Elf Lord

Rivendell was built into the mountainside.

One side backed against towering peaks.

The other three were encircled by broad rivers that flowed year-round.

Only one enormous arched bridge connected the two ends of the valley.

The Company was walking across this enormous bridge.

"So this is Rivendell. I've heard about it so many times, and I never imagined I'd actually get to visit one day."

"Though it's the home of the Elves, this place really is beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale."

"Could you shut up? The Elves are our enemies."

"You're the one who needs to shut up. Didn't you hear Gandalf say this is part of our strategy? You know what a strategy is, don't you?"

"Both of you, quiet down. It wouldn't be good if those Elves heard you."

"Let them hear. I'm not afraid of those girly Elves."

"All of you, be quiet. We're already here, and we're guests now. Bombur and Bofur need the Elves to treat them, too. Watch what you say, and don't disgrace us Dwarves."

"I'd never disgrace the Dwarves."

As usual, the Dwarves were chattering and bickering among themselves.

In the past, Morgan had liked to join in whenever the Dwarves argued, just to alleviate the tedium of the journey.

Listening to the Dwarves squabble was one of the few pleasures Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf, and the others had during their dull journey.

But now, Morgan had no interest in listening to the Dwarves talk nonsense.

He was wholly absorbed in admiring Rivendell's picturesque scenery.

For Morgan, getting to see the real Elven city of Rivendell with his own eyes was an incredible stroke of luck.

It was far better than sitting in front of a movie screen, watching artificial scenery created with green-screen effects.

Of course, Morgan's greatest good fortune was having come to this world with a golden finger like the Time Traveler System.

Morgan wasn't the only one completely absorbed in Rivendell's beauty.

Bilbo, the white-bearded Dwarf Balin, Dwalin, and even Thorin Oakenshield were all admiring it.

After all, visiting Rivendell was no easy feat.

Especially for the Dwarves.

The Elves were their enemies.

Who knew if they'd ever get another chance like this?

The clever ones made sure to take in the sights while they could. It would give them something to brag about over drinks in the future.

And when they were old, they'd have a tale to tell their grandchildren about their adventures as young folk.

They slowly crossed the enormous bridge, which stretched nearly a hundred meters.

Before long, they had passed beneath the watchful gaze of two gigantic statues of Elven warriors guarding the bridgehead.

They had entered the broad plaza beneath Rivendell's mountains.

They didn't have to wait long.

Soon, several Elves appeared on the stone steps ahead.

The Elf at the front was tall and slender, handsome, and dressed in a splendid, finely made robe.

His mere presence gave off an air of refinement and elegance.

Morgan immediately looked at his ears. They were indeed long and pointed, unlike those of the Dwarves and Hobbits he'd seen so far.

What would it look like if ears like that grew on a Dwarf or a Hobbit?

The thought suddenly popped into Morgan's head.

He imagined a short, ugly creature with pointed ears.

A fantastical creature immediately came to mind: a Goblin.

Morgan shook his head, trying to banish the unpleasant image.

He focused again on the Elves approaching them.

He couldn't help thinking that pointed ears looked right on Elves.

The Elf at the front was handsome and refined.

The others were much the same, with fine features and figures.

Back in his previous life, these fellows would have been sought after whether they were modeling or working as male escorts at an upscale club.

Just seeing them was enough to convince Morgan that the Elves really were different.

Any one of them—no, any few of them—could be called stunningly handsome.

Still, as good-looking as they were, something seemed to be missing.

Hmm, they lacked a distinctive quality.

Yes, that was it!

Their looks and physiques seemed mass-produced.

They were nowhere near as good-looking as he was.

Morgan quietly recalled his own appearance.

A number of amusing thoughts suddenly came to mind.

In his previous life, Morgan had been ugly and intimidating.

Sometimes, when he saw a handsome man, he'd think that even the best-looking guy couldn't take a single punch.

Now that he'd been reborn as a handsome man himself, when he saw another handsome guy, he didn't think about beating him up. Instead, he secretly compared himself to him.

What a damn ridiculous thought!

Morgan shook his head hard, cursed under his breath, and stopped thinking about it.

The Elf at the front clearly knew Gandalf and called out to him from afar.

Gandalf greeted him with a broad smile and went over to meet him.

The two spoke in Elvish.

Morgan listened closely and realized he could understand them.

Only then did he understand what the first innate ability listed under the abilities on his status panel, "Common Tongue," meant.

Gandalf and the Elf named Lindir didn't bother hiding their conversation from the others.

They were simply speaking in Elvish.

During the conversation, Lindir kept glancing at the Dwarves in the distance.

This made the suspicious Dwarves nervous.

Morgan knew roughly what the two were talking about, but he certainly wasn't going to tell the others.

Just then,

A loud horn suddenly sounded from the far side of the river valley.

Everyone in the plaza immediately turned around.

They saw a large troop of Elven cavalry in full silver armor charging toward them from the other side of the enormous bridge.

At the sight, Thorin Oakenshield immediately went on high alert.

He drew his short sword and stepped in front of the group, shouting, "Quick, gather together!"

The Dwarves drew their weapons and swiftly took up defensive positions.

At last, the fully armed Elven cavalry rode into the broad plaza.

Large numbers of riders circled the Dwarves.

The Dwarves stared at the Elves, but didn't dare make a move.

Just then, a tall, handsome, imposing middle-aged Elf rode into the plaza on a great white horse. He wore golden armor and a golden crown of flowers.

"Gandalf!"

The middle-aged Elf called out to Gandalf from afar.

"Lord Elrond."

Gandalf bowed slightly in greeting.

The middle-aged Elf dismounted, walked over, and smiled as he embraced Gandalf.

Morgan guessed that the handsome, imposing middle-aged Elf before him must be Rivendell's Elven lord.

Considering Rivendell's status throughout Middle-earth,

and how warmly this Elven lord treated Gandalf,

Morgan could tell that the two had a truly close relationship.

"Where have you been?"

After they patted each other on the shoulders, Gandalf smiled at King Elrond.

"We just hunted down a group of Orcs from the south. We killed quite a few near the Secret Pass, too."

"It's strange that Orcs have come so close to our borders."

"I'm wondering if something—or someone—has drawn them here."

As Elrond spoke, he handed his sword to an Elf beside him, then turned to look at the Company.

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