Banquet [Seeking Recommendation Tickets]

The party followed Lord Elrond and Gandalf, passing through pavilions, fountains, gardens, and lofts.

Finally, they arrived at an open-air garden.

Upon entering the garden, the first thing that caught everyone's eyes was a massive, colossal tree.

The tree was lush and incredibly vibrant, its thick branches intertwined like a canopy, faintly shrouding the entire garden.

Beneath the tree, two exquisite long dining tables were already being laid out with various elven delicacies.

Beside the long tables sat several beautiful elven maidens, playing flutes and accordions, looking quite elegant.

Bilbo and the dwarves were invited to sit at the side tables.

Morgan, however, was pulled by Gandalf to sit at the main table with Lord Elrond and Thorin Oakenshield.

The weather in Rivendell was excellent today.

It was mid-afternoon.

The warm, golden autumn sun not only coated all of Rivendell in a beautiful golden hue but also felt exceptionally comfortable on one's skin.

The open-air garden was built on the high ground of Rivendell, a prime location with an incredibly expansive view.

Standing in the garden, one could almost take in the entire scenery of Rivendell at a single glance.

With the beautiful environment, comfortable sunlight, soft music, and lovely elven maidens for company, it was truly as they said: those with power could find the best enjoyments anywhere.

As expected, those with power can find the best enjoyments anywhere, Morgan sighed inwardly, withdrawing his gaze from the distant sea of golden clouds.

At this moment, the elven attendants had finished serving the final course.

Looking at the table full of food before him, Morgan smiled.

The elves were vegetarians; the food on the table consisted mostly of various vegetable salads, fruits of every color, jams, fruit wines, and an assortment of colorful sweet pastries.

Although it was essentially all vegetarian, the variety was rich, and every piece of fruit looked fresh and succulent, appearing quite high-end.

The dwarves are going to have a hard time.

Morgan chuckled to himself and immediately turned his head to look at them.

Sure enough, the dwarves were staring at the table full of colorful, leafy food with miserable expressions.

They had assumed that since the Elven Lord of Rivendell, such a big shot, was treating them to a meal, there would surely be plenty of meat, fish, and fine wine to fill their bellies.

They hadn't expected to be served nothing but these vegetables and fruits.

This was the kind of stuff they usually fed to pigs and sheep; how could it possibly keep them full?

One had to know that dwarves would rather eat the driest, hardest jerky than take a single bite of vegetables.

To use a phrase they often kept on their lips: "Without meat, my mouth is going to go bland enough to sprout feathers."

Morgan had been traveling with the dwarves for over a month now and had gained quite an understanding of them.

The reason the dwarves couldn't live without meat every day was closely tied to their lifestyle.

Due to their race, dwarves were the best miners.

They were skilled at mining and loved to mine.

The dwarf clans of Middle-earth basically lived in the underground mines they had dug out.

Without a special reason, most ordinary dwarves would likely live their entire lives underground without ever stepping foot on the surface.

The daily work of an ordinary dwarf consisted basically of hammering away in the mine shafts.

Mining was an incredibly physically demanding labor; how could they have the strength for it without eating meat?

This was the reason why dwarves were never happy without meat.

The elves, however, were different; they possessed lifespans far exceeding those of ordinary races, the ability to communicate with nature and plants after training from birth, and excellent figures and appearances that made many other races envious.

All these factors made the elven race appear exceptionally blessed.

Elves were close to nature, viewing the various flowers, trees, and animals in the forest as friends.

This was also the reason why elves could communicate with the natural world.

Although the elven race seemed perfect in every way, they actually had one fatal weakness: their chances of reproduction and bearing offspring were much more difficult than those of other races.

Once a war broke out, the elven race recovered its vitality much slower than any other race in Middle-earth.

However, throughout the multiverse, long-lived species almost all faced similar problems; it was not unique to the elven race.

Returning to the matter at hand.

Although the dwarves couldn't hide their disgust as they looked at the table full of green food, they still knew they were on elven territory.

The elves were providing them with food and drink, and even though the dwarves didn't care for these things at all, they still had to maintain the most basic manners and upbringing.

Though the dwarves grumbled under their breath, they were not so rude as to voice their complaints aloud and cause a scene.

Morgan turned his head, picked up a thumb-sized, grape-like fruit from the plate before him, and tossed it into his mouth. With a gentle crunch of his teeth, the plump flesh and sweet juices instantly flooded his palate, lifting his spirits with their sugary delight.

"Not bad at all."

Morgan's eyes brightened as he looked at the vibrant array of fruits on the table, his anticipation growing.

After more than a month of miserable adventuring, he could finally enjoy a proper feast today.

Morgan began to gorge himself; as the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond was wealthy and powerful, and Morgan had no intention of being polite by saving him any food.

The others were much the same; even the dwarves at the nearby table, despite their earlier grumbling, stuffed their faces with whatever they could reach once hunger took hold.

It was a legendary tale, all things considered.

Ambushed by Orc scouts in the dead of night, they had spent the rest of the night fleeing in a frantic dash.

Barely had they rested the next morning when they encountered giant Trolls stealing their horses.

By the time the Company had painstakingly dealt with the three Trolls and raided their lair, they had no time to celebrate before the Orcs were on their heels again.

This time, the Orcs had come with fierce momentum and in massive numbers.

Losing all their packs, rations, and a dozen expensive ponies left at the temporary camp was bad enough.

In the end, they had nearly been overtaken by the main Orc host.

If not for Gandalf leading them through the secret passage to Rivendell, Morgan could not imagine what would have become of the Company.

As their stomachs began to fill, the group slowed their pace and started to chat.

Gandalf and Elrond were old friends, and they had the most to say to one another.

As they talked, Gandalf suddenly produced the single-edged longsword hanging at his waist and handed it to Elrond, asking him to take a look.

Elrond took the sword, examined it for a moment, and then drew the blade, gazing at the inscriptions below the hilt as he spoke slowly: "This is Orcrist. It is famous for the slaughter of Orcs and was forged by the High Elves of the West."

Elrond slowly revealed the history of the Elven blade Gandalf had handed him.

Morgan consciously picked up his own sword and offered it over.

"This is Glamdring."

Elrond drew the cold, gleaming blade and spoke with a solemn expression as he looked at the inscriptions on the steel.

"This was the sword of the King of Gondolin."

"It is called Foe-Hammer, and it earned its fame in the wars against the Goblins during the First Age."

"It was forged by my kin, the High Elves of the West."

Elrond handed the sword back to Morgan and said, "This is a true blade of power. I hope it serves you well."