Elrond paused, lowering his voice slightly but enough for Gandalf to hear: "When we arrived, the battle was essentially already over."
"Over a dozen carcasses of ferocious wolves and orcs lay on the ground, all killed with a single blow. One of the orc chieftains attempted to flee, and we pinned him to a rock with a spear from a hundred metres away — but that was after the fact. We only managed to eliminate a few wolves that had slipped through."
Gandalf was stunned, his eyes widening slightly. He knew Karl was strong. He had seen him defeat trolls and assumed he could handle a few orcs. But could one man single-handedly wipe out an entire Gundabad wolf patrol — and essentially finish the battle before the Elves even arrived?
Gandalf looked at Karl in astonishment as he answered the dwarves' questions. Then he turned back to Elrond to confirm: "You're not joking?"
Elrond said nothing, merely shaking his head again, looking very serious. At that moment, Elrond changed the subject, though his gaze remained thoughtful as he watched Karl.
"The orcs dared to approach our borders; something or someone must have drawn them here. Gundabad wolves typically act only on direct orders from Azog, and his interest in dwarves far exceeds his interest in us."
Gandalf was unfazed. He glanced at Thorin and the others nearby and said quite calmly: "Perhaps it was us."
Elrond smiled casually: "I thought so too. But now you are safe. At least within the borders of Rivendell, the orcs dare not venture far."
At that moment, Thorin and the others, still surrounding Karl, arrived before Elrond and Gandalf. Though the dwarves had made way for him, they still remained close to Karl. Thorin walked at the front. He glanced at Elrond, his expression serious, but the hostility in his eyes had somewhat subsided. After all, despite his prejudice against Elves, Elrond's company had saved Karl.
Elrond looked at Thorin and smiled: "Welcome to Rivendell, Thorin, son of Thráin."
Thorin feigned calmness and replied indifferently: "I believe we have never met."
"I knew your grandfather, Thrór," Elrond said. "You resemble him. When I met Thráin, he was still King under the Mountain."
Elrond intended to establish a rapport with Thorin, but instead struck a nerve. Thorin's tone grew even colder, a clear edge of sarcasm in his voice: "Is that so? He never mentioned you."
In an instant, the air grew tense, and the dwarves became alert. Gandalf was about to intervene when Elrond raised his hand, signalling it was unnecessary. He did not grow angry; instead, he smiled and said something in Elvish.
"You are just like your grandfather — as stubborn as ever, a true descendant of Durin. Remember, pride can cloud a wise mind."
Gloin, one of the dwarves, looked at Gandalf and asked hoarsely: "What did he say? Is he insulting us dwarves with his words?!"
Kili and the others also stepped forward, glaring at Elrond and cursing in the Dwarvish tongue. The atmosphere suddenly grew tense. The Elven warriors again placed their hands on their sword hilts, and the dwarves gripped their weapons tightly.
Gandalf understood; of course, he knew Elrond had not insulted them, but rather warned and admonished them in the tone of an elder. The problem was that if he translated it truthfully now, it would anger Thorin again. Thorin hated being "taught" and "judged" by others, especially Elves.
Gandalf's thoughts raced, and he glanced at Elrond. Then he cleared his throat and quickly, in a sincere tone, said: "No, Master Gloin, Lord Elrond is not insulting you. He says... dinner is ready, and he would like to invite you to dine."
The dwarves were stunned for a moment, exchanged glances, and their anger somewhat subsided. An invitation to dinner certainly didn't sound like an insult.
Suddenly, Karl, standing to the side, burst out laughing. Everyone turned to look at him; the dwarves were confused, Gandalf was somewhat embarrassed, and a flicker of amusement appeared in Elrond's eyes. Karl quickly coughed lightly and covered his smile with his hand: "Sorry, I'm fine... just a little thirsty."
He didn't fully understand Elrond's Elvish and laughed at the thought of the advantages of knowing multiple languages. You could openly call someone an idiot and receive a smile in return. Just now, Elrond had said something slightly reproachful, which Gandalf had interpreted as an invitation to dinner. However, Karl also knew that Elrond hadn't actually cursed Thorin and the others. Because, based on his memories of the past life, many people had analysed his behaviour, concluding that he mostly relied on Elrond's tone to make judgments.
Karl shrugged, took a water flask from his belt, and took a sip. Elrond turned at the right moment and made a gesture meaning "please": "Then, honoured guests from afar, please follow me. After a long journey and battles, I think you all need rest and supplies."
---
Soon after, a banquet began in an open courtyard at the centre of the valley. In the middle of the courtyard stood a long table covered with a white cloth embroidered with silver thread. The tableware consisted of exquisite porcelain and crystal glasses, each a work of art. The food had already been laid out: bread, various vegetable salads sprinkled with nuts and dried fruits. A fruit platter with berries, apples, and other fruits — washed, sliced, and arranged like a painting. There was cheese, honey, jam... but no meat.
Balin, Bilbo, and the others sat on chairs at two separate tables. The group of dwarves examined the food on the table, exchanging puzzled glances. Their expressions gradually shifted from anticipation to confusion, and finally to disappointment. They picked up a few leaves with their forks and examined them closely.
"No, where's the meat?" Bofur finally couldn't help but ask quietly. "What about roast lamb chops? Stewed beef? Or even smoked meat! There isn't a single piece of meat here. Is this for people? We're dwarves, not rabbits!" Bifur agreed, poking at the carrot slices in the salad with his fork.
"Is this all Elves eat? No wonder they're so thin and weak," Dori frowned. The dwarves complained, but driven by hunger, they began to eat, though with great reluctance. Each bite felt like completing a task, their eyes constantly scanning around in the hope that a waiter would bring real "food."
Bilbo, on the other hand, ate with great enjoyment; he was not as picky about food as the dwarves. Moreover, the dishes were indeed delicious, though still far inferior to Karl's cooking. He ate the bread in small pieces, dipping it in honey, his eyes squinting happily.
At another table sat Kili, his gaze drifting toward an Elf-maiden sitting nearby. The Elven girl gently plucked the strings of an Erwin harp. Her slender fingers glided over the strings, producing melodious notes like flowing water.