sure they will honor the silent agreement once they receive it?" He waved his hand towards the outside. "It might be better for everyone to flee while they still can, hoping for refuge across the sea..."

Ogata glanced outside and saw a massive whirlpool forming on the surface of the sea, as if the abyss had opened its mouth, sucking in water from all sides. His mouth fell open.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he didn't know who he was apologizing to. "I have to try..."

He almost moved towards the altar, but an invisible force pulled him back. It came from the same gentle hand that had been holding his, the same warm embrace that surrounded him.

"You can't!" Yuusaku's voice cried out in terror. "You can't kill Yuusaku again. You can't do it!"

Ogata turned around and saw his dead brother standing there, dressed in his ceremonial uniform, the same outfit he wore on the day he was crowned crown prince. Blood streaked across his face from an arrow that had pierced his head, just the way he had shown up in all the bad dreams.

His eyes were bright, glowing with an unnatural yellow light, staring at Ogata.

Then, those eyes changed.

His round pupils seemed to tear apart, splitting into thin slits. Blood oozed from the fissures, quickly filling the eyes like molten lava. The cat-like iris began to burn, as if they were gazing directly from the depths of abyss, from the darkness of nightmares, from the spaces between worlds, straight into Ogata's very being.

Then, Ogata heard Yuusaku's familiar voice, tinged with an unsettling, heavy echo, as if an ancient deity was speaking through a fleshly guise.

"Can you really leave me, brother?" it taunted.

The ring tightened again, shrinking another notch. Ogata could already feel the chill creeping into his fingertips from the cut of circulation, even though the metal was hot enough to melt.

Even if he wanted to remove the ring now, it would be nearly impossible.

Ogata looked up and caught Tsurumi's eye. He gave a nod.

Tsurumi drew a small dagger, and Ogata didn't flinch. He extended his hand.

"Don't!" The reverberating voice cracked, losing all traces of Yuusaku's youthful tone.

And then Yuusaku's human shape began to split from the top of his head, as if something monstrous was struggling to emerge. "You can't—" it shrieked, before adding, "Look, the ship is being dragged into the abyss—"

Ogata knew what it meant. If everyone was doomed, what drove anyone to do anything?

He gritted his teeth. "Do it," he said, as Tsurumi's knife descended and sliced through his finger.

The severed finger rolled once before coming to rest in the light source on the altar. Ogata had already gone numb from the tightness of the ring. Now he watched the blood, yet he felt no pain at all.

They waited in silence.

The light shone on the severed finger, but it seemed to be little change. Ogata grew anxious, but there was no one left to comfort him now. He had become all too relied on that feeling.

Then, from deep within the clouds, he found something passing through them. There was a shattering sound—maybe it was thunder.

But the very next moment, the ground started to quake violently.

"Hold on, Hyakunosuke, hold on tight!" Tsurumi gripped onto the lamp post by the altar.

But everything was happening too quickly. Ogata had thought it was the tower that was collapsing, but as he climbed up towards the dome, he realized—this was more than just a tower problem.

Standing at the highest point, he saw the ground caving in, roads crumbling, and water that had flooded the farmlands now gushing out as if from newly formed springs. It seemed the ocean had long permeated the soil beneath, finally breaking through to the surface.

"So that's how it is," Ogata muttered to himself, turning to look around the world collapsing around him.

The sea level had risen well beyond the shoreline, spreading across the land like an immense fabric unfurling from the horizon. The ship that had tried to flee was lifted up, and then slammed violently into the city square below.

Soon, the lower city was completely submerged. Ogata watched as the water rapidly rose, seeping through the cracks in the shattered tower.

Tsurumi was below, and he gave Ogata one last look before letting go and disappearing beneath the waves.

Ogata waited. He hated waiting, but he couldn't let go—something that looked so simple.

He heard the sound of metal clinking and turned around. It was surprising to see his severed finger floating on the water, despite the heavy metal still attached to it. He was—confused.

Shouldn't it have already—ended by now?

He tried to reach out, but just as immediately, he pulled his hand back. He hadn't forgotten why he had departed from it in the first place.

But the water had already risen to his waist. In a few minutes, he would be submerged, swept away by the turbulent waves into the abyss.

He reached out again.

From afar came the faint bird calls. Slowly, the sounds drew nearer.

Ogata struggled to open his eyes, as the bird now sounded impossibly close that it was about to relieve itself right onto his face.

Then he saw the large white seagull tilting its head and staring back at him, locking eyes with him before it reached out with its beak and gave him a violent peck on the head.

Ogata screamed and, with lightning speed, he grabbed the bird by the neck. The seagull struggled fiercely, scratching him with its feet, and the orange webbed toes kept a soft thudding sound as they hit him.

"Help, he—" He tried to shout, but his throat was too dry, as if he hadn't had a sip of water in days.

With a great effort, he flung the seabird aside. The cursed creature didn't try to stick around, quickly flew off, flapping its wings in a hurry.

Ogata managed to sit up. He then found himself in the middle of an endless sea. He was in a small boat, with no one else in sight.

Then he turned around and saw something huddled at the stern.

Ogata clenched around his—fist. He looked down at the missing finger. Now he had nothing left to protect himself. No bow, no arrow, no sword, and no other reliable companions. Even the clothes on his back were unfamiliar, smelling like grass.

He glanced at the familiar pointed hat, his throat constricting.

Trapped in the middle of the endless, newly created ocean, with someone he had harmed. He could think of much worse ways to go.

The elf seemed to sense the movement and turned around. In his hand, there was a small, sharp knife.

Ogata instinctively took a step back. But the other guy simply raised his other hand to reveal a tiny jewelry box. It looked like something that had drifted in from the sea, the metal rusted and the intricate paint long faded. Yet this elf seemed determined to restore it to its former beauty.

He stood up and made some grunting noises at Ogata. Ogata almost forgot. He had taken away his ability to speak.

Then the wood elf reached into his waist and pulled out something, tossing it towards Ogata. Ogata dodged, and the object flew past him and fell into the sea.

The other person looked anxious and rushed over. He sighed in relief when he saw no loss and quickly retrieved the item floating on the water.

It turned out to be just a water bag. The elf twisted off the cap, glanced at Ogata, and removed his mask. He placed the mouthpiece between his teeth and took a sip.

Then the liquid began to leak out from the wounds on his cheeks.

The elf stopped, frustrated, and stared at his wet shirtfront. Ogata chuckled and stepped forward, snatching the water bag away and drinking from it.

It had a faint taste, somewhat like coconut but more subdued. He had heard that these elves enjoyed drinking tree sap—could this be it?

Now that his throat felt better, he gazed out at the boundless sea and felt a wave of melancholy. "Where are you going?" he asked, without considering whether the elf could understand. "Home?"

He knew the answer even as he asked. Their homes were gone, sunk along with half of the continent. The other person remained silent, either not understanding or lost in sorrow. "Do you have any other place to go?" he pressed.

Still, not a sound. Ogata turned to see those eyes, cold, lost, and thinking. Almost the same as the first time he found them, but this was the first time he saw them in the sunlight with his own eyes. Somehow, it felt warm, like the sky when a storm was finally over.

Ogata grunted, "Whatever." He took a few more sips and realized the water bag was already empty.

"Is there more?" he asked slowly, pointing at the water bag. Even a deaf person would understand. This time, the elf finally got it, and then shook his head slowly.

Ogata felt a bit annoyed at first, but soon realized the gravity of their situation.

"What about water?" he asked again, making exaggerated gestures like flowing water. "Drink? Drip-drip?" His face grew rigid as he watched the elf innocently shake his head again. "Don't tell me, this is all we have left?"

The elf just blinked.

Ogata stood there with no expression at all. After a long while, he finally sat down next to the elf.

"Ah... whatever that is," he murmured, gazing up at the sky as it began to darken and the first stars appeared. Night was drawing near, and they had no cover overhead. Ogata turned his head and saw the elf intently watching him.

"Do you think we could reach Valinor if we keep going west?" Ogata asked casually, picking at the scar on his hand. The lingering pain made it felt like the finger was still there.

The elf just stared blankly, clearly not understanding.

Ogata sighed and turned away, watching their boat being pushed by the waves towards the setting sun.

-end-