---Igris' Perspective---
I had wanted a calm, peaceful breakfast in Rivendell… but life had other plans for me. I kept glancing back and forth between the items in the shop and the money in my hand… Buying these products would mean indulging in wishful thinking. While building a kingdom, I must manage my funds carefully. Even if I had one million, I would still need to consider whether that money was my personal income or the state treasury, and spend it according to the needs of my people… Yes, these units are magnificent, but when they arrive, will they truly be loyal to me and my country, or will they simply leave one day? The units I purchase from the shop are a double-edged sword. Unless there is an extreme necessity, it would be best not to buy such expensive units… I want to take Dale as soon as possible, start production, and trade both within the system and across Arda… but when I'll be able to claim Dale remains uncertain…
"Haaahh… Life was easier when I was just an adventurer…"
While we were eating peacefully here, I wondered about the soldiers in the east. I hope the units I sent reach them in time.
It pains me to think that the units who are here because of me are now fighting on my behalf… I hope the tribe attacking them isn't strong, or worse, doesn't have an Orc champion… I encountered one of those once… He nearly killed me; I barely escaped with my life. As I refocused on the shop, I popped a Potato patties into my mouth.
---Shop---
[Flying Unit – Pegasus Cavalry, Valkyrie Unit (Tier 5) x16]
[Price: 25,000 Gold]
[Mage – Element: Darkness (Apprentice) x1]
[Price: 40,000 Gold]
[One-Handed Sword (Common) x500]
[Price: 1 Gold]
[Warband World – Scout x55]
[Price: 10 Gold & Daily Rental Fee: 50 Silver]
[Coffee x50 Sacks]
[Price: 20 Silver]
[Ordinary Poisonous Mushroom x50]
[Price: 15 Silver]
[Wind Phoenix (Subspecies) Knight (Tier 3) x1]
[Price: 550,000 Gold]
Current Budget: 382 G 30 S 23 B
Hmm… Forget the Valkyries, Phoenix Knights, and the mage for now. Let's focus on the others. Scouts—mercenaries from the Warband world… ridiculously expensive! I'll admit they're good, but most mercenaries have personalities like ***. They think highly of themselves, and finding loyal mercenaries is truly difficult. In this world alone, mercenaries have tried to kill me countless times, stabbed me in the back more times than I can count—only Shadowmane and I truly know how many. I still bear sword and dagger scars on my back.Wait a minute… daily rental?
"What do you mean by rental, System?"
System: [You can temporarily summon them here for a limited time. They will fight for you, but when they receive a fatal wound, they return to the Warband world with the payment they earned during their contracted duration. They do not die. Frankly, I wouldn't recommend using this unless necessary. Even if Scouts are relatively cheap, the others are extremely expensive—and their personalities are ***. Their loyalty is to money, not to the one who pays it. However, if you find a good mercenary group, you can register them in the system and summon them whenever you wish. But once registered, their fees increase exponentially, including permanent summoning costs. And if they die in the Warband world, they are removed from the system.]
"I understand… I'll keep that in mind. If they're immortal, they might be useful for certain missions."
I would never use these guys for critical missions, but if they prove reliable, I might consider it. As for swords—buying ten and keeping them as spares wouldn't be a bad idea. After all, there's always a chance we could lose our weapons, and not everyone has an inventory… On second thought, let's make it fifteen spare swords.
[One-Handed Sword (Common) x500 >>> One-Handed Sword (Common) x485]
[Price: 1 Gold >>> 15 units purchased. Total Price: 15 Gold]
Current Budget: 382 G 30 S 23 B >>> 367 G 30 S 23 B
Alright… Buy all the coffee. I have two coffee monsters with me. I just hope these sacks are as large as flour sacks.
[Coffee x50 Sacks >>> Coffee x0]
[Price: 20 Silver >>> Total Price: 10 Gold]
Current Budget: 367 G 30 S 23 B >>> 357 G 30 S 23 B
That's done. Now let's look at the next item… Are you kidding me!? Why do these mushrooms keep haunting me… Whatever, buy them. They might come in handy… the last batch was surprisingly useful.
[Ordinary Poisonous Mushroom x50 >>> Ordinary Poisonous Mushroom x0]
[Price: 15 Silver >>> Total Price: 7 Gold 50 Silver]
Current Budget: 357 G 30 S 23 B >>> 349 G 80 S 23 B
With every coin disappearing from my inventory, it felt like pieces of my heart were being torn away… This isn't game currency! This is real money I earned with my own sweat! And it's melting away… Still, at least I'm buying useful things. I let out a deep sigh and refocused on my meal. Conversations continued at the tables—actually, at all three tables. The girls were chatting among themselves, and the men were doing the same. Thankfully, our group was harmonious…I feel sorry for the temporary commander at the camp… I hope he's managing the people there properly. I really don't want them killing each other.
"So, what are you so lost in thought about?"
I lifted my head and looked at Thorin, who was speaking to me.
"Nothing… I was just thinking about our travel route… haaah… Thorin, unfortunately, we have to pass through Mirkwood."
The Dwarves at the table stopped eating and looked at me in shock. Thorin, on the other hand, sighed and nodded.
"So you've come to the same conclusion…"
Dwalin slammed his fist onto the table, making the food tremble from the impact, and spoke harshly.
"Have you both lost your minds!? Passing through the Wood-elves' territory will be extremely difficult!"
I sighed.
"We don't have another choice, Dwalin. We have bounty hunters and mercenaries after us. On top of that, there's Azog and the Orcs. If we take the normal route, they'll have countless opportunities to ambush us."
Fíli struck the table.
"This is madness, uncle! You were the one who told us they're our enemies! We shouldn't go through their lands!"
Kíli crossed his arms and spoke calmly.
"You're wrong, brother… this is the safest option."
As Fíli and Dwalin stared in disbelief, Thorin raised his eyebrows, while Balin chuckled and stroked his beard. I was surprised as well—original Kíli was hot-headed and emotional. It seemed Halt and Gilan were doing an excellent job training him. Bilbo also spoke up from the side.
"I agree with Kíli. This is the safest path."
Everyone looked at the young hobbit, who scratched his head.
"In my spare time, I've been listening to Kíli and Balin talk about the history of Erebor. After all, my two teachers taught me the value of knowledge… I also listened to the matter between you and the Elves, but I don't think the Elves harbor enough hatred to kill us without reason."
Impressive. Gilan and Halt were doing a remarkable job training them—I could see the pride in their eyes. Hearing this, Balin and Thorin nodded. Balin spoke.
"Unfortunately, they are right, Fíli, Dwalin. We've already lost one companion, and two others barely escaped death. If we are to take a risk, I would choose Mirkwood."
Hearing this, Fíli and Dwalin fell silent and looked at Thorin. Thorin grumbled unhappily and nodded.
"I'm not happy about it either, but the Wood-elves would rather capture us than kill us. We can find a way to escape from captivity—but if we die, this journey ends."
Halt and Gilan looked at us with curiosity.
"What are you talking about?"
"Yes, why are you being so cautious?"
I sighed and looked at Thorin and Balin.
"It's not my place to explain this. This is between you and the Wood-elves. I'm quite unfamiliar with the matter—I only know what I've heard from Guno and the other Dwarves."
Thorin looked at me and nodded, then turned to Balin. With a sigh, Balin began to speak.
"Listen carefully, children," Balin said, lowering his voice.
"There was once an agreement between King Thrór and Thranduil. The Dwarves were to give Thranduil several kilograms of a gem called Moonlight Stones, along with an exquisitely crafted necklace made from them… but the agreement was broken, and when the dragon came, the Elves abandoned us to our deaths because of it. However, the matter is not merely about shining stones or Thranduil's pride. This wound goes back thousands of years—back to the dark ages when even our grandfathers' grandfathers were not yet alive. The root of the hatred between us Dwarves and the Wood-elves dates back to the fall of the ancient kingdom of Doriath."
He stroked his beard with trembling hands.
"In those days, Dwarven craftsmen set a jewel—a Silmaril—into a necklace for Thingol, the greatest king of the Elves. But that jewel was such a thing that it blinded both the Elves and our ancestors. An argument broke out; blood was spilled, the Dwarven craftsmen were slain, and in retaliation, Dwarven armies destroyed the Elven kingdom. From that day on, the Elves have seen us as 'thieves and murderers,' while we see them as 'arrogant ingrates who steal what is ours.'"
Balin leaned toward those at the table, especially Halt and Gilan.
"And now, Thranduil… He comes from a lineage that witnessed those ancient wars and breathed in that hatred. In Thrór's time, when Erebor was the richest place in the world, Thranduil needed us. He sought our gemcraft—this is true. But the necklace was merely the final straw. Those Elves believe themselves to be the true owners of Arda. They see us Dwarves as crude, gold-worshipping creatures who claw at the earth. There was trade between us, yes—but never respect."
Balin's voice grew even more serious.
"When the dragon came and Thranduil did not come to our aid, it wasn't merely cowardice, Igris. He saw our destruction as a 'purification.' He thought, 'Let those greedy Dwarves be consumed by fire—so long as they do not stain my forest.' As he stood there watching, he wasn't only witnessing Smaug's arrival, but the fall of an ancient enemy. So when we enter that forest, we will not be mere strangers. To him, we are the final remnants of a vengeance thousands of years in the making—a dispute that was never resolved."
Alright, now I was starting to get a headache. Things were far older and more complicated than I had thought. I sighed and spoke.
"…The saying 'history repeats itself' really is true. Your ancient hatred began with a necklace, and the most recent one also began with a necklace. This time, I can understand Thranduil's anger to some extent."
At that, Dwalin slammed the table again—but I raised my hand and glared at him. He fell silent.
"Without getting angry, let me point this out: that necklace is far more valuable to Thranduil than you think. You know it was made for his deceased wife—but what you don't know is how deeply he loved her. By refusing to give the necklace, Thrór essentially poured sacks of rock salt into Thranduil's heart wound. So rather than an ancient grudge, this is a relatively new one. Let me put it this way: if someone insults Thranduil's wife, they would pray for the mercy of Dark Elf torture; if a king insults her, Thranduil would destroy that kingdom—he might even commit a genocide unbefitting of an Elf. Never underestimate the power of love."
Though the Dwarves' expressions darkened, they listened carefully. Their silence alone showed their respect for me, so I continued.
"My people have a saying: 'Love can make a man mad—or a saint.' Thranduil stands somewhere in between. His love's fire has not faded; on the contrary, it has grown with longing and turned into an ocean. I believe he pours that love into his people—perhaps at his wife's last request or wish. For Thranduil, his people are his highest priority now."
I sighed. Because of this obsession, he ignores many things—causing harm both to his people and to innocent lives around him—but he's too blinded to see it… And Legolas is far too passive… Well, not my problem. Not yet.
Thorin glared at me.
"You may be right, Igris, but I will never forgive him."
I nodded.
"I know. Dwarven stubbornness is harder than mithril. But there's one thing, Thorin—the path to the Mountain goes through that necklace. If you want the Dwarves to rise again, the necklace and the Moonlight Stones are our only bargaining chips."
Dwalin spoke harshly.
"We would rather die than make a deal with those Wood-elves!"
I looked at him and replied.
"Then you'll take the hope of all Dwarves with you."
Dwalin flinched and fell silent. I turned to Thorin.
"Look, I've spent more years with Dwarves than with men. I lived for three years in Guno and the Blackbeard colony. I have a house there, ready for me—and the Dwarves always keep it clean in my absence. I am a friend to the Dwarves, and I understand what reclaiming their homeland means to them."
Thorin stared silently at the table. I continued.
"Hate Thranduil. Hold your grudge. But do not let those feelings cloud your judgment as a king, Thorin. I'm not asking you to give up the gold of the Mountain or the Arkenstone—but give him the necklace and a portion of the Moonlight Stones. They're not even worth one-thousandth of the treasury, let alone a speck of Erebor's value to you."
I sighed and went on.
"If you wish, I can conduct the negotiations myself, and I guarantee I won't act against the Dwarves' interests. But there are some things you need to know…"
Thorin looked at me.
"What do you mean?"
I shrugged.
"I'll talk about that in our private meeting after breakfast. For now, eat your meal and think carefully about what I've said. Remember—think for the Dwarven race, not with hatred and resentment."
Thorin looked at me, sighed, and nodded. From that moment on, our table grew quiet. We spoke in measured tones; the other tables likely didn't hear us. Dwalin looked unhappy, Fíli thoughtful. Kíli and Bilbo, like their teachers Halt and Gilan, focused calmly on their breakfast. My other men ate while chatting among themselves.
As for me, I suffered a headache thinking about the Wood-elves. I hope I can persuade them somehow. If the Elves don't send out their armies, the Orcs will destroy us… Perhaps, by sheer luck, I could summon a massive army from the system's draw—but I don't want that. If I summon an army, two or three times its number will arrive as refugees alongside it. I can't possibly feed such a crowd… We need the Elves' support.
Haaahhh… As an old turtle once said: yesterday is left behind, the future is a surprise, and today is a gift. It's better to focus on the present. I must do everything step by step.
While eating, I glanced slyly at Dwalin, then looked expressionlessly at Balin.
"Balin?"
Balin looked at me with curiosity.
"Yes, Igris?"
I spoke calmly.
"I'm thinking about making something with broccoli for dinner. What do you say?"
"PUFFF—"
Dwalin spat out the water he was drinking and immediately began coughing violently.
"KHMM! KHMM! KHMM!"
I stared at Dwalin in surprise.
"Are you okay, my friend?"
Dwalin shot me an irritated glare before speaking.
"Where the hell did broccoli come from?!"
Balin burst into laughter, while Thorin merely smiled calmly. Fili covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly, and I just shrugged.
"I don't know, I just had a feeling. I'd use parsnips on the side too. The Elves have plenty of those."
This time Fili looked horrified.
"No—please don't. I'm allergic to parsnips!"
Dwalin nodded as well, folding his arms across his chest and speaking seriously.
"Yeah, don't make broccoli either. It gives me indigestion."
Balin was laughing so hard tears formed in his eyes.
"Hohoho… actually, now I'm craving it."
"BALIN!" ×2
Thorin nodded thoughtfully.
"Honestly, I'm curious to see what you could come up with."
Dwalin and Fili froze in shock.
"THORIN!"
"UNCLE!"
Gilan looked around in confusion.
"Did I miss something? By the way, what happened to your face, Dwalin? Who did you fight?"
Kili frowned.
"I was thinking the same thing… Brother, why is there a bruise on your forehead? And why are Bombur's face and hands injured?"
Halt silently shook his head, while Fili spoke with slight panic.
"It's nothing! I just don't want to eat parsnips! And those injuries are from training!"
Dwalin nodded.
"Same here. I don't want to see broccoli, and yes—we had an intense training session this morning."
Kili frowned but didn't ask further. Dwarves sometimes train brutally; we'd all seen that plenty of times. But I didn't let it go. Even though I knew the truth, I raised an eyebrow, pretending ignorance.
"Are you absolutely sure about the food?"
"ABSOLUTELY!" ×2
Balin grinned mischievously and stroked his beard.
"I don't see a problem."
"SHUT UP, BALIN!" ×2
Laughing, Balin looked at Dwalin and nodded.
"As you wish, my lord count! Hahahaha—"
CRACK!
The cup in Dwalin's hand shattered from the force of his grip. Suppressing a laugh, I asked curiously,
"You okay, Dwalin?"
Dwalin glared at me and replied with a forced smile.
"I'm fine… my brother just brought back some unpleasant memories, so I'm debating whether or not to kill him."
I nodded calmly.
"So, normal Dwarf stuff."
Dwalin nodded.
"Exactly."
Gilan glanced around with curiosity.
"Why do I feel like I missed something fun?"
Dwalin shot Gilan an annoyed look.
"You're imagining things…"
I giggled and continued eating when a message suddenly appeared before me.
System:[Congratulations on completing the first part of your journey! Rewards have been granted.]
Huh?
—A high vantage point in Rivendell—
—Third-person perspective—
Gandalf had lit his pipe and stood on the balcony of his chambers, watching the Oakenshield company conversing below—though his gaze lingered especially on Igris. What Igris had said that night had shaken him deeply. Gandalf hadn't slept even for a moment; his mind tirelessly searched for signs—signs he had ignored or perhaps refused to see. He reviewed everything that had happened in recent years, and Igris's words echoed relentlessly in his thoughts.
"Sauron never truly left. He merely hid… and prepared."
That single sentence was enough to unsettle him. If the enemy had simply returned, Gandalf wouldn't have been this distressed—but Igris had emphasized that Sauron had never gone, that he had been preparing meticulously all along. Gandalf took deep, heavy pulls from his pipe, thick smoke filling the room until it resembled a forge; he worked like a living smoke factory.
'I don't want to believe him… but how did he know Sauron's other names? The name Annatar is buried in the dusty pages of history. Only the long-lived should know it—no one alive today should… unless someone told him.'
Gandalf paced back and forth, his mind working harder than it ever had. He remembered Igris's eyes—during the three weeks they had traveled together, he had never seen them so serious. Igris had spoken with unwavering conviction.
'He believed every word he said from the depths of his heart…'
Gandalf considered every scenario Igris had laid out, analyzing them one by one. His brows furrowed with worry.
'If this comes to pass… then Middle-earth is in grave danger… and Valinor as well…'
He forced himself to think rationally. Without concrete proof, these were only fears. Focusing on the one piece of evidence Igris had mentioned, Gandalf murmured softly,
"The graves of the Nine…"
At that moment, the door opened. Light and calm filled the room as Galadriel entered—but Gandalf was so deep in thought that he didn't notice her. Galadriel paused upon stepping inside, sensing the atmosphere in surprise. It wasn't just the scent of smoke; tension, doubt, stress, and most of all fear saturated the air.
When she looked at Gandalf, she saw him as she never had before—panicked, suspicious. As she touched his mind, she found it in complete disarray, consumed by ancient and long-forgotten matters. That realization both startled and worried her. What troubled her even more were the words he kept muttering under his breath.
"The graves of the Nine… the graves of the Nine… the graves of the Nine…"
Shaking off her surprise, Galadriel approached him and spoke calmly.
"Mithrandir."
He didn't hear her. He continued pacing, murmuring about the Nine. Galadriel frowned and stepped closer.
"Mithrandir!"
Still no response. Gandalf's thoughts were racing too fast and tangled even for her to fully follow. She reached out and grasped his shoulder firmly.
"MITHRANDIR!"
Gandalf flinched and turned abruptly.
"My lady? How long have you been here?"
Galadriel stared into his eyes in shock. She had never seen Gandalf in such turmoil before.
---
(3505 Words)
Author's Note:It's finally done… and this is exactly why I took a break. I've been translating for a full 8 hours and 12 minutes, my brain is mush, my eyes are burning—but I kept my promise! To make up for the three weeks without updates, I managed to post six extra chapters in one go.
I worked on this while studying for my exams—writing in between study sessions and even on public transportation. So please, have some mercy on this poor author and leave a rating for my fanfic! Ah!
Also, my fanfic has officially passed 200,000 words. I really hope you're enjoying the story. Happy reading… and now I seriously need to rest my head.
…I really shouldn't have translated the last chapter.