Galadriel [Seeking Recommendation Tickets]

She wore a long, pure white gown, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Her features were majestic, exquisite, noble, and coldly beautiful.

Bathed in the hazy, pale moonlight, her figure seemed not to belong to the mortal world, but rather to a celestial elf descended upon the earth.

It felt as if every word in the world used to describe feminine beauty could be applied to the figure before him.

Gazing at the ethereal, breathtaking figure radiating a faint light under the moon, Gandalf's expression shifted in shock. His pupils dilated sharply, and he immediately bowed, his voice emanating from the depths of his heart: "Lady Galadriel."

The figure known as Galadriel turned, smiling as she addressed him: "Mithrandir."

"It has been a long time."

Gandalf bowed his head once more, offering a heartfelt tribute: "Time may perhaps age me."

"But it can never change you, Lady Galadriel."

In all of Middle-earth, she was the only one who could make Gandalf—a Maia of the divine order—bow so willingly and feel such genuine joy from the bottom of his heart.

If Morgan were here, he would clearly recognize this "Lady Galadriel" by her series of other titles: "Lady of Lothlórien," "Princess of the Noldor," "White Queen," "Queen of Magic," and so on.

Of course, in his past life, Morgan and the many fans who loved Middle-earth preferred to call her the "Elf Queen," the "Elf Empress," or the slightly more playful "Galad-milk."

Lady Galadriel, the Sindarin name "Galadriel" meaning "maiden crowned with a radiant garland."

Galadriel: The most noble of all elven women in Middle-earth, the ruler of Lothlórien, and the most powerful Elf Queen in Middle-earth since the Third Age.

She possessed beauty that transcended biological limits, the ability to peer into the hearts of others, and boundless wisdom.

She was incredibly kind and empathetic, yet she also possessed a princess-like arrogance and willfulness.

She was Galadriel, the most alluring, terrifying, powerful, and beautiful pearl in all of Middle-earth!

After the greeting, an irrepressible smile appeared on Gandalf's face.

Looking at Galadriel not far away, Gandalf laughed: "I did not know that Lord Elrond had invited you."

As Gandalf's voice trailed off, another voice cut in abruptly: "It was not him."

"It was I who invited her."

The moment this voice fell, the happy smile on Gandalf's face—the one he had worn upon seeing the Elf Queen—vanished at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Gandalf clearly recognized who the voice belonged to, but he was extremely reluctant, even unwilling, to see the person who had spoken.

Yet, bound by etiquette, Gandalf had no choice but to turn his head with great reluctance. He bowed to the wizard standing opposite, who held a staff, wore white robes, and possessed flowing white hair and a white beard, yet sported a pair of thick, dark eyebrows. "So that is how it is," he said perfunctorily.

Saruman: He was one of the most widely known Maiar, the master of Isengard, the discoverer of the Palantír, and the head of the White Council.

Saruman was the first of the Maiar to arrive in Middle-earth; he was the white-robed wizard among the five Gandalf spoke of, and the most powerful among them.

Just as Gandalf was in the highest attic of Rivendell, meeting the Elf Queen Galadriel and the white-robed wizard Saruman in succession, experiencing the icy fire of shifting from joy to worry.

In a pavilion diagonally across from the path leading to the attic.

Morgan had found Thorin Oakenshield, who was out to clear his head, and had witnessed and heard the entire conversation between Gandalf and Elrond earlier.

He had seen with his own eyes how Thorin Oakenshield's mood, which had been decent, turned heavy and livid step by step.

Especially when Lord Elrond mentioned the history of madness in his family, Morgan could feel the extreme, suppressed rage in Thorin Oakenshield's heart.

Morgan could imagine how furious such a proud and stubborn Thorin Oakenshield must have been to hear someone discuss his family, the grandfather he worshipped, the father he revered, and himself in such a manner.

But Thorin Oakenshield did not say a word.

Perhaps because Morgan was by his side, Thorin Oakenshield remained silent.

However, Morgan saw with his own eyes Thorin Oakenshield, leaning against the pavilion railing, gripping it until it creaked.

In such a situation, Morgan would naturally not be foolish enough to go up and try to persuade Thorin Oakenshield of anything.

Not to mention the stubborn nature of dwarves; Thorin Oakenshield could not be persuaded at all.

To try and lecture Thorin Oakenshield at a time like this would only be to offend him.

Morgan would never do anything so stupid.

Remaining silent was the best course of action at this moment.

Morgan did not have to wait long.

After a moment of silence, Thorin Oakenshield greeted him and then strode away.

Watching the retreating figure, Morgan understood why Thorin Oakenshield had left so abruptly, without even bidding farewell to his host.

Morgan also knew that the time for him to leave Rivendell would certainly be tonight.

Regarding Gandalf's painstaking efforts, Lord Elrond's worries, and Thorin Oakenshield's anger tonight.

Morgan naturally felt it had nothing to do with him; he was just a side character, a miserable wage-earner who signed contracts to make money and earn Soul Power, while incidentally tagging along for the world exploration progress.

The grand patterns and major changes of Middle-earth had little to do with him.

Sitting alone in the pavilion, even with the excellent night view, Morgan still looked up toward the path Gandalf and Lord Elrond had walked earlier.

He knew that, barring any other major changes.

At the end of that path, there should be an attic or a pavilion of some sort.

Inside that attic, the Elf Queen Galadriel and the White Wizard Saruman, two of the most significant figures in Middle-earth, were supposedly present.

Although he desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of the most beautiful and powerful Elf Queen in all of Middle-earth.

And this moment was the most convenient and simplest time to do so; he could just barge in recklessly to fulfill his wish.

But Morgan had not yet lost his reason.

Just as Morgan was thinking of waiting here, playing the waiting game.

Waiting to see if those figures above would come down the small path after finishing their conversation, allowing him to see them with his own eyes.

At that very moment, he heard footsteps coming from below the pavilion where he stood.

Morgan turned his head and saw the fully equipped dwarf Kili appearing on the stone stairs.

"Morgan, we have to go; this is Thorin's order," Kili said, panting.

Morgan was slightly stunned, but he felt no surprise and said nothing.

He simply stood up and followed Kili away from the pavilion.

At the same time.

Inside the attic at the mountain peak.

Gandalf, being interrogated by the three parties, sat at the round table in the center of the attic.

He carefully took out an object wrapped in layers of white cloth from his person and placed it on the table.

If Morgan had been present for this scene, he would have known that this item, which originally belonged only to the plot of his memories and had not been encountered in reality, had appeared nonetheless.

Yet, he remained completely unaware.

The plot had changed once again.