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A barely visible shape silently crawled across the lawn towards the place where Esty and Rumil were sitting (and lying). When it reached Rumil's back, it lifted itself and it could be seen now that it was something similar to an Elven cloak that made it blend with the lawn. From under the hood, staring eyes shone out.
"Hello, Esty," whispered Legate, careful not to awaken Rumil. "Can I sit down?" When she nodded, he took off the cloak, and unfolding it into unexpected width, he sat on a tip of it.
"I have been at the Door," he said then. "And then I saw you. But I expected a party to be going on here - and this far there's not as many people around as I thought." He looked around, at last lifting his eyes up to the sky.
"At least it's sunny," he said. "Quite a pleasant day." He dipped into his pocket and took out a bottle. "You want some?" he asked. "It's not miruvor, but..."
He opened the bottle. But at that moment, strange dense mist came swirling out of the mouth of the bottle, starting to form into the shape of a human-like being. Alarmed, Legate quickly put the stopper back to the mouth of the bottle.
"Sorry," he said. "Wrong bottle. I must have taken my genie instead of... well... sorry for that. But what are we now going to drink?"
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"Should the story say 'he ate bread,' the dramatic producer can only show 'a piece of bread' according to his taste or fancy, but the hearer of the story will think of bread in general and picture it in some form of his own." -On Fairy-Stories
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