Galadriel

She wore a pure white gown, her golden hair falling over her shoulders. Her features were dignified, refined, noble, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Bathed in the hazy white moonlight, her figure seemed not to belong to the mortal world, but to be a celestial elf who had descended to earth.

It seemed that every word in the world used to describe feminine beauty could be applied to the figure before them.

Gazing at the ethereal, peerlessly beautiful figure, whose entire body radiated a faint glow beneath the moonlight,

Gandalf's expression jolted. His pupils widened sharply, and he bowed in greeting, his voice ringing with heartfelt sincerity: "Lady Galadriel."

The figure known as Galadriel turned around and smiled at Gandalf as he bowed. "Mithrandir."

"It has been a long time."

Gandalf bowed again and offered his sincere praise. "Time may make me old,

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

In all of Middle-earth, there was only one person who could make Gandalf, whose true identity was one of the Maiar, bow so willingly and feel such genuine joy from the depths of his heart.

If Morgan had been there, he would have easily recognized that "Lady Galadriel" was also known by a string of other titles: "Lady of Lothlórien," "Princess of the Noldor," "White Queen," "Queen of Magic," and many others.

Of course, in his previous life, Morgan and the many fans of Middle-earth had preferred to call her "Elf Queen," "Elf Empress," or, as a playful nickname, "Galadriel."

The name "Galadriel," in Sindarin, meant "maiden crowned with a radiant garland."

Galadriel: the most exalted of all the elf women in Middle-earth, ruler of the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, and the most powerful Elf Queen in Middle-earth since the Third Age began.

She possessed a beauty beyond the limits of any living creature, the ability to see into people's hearts, and boundless wisdom.

She was kind and understanding, yet also possessed a princess's pride and caprice.

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

After the greetings, Gandalf's face was lit with unconcealed delight.

Looking at Galadriel not far away, Gandalf smiled and said, "I didn't know Lord Elrond had invited you."

As soon as Gandalf finished speaking, another voice abruptly cut in. "He didn't."

"I invited her."

The moment the voice fell, Gandalf's happy smile at seeing the Elf Queen vanished before their eyes.

Gandalf had clearly recognized the speaker, but he had no desire—nor any willingness—to see him.

Still, out of courtesy, Gandalf could only turn around, very reluctantly, and bow to the wizard across from him. The man held a staff and wore a white robe; his smooth white hair and beard contrasted with his thick, dark eyebrows. Gandalf offered a perfunctory reply: "I see."

Saruman: one of the best-known Maiar, ruler of Isengard, discoverer of the Palantír, and head of the White Council.

Saruman was one of the first Maiar to come to Middle-earth. He was the White Wizard among the five wizards Gandalf had spoken of, and the most powerful of them.

While Gandalf was meeting the Elf Queen Galadriel and the White Wizard Saruman, one after the other, in the highest tower chamber of Rivendell, his emotions swung from joy to worry.

Meanwhile, in a pavilion across from the path that led up to the tower chamber,

Morgan found Thorin Oakenshield, who had gone out to clear his head. He had watched and listened to Gandalf's conversation with Lord Elrond from beginning to end.

He had also seen Thorin Oakenshield's mood, which had been fairly good at first, grow steadily darker until his face turned grave and livid.

Especially when he heard Lord Elrond say that madness ran in his family, Morgan could sense the fury Thorin Oakenshield was suppressing.

Morgan could imagine how angry someone as proud and stubborn as Thorin Oakenshield would be to hear the other man speak that way about his family, his revered grandfather, his beloved father, and himself.

But Thorin Oakenshield said nothing.

Perhaps because Morgan was there, Thorin Oakenshield simply remained silent.

Yet Morgan saw him grip the pavilion railing so tightly that it creaked.

In a situation like this, Morgan naturally wasn't foolish enough to go over and try to console Thorin Oakenshield.

With a Dwarf's stubborn nature, Thorin Oakenshield was impossible to talk around anyway.

Trying to persuade Thorin Oakenshield at a time like this would only offend him.

Morgan wasn't about to do something so stupid.

Keeping quiet was the best choice.

Morgan didn't have to wait long.

After a while, Thorin Oakenshield broke his silence, greeted him, and then strode away.

Watching him disappear into the distance, Morgan understood why Thorin Oakenshield had suddenly left without even saying goodbye to his host.

Morgan also knew he would be leaving Rivendell tonight.

As for Gandalf's painstaking efforts that evening, Lord Elrond's concerns, and Thorin Oakenshield's anger,

Morgan naturally considered them none of his business. He was just a hired hand, signing contracts to earn money and Soul Power while tagging along to gain World Exploration Progress.

The grand shifts in Middle-earth's fate had little to do with him.

Sitting alone in the pavilion, Morgan looked up toward the path Gandalf and Lord Elrond had taken earlier, despite the magnificent night view around him.

He knew that, barring some other major turn of events,

there should be a tower chamber, pavilion, or something similar at the end of that path.

And inside, the Elf Queen Galadriel and the White Wizard Saruman, two of Middle-earth's most important figures, should be waiting.

He very much wanted to behold the most beautiful and powerful Elf Queen in all of Middle-earth.

And this was the easiest, most convenient opportunity. He could just barge in and make it happen.

But Morgan hadn't lost his reason.

As Morgan considered waiting here and letting fate bring the others to him,

hoping that once they had finished talking, they might come down the path and let him see them with his own eyes,

he heard footsteps coming from below the pavilion.

Morgan turned and saw Kili, fully equipped, appear on the stone steps.

"Morgan, we have to go. It's Thorin's orders," Kili said, panting.

Morgan was slightly taken aback, but not surprised, and said nothing.

He simply stood and left the pavilion with Kili.

At the same time,

in the tower chamber atop the hill,

Gandalf sat at a round table in the center of the room, facing questions from all three sides.

Carefully, he took something wrapped in layers of white cloth from his clothes and placed it on the table.

If Morgan had been there, he would have recognized the object on the table: an item that had belonged only to the remembered story, one he had thought he would never encounter in reality. It had appeared after all.

But he knew nothing of it.

The story had changed once again.

I'm going out to celebrate the New Year tonight, so there'll only be one update today. Sorry! It's New Year's Eve—hope you're all having a wonderful time~~~