Elf Queen

"Chirp."

The little bird, its body covered in snowy-white feathers, looked at Lord Elrond through the window and called softly, its song sweet and clear.

Lord Elrond turned to see the bird, and a smile immediately appeared on his face.

"Gandalf, come for a walk with me later."

Lord Elrond took a small sip of the amber-colored fruit wine in his exquisite glass and said with a slight smile.

"Of course. It would be my pleasure."

Gandalf put a delicate little after-dinner pastry into his mouth, chewed and swallowed it, then nodded with a smile.

In the little garden.

The Company's lavish roast dinner was still underway.

Dinner was in full swing.

The Dwarves drank deeply, ate heartily, and loudly told bad jokes, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Morgan sat beside the bonfire, puffing away on a handsome Oak Pipe.

The Oak Pipe had naturally come from Rivendell.

Two days earlier, in the afternoon, Morgan had been practicing Archery tirelessly in a quiet corner of the little garden.

Lord Elrond, who had been wandering around, happened upon him.

Of course, Morgan didn't believe Lord Elrond's claim that he was just out for a casual stroll.

In any case, the powerful Lord Elrond had come across Morgan practicing Archery and was extremely surprised by Morgan's skill.

In his previous life, Morgan had made a name for himself through more than just his own abilities; he also had years of experience dealing with people.

He had already made a decent impression during his earlier interactions with Lord Elrond.

On top of that, his Archery was now so skillful that he could almost be called a master marksman.

Morgan and Lord Elrond had enjoyed a very pleasant conversation.

This time, Lord Elrond had clearly shown Morgan goodwill, rather than merely extending the courtesy he'd shown him before as Gandalf's friend.

Their conversation had brought the two of them closer. Before leaving, Lord Elrond had asked Morgan if there was anything he needed.

Morgan had promptly said that he wanted a pipe.

Lord Elrond had nodded with a smile and left.

So that evening, the Elves had brought him a fine Oak Pipe.

In his previous life, Morgan had never touched tobacco because of his profession, and he'd been very moderate about drinking, too.

Now that he was in this world, with the Golden Thigh System at his side, there was no need to be so restrained.

As for the tobacco he was smoking, he had wheedled it out of Gandalf.

Gandalf had received a large supply of fine tobacco from Lord Elrond, thanks to their friendship.

Morgan had asked Lord Elrond for a pipe so boldly because he'd been coveting Gandalf's tobacco.

Back to the matter at hand.

The Dwarves were drinking and eating, still noisily telling bad jokes.

Morgan, who had already eaten and drunk his fill, sat nearby, puffing clouds of smoke.

On the other side, the white-bearded Dwarf Balin was still talking with Thorin Oakenshield.

"Have the Elves agreed to help?" Balin asked.

"Gandalf hasn't said anything to me yet," Thorin Oakenshield replied, shaking his head.

"Today's already the seventh day. If the Elves were going to help, they should have said so by now."

Balin fell silent for a moment, then continued in a low voice.

"I know."

Thorin Oakenshield nodded and fell silent for a moment. He drained his bottle, stood up, and walked away.

Morgan's senses had become much sharper since his mental strength had been enhanced to LV3.

The place was noisy, but he still heard every word Balin and Thorin Oakenshield said.

The Company had been in Rivendell for a week.

Morgan knew the Company would leave eventually, but he didn't know exactly when.

After hearing Balin and Thorin Oakenshield's conversation, he knew it wouldn't be long before they left Rivendell.

"Puff, puff."

Morgan smoked, staring absently at the flickering, bright-yellow flames before him.

Just then, Morgan suddenly turned his head. Seeing Thorin Oakenshield's back disappear from view, he immediately thought of something.

Given Thorin Oakenshield's stubborn nature, once he decided to leave, the Company wouldn't stay much longer.

In the story he remembered, what had made Thorin leave without saying goodbye? He had overheard Gandalf and Lord Elrond talking.

In that conversation, Lord Elrond had expressed his disapproval of the quest and of Thorin Oakenshield.

That was what had driven the extremely proud Thorin Oakenshield to leave without saying goodbye to Gandalf or the Elves.

He had simply chosen to leave.

"Could it be tonight?"

"The night Thorin Oakenshield overhears Gandalf and Lord Elrond talking!"

At the thought, Morgan could no longer sit still.

The World Exploration Progress in his system was increasing painfully slowly.

Morgan wasn't willing to miss any plot event that might increase his exploration progress.

Besides, even if he was wrong, he had nothing to lose.

With that in mind, Morgan stood up without hesitation and strode off in the direction Thorin Oakenshield had gone.

Deep in Rivendell.

Gandalf, dressed in a gray robe, was walking with Lord Elrond along an elegant, winding path, chatting as they went.

Lord Elrond said with some displeasure, "Gandalf, you should have told me about your purpose this time with Thorin Oakenshield sooner."

Gandalf hastily replied, "I did intend to tell you. I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long time."

"And I think you should trust that I know what I'm doing."

Lord Elrond asked gravely, "Do you really?"

"That dragon has been asleep for sixty years. What if your plan fails? What if the dragon wakes up?"

Gandalf countered, "And what if we succeed?"

"If the Dwarves reclaim that mountain, our defenses in the east will be stronger."

Lord Elrond shook his head. "This is too risky, Gandalf."

Gandalf continued to argue, "Doing nothing is dangerous, too."

"Please, Thorin is the King of Erebor. What are you afraid of?"

At that, Lord Elrond stopped at once, then turned and stood before Gandalf, his voice grave. "Have you forgotten?"

"Madness runs in his family."

"His grandfather went mad, and his father suffered from the same affliction."

"Would you dare say Thorin Oakenshield couldn't suffer the same fate?"

"Gandalf, these aren't decisions we can make."

"Neither you nor I can change the fate of Middle-earth."

Hearing his old friend's solemn words, Gandalf knew he wouldn't be able to persuade him today.

He could only bring up the Dwarves' resolve.

"With or without our help, those Dwarves will go to that mountain."

"They're determined to reclaim their homeland!"

"I don't think Thorin believes he needs to ask anyone's permission."

"In fact, I feel the same way."

Gandalf strode after Lord Elrond and loudly declared the Dwarves' decision, hoping to sway him somehow.

When they reached the entrance to an elegant pavilion at the summit, Lord Elrond suddenly turned to his old friend. "You have a point, but I'm not the one you need to ask."

With that, Lord Elrond stepped aside.

Then Gandalf saw a transcendent, ethereally beautiful figure bathed in the hazy moonlight.