Arthur made no attempt to hide his admiration, his eyes shining with appreciation: "What an astonishing place! Among all the buildings I have visited, the grandeur here is absolutely top-notch."
Legolas's lips curled into a subtle, proud smile upon hearing such praise for his homeland, silently acknowledging the compliment.
Thorin glared at Legolas's smile, his brow furrowed. Just as he was about to retort coldly, Balin tugged at his sleeve.
Balin blinked hard, signaling him to rein in his temper.
Thorin took a deep breath, swallowing the sarcastic remark that had been on the tip of his tongue, and stiffly said, "You won't understand what true grandeur is until you reach the Lonely Mountain."
Though his tone was still blunt, at least he didn't directly provoke Legolas.
Balin breathed a sigh of relief and quickly took over, saying to Arthur with a beaming smile, "Yes, the grandeur of the Lonely Mountain is definitely worth seeing."
His tone was warm and sincere, attempting to ease the tension.
Legolas ignored Thorin's words, turning his head coolly, as if the other party didn't exist at all.
The Elf's gaze was calm and aloof, as if silently stating that the dwarves' words were not worth his slightest emotion.
Upon seeing this, Thorin's face grew even darker. His fists clenched, knuckles turning slightly white from the effort, clearly infuriated by the disregard.
"Holo in ennyn (Close the gate)."
As the last Elf archer lightly stepped into the palace, his figure disappearing among the magnificent pillars, Legolas softly commanded the Elf warriors guarding the main entrance of the palace in Elvish.
Two Elf warriors in silver-grey armor heard the command and immediately nodded in response.
With their actions, the heavy stone gates slowly closed, emitting a low rumble.
Finally, the stone gates were completely shut, completely isolating the outside world's clamor and disputes, leaving only tranquility and solemnity within the palace.
Led by Legolas, the group embarked on a stone path meticulously built from rock.
Intricate and exquisite patterns were carved on both sides of the path, and beautiful oil lamps hung along it. The warm lamplight flickered in the lamp shades, casting a soft glow on everyone's faces.
As they continued forward, the path beneath their feet gradually became peculiar.
Bilbo and the dwarves looked down to find that they were no longer treading on ordinary steps, but rather thick, winding tree branches.
The surfaces of these branches were smooth yet bore natural textures, as if they had always been a part of this palace.
Igon and Millison also couldn't help but show surprise, their eyes darting around, trying to take in every detail of the Forest Elf palace.
Except for Arthur and Bernal.
Their steps were unhurried, their gazes calm, as if they had long been accustomed to everything before their eyes, appearing exceptionally serene.
After all, they had once set foot in the Royal Capital of Leyndell in The Lands Between, entering the magnificent palace entwined by the massive roots of the Erdtree.
There, some paths were simply formed by the Erdtree's incredible branches and trunks, grand and magnificent, truly breathtaking.
Therefore, in this territory of the Forest Elves, they were the only two who remained completely unperturbed by this path woven from trees.
Legolas walked at the very front, occasionally glancing back at everyone's reactions.
His gaze lingered briefly on Arthur and Bernal, seemingly showing a hint of interest in their composure, but soon turned forward again, continuing to lead the group deeper into the palace where he had lived for many years.
"We have arrived."
After an unknown amount of time, Legolas's voice was soft yet clear, like a gentle breeze passing by their ears.
The dwarves, who had been growing impatient and grumbling complaints, were now awestruck by the sight before them. They couldn't help but hold their breath, all their complaints swallowed back down.
They stood in the center of a magnificent space, which felt like a temple of nature.
A colossal ancient tree had been truncated, its trunk wide like a platform, its surface smooth as a mirror, clearly meticulously polished.
Upon the platform rested a deer antler throne carved from top-grade wood. The throne's lines were fluid and elegant, and every detail of the antlers was lifelike, as if they could leap from the wood grain at any moment.
Behind the throne, massive tree roots cascaded like a waterfall, merging with the surrounding rocks to form a natural mural.
Encircling the throne were towering stone pillars, each carved with intricate Elvish patterns. Motifs of vines, stars, and birds intertwined, forming a structure resembling a royal court.
A slender figure sat quietly on the deer antler throne, facing away from Arthur and his group.
It was an Elf, his posture elegant and composed, as if he had merged with the surrounding nature. His silver hair flowed like moonlight, draped over his shoulders, the tips faintly shimmering with a soft glow.
He wore a crown woven from wild berries and red leaves, for autumn had arrived. If it were spring, he would wear a crown woven from the forest flowers.
The Elf bowed his head slightly, seemingly in thought, his profile soft and profound.
Arthur's gaze lingered on the throne for a moment, then slowly swept around, finally settling on six Elf warriors standing quietly.
They wore the same silver-grey armor as the main gate guards, the armor's surface gleaming with a cold luster, their postures upright like pines, and their expressions solemn.
Arthur withdrew his gaze. Judging from the performance of these Elf warriors, at least he could feel that they harbored no hostility.
The Elf seated on the throne slowly emerged from his contemplation, his silver-grey eyes like cold stars in winter.
His gaze first swept over the dwarves, a hint of undisguised disdain and indifference flashing in his eyes.
That cold gaze, like a blade, cut through the air, causing Thorin and the other dwarves to involuntarily tense their bodies, their faces showing displeasure and wariness.
However, when his gaze fell upon Arthur, those icy eyes subtly softened, revealing a faint, elegant smile.
"Welcome, esteemed guest from afar. May the blessings of the forest be with you. My name is Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."
He spoke softly, his voice like flowing clear spring water, carrying a natural majesty.
Arthur nodded slightly, his tone gentle and composed: "Greetings, King Thranduil. I am Arthur, a Lord from the Erdtree. I am deeply honored to hear that you and your kin have a particular fondness for the fruits produced in my territory. It is an honor for my territory to bring a touch of joy to Mirkwood."
Thranduil's lips curved slightly upward, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes: "After all, fruits containing a trace of magic are indeed rare, and for these fruits to come from the barren lands of Minhiriath is even more remarkable."
However, his gaze then turned to the dwarves, his expression once again becoming stern and aloof.
"However, I apologize," Thranduil's tone carried a hint of faint apology, yet also an undeniable authority, "if it were only you and I here, I would be delighted to discuss the possibilities of cooperation between us in depth. But now—"
His gaze swept over the dwarves like a blade, his voice deep and cold: "We must first resolve the issue of these dwarves."
Thranduil's words were like an invisible barrier, instantly severing the previously harmonious atmosphere.
Upon hearing this, the dwarves' faces immediately turned grim, and Thorin's brows furrowed even tighter, his fists clenched, clearly extremely displeased with Thranduil's attitude.
Just as Thorin was about to retort, Arthur stepped forward, blocking him, his tone steady and sincere: "Regarding them, King Thranduil, we did not intentionally trespass on your territory. We had originally only planned to pass quickly through Mirkwood, but we unexpectedly lost our way in the forest."
"Is that so, Legolas, my son?"
Thranduil did not respond immediately, but instead tilted his head slightly, a flicker of thought in his silver-grey eyes. His gaze first fell upon Legolas, then slowly shifted to Tauriel, who stood behind the dwarves.
Legolas, sensing his father's gaze, immediately averted his eyes, looking straight ahead with a calm expression, and said in an indifferent tone, "Tauriel, you answer."
Thranduil frowned slightly, but the expression on his face remained composed, without much fluctuation.
However, this subtle change was keenly caught by Arthur.
What's going on? Aren't they father and son? Have they been arguing recently, leading to a strained relationship?
A hint of doubt arose in his heart.
At the same time, Tauriel, called upon by Legolas, stepped out from the elf squad behind the dwarves, walking with light yet firm steps towards the throne. Her figure was tall and elegant, and her brown archer's leather armor shimmered faintly in the lamplight.
"Hey, you, tall one! You can prove that we truly stumbled into your territory by mistake, right?" Kili suddenly shouted from among the group of dwarves, his voice tinged with urgency and anticipation.
Tauriel, hearing this, tilted her head slightly and glanced at Kili, her eyes showing a hint of confusion and coldness.
Although in her eyes, this dwarf was indeed tall and handsome among his kin, he was, after all, a dwarf.
Tauriel did not respond to Kili's call, but walked directly to Thranduil's throne, knelt on one knee, and respectfully said, "Lord Thranduil, although these dwarves appeared startled when discovered by the sentinels, this does not prove they are without malice, for these dwarves somehow bypassed the sight of our other kin and intruded."
Thranduil nodded faintly, his voice calm and majestic: "I understand. Tauriel, you and your kin may continue your patrol mission."
"Yes." Tauriel responded briefly, then rose and led her squad out of the throne hall.
Their relationship, Thranduil and her, also seemed a bit delicate?
Arthur watched Tauriel leave, a hint of doubt once again rising in his heart.
After all, having just returned from a mission, not only did he not let her rest, but instead sent her away. Thranduil was somewhat displeased with her.
As for the reason for his displeasure, Arthur did not know.
Thranduil's voice pulled his thoughts back: "You heard it too. According to my subordinate, you cannot prove that they did not enter my kingdom with malicious intent, can you?"
Arthur frowned slightly, his tone steady yet firm: "With all due respect, King Thranduil, that is merely a one-sided conjecture. If we truly harbored ill intent, we would not have entered your palace in such a quiet manner."
Thranduil let out a benevolent laugh, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation: "Of course I know that. After all, tales of your deeds have even spread among the humans of River Valley Town, so how could I not be aware of your difference from other Wizards? Compared to Gandalf the Grey, Radagast the Brown, and Saruman the White, you are more aggressive and offensive towards your enemies. The poems that reach my ears sometimes even make me wonder if you are truly a wizard, and not some orc bane."
His laughter lasted for a moment, then gradually subsided, his tone becoming serious again: "But please do not misunderstand, Lord of the Erdtree. I am not suggesting that you, your three friends, and that hobbit harbor ill will, but rather these dwarves."
Thranduil's voice grew completely cold at the end, his gaze like an ice blade pointing directly at Thorin: "I recognize their faces, especially the dwarf standing at the very front. When I demanded the jewels that rightfully belonged to my kin from King Thror of the Lonely Mountain, he stood beside that greedy dwarf's throne. Thorin Oakenshield, royal heir of the Durin folk."
Thorin strode to the front of Arthur, his gaze unwavering as he met Thranduil's, suppressed fury burning in his eyes.
His voice was deep and cold, carrying unconcealed hatred: "Those jewels were painstakingly repaired and reforged by my kin. How did they become yours?"
No sooner had Thorin's words fallen than Balin, among the dwarf company, slowly closed his eyes, a deep despair surfacing on his face.
His brow was tightly furrowed, his hands hung limply at his sides, fingertips trembling slightly, as if he felt helpless and pained by Thorin's impulsiveness, as if he had already foreseen the inevitable conflict and disaster with Thranduil.
Thranduil, furious, laughed in return: "I do not wish to engage in a pointless war of words with you dwarves. Your unauthorized intrusion into my territory and your insolent words before my throne are, in themselves, unforgivable sins. Were it not for the sake of the Lord of the Erdtree, I would have imprisoned you the moment you stepped into this palace, until you rude and stubborn fellows learned what courtesy and respect mean!"
Thorin did not back down, a mocking smile playing on his lips, his voice as biting as ice: "Is that all you have to say? Do you think these words can humiliate me? Or rather, do you think such words can hide the fact that you Elves abandoned us dwarves to our fate back then?"
Arthur looked at the sword-drawn, bow-taut Thorin and Thranduil, a pained expression on his face.
But very quickly, the anger on Thranduil's face vanished, replaced by a playful expression, and he slowly descended from the throne: "Your purpose in coming to the Lonely Mountain with such a large entourage, even enlisting a powerful wizard and his friends to escort you, is obvious."
He raised his hand, stopping the other Elf warriors who had taken defensive stances and drawn their swords, and came before Arthur and Thorin.
Thranduil, primarily addressing Thorin, spoke to the dwarf who was glaring at him in a feigned gentle tone: "You have found a way into the mountain. You wish to find the treasure that will grant you dominion—the King's Jewel, the arkenstone."
Thorin immediately averted his gaze, instinctively dodging, but quickly realized that his expression would confirm Thranduil's guess, so he raised his head again to look at him.
But these small movements of his had been caught by Thranduil, causing the Elf King to smile knowingly and continue: "It is priceless to you, I understand completely."
Thorin said in a deep voice: "So what? What does our journey have to do with you? Are you even planning to help us return to the Lonely Mountain?"
Thranduil elegantly returned to his throne and sat down, looking at Thorin: "I originally had that intention, for there is also a jewel I desire in that mountain—the White Gem, containing pure starlight. It is the jewel that you dwarves selfishly kept for yourselves, and it is time for it to return to its rightful owner."
Arthur noticed Thranduil's choice of words: "Originally?"
"Yes, originally—" Thranduil nodded faintly, then revealed a terrifying piece of information.
—"If the Dragon in the Lonely Mountain had not reawakened and flown out again, plundering young, beautiful human maidens from Lake-town as its food, I originally intended to turn a blind eye to your dwarves' actions, and even would have been willing to provide you with weapons and food to go to the Lonely Mountain."