— Igris's Point of View —
As Thorin kept talking, I listened carefully.
"When Erebor's hidden gate was crafted, the Great Rune Master Gufold himself forged it. His signature is on the map. I believe he decided to set two safeguards. The first one I've already told you—the second requires me to inscribe a rune on the door in the pattern shown on the map, using my own blood, while singing an ancient dwarven song."
I nodded, grinning slightly.
"Sounds simple enough. Do you even know this old dwarven song?"
Thorin nodded.
"Yes. My father used to sing it to me every birthday. His father sang it to him as well. I sing it to Fili and Kili now. I always thought it was just a family tradition—but apparently, it's a code."
I chuckled.
"So as long as the three of you are with us, we can open the mountain whenever we want."
Thorin smirked in agreement.
"Exactly."
"So, what's our plan then?"
Thorin sighed.
"We'll have to stay here for a while. Bifur and Nori aren't doing well. They won't die, but the poison and blood loss are slowing their recovery. Even the elves seem helpless."
Gandalf rolled his eyes.
"They're not helpless—they've done all they can. Both of them are alive, aren't they?"
Thorin shot Gandalf a glare, shrugged, and said nothing. I sighed—Thorin was still the same. Ah, right… something came to mind.
"Thorin, have you met your uncle yet?"
Everyone in the room gave me a weird look, and Thorin frowned deeply.
"There's no other dwarf here, Igris. You're making things up."
I laughed softly—good, I hadn't missed all the fun.
"You'll see. Anyway, what happened while I was asleep?"
The dwarves stared at me for a few seconds, exchanged puzzled looks, then shrugged. Just then, the door opened and Bilbo walked in. I smiled.
"How are you, Bilbo?"
He smiled back.
"I'm fine. It's good to see you awake."
I shrugged.
"I was just having a sweet dream… but I guess I slept longer than I thought."
Bilbo's gaze drifted to my right arm. I raised it for him to see.
"Nice, isn't it?"
Bilbo looked stunned.
"Doesn't it… bother you?"
I chuckled.
"Why would something that's part of me bother me? Forget it, Bilbo. Find yourself a seat."
He nodded and sat down. Then the dwarves started telling me what had happened while I was unconscious—from the trolls all the way to their first meeting with Lord Elrond. It matched most of what I expected. When Radagast's name came up, Gandalf's face turned distant and worried, lost in thought. Bilbo also shared a few of his own experiences, which honestly ruined my mood.
"He wrestled a bear? Damn, shame I missed that—I would've loved to see it."
Bilbo chuckled shyly.
"It was… certainly unforgettable."
I nodded.
"Anyway, what's this I hear about food?"
Bombur looked gloomy.
"In the first few days, we lived off the supplies you left behind, but that all ran out a week ago. Halt and Gilan went hunting a few times, but the elves didn't like that… so Thorin banned hunting altogether."
I turned to Thorin in disbelief, but he merely shrugged.
"I don't like elves, but Rivendell has done much to help me. They saved two of my men. I'm not ungrateful—I'll show as much respect as they deserve."
He looked around at the others.
"A few days of vegetables won't kill anyone. Once we're on the road again, we'll have time to restock on meat."
Groans of disappointment filled the room. Bombur looked absolutely miserable. He muttered under his breath:
"…I think I've lost weight…"
I laughed, then checked my inventory. Ah, there it was—smoked bacon sandwiches and spiced fried chicken.
"You're in luck."
I pulled the food out of my inventory and handed it out to everyone one by one. Their reactions were… explosive.
"YOU'RE THE BEST, IGRIS!"
"WE OWE YOU ONE! JUST SAY THE WORD!"
A tear rolled down Bombur's cheek.
"Finally! A real meal at last!"
Their reaction surprised me as much as it unsettled me. I asked curiously,
"What exactly were you eating to make you act like you've escaped a famine?"
They all tried to speak at once, but I quickly raised my hand.
"Bombur, Bofur—you're the food experts of the group. You talk."
I couldn't handle another dwarf shouting match.
Bofur spoke first.
"Mostly vegetables and fruit. Almost nothing cooked."
Bombur swallowed a bite before adding,
"Not almost nothing—absolutely nothing! The only thing they heated was dried fruit."
Bofur nodded seriously.
"Yes, if it weren't for cheese, ale, milk, and eggs, we'd have gone insane by now."
The other dwarves nodded gravely while Gandalf, Thorin, Fin, Altay, Halt, and Gilan all rolled their eyes. I laughed at the sight.
"Dori must be thrilled. He's always talking about eating healthy on the road."
Bombur and Bofur groaned in unison. Bofur muttered,
"He's one of the weird ones among dwarves. You must've noticed."
I nodded. Dori was definitely an odd one—too polite, preferred salad to meat, and instead of ale, he drank red wine like an elf. For him, Rivendell must be paradise.
Bombur spoke again, frustrated.
"I don't get it—why do elves love vegetables so much? I'm not picky, but eating greens every day is torture!"
Gandalf decided to explain.
"Elves prefer not to eat meat out of respect for nature. They dislike killing living creatures unnecessarily—but they do eat meat when they must. King Thranduil himself hunts occasionally and eats what he kills. The wood elves are meat-eaters. It's all a matter of choice—but even they hunt only what they need."
The dwarves listened blankly. Thorin just sneered. Meanwhile, a strange question popped into my head. I raised my hand.
"Master Gandalf! I've got a question. If elves dislike killing living creatures, don't they consider plants to be alive too?"
A stunned silence fell over the room. Gandalf stared at me, wide-eyed, while I noticed Thorin and Gilan struggling not to laugh. Halt grinned, and Fin and Altay looked out the window, pretending not to hear. The dwarves all looked between me and Gandalf with confusion.
Gandalf opened his mouth, but no words came out. Poor old wizard—he'd clearly never thought about it either. I was sure he knew the answer, but his mind just couldn't find the words. Finally, he gathered himself enough to speak.
"Well, that's because—"
A voice interrupted from the door.
"As an elf, perhaps I can answer that question, Gandalf."
Everyone turned. A male elf entered—his features similar to Arwen's. Gandalf bowed his head respectfully.
"Welcome, Lord Elrond."
As Lord Elrond stepped inside, a woman followed him—a blonde-haired, blue-eyed elf whose beauty even among elves stood out. If I wasn't mistaken, this was Lady Celebrian of Rivendell. Gandalf confirmed it partly by speaking,
"Welcome, my lady."
The dwarves bowed their heads politely, while the rest of us greeted them in our usual way. Once the formalities were done, I spoke.
"My lord, my lady—thank you for your kindness. I've caused you and your daughter enough trouble already."
Lord Elrond nodded, accepting my thanks with a calm grace as he spoke.
"It's no trouble, Dark Knight—"
"Just call me Igris."
"As you wish, Igris. But you don't need to thank us; rather, we should be the ones thanking you."
I tilted my head, puzzled.Why would they be thanking me?
Lady Celebrían continued, her tone soft and composed.
"Last year, you saved our alchemy master's apprentice from a manticore."
As the people around me looked surprised, I frowned, digging through my memories. Then, as I remembered that lunatic, a shiver ran down my spine.
---Flashback---
— Third Person Point of View —
Deep in a dense pine forest, in front of a cave, lay the corpse of an eight-meter-tall creature — a monster with bat-like wings, a lion's head, and a scorpion tail.
Its body was riddled with wounds, arrows stuck into its eyes and torso.
Around the body sat four elves clad in silver armor, clutching their spears and shields, gasping for air, covered in cuts and bruises. On a rock and a fallen tree nearby, two elven rangers in gray robes leaned back, trembling from exhaustion; their quivers were completely empty.
Igris sat atop the beast's corpse, breathing heavily, his sword still buried in the monster's skull.
"I really thought I was going to die! If it weren't for the elves, I'd have never killed this damn thing."
Before him stood a tall, silver-haired elf — but unlike most elves, he wasn't serene or composed. In fact, he was thrilled. He moved around the carcass, muttering to himself, eyes gleaming like a mad scientist.
"FANTASTIC! With these claws, I can make three different mixtures! The venom can produce nine kinds of potions! Hehehehehe! A shame the eyes got pierced— I'll scoop them out and bottle what's left! BY THE SACRED BREATH OF NATURE! WITH ITS HEART, I CAN MAKE SEVENTEEN DIFFERENT POTIONS! ZEHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Igris stared at the deranged elf, yanked his sword out of the manticore's skull, and sheathed it. He had saved this elf from the creature's claws three days ago. Walking toward the exhausted elven guards, Igris asked dryly,
"Is that lunatic really an elf?"
The guard captain looked at him, visibly embarrassed.
"…Yes… he's a pure-blooded elf…"
"…You have my sympathy…"
"…Thank you… I think…"
At that moment, the silver-haired elf turned toward Igris with sparkling eyes.
"IGRIS! COME HELP ME REMOVE THE TESTICLES!"
Igris's face turned green.
"GET THE **** AWAY FROM ME!"
The elf looked mildly disappointed.
"How rude… oh well! I'll handle it myself."
With unnerving elegance, the elf took out a knife and began cutting exactly where he needed to. Even the way the blade sliced through flesh was graceful. He grinned with delight.
Igris and the other male elves, horrified, instinctively covered their groins — because this gray-haired elf moved like someone who'd done this hundreds of times before. Igris took a few steps back and whispered to the captain.
"Are you sure that thing's an elf? Could it be a demon in disguise?"
The captain replied with a look torn between shame and regret.
"Unfortunately not… that's Lord Eldarion. A true pure-blood elf."
"…Does his name mean 'sadistic psychopath' by any chance?"
The captain's face darkened.
"No… it means Son of the Star."
Igris frowned.
"Did his parents name him after the Star of Massacre or something?"
"…Probably not…"
Meanwhile, Eldarion was using a saw to open the manticore's skull. He hummed a serene elven melody as he worked, smiling warmly — though his actions were anything but peaceful. It was pure carnage, elegant yet horrifying.
Igris thought grimly,
'Jack the Ripper, is that you? Did you reincarnate in this world?'
Eldarion scooped out parts of the brain, touched them thoughtfully, and muttered,
"Tch! Medium quality brain… I'd have been shocked if it were high-grade. A smarter one wouldn't have died so easily."
Igris and the others froze, faces twitching with suppressed rage.
'We fought that thing for six hours while you were hiding, you little ******!'×7
Still humming cheerfully, Eldarion slit open the stomach, removed the blackened liver, sniffed it, and even licked it before spitting it out.
"The liver's top quality!" he declared proudly.
Then he examined the intestines.
"Good elasticity, but poor maintenance…"
One by one, he inspected every organ — heart, kidneys, spleen, blood, bile — with disturbing precision. The longer it went on, the more the onlookers tensed.
After an hour, Eldarion turned to Igris.
"All right! Time for your payment. I'll make you a potion using three of these ingredients!"
He smiled warmly — despite being covered in gore — a grotesque contrast that made Igris shudder. The ingredients he pointed at were the testicles, brain, and eyes.
Igris immediately shook his head violently.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT! JUST PAY ME IN MONEY! KEEP YOUR DAMN POTIONS!"
---Back to Present---
Remembering that horrifying day sent a chill down my spine.Trying to mask my unease, I asked Lord Elrond,
"That lunatic— AHEM— Eldarion… he's from Rivendell, right?"
Lord Elrond nodded. I swallowed hard. If that maniac heard we were going to slay a dragon, he'd definitely tag along.
"Is he… here right now?"
When Lord Elrond shook his head, I let out a deep breath of relief. He chuckled softly but said nothing on the matter. Then, calmly, he addressed my earlier question.
"To answer your question, Igris — elves love nature as a whole, but that love doesn't mean we never touch it. What matters to us is respect for the essence of life itself. We dislike killing animals because they possess spirits and awareness. But plants are different. Trees, herbs, fruits — they are the breath of Arda, yet without souls. Even when we pluck a leaf, we give thanks to the world, returning what we take. We strive to keep the balance. That's why we eat plants and avoid meat. To live, for us, is not to consume — it is to live without wounding the breath of the world."
Gandalf nodded repeatedly in agreement.I also nodded, then asked,
"My lord, may I ask what brought you here?"
Lord Elrond smiled slightly.
"My guest, who has slept for seventeen days, has finally awakened. As host, it's only natural for me to visit. Especially since this guest once aided my people — that makes it my duty."
I scratched my head. It had been an impulsive decision, and I'd already been paid for it.
After a bit more polite conversation, Lord Elrond said,
"For now, please rest. You've only just woken, and your body must still be weary. I'll have food brought to you — it's almost supper time."
Normally, the mention of food would send the dwarves into a frenzy of joy.But this time, they looked drained, their spirits dimmed.One by one, they headed toward the door. As they were leaving, I called out,
"Don't worry, everyone — tomorrow I'll show you that even vegetables can make a feast."
The dwarves turned, curious. So did Elrond and Celebrían. I continued,
"Gilan, Halt, Thorin, Gandalf — please stay. Lord Elrond, you too."
They looked at me, surprised, but waited until everyone else had left.Even Lady Celebrían gave us a puzzled glance before stepping out.
Once the room was empty, before anyone could question me, I looked straight at Gandalf.
"All right, old man — tell me. What's bothering you?"
Everyone turned to him in surprise. Gandalf blinked and asked,
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Radagast the Brown. From what I've heard, he never leaves his forest. Even if his hands are covered in blood, he stays among the trees. And yet suddenly, he visits you — while you're supporting the Erebor expedition. That screams 'emergency,' doesn't it?"
Gandalf studied me for a long moment before muttering,
"It's nothing serious…"
I cut him off sharply.
"No, it is serious, Gandalf. I'm not an idiot. From what I've heard, Radagast showed up terrified — panicked even. One of the five great wizards doesn't just panic for no reason. You need to tell us. You're the only wizard in this group, and this whole journey began with you. If something might pull you away, we have a right to know now."
Gandalf was silent for a long time, thoughts flickering in his eyes. Finally, he sighed and told us everything Radagast had said. As he spoke, Lord Elrond's expression darkened. So did everyone else's. I simply listened — it was exactly as I had suspected. When Gandalf finished, I chuckled. He frowned.
"What's so funny?"
"I just thought it was… interesting."
"Interesting? What do you mean?" he pressed.
"It's an obvious trap."
Everyone nodded, even Gandalf agreed. This was normal; Radagas was one of the five wizards. If he said that this unknown enemy (I knew it was Sauron) was on the same level as the White Wizard, he was certain of it. So I continued.
I continued.
"The interesting part is the timing."
The group turned toward me. Gandalf's brows furrowed.
"Think about it, Gandalf. The timing is too perfect to be coincidence. The moment you began the Erebor expedition, a bounty was placed on Thorin and his company. Thorin's long-hidden nemesis, Azog, suddenly reappeared. Then, just south of our route, a powerful necromancer was discovered by Radagast. He barely escaped with minor wounds and came straight to you — one of the five wizards, the second most powerful of the Istari, a member of the White Council, and guide of Thorin's company. Each event seems unrelated, but together, they form a strange chain reaction. Don't you see it?"
I couldn't exactly say,
'Hey guys, that necromancer is Sauron — let's go clobber him!'
So, I just hinted. But the pattern was too suspicious to ignore.
Lord Elrond finally spoke.
"You sound certain of this, yet there's no proof a necromancer of that strength truly exists. Perhaps it's all coincidence."
I shook my head.
"Maybe. But if Gandalf truly had no proof, he wouldn't be frowning like that. Coincidence or not, one thing's clear — whoever this 'Necromancer' is, he's bold enough to challenge the White Council. Gandalf should not go there alone."
Halt frowned.
"You think this necromancer had something to do with the bounty, don't you?"
Everyone looked startled, but Gilan nodded in agreement.
"I think Halt's right. You wouldn't say that kind of thing without reason."
I grinned.Just as I expected from two seasoned Rangers — they caught on instantly.
"And how did you reach that conclusion?"
Halt smirked.
"Instinct. It's never failed me."
Thorin scowled.
"Are you certain about this?"
I couldn't blame him. The bounty wasn't just on his head — it had endangered his nephews and men. Because of it, Oin was dead, and Bifur and Nori barely survived. His anger was justified.
"Not completely certain…"(Totally certain. I'd bet Shadowmane's head on it.)
"But it doesn't matter," I continued aloud. "Right now, our priority is reaching Erebor."
They all looked at me thoughtfully. I shrugged.
"Well, that's all I wanted to say. I just wanted to understand what was bothering Gandalf. I'll rest now — we've got plenty of time to talk later. Gandalf, one last thing. A personal question about my body — can you stay behind for a moment?"
Gandalf blinked, confused.
"Something wrong with your body?"
I shook my head.
"No, that was just an excuse… Gandalf, tell me — do you think the Nine are still sealed in their tombs?"
The wizard's eyes widened in shock.