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The heavy pounding of footsteps was the only warning he got before the hulking figure entered his periphery.
He looked up, his merry little tune faltering as his eyes landed on the Beorning charging towards him full speed, showing no sign of slowing down.
The Beorning vaulted over the log Gúrhebnir was sitting on, barely missing him as he passed by his right side. Somehow the shapeshifter breezed by the empty spit situated over their campfire, leaving it unscathed—though Nírthathar was sure he would have only bounced off of it because the simple pieces of wood were somehow immoveable to the one who was practically the "hero of Eriador".
The large man sprinted through Nírthathar without blinking an eye. The Ranger let out a yelp and dropped his flute as he stumbled back, his body reacting to a force that didn't come and had no pull on him whatsoever. He landed heavily on his behind, and sat there with wide eyes as his mind tried to process what had just happened.
All the while the Beorning continued on, leaping over a large barrel on his way to the dock and the Boat-keeper, Arfirion.
Forchon hummed, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a deep frown. "Well, that was a first for me," he remarked. "Calenglad mentioned that that had happened before, but Tadan was the poor soul who had to endure it that time."
Nírthathar wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to say anything for quite a bit.
Gúrhebnir sighed and flicked some of the apple peel into the firepit. "We are—as some have come to say—'non-player-characters'. We do not exist on the same 'plain' as the Players do."
Somehow, that only seemed to make Nírthathar feel worse.
'Plain'? What did Gúrhebnir mean by that?
Something about the way his fellow Ranger said the word made it seem like the players were Other, that they were somehow higher than they were, that they possessed something that they did not.
How could a Player be different?
So he decided to ask. "How are they different?" There was a chance that his companions wouldn't be able to answer, but it was worth a shot.
Forchon adjusted how he was sitting and propped the other knee up. "I spoke with Elrond when I last visited Rivendell when Calenglad wanted to pass on a message. And the Elf-Lord brought up a troubling point after he had just endured being run through by another 'player character': They are not from here, they are not like us.
"They are not of Middle-Earth."
Nírthathar stilled, and his heart ceased to beat. "W-what?" he sucked in a deep breath. "What does that mean?"
Gúrhebnir looked intrigued, and he leaned forward, apple temporarily forgotten. "If they're not from Middle-Earth... where are they from?"
The three of them turned and looked out from their circle around their dormant campfire. From there, they watched, and it wasn't long before another Player appeared, riding up on a black steed and dismounting by the Stable-master, Nat Collop. She dashed away, making a beeline for the keep, and Nírthathar distantly wondered if she would run through any of the Rangers over there on her way to whatever she was doing.
Another Player soon came after, rushing from the direction of the keep, and it was soon apparent he was heading for Arfirion. But this one, a Minstrel, stopped and looked down at Nírthathar in open confusion. It was then that Nírthathar remembered that he was sitting down, and that he was usually standing playing his flute. Slowly, he climbed back to his feet.
The minstrel hummed, before continuing on his way.
Nírthathar used the hem of his tunic to clean off the mouthpiece of his flute.
"I can say one thing," he said before sighing. The memory of the sensation of someone passing through him as if he was nothing more than a wraith wasn't going to leave him anytime soon, "that was an experience I do not want to experience again anytime soon."
"Hear, hear!" Gúrhebnir agreed, miming toasting a mug of mead with his half-peeled apple, though Nírthathar wasn't sure he had experienced being run through yet.
Being run through was a very uncomfortable experience.
But something in him told him that that wasn't going to be the last time he would experience it, and that it may lead to him finding out where the Players came from.