Chương 78: Chapter 78: The Elven King, Thranduil
Although the elves disarming them made the dwarves quite angry, the situation was beyond their control. Under Thorin's appeasement, they could only swallow their anger.
However, there was a silver lining. With the elves guiding them, they didn't encounter any dark creatures along the way.
The Woodland Realm
Since the shadow of Sauron descended upon Amon Lanc in T.A. 1050, evil creatures began to proliferate in Greenwood, turning the once lush forest into the now dark and foreboding Mirkwood.
From then on, King Thranduil led his people to retreat to the northern side of the Forest River, completely abandoning the vast southern woodlands near the Misty Mountains.
Although this decision was widely criticized in Middle-earth, it undeniably greatly reduced the casualties among the woodland elves.
Perhaps this was the true meaning of losing land to save lives. Otherwise, the Woodland Elves wouldn't have been able to organize a large army during the Battle of the Five Armies.
Sadly, a wrong war cost the Woodland Elves dearly, exhausting the power they had accumulated over thousands of years.
Since he was here, Ino planned to prevent this tragedy.
He had made up his mind. As the origin point of the entire war, the brilliant white gem necklace cherished by Thranduil would be his to steal if necessary.
This had nothing to do with sides; it was a matter of aesthetics.
After all, human nature yearns for beautiful things. Compared to the elegant and pretty elves, who cares about the scruffy dwarves?
Moreover, unlike other elves, Woodland Elves had exceptional talents in arts and music. Most of Middle-earth's music and poetry originated from them.
They were creators, music lovers, with beautiful voices, singing wherever they went, giving them a unique charm among the elven kind.
For a bard, this was definitely a bonus.
...
As they traveled, Ino pondered these things.
Under Legolas's guidance, they crossed an exquisite stone bridge and arrived at the new city of the Woodland Elves.
Calling it a city was less accurate than calling it a heavily fortified fortress. The elves abandoned their artistic tendencies, opting to build their city with solid granite.
Tall walls and smooth surfaces, paired with the stone bridge not far away, formed a natural three-layer defense.
But this was just the surface. The real living quarters of the elves were beneath the fortress, where they seemingly tapped into the dwarven talent, creating a vast and complex underground city.
With Prince Legolas leading them, they entered the fortress and navigated through winding tunnels, finally reaching the Woodland Realm's palace.
...
Thranduil
Arriving in Middle-earth from Aman in the early Second Age, Thranduil was only about six thousand years old, making him a relatively young elven king.
As they entered the palace, Ino saw Thranduil clearly.
Like Legolas, he had flowing golden hair, but Thranduil wore a crown woven from red leaves and berries.
This simple crown seemed to symbolize the Woodland Elves' love for the forest and nature.
Between the golden strands of his hair were deep, indifferent eyes, as if he cared for nothing in the world.
If Legolas could be described as handsome, then the elven king Thranduil could only be described as beautiful.
Beauty isn't exclusive to women; it can describe a man's aura, the harmony with nature.
Describing Thranduil's beauty was like praising the elegance of natural scenery, without seeming out of place.
...
"My son tells me that a group of dwarves has come from the west, and curiously, there's a human wizard among them!"
Thranduil looked indifferently at the crowd in the palace, ignoring the dwarves' anger. His gaze only lingered on Ino with a hint of curiosity and doubt.
"Take these dwarves to the dungeon and let them cool off."
Thranduil instructed the elven guards beside him. Although he recognized Thorin, the heir of the former King Under the Mountain, he didn't give him a second glance.
After a bout of chaos, the underground palace returned to its usual tranquility.
Looking at the elven king not far away, Ino pondered for a moment before slowly speaking:
"I believe Your Majesty knows our purpose. Thorin, heir of Durin's line, seeks to reclaim Erebor and restore the glory of the King Under the Mountain."
For an elf who had lived thousands of years, any rhetoric was meaningless; only honesty was the best way to communicate.
Indeed, Thranduil nodded slowly in acknowledgment: "And the dragon that resides there, what is your plan?"
"Perhaps they want to kill it, but who knows? I'm just helping them through the forest."
At that moment, Ino revealed his most honest thoughts.
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