As Elrond quietly took a sip of the sour cherry juice in front of him, everyone at the table stared at him in astonishment. What he had told them, especially the part about Sauron, painted a very different picture from the one his listeners had expected. Elrond didn't pay the stares much mind and went on with his story.
"While His Majesty Gil-galad kept Sauron busy, Glorfindel freed himself from the bonds that held him and dealt with the Nazgûl. Meanwhile, Durin, my men and I broke through the enemy lines and escaped. Since Durin's royal guards had secured the entrance, getting out of the tunnels was much easier for us."
He paused for a moment and looked at the plate in front of him. Then he continued, lowering his voice a little.
"But that day, a great many good elves died in those dark tunnels."
Elrond sighed softly. His expression hardly changed as he told the tale, but he had not forgotten what they had lost that day.
"Later, His Majesty Gil-galad escaped from there wounded. That was how Durin and I first met. Though it was only a meeting, really. For a while along the road we... argued, let's say."
Kili shook off his shock at what he had heard and leaned forward.
"Wait! Wait! Sauron!? He set a trap for you!? But isn't that illogical?"
Elrond nodded to show he understood what Kili meant.
"Yes... The great Dark Lord moved in person for a small ambush. But that is exactly why we grew even more wary of him. His unexpected moves have always been a problem."
After listening carefully to Elrond, Igris began to speak thoughtfully.
"...Actually, it wasn't a small ambush."
Everyone at the table turned to Igris with curiosity. Igris gathered his thoughts and went on explaining.
"With someone like Glorfindel at your side, it was impossible for him to catch you, or Glorfindel on his own. To pull it off, he would have had to bring all the Nazgûl together, or gather several Great Orc chieftains like Gugalat."
He held his chin with one hand and thought for a short while.
"The trouble is, neither of those is very feasible. If the Nazgûl had assembled and moved together, it would have drawn attention immediately, and everyone would have known it was a trap. And on the other hand, a freak Great Orc like Gugalat only turns up very rarely in history."
He paused, took a sip of his cherry juice, and went on.
"Still, if Sauron had captured the two of you, and especially if you'd ended up... well, you know, something like what happened to your old friend, it would have been a terrible turning point for the elves and the forces of the alliance. They would also have suffered an enormous psychological blow."
Listening to Igris's analysis, Elrond smiled slightly and nodded in agreement.
"A very accurate analysis."
Igris nodded as well, accepting the praise. Then he asked a question that had occurred to him.
"So, where is Glorfindel? I haven't seen him. It must be hard to overlook an elf like that."
Elrond took the question quite calmly.
"Away from Rivendell on a mission."
Igris raised an eyebrow slightly. It piqued his interest that a warrior as strong as Glorfindel was out on a mission, but because of the way Elrond spoke, he didn't pry any further. Just then, Dwalin folded his arms across his chest, nodded, and spoke with a grin.
"Hah! Just what you'd expect from my ancestor. He doesn't back down even in front of the Dark Lord! Hahahaha!"
Then he turned his head and looked at the sour-faced Thorin.
"Our ancestor sounds like a lot more fun than you, Thorin! Hahaha!"
Thorin's face darkened a little more. Honestly, he couldn't decide whether he should be proud of his ancestor or criticize his behavior. After looking at Dwalin for a while, he chose to stay silent. Just then, another question occurred to Igris.
"But... if King Gil-galad was able to hold his own against Sauron, why did you have such a hard time defeating him?"
At these words, the expression on Elrond's face changed slightly. He looked at Igris and spoke with a faintly disdainful air.
"Let me guess. You've heard the rumors about Isildur cutting off the finger."
At Elrond's manner, Igris blinked and stared blankly for a moment. Then he calmly nodded.
Elrond sighed softly.
"That story isn't exactly true... The first half is missing."
Igris blinked in bewilderment. Honestly, he hadn't fully grasped what was going on. Elrond continued his explanation.
"The talk that he defeated Sauron by cutting off the finger that bore the so-called ring of power is nonsense, Igris. The truth is that Isildur cut the ring from Sauron's already defeated body and seized it as his blood-right."
Igris didn't know what to say for a moment. What he had heard didn't match the story he had known until now. Just then, Arwen joined the conversation with a giggle.
"The truth is, Igris, that Sauron was defeated in the fight against High King Gil-galad and the High King, also known as Elendil the Tall."
Elrond and Celebrían nodded too, confirming Arwen's words. But the expression on Elrond's face soon changed. Unlike his calm of a moment ago, he went on with a hint of sorrow as he recalled the past.
"...But when Sauron was defeated, he gave off a kind of evil flame. Both kings, who had already been badly wounded in the fight, burned in those flames and lost their lives..."
After these words, silence fell over the table for a while. The conversations and jokes of the other groups in the great hall went on, but the mood at Elrond's table had changed. Even the rowdy dwarves, perhaps not wanting to show disrespect while these two great heroes were being spoken of, said nothing for a time.
Celebrían quietly took her husband's hand. She knew Elrond's grief over this. After all, Gil-galad had been far more to Elrond than an ordinary king. He had looked on him not just as a ruler, but as someone who held an important place in his life.
After a moment of silence, Elrond sighed again and resumed his story.
"It was right then that Isildur came and cut off the finger that bore the ring, and he took the ring for himself, calling it his blood-right. We told him to destroy Sauron's ring, but... Isildur wouldn't listen to us."
He paused for a moment and frowned.
Honestly, Elrond had believed back then that the ring had to be destroyed completely, and he still believed it now. But in those days Isildur had risen to the position of a ruler with real authority. It was impossible to give him orders or force him to do anything. On top of that, Elrond couldn't risk a new war breaking out between elves and men. So he and the other elves had finally backed down and kept quiet.
Still, years later, Isildur had seemed to realize that something was wrong with the ring. Before he died, he had said he needed to meet Elrond face to face, and that he wanted to hold the meeting in Rivendell. But that had been the last contact between them. Isildur set out, was killed in the disaster of the Gladden Fields, and the ring vanished along with him.
After gathering his thoughts for a short while, Elrond spoke again.
"Anyway, this story was later twisted by Isildur's descendants and by the common people. They credited the victory entirely to men... Honestly, I still haven't figured out the logic of that."
Igris didn't know what to say for a moment. Sitting in silence, he felt a little as if he'd been fooled. He had never thought the story he had known until now might have another side.
Fili, as if he didn't want to listen to any more of this, cleared his throat.
"Ahem! Anyway, these matters don't concern us. Let's please get back to the parts about our ancestor."
The other dwarves nodded, as if in agreement with Fili's words. Elrond took this with understanding. Honestly, he had no great wish to tell any more of that story. After his expression softened a little, he picked up where he had left off.
"After Durin and I parted ways, I didn't see him for a long time. Not until a severe famine began in Khazad-dûm."
Hearing this, Balin stroked his beard. Recalling what he knew of history, he nodded.
"Yes... You're talking about the greatest famine in dwarven history. And of course we mustn't forget the plague that followed. The books say that as things grew worse and worse, our people were forced to ask the elves for help."
Elrond nodded and went on with his story.
"Durin came to Rivendell, using our earlier acquaintance as an excuse, and asked me for help. I agreed. Even though elves and dwarves don't get along very well, I couldn't just stand by and let them die. Besides, I owed Khazad-dûm a life debt."
Hearing this, Balin bowed his head slightly.
"So it was you who helped our ancestors back then... Thank you for your help."
Elrond looked at Balin with understanding and nodded.
"Even so, supplying a place like Khazad-dûm wasn't easy. After all, we're talking about a kingdom where tens of thousands of dwarves lived. I needed a month or two to gather the necessary provisions. During that time, Durin stayed in Rivendell. We had long conversations. Interestingly, he could easily understand some of my thoughts, even though even elves had trouble with them. We had far more in common than I'd expected."
He smiled for a moment as he toyed with the cup in his hand.
"Sometimes our conversations began toward evening and went on until noon the next day... Time flowed faster than usual back then... We grew close enough to call each other friends... In fact, once he even asked me for help with a rather interesting matter."
With Elrond's words, his mind drifted back to those days in Rivendell long ago.
Elrond sat in his study in Rivendell, at his broad desk of graceful elven craftsmanship. On the desk lay various parchments, old books, and several scrolls full of notes. Small notes had been scribbled in the margins of some of the parchments, while others had been weighed down and left neatly open. In one corner of the desk stood a silver-engraved inkwell with a few quills beside it. The daylight slipping in through the windows fell on the wooden floor of the room and the fine carvings on the walls. Books, maps, and old records lined up on the shelves gave the study an orderly look. On a small table in one corner of the room sat Elrond's tea set.
Elrond studied the parchments in front of him carefully, taking a sip of his tea now and then. The room had been quite calm for some time. Apart from the faint sound of his quill on the parchment and the rustle of pages when he turned them, there was hardly anything to hear.
Until the door suddenly flew open.
"Hey! Elrond, I need your help with something."
Durin barged in without any warning. Ignoring the elf guards behind him, who had been caught unprepared by this sudden move and were staring at him in astonishment, he shut the door.
SLAM!
Elrond didn't lose his composure at this sudden development. He kept looking at the parchments in front of him, took a sip of his tea, and answered calmly.
"What do you need?"
Durin, for his part, stopped right where he was for a moment. It seemed he had suddenly forgotten everything he had planned to say when he came in. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then gave up. For a few seconds he just stood there.
Elrond raised one eyebrow slightly at his friend's unexpected silence. He lifted his head from the parchments and looked at Durin's face. The hesitant look on the dwarf's face had honestly piqued his interest.
He set his work aside and folded his hands on the desk.
"Now I'm really curious what you need."
Durin opened his mouth to speak again but closed it without saying a word. A few seconds later he tried again, and again gave up. The distress on his face grew more and more obvious, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting uneasily.
Elrond watched him with his eyebrows raised a little higher. This was not the Durin he was used to. Usually he said whatever he had to say straight out and didn't much care what the other person thought. Now it seemed that even putting together a simple sentence had become quite hard for him.
Durin finally stopped standing in place and began pacing back and forth in the study. Every so often he grumbled to himself, then fell silent again.
After watching him for a few seconds, Elrond shook his head slightly.
"Mind reading is Lady Galadriel's talent, Durin. I can't understand the problem unless you tell me."
At these words, Durin paced the room a few seconds longer. Then he grumbled in distress and stopped abruptly. After taking a deep breath, he instinctively looked around. First at the door, then at the windows. He was trying to make sure no one else was in the room.
Finally he walked toward Elrond.
This behavior had made Elrond even more curious. The dwarf prince came right up to the desk, leaned in a little, and spoke in the quietest voice he could manage.
"...I need help... with, um... that thing... Um... for the... thing..."
Elrond raised an eyebrow. Then he shook his head slightly, encouraging him to speak.
"Go on, Durin. You can trust me."
Durin mumbled a while longer. He couldn't pull together what he wanted to say, and every time he got stuck on a different word. At last his face began to turn red, and after looking away for a short moment, he spoke.
"Um... Um... There's... There's something... There's a woman... In Khazad-dûm..."
Elrond looked at him in astonishment. Durin, paying little attention to his reaction, tried to go on.
"I-I-I, to that woman... You know... My heart... My heart..."
Durin made several attempts to finish his sentence, but the words just wouldn't come out of his mouth. Watching his distress, Elrond finally seemed to understand what he meant and asked calmly.
"You're in love with a dwarf woman, and you want my advice?"
When Durin heard this, his face turned even redder. He was so embarrassed that steam looked ready to come out of his head. After looking away for a moment, he tried to answer.
"Y-y-yes... N-no... Sort of... Um... You know, you elves are good at poetry..."
Elrond's eyebrows rose a little higher. He had understood what the dwarf meant, but he wanted to be sure of what he'd heard.
"Wait, wait. Did I get that right? You... want me to write a poem for your sweetheart?"
The moment Durin heard this, he shouted in panic.
"SHE'S NOT MY SWEETHEART!"
But after his outburst, he realized what he had said. As the flush on his face deepened, he cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together.
"Ahem... No... No... What I want... is for you to teach me how... How to..."
Elrond blinked a few times. He thought for a short while to make sense of what the dwarf was trying to ask. Then a strange expression crossed his face, and he asked, as if wanting to be sure.
"...You're not asking me to teach you the art of poetry... are you?"
Durin didn't know what to say for a moment. He tilted his head slightly and waited a few seconds. Then, as if nothing had happened, he calmly nodded.
Elrond, for his part, could only stare at the dwarf standing silently before him.
It was a request he would never, ever have expected from a dwarf.
---
I apologize for not being able to post the chapter on time; I was delayed in writing and translating it due to illness. I've had the flu for the past few days, and since it has left me feeling quite weak, there have been some delays in the release of the chapters.