Gandalf did not mince words. He took a sip of wine and said quietly: "In a troll cave on the East Road. Shortly after encountering the trolls, we were attacked by orcs. If not for Karl..."
"How did you come to be on the East Road?" Elrond pressed.
Before Gandalf could answer, Thorin's expression had already darkened; he did not wish to reveal their purpose. The reclaiming of the Lonely Mountain was their secret plan; he did not trust Elves. He did not believe that Elrond would truly help them; on the contrary, he might try to stop them.
Thorin then abruptly stood up and said flatly: "Excuse me."
He then walked aside and wandered around the courtyard. Pretending to admire the Elven architecture and gardens, he was clearly avoiding the subject. Elrond, of course, understood Thorin's meaning and smiled indifferently, paying no attention to his actions. In his eyes, Thorin was merely an immature child, blinded by hatred and pride.
He raised his glass, took a sip of wine, and his gaze swept over the dwarves eating their vegetarian meal, finally resting on Karl. "Thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, and a man as brave as Mr. Karl... I imagine your journey will be fraught with peril by the end."
Gandalf did not answer Elrond's question about the end of the journey. He stroked his white beard and casually changed the subject, steering the conversation toward praising the dwarves. "They are all descendants of Durin's line, noble and honest."
Hearing this, Karl glanced at Dori, sitting at another table, and a grin appeared on his lips. Dori was surreptitiously looking around, his gaze sweeping over the Elven servants and musicians surrounding him. Satisfied that no one was paying him particular attention, he quietly removed his right hand from the table. Then he quickly slipped an exquisite wine bottle into his pocket. The wine glass was adorned with carved patterns of grapevines and stars, clearly a masterpiece of Elven craftsmanship.
"They are remarkably cultured and possess a deep love for art," Gandalf continued.
However, on the other side of the courtyard, a scene unfolded that directly contradicted Gandalf's words. Bofur held a large piece of Elven bread in his hand, completely ignoring table manners, and continued to stuff it into his mouth. He ate quickly, crumbs and bits of bread spraying onto the tablecloth and his thick beard as he chewed.
Dori addressed the Elf standing behind him, playing the Erwin harp: "Please, could you change the tune?" He wrinkled his nose, looking with disgust at everyone: "It feels like I'm at a funeral, not a banquet."
The Elf-maiden playing the piano paused, and the music briefly stopped. Was that Gandalf's praise? Karl turned his head away so the others wouldn't see the barely suppressed smile on his face. Gandalf spoke these words without any embarrassment or shame.
Gandalf had clearly heard Dori's words, and his voice abruptly stopped. He naturally grabbed a piece of bread lying before him, stuffed it into his mouth, and, chewing, tried to hide his embarrassment.
At that moment, Karl noticed Dori beginning to show signs of getting up. Dori probably wanted to lead the singing of dwarven songs, and the lyrics of that song... Honestly, singing "dig, dig, dig" at an Elven feast was rather awkward.
Karl stood up first, and after that, Dori, Thorin, and the others looked at him. Dori, opening his mouth, immediately closed it, looking at Karl with curiosity, wondering what he was about to do.
At this moment, the Elves, who had been focused on playing their instruments, finally turned their attention to Karl. Though they had noticed this man before, out of politeness and to stay focused, they had not examined him closely. Now that Karl had suddenly stood up and become the centre of attention, they could finally get a good look at him.
Then, in the eyes of many Elves, especially the Elf-maidens, a strange gleam appeared. Karl had always been handsome, but what captivated them even more was an indescribable charisma. This would evoke a desire in the opposite sex to draw closer, a benefit derived from the enhancement of his life essence. They felt a natural attraction to the opposite sex, much like sunlight draws plants and flame draws moths.
Several Elf-maidens playing instruments blinked, their eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Some blushed, some unconsciously parted their lips, and some smiled sweetly at Karl. Karl returned their polite smiles, and their reaction was exactly as expected. He was accustomed to such attention; his outstanding appearance and temperament had always drawn notice, but now this attraction was even stronger.
He turned to the Elf holding a tall harp. "Sir, if you don't mind, may I borrow your instrument for a moment?"
The Elf was stunned, clearly not expecting such a request from this man. He instinctively turned to Elrond, his gaze full of question. Elrond, without hesitation, gave a slight nod, a flicker of curiosity and anticipation in his eyes.
With the lord's permission, the Elf stood to vacate his seat and handed the tall harp to Karl with both hands. Karl took the harp with both hands and sat down on the chair the Elf had just vacated. To his left, behind Dori, an Elf-maiden was playing the Erwin harp. At this moment, the girl stopped playing and held the harp in her hands. She stared intently at Karl's profile, lost in thought.
Not only she, but all the other musicians had already stopped playing, and all eyes were fixed on Karl. Conversations in the courtyard gradually fell silent; the dwarves stopped eating and complaining, looking around curiously. Even Thorin stopped and stared intently at Karl.
In the silence, Karl's hand gently glided over the strings. A clear, resonant sound, like spring water dripping into a deep pond. Karl's fingers plucked the other strings to check the timbre and pitch. Satisfied that everything was ready, Karl closed his eyes, and then his fingers began to move across the strings.
It began with a few single notes, pure and gentle, and then these notes joined together to form a melody. The melody was long and deep, telling a forgotten story. Under the spell of the music, everyone present in the courtyard instantly felt a strange sensation rising within them.
It was neither sadness nor joy, but a complex feeling mixed with nostalgia, longing, and courage. The music was like an invisible hand, gently plucking the heartstrings and bringing scenes from the depths of memory to the surface.
"Our hero, our hero, the warrior's heart."
"I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn shall return."
"In his roar lies the power of the ancient Nords."
"He vanquished evil, he destroyed all enemies of the heavens."
Here the melody reached a small climax: Karl's fingers moved rapidly across the strings, and the notes cascaded like a waterfall.