Dáin II of the Iron Hills

At first, Thranduil sent his men to take Allen and his companions straight to Lake-town in Elven boats along the Forest River.

After disembarking, Allen finally saw the human town that had been so famous in the films.

But the group did not linger there. At old Furdin's urging, they headed straight for the Iron Hills.

Knowing he would soon be home undoubtedly put old Furdin in a good mood, though something still made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

Legolas was traveling with them, and he often huddled with Allen, whispering about who knew what.

Old Furdin kept feeling that the young human had been bewitched by Elven magic, but he could hardly say anything.

After all, the Elves in the Woodland Realm had treated him well. They had neither neglected him nor done anything unpleasant to him.

Finally, the day before they were due to reach the Iron Hills, Legolas left.

Before leaving, the handsome Sindar Elf told Allen that he would wait for him in Lake-town, then return with him to Thranduil's halls.

Over the course of their journey, Legolas and Allen had developed a solid friendship.

They often discussed events from the past several thousand years. Allen's extensive knowledge and decent character earned Legolas's approval, and the two became friends.

Allen was very pleased with this outcome. Legolas would certainly make a fine friend.

As the name suggested, the Iron Hills were a stretch of hills rich in iron ore.

The Dwarves had been mining iron there for thousands of years, and they belonged to Durin's Folk, just like the Dwarves who had once lived in the Lonely Mountain.

Their king, Dáin II, was even a cousin of Thorin Oakenshield. To put it more clearly, Dáin II's grandfather and Thorin Oakenshield's grandfather were brothers.

But the Lonely Mountain had been occupied by the evil dragon Smaug. The Dwarven kingdom in the Iron Hills was now the strongest Dwarven power in the north-or rather, the only one.

As Allen walked along the road to the Iron Hills, he studied the barren landscape around him.

Clearly, the Dwarves did little farming. Their skill in forging, carving, and other crafts was enough to keep them well fed.

There was no shortage of water here, since this was where the Celduin River originated. There were traces of human activity too, though not many.

From time to time, they saw caravans heading toward or leaving the distant Dwarven Castle. Allen watched them with some envy. His own village had no commercial activity at all.

Soon, Furdin brought Allen to the Dwarven Castle. The Dwarves guarding the entrance clearly knew Furdin.

When Furdin told the guards that only three of those who had left together had survived, sadness appeared on all their faces.

Dwarves had difficulty having children, and their population had always been a major obstacle to their development. Many Dwarven women also chose not to marry, instead living their lives freely.

Some male Dwarves devoted their entire lives to honing their craft and never took wives either.

All these factors only made the Dwarves' low birth rate worse.

As Furdin explained what had happened, the guards also learned what Allen had done, and they all expressed their gratitude.

Thus, with Furdin accompanying them, Allen and his party entered the Dwarves’ Castle without trouble.

If Thranduil's halls were a union of trees and magic, then the Dwarves' home was a marriage of stone and craftsmanship.

They had carved their home directly into a mountain range.

When Allen first entered the Castle, the relatively dim surroundings made it difficult to see what lay inside.

But as his eyes gradually adjusted to the light inside the Castle, a magnificent, awe-inspiring sight slowly unfolded before him.

Several straight, orderly, broad roads stretched toward different parts of the Castle. The corridors and archways were covered with the works of Dwarven masters, while sunlight filtered through windows cut into the mountainside, bathing the Castle in a soft glow.

Standing on the stone road leading to the throne room, Allen looked down into a seemingly bottomless cavern. Countless Dwarves worked by firelight below, laying bare the prosperity and splendor of the Iron Hills.

Before long, Furdin brought Allen before Dáin Ironfoot.

Compared with the Elves, Dwarves were much more straightforward. They were frank and stubborn by nature.

When someone appeared before them, they quickly decided whether that person was a friend or an enemy. Unless something truly momentous changed their minds, they would never reconsider.

Such people and events were exceedingly rare. In a sense, that made them ideal friends. Once they accepted you, your friendship could last until the end of your life.

Dáin II's actions demonstrated this perfectly. After learning what had happened, he immediately declared that Allen had earned the friendship of the Dwarves of the Iron Hills.

As a token of thanks, he prepared ten suits of armor suitable for humans for Allen to take with him.

All this made Allen feel that the old Furdin he had rescued could not possibly be quite what he claimed.

His kinship with Dáin could not be that distant. He must have been a fairly important figure among Durin's Folk.

But the Dwarves' gratitude was so tangible and direct that Allen did not know how to bring up his own needs. That evening, Dáin held a banquet and challenged Allen to a drinking contest.

Allen took the opportunity to ask Dáin whether he could arrange for a few Dwarves to come to his territory, explaining that he would pay them well.

Dáin laughed heartily and waved his hand, saying that payment was not the issue. As king, he could not force his people to do something they did not want to do.

Then Dáin changed tack, saying that if Allen could outdrink him, he would not mind arranging for a few good smiths to help his good friend.

In Middle-earth, the heaviest drinkers were not actually the seemingly hearty, alcohol-loving Dwarves.

They were the Elves, especially the Silvan Elves living in Mirkwood. Most of them were heavy drinkers-and old hands who had been drinking for countless years at that.

Some humans living in the eastern reaches of Mirkwood had established vineyards, and the wine they produced was particularly popular with the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood.

Of course, the Dwarves could hold their drink too. At the very least, they could drink more than ordinary humans.

But Allen was no ordinary human. His constitution was exceptionally strong, and he drank with Dáin from the start of the banquet at dusk until late into the night.

Everyone else had either drunk too much or gone off to rest. Apart from the guards, only those two remained, still drinking.

Both were a little drunk. As they drank and talked, they found more and more common ground. Their conversation wandered from Allen's village to the glory and hardships of Durin's Folk, until somehow they reached Moria and the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Allen blinked his somewhat bleary eyes and said, "My friend, I... I know. That-that was a terrible battle. But luckily, you won. Yes, you won."

Dáin had also drunk a little too much. At the mention of this, his expression grew desolate. "We won. Yes, we won. But what of it? In that battle, we lost not only countless elite warriors, but a king and two princes as well. The one who vanished is still missing without a trace. Our pride, Khazad-dûm, our homeland, where Durin's Folk lived for generation after generation, is still occupied by Half-orcs. And th-there is still..."

At that point, Dáin seemed to sober up considerably, and a trace of fear crossed his face.

By then, Allen really had drunk too much. However strong he was, he was still only human.

He did not usually care for drinking. Allen did not think alcoholic drinks tasted good, and he was not particularly fond of their flavor.

But he loved drinking with friends. Alcohol itself brought Allen no joy, yet the atmosphere of sharing drinks with friends made him very, very happy.

Now Allen seemed to be experiencing that happiness again-the feeling of drinking, chatting, and shooting the breeze with friends-so he did not notice Dáin's expression.

Allen drained another full cup of fine Dwarven liquor, then slurred incoherently, "Y-yes. There should still be that bane of Durin's Folk down there. M-Morgoth's lackey, a fallen Maia, a-a clown who ran away before the war. A B-Balrog. I know. I know all about it."

At that point, Allen squeezed shut his eyes, which were seeing stars, and leaned back in his stone chair with his head tilted up.

Trying to suppress the churning in his stomach, he let out a heavy breath and continued, "Ahh... Dáin, believe me, my friend. One day, you-you'll return to the home you lost. That Balrog, he-he'll get what he deserves too. I, urgh... I swear it will happen. If-if you need help, I'll help you. I will..."

Allen's voice grew quieter and quieter. His head tipped to one side, and he fell asleep right there in the chair.

His body slowly, slowly slid off the chair and onto the floor. He really had made a spectacle of himself.

By then, fear and shock had dispelled most of Dáin's drunkenness. He stared in astonishment at Allen, who had slid onto the floor, and sank into thought as he recalled Allen's words.

By the time Allen woke, it was already noon the next day.

He was lying in a luxurious guest room. The bed was soft and comfortable, and the blanket covering him was light and warm. It was so comfortable that Allen wanted to go back to sleep.

Then, realizing something was not quite right, Allen opened his eyes and stared at the relief carvings on the ceiling, trying to recall what he had done the night before.

He only remembered asking Dáin to let him hire a few Dwarven smiths for his territory. A king of Dáin's stature had actually insisted that Allen beat him in a drinking contest before he would consider it. Honestly.

Allen could not remember whether he had won. His memory ended with Dáin saying that they had lost a king and two princes in that war.

Allen knew about that too. In the films, Thrór, the King under the Mountain, had died at Azog's hands during the war.

The first prince, Náin, who had not been mentioned in the films, had also died in that war. Náin was Dáin II's father and the son of Grór, the previous king of the Iron Hills.

As for the second prince, Thráin II, he should still have been suffering in Dol Guldur at this point. He would remain there until Gandalf went to find him before the Battle of Five Armies, when he died at Sauron's hands.

Allen sat up and shook his head, trying to stop dwelling on those memories and focus instead on what had happened the night before.

But no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember what had happened at the end. He could only assume that he had become drunk and fallen asleep at that point.

Hearing movement inside, Alayen knocked on the door. He had been standing guard there all morning.

He was annoyed with himself for getting drunk the night before. If he woke to find Allen had gone missing again, he truly would not know where to look for him.

After the knock came Alayen's voice. "My lord, are you awake?"

Allen decided to stop thinking about it and leave it be. "I'm awake, I'm awake. I'll be right out."

"Very good, my lord. Old Furdin came by earlier to tell me that you can go to the banquet hall whenever you wake up. The midday banquet is about to begin."

Hearing Alayen's words, Allen hurriedly put on his clothes. They smelled a little of alcohol, but there was no vomit on them.

Allen felt that he must have preserved his last shred of dignity at the drinking table the previous night: he had not thrown up.

Once he was ready, Allen followed Alayen to Dáin's banquet hall.

For some reason, Allen kept feeling that Dáin seemed even warmer toward him today than he had been yesterday.

This puzzled Allen, but he considered it a good thing. There was even better news: Dáin had agreed to his request and decided to send five highly skilled smiths to Allen's village.

At the banquet, Allen solemnly thanked Dáin. Dáin waved his hand, smiled brightly, and raised his cup. "No need for thanks, my friend. You won this. Let us drink to friendship."

Allen raised his own cup as well.

Although he wondered whether he had actually won the night before, that did not stop him from answering Dáin's toast.

"To our friendship," Allen said, then drained the fine liquor in his cup in one go.

After the banquet, Allen said he wished to leave. Dáin Ironfoot wanted him to stay a few more days, but Allen politely declined.

He had already been away long enough. Although everything had gone smoothly along the way, the journey had still taken about a month.

The journey home would clearly take no less time. By the time Allen returned to Wilderness Village, it would probably be autumn.

Dáin expressed his understanding. After all, Allen was also the leader of a domain, with plenty of affairs to attend to, so he could hardly insist that he stay.

He then told Allen that he was welcome to visit at any time and waved farewell to him at the Castle gates.

Allen and his party traveled along the road from the Iron Hills to Lake-town for a little over a week before finally returning to the human town.

As soon as Allen reached the bridge to Lake-town, he saw Legolas waving to him.

After meeting up with Legolas, Allen learned that he had been staying there for half a month, waiting to return to the Woodland Realm with him.

Upon learning Legolas's identity, the town's master had attended to his every need.

Of course, to Legolas, it had been nothing special-merely adequate. Hearing this, Allen laughed heartily and thought that the master's efforts had gone to waste.

After all, Lake-town's commerce depended entirely on trade with the Silvan Elves. It was perfectly natural for the master to curry favor with Legolas. Unfortunately, Legolas had failed to perceive the deeper intent behind his attentions.

In the end, Allen never entered this largest human settlement in the north. Instead, he returned with Legolas to Thranduil's halls and, at the king's invitation, stayed in the Woodland Realm for several days.

Even though the Silvan Elves were considered the most savage and least civilized of the Elves.

Allen was still very happy living among them. Most were straightforward and loved feasts and hunting.

Throughout their endless lives, they pursued happiness and peace. Once they accepted you, they were a wonderful group of Elves.

They were not stingy and gladly shared their food and joy with their friends.

Allen took part in a hunt organized by Thranduil. The part of the forest where the Silvan Elves lived was not as oppressive and monotonous as the forest path. The scenery here was beautiful.

The Silvan Elves, who had lived there for years, knew the area intimately and could always find their prey.

Allen also demonstrated archery skills that rivaled those of an ordinary Elf, giving Legolas the urge to compete with him.

The final result, however, was easy enough to guess. Even though Allen had grown stronger again, he was still no match for Legolas.

During their casual conversations, Allen also discussed trade with Thranduil.

Allen urgently needed other ways to obtain food. He could not rely entirely on spending denars to buy it from the simulator.

With his population growing and construction of the walls likely to continue even through winter, Allen estimated that the grain harvested in autumn might not last until the following autumn.

That reminded Allen that the woodland king before him was a famously heavy drinker. Perhaps he could use denars to buy wine produced by the simulator, then exchange it for food from the Woodland Realm, conducting the trade through the Elves-path.

Thranduil became interested when he heard Allen's proposal. "Allen, I think I can agree to your request. You know, an Elf always needs a few interests throughout his long life. As it happens, I know a great deal about wine. But you must ensure that yours is worthy of appearing at my banquets. Otherwise, I will not agree to such a trade. Even our friendship cannot make me lower my standards for wine."

Allen saw no problem with that. Everything the simulator sold was of the finest quality, and he could offer two different varieties of wine. The magical world of the Pendor Continent produced wine as well.

"Your Majesty, thank you for giving me this opportunity. I will certainly provide the finest wine. Once I return, I will arrange for a caravan to come here immediately, and you can sample it first. In fact, I can offer two different varieties."

Thranduil smiled faintly. "Bring some of both, Allen. You may come here through the Elves-path whenever you wish. I had been planning to abandon that path, but now I will assign patrols to guard it. They will be ready to escort you here at any time."

Allen was already very satisfied with that answer. After all, the Woodland Realm had never lacked a supply of wine. Thranduil had only agreed to the proposed trade for the sake of their friendship.

After staying a few days, Allen also bade Thranduil farewell.

Thranduil prepared twenty woodland Elven longbows and gave them to Allen as a token of thanks.

Then, accompanied by Legolas, the group crossed Mirkwood once more and reached the entrance to the Elves-path.

Since he still had to return and report, Legolas once again politely declined Allen's invitation to visit Wilderness Village, saying that there would certainly be another opportunity.

They waved goodbye and each set off for home. This time, however, Allen's party included five Dwarven smiths.