Then their gazes turned once more to Karl, the man calmly sitting on the rock. An Elven longsword rested across his knees, and not a trace of blood could be seen on his body. He calmly looked back at them, his expression indifferent, as if this carnage were merely a casual swatting of a few mosquitoes.
Whether orcs or ferocious wolves, all had been killed with a single blow. They could accurately, efficiently, and without wasted movement determine the characteristics of these wounds. Almost no wounds sustained during resistance were found at the scene. There were no signs of obstruction, and even the claw marks of ferocious wolves scratching the ground in struggle were few. This meant the battle had been a one-sided slaughter, and those who had done the killing were incredibly skilled. They had done it so cleanly and efficiently that these fierce creatures had not even been able to put up effective resistance.
The dark-haired Elf leading the group, the moment he saw Karl's face, revealed surprise and delight on his face. Karl?! After an entire age, he had returned to Middle-earth?
At that moment, Elrond's memories instantly transported him back to the Second Age. He had first seen this figure radiating golden light. At that time, they had been engaged in a fierce battle on the field, facing an army of tens of thousands of orcs. This man had simply raised his hand, and a large portion of the army had vanished in a flash of light. Afterwards, their paths had crossed several more times, with Karl always appearing and disappearing mysteriously. Moreover, he had close relations with Galadriel, but he had never explained his origins nor interfered too much in the conflicts of Middle-earth.
But the Karl before him... seemed somewhat different? Elrond instinctively wanted to call him by name. He wanted to ask him where he had been all these years, and to tell him of the changes that had occurred in the Central Plains. But he stopped, noticing the expression in Karl's eyes. It was the look one gives a stranger — calm, polite, and with a hint of wariness. But between strangers, there was no sense of familiarity, no surprise, no nostalgia. As if... they had never met. Perhaps this was not him? Or just someone who looked similar?
Elrond quickly considered this. If this was Karl, then with his abilities, disguising his identity would be a simple matter. But why would he do that? What would be the point of pretending before me? Unless... he did not want to be recognised, or he truly "did not recognise" himself right now. Elrond decided to test the other's reaction, abandoning the idea of addressing him by name. A polite but distant smile appeared on his face, gentle but not overly enthusiastic.
Elrond urged his horse forward a few steps and stopped a few metres from Karl. He spoke softly in the Common Tongue: "Adventurer, did you kill these orcs and ferocious wolves?"
Karl looked at Elrond and very quickly caught the subtle change in the other's expression. The initial surprise and sense of recognition had been genuine, but they had been quickly suppressed and masked, replaced by a standard social expression. Did Elrond know him? A doubt arose in Karl's mind. He had been in Middle-earth for just over a year and had never left the vicinity of the Shire.
Karl kept his expression impassive. He nodded, jumped down from the rock, and stood on the ground. He did not deliberately demonstrate his strength; it was just a movement any ordinary person would make. Nevertheless, the Elves behind Elrond were still stunned by Karl's sudden movement. Almost simultaneously, at least five longbows were drawn, arrows aimed at Karl. An Elf's hand rested on his sword hilt; they would attack immediately if Karl made any further moves. Their gazes were sharp as eagles, their bodies tense, and the entire formation instantly transformed from a quiet honour guard into a battle order.
Elrond turned his head and glanced back, a faint flicker of panic in his eyes. He was not worried about Karl's safety, based on his understanding of this "Karl." Even if all the Elves present, including himself, attacked simultaneously, they could not harm a single hair on the other's head. He was worried about his people. If the man before him truly was Karl, and if their hostility had angered him...
Elrond's voice trembled at the thought of the consequences. He immediately rebuked the Elves in an unusually stern tone: "Lower your weapons! Immediately!" He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over each Elven warrior to ensure they understood the seriousness of the order: "He is not an enemy, lower your weapons!"
The Elves remained silent, but discipline compelled them to obey orders and quietly lower their bows aimed at Karl. They could remove their hands from their sword hilts and adopt a relaxed posture, but their gazes were still fixed on Karl. A man capable of effortlessly slaughtering ferocious wolves and large bands of orcs without sustaining any harm himself — such military might could not be ignored; throughout history, only a few men had possessed such combat prowess.
Having rebuked the Elven soldiers behind him, Elrond turned to Karl, a gentle, smiling expression returning to his face. He dismounted gracefully and handed the reins to his deputy standing nearby. "Forgive my boldness, but may I ask, Master Adventurer, how did you come to be hunted by orcs?"
Elrond took a few steps closer and stopped about five yards from Karl. "These Gundabad wolves only obey the orders of the pale orc Azog. And Azog... his interest in dwarves far exceeds his interest in men."
Assessing the Elven king with his gaze, Karl explained: "No, they were hunting my companions, not me. I am giving them time, so I stayed behind to cover their retreat. My companions... have probably already evacuated to the safest place."
Elrond's doubts deepened. What sort of company would require "Karl" to personally escort them? Had Morgoth returned? Or was there some other threat capable of destroying Middle-earth, forcing him to intervene? Elrond's thoughts raced, but not a trace of it showed on his face as he composed himself. "Hmm, so they went to Rivendell? That is my territory; I am the lord."
He made an inviting gesture, elegant and sincere: "Come, would you like to leave with us? This place is not safe. There must be more than one orc patrol here. If Azog learns that his men have been killed, he will soon send more."
Then, as if remembering, Elrond asked: "By the way, I still do not know your name. I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell."
Karl nodded slightly, not answering immediately, holding his gaze on Elrond's face for a few seconds. "Karl." Only one name, no surname, no title, no explanation of his origins. A thoughtful glint passed through Elrond's eyes. After this test, he understood that Karl truly did not recognise him. At least, not the Karl El from the "past" who had known him.