The Deadline

A steady stream of delicious aromas wafted from the cooking pots and grills.

There was no need to call out. The dwarves only had to sniff the air to tell whether the food was cooked or still underdone.

Morgan and Bilbo had learned to do the same.

During their journey over the past month or so,

food had been scarce. If they were even a little slow at mealtimes, they wouldn't necessarily go hungry,

but there would certainly be very little dried meat or other meat left.

To keep from falling behind the dwarves when it came to grabbing food, Morgan and Bilbo had also learned to judge from its aroma whether it was cooked.

A circle of dwarves surrounded the card game nearby.

The main players were Fili, Bofur, and Gloin.

Bofur had a terrible hand and was already dreading how much he would lose that round.

But when the smell of roasting meat drifted over, his eyes lit up. He almost immediately tossed down his cards and shouted, "Breakfast is ready! Time to eat! I'm done playing!"

Bofur tried to make a run for it, but the faster Gloin grabbed him. Gloin held his own cards up in front of Bofur and growled, "Trying to run again? Take a look at my hand!"

Their other companion Fili held up his cards too, grinning. "Bofur, you'd better take a look at mine as well."

"Haha, that rascal Bofur's trying the same trick again."

"Gloin won't fall for it a third time."

"Nicely done."

"Haha, next time we should do the same thing."

"Time to eat."

"Wow, breakfast smells incredible today."

"Bombur's cooking has gotten even better."

"It's just because the elves gave us plenty of spices. I could do that too."

"My word, Dori, could you stop talking about your cooking?"

"Fili's right. Dori's cooking is a nightmare. I still remember it."

"Hey, come on. It wasn't my fault."

"Haha, look at that. Dori finally knows how to be embarrassed."

"Mean."

"Hahahaha."

Amid Rivendell's picturesque scenery, beneath the warm early-autumn sun, on a bright and pleasant day,

Morgan and the dwarves enjoyed a very lavish breakfast together.

After their pleasant breakfast,

Morgan went alone to a quiet corner of the garden and began practicing White Duck Swordsmanship.

He focused on White Duck Swordsmanship in the morning.

In the afternoon, he practiced Archery.

That was Morgan's training plan for the time he would be staying in Rivendell.

He hoped to master level-two White Duck Swordsmanship and level-three Archery as quickly as possible.

Morgan's vacation in Rivendell was incredibly dull.

Compared with Morgan, the dwarves were having a far more comfortable vacation.

There was no shortage of meat in Rivendell, all kinds of meat.

And no shortage of drinks either, all kinds of drinks.

Lord Elrond was very good to the Company. As long as their requests were reasonable, he granted almost all of them.

Of course, the dwarves' requests were mostly about food and drink.

The dwarves had no qualms about taking advantage of the elves' hospitality.

They had several little barbecues every day, followed by another late-night barbecue party.

Eating and drinking without restraint every day, while getting very little exercise,

the dwarves' only activities were sitting together to tell jokes and play cards,

or heading to Rivendell's largest fountain square to bathe—all of them completely naked.

Just imagine a scene of people covered in thick black body hair, with the bodies of oversized human-shaped rats, taking a bath.

Every elf who saw it found it unbearable to look at. It was an assault on the eyes.

When the elves reported the matter to Lord Elrond,

he told his old friend Gandalf.

After Gandalf stepped in to persuade them, the dwarves finally showed some restraint.

Their unrestrained eating and drinking, combined with a lack of exercise,

had caused the dwarves to visibly grow fatter almost by the day.

At last, Thorin Oakenshield noticed this alarming development, and the dwarves' eating and drinking were brought under control.

Bilbo was also having a comfortable vacation in Rivendell.

Unlike Morgan, who trained diligently, and unlike the dwarves, who indulged themselves,

Bilbo liked to spend his time in Rivendell's library.

The elves of Rivendell were wealthy, and they lived long lives. What was more, the place had never experienced war since it was built.

Over countless years, the library in Rivendell had accumulated an astonishing number of books.

As a result, Bilbo spent nearly every day in the library from morning to night.

Gandalf was even more free and relaxed.

Thanks to his relationship with Lord Elrond, Gandalf knew Rivendell better than anyone else in the Company.

He often ate, smoked, and chatted with the others.

But when he grew tired of the dwarves' barbecue, he would dine with Lord Elrond for a change of pace.

The rest of the time, he would either wander around, chat and drink tea with Lord Elrond, or go fishing in the river in front of Rivendell.

Fishing was an activity that demanded extreme patience.

The dwarves had no interest in it whatsoever. No matter how much free time they had, they wouldn't waste a single second on something as tedious and boring as fishing.

As far as the dwarves were concerned, fishing was even more boring than Morgan's training, which he never skipped, rain or shine.

Bilbo wasn't interested in fishing either.

Only Morgan had some interest in it.

But because of his training, he didn't have much time to fish with Gandalf.

Gandalf didn't mind. He was only passing the time.

And so, six days passed in the blink of an eye.

On the evening of the seventh day,

in the little garden outside the room where the Company was staying in Rivendell,

a great bonfire blazed.

Meat coated in spices sizzled on the grill, filling the air with a rich aroma.

The members of the Company sat around the fire, feasting.

It was an ordinary barbecue dinner for the Company in Rivendell.

The white-bearded dwarf Balin drained the fruit wine in his cup and wiped the drops from his beard. Turning to Thorin Oakenshield beside him, he said, "Thorin, we've been resting in Rivendell for a while now. It's time to continue our journey. We don't have that much time."

"I know. I was just about to bring it up with Gandalf. We'll leave in the next day or two."

Thorin Oakenshield nodded and replied in a deep voice, then went back to working on the piece of meat in his hand.

At the same time,

deep in Rivendell, in a refined and luxurious attic,

Gandalf was dining with Lord Elrond.

"Lord Elrond, today makes seven days. Do you know when the person you mentioned will arrive?"

Gandalf chewed and swallowed the last sweet fruit on his plate.

Then he set down his cutlery, picked up a spotless napkin, wiped his mouth, and asked.

"What, tired of staying here?" Lord Elrond asked with a smile.

"Of course not."

"It's just that if this goes on, Thorin and the others will soon grow restless."

Gandalf shook his head as he spoke. He clearly knew Thorin Oakenshield well.

"I don't know the exact time, but judging by the timing, it should be within the next day or two."

Lord Elrond smiled reassuringly.

Just then, a small, beautiful bird with pure white feathers suddenly landed beside the window.