The twilight cast a soft glow across the Elf-maiden's face, accentuating her delicate features, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall.
Kili winked his right eye, then leaned toward Dwalin, who sat across from him, and whispered:
"I don't like Elf-women, honestly. They hold their chins too high. And that smooth skin — must feel strange to the touch. No hair on their faces at all."
He paused, then his gaze drifted to an Elf nearby, who was passing by and playing a harp: "But this one... not bad either."
A smile was already spreading across Dwalin's face. He glanced at the "Elf-maiden," then at Kili, and his grin widened.
"Ha-ha-ha!" Dwalin finally burst out laughing.
His laughter drew the attention of the other dwarves, who followed his gaze. First to Kili, then to the Elf beside him, walking and playing the harp, and then...
"Ha-ha-ha!" Bofur, Bifur, Dori, Nori, and the rest of the dwarves at the table erupted in laughter.
Kili was stunned, then belatedly looked at his laughing companions, and then at the Elf playing the harp. At that moment, the Elf, apparently sensing the gazes of everyone present, slowly turned around.
The twilight clearly illuminated his face, highlighting his truly beautiful features. However, upon closer inspection, his jawline was more pronounced, and his Adam's apple was more visible. Moreover, he had a flat chest and broader shoulders than an Elf-maiden; he was a male Elf.
Kili's expression froze, and he opened his mouth. But in the end, he merely scratched his head awkwardly and muttered under his breath: "Hmph, funny."
At that moment, Karl, Gandalf, and Thorin followed Elrond into the courtyard. They came from the rear of the courtyard, led by Elrond, dressed in a pale-golden robe. Gandalf followed, Karl was next in line, and Thorin walked at the very end.
Gandalf walked along, laughing, his voice light and cheerful: "Thank you for the invitation, Elrond, but unfortunately, my attire is not suitable for a feast."
Elrond smiled, not at all offended: "You have always been like this, Gandalf."
The four of them approached a small round table in the courtyard. This table was more exquisite than the others and was positioned closer to the centre. Logically, Elrond, as the host, should sit at the head. Gandalf, as the most honoured guest, would sit to his left. Thorin, as the dwarf prince, would sit to his right, and Karl, as a member of the company, would take the seat next to him.
But in reality, things turned out unexpectedly: Elrond naturally walked to the head of the table and sat down. Then he gestured for Gandalf to sit to his right, and Gandalf did so. Then Elrond looked at Karl, made a "please" gesture, and indicated the seat to his left. Karl raised an eyebrow but did not object, sitting calmly, while Thorin sat across from Elrond.
Though it was not the second-best position, it was also not insignificant; moreover, there was a hint of respect in it. Thorin saw nothing wrong with this; he thought Karl had earned Lord Elrond's favour and thus occupied a more important position. But Gandalf was surprised. He looked at Elrond with a questioning gaze. Elrond simply smiled, saying nothing, as if it were perfectly normal.
Karl sensed something was amiss; Elrond's attitude toward him seemed unusually friendly. It was not the politeness a host shows a guest, but rather the respect shown to someone of higher standing, carrying a more complex and subtle meaning. In his eyes were curiosity, admiration, and even a hint of... nostalgia. But this was only their first meeting.
Like Bilbo, he was an additional recruit of Thorin's, and his relationship with Thorin was far less close than Balin and his group's. Gandalf was Elrond's friend, and Thorin was the grandson of the King under the Mountain and an important member of the House of Durin. Logically speaking, he was not suited to sit to Elrond's left, in such an important position. Yet Elrond simply allowed him to sit there, and Thorin clearly did not take much notice.
Gandalf's surprised gaze occasionally drifted toward him, clearly noting this unusual arrangement. Elrond seemed to notice nothing. He clapped his hands, and an Elven servant immediately came over to pour wine for all four. Then Elrond's gaze fell upon the sword hanging at Gandalf's belt.
His eyes lit up, and he asked with certainty: "A sword forged by the High Elves? If I am not mistaken, the craftsmanship is from Gondolin."
"Your eyesight is as sharp as ever, Elrond," Gandalf said, drawing the sword from its sheath and handing it to Elrond.
Elrond took the sword, but instead of drawing it immediately, he first ran his fingers over the patterns on the scabbard, feeling the texture of the ancient runes. Then he carefully drew a small portion of the blade. "Ring!" The exposed blade gleamed with a silver-white light in the twilight. Elrond examined the sword for a few moments, then slowly sheathed it.
"Yes, this is the Sword of Beast's Bite, a famous sword used for killing orcs. This sword was forged by our clan of Western High Elves in Gondolin during the First Age." He returned the sword to Gandalf and turned his gaze to Karl.
First he glanced at the two swords behind him, then his gaze fell upon the third sword hanging at his belt. It was the fencing sword Karl had found in the troll cave and always wore at his side.
"Mr. Karl, may I take a look at the sword you carry?" Elrond asked. Karl nodded, unbuckled the sword, and handed it over, pointing the tip of the scabbard toward himself and the hilt toward Elrond.
Elrond immediately took the sword with both hands, his movements quicker and more solemn than when he had taken it from Gandalf. When Elrond saw that the scabbard was exceptionally clean, without a speck of dust or dirt, his smile widened. This meant that the sword's owner cared for his companion with great attention.
Elrond glanced at the scabbard several times, then gripped the hilt and slowly drew the sword. "Ring!" The moment the sword was drawn from its sheath, the light in the courtyard seemed to dim for an instant. In the twilight, the fencing sword gleamed with a faint silver light. The runes on the blade appeared not as engravings, but as if they had grown from the metal itself.
Elrond's breath caught, and he carefully ran his fingers along the blade, moving with great caution. In his eyes flickered an indescribable mixture of emotions: surprise, nostalgia, and sorrow. After a long while, he slowly sheathed the sword.
"This is the Sword of the Enemy, the sword of the King of Gondolin," Elrond said, his voice quite soft. "It is one of the most famous Elven swords of the First Age, lost in the war against orcs." He returned the sword to Karl, who took it and hung it back on his belt.
Karl saw the complex emotions in Elrond's eyes but did not ask. Elrond turned to Gandalf and asked: "How did you come by these swords? The simultaneous appearance of two First Age swords can hardly be a coincidence."