Standard disclaimer applies. Own it I do not. Talk like Yoda I do. Lawsuit with you will not strike.
"She cannot stay here." Elrond was firm. "She is not of this world, nor any that are meant to interact with this one."
"She has no place else to go." Gandalf argued, "We cannot send her back to where she was."
"She has a home, a mother. You said so yourself."
"A mother who would kill her as soon as she arrived back. That is no place for a child. Especially not one with such talents." Gandalf countered.
"And who are we to say that such talents are not normal where she comes from? That there are not those there who could help her with her abilities?" Elrond made a dismissive gesture. "Adan parents often threaten their children. Could not this threat of death be just that, a threat, to frighten the child into behaving?"
Gandalf knew there would be no swaying Elrond in this matter. His heart sank as he knew that they would have to send Vasha back home through one of her doors... That they would be sending the child to her death.
"She will die there." Gandalf said slowly. "Whether by her mothers hand or not. The oppression will kill her."
"All adan die, Gandalf." Elrond turned and looked to Elladan and Elrohir, who stood silent. "Bring the girl here."
"Yes, ada." They murmured before going to find Vasha, who had been left in the dubious care of Estel, their adan foster brother, who was, at seventeen, still a bit wild, despite the influence of the elves.
"What will she require to recreate the gateway?" Elrond asked after they had left.
"She will no doubt tell us when she comes." Gandalf looked to Elrond, "You mean to send her back now, then?"
"Better that she leave now before she grows too fond of this place." Before we grow too fond of her were the unspoken words.
Several minutes passed before Elladan, Elrohir, Vasha, and Estel entered Elrond's study, Vasha looking near tears. The other three merely looked grim.
"Do I really have to go home?" Vasha asked softly, looking up at Elrond and Gandalf. Elrond nodded, and Gandalf turned away. How could he look at her when he knew almost as well as she what awaited her in that world?
"What is it you need to create a door that leads to your home?" Elrond asked her gently. A tear rolled down Vasha's cheek. They had promised she didn't have to go back... But apparently promises were the same here as they were at home. Worthless. And she had almost been able to forget about Mother, too...
"Black." She whispered. "Lots of black. And red."
Elrond nodded, and fetched sticks of charcoal and pots of ink from his desk, placing them on a low stool. "Will these suffice?"
"What's a suffice?"
"Is this what you need?"
She looked at the things, and barely suppressed a shudder. "Yes. But someone's gunna have ta help me. I can't reach it all."
Picking up a charcoal stick, she began to draw the lintel.
The door itself was a red rectangle, unadorned except for a heavy black knocker carved in the shape of a hideous face, it's mouth pulled into a horrible sneer, the knocker held between jagged teeth. The doorknob was also black iron; plain, unadorned. There was no keyhole. This was a door that didn't need to be locked, a door that few would want to walk through.
Then, the lintel was drawn, and as the elves watched, disgust and fear made knots of their stomachs. Black spires, points and edges, all seeming foreboding, almost emanating evil. Nothing good could lie behind such a door.
Elladan and Elrohir took turns lifting Vasha, who was openly crying, as she finished the topmost parts of the door. When it was done, the thing seemed to shimmer, and then it changed from a crude drawing to a real object, gleaming black and red against the pale, beautiful stonework of the wall of Elrond's study.
"Do I have ta go through there? Do I have ta go home?" She asked softly, staring at the door.
"You must." Elrond agreed, silent. Vasha seemed to slump a bit, and, not turning to say farewell, stepped forward to open the door. Giving them one last, soulful look of her large, moon-colored eyes, she stepped through the door.
Authors Note: Trust me. It's not over yet.
TBC...
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