The Tarnished in LOTR with Elden Ring

Indeed, at Bard's request, Thranduil didn't create too many difficulties regarding the Dwarves' request to leave his territory.

Though he still mocked Thorin and the Dwarves a few times.

Thranduil reclined in his antler throne, slender fingers lightly tapping the armrest, silver-gray eyes scrutinizing the people below, his silver hair flowing like moonlight over his shoulders.

He asked Bard: "I'd like to hear how you plan to pass Lake-town guards' inspection with this group of Dwarf runts who can't even hide their beards properly?"

Bard pressed one hand to his chest and bowed, his tone steady as usual: "I plan to have Thorin Oakenshield and his kinsmen pose as a timber merchant caravan, while Tarnes and his companions register as accompanying mercenary guards."

"That's a workable plan."

Thranduil leaned back in his throne, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes.

He continued: "After all, half the fleets traveling between the Woodland Realm and Lake-town these years have been handled by you. However..."

Thranduil's tone shifted: "However, I know something about Lake-town's mayor. Ordinary merchant caravans probably can't satisfy him and his parasitic lackeys, can they?"

Bard maintained his bowing posture: "Therefore I humbly beseech King Thranduil to allocate some fine wine that the Elves drink. If you could also grant me some fruits from the Golden Tree territory, that would be even better. Last month's twenty cases of special honeyed wine shipped to Lake-town are said to be stored quite properly in the mayor's mansion cellar."

Thranduil showed a cold smile: "If it were just you, I could even give them freely for your ancestor Girion's sake. But you want me to freely gift these things to Dwarves who are probably cursing me in their hearts? Don't even think about it. Allowing them to leave my territory is already my greatest mercy. Girion's descendant, Bard, you'll have to find your own way."

However, though the Elven king spoke this way, his gaze fell on Tarnes.

Fruits from the Golden Tree territory?

Hmm, Thranduil had indeed said before that fruits from my territory were very popular outside, and the Woodland Realm's Elves often purchased these fruits at high prices from Lake-town humans.

This look. Could he want me to give him some fruits from the Golden Tree territory?

Tarnes felt somewhat pained, not because he didn't want to give them, but because he really didn't have any on him now.

He was quite puzzled why Thranduil was so obsessed with Golden Tree fruits. Could they really be that delicious?

If they were simply tasty fruits, Thranduil naturally wouldn't show such behavior.

But the fruits from the Golden Tree territory contained that trace of peculiar golden energy, which was what made Thranduil curious.

After eating those fruits, Thranduil could clearly feel that the burn scars on his cheek that had never healed showed signs of gradually recovering.

Tarnes also thought that what interested Thranduil might be the trace of golden blessing contained in the fruits, feeling he should proactively say something.

However, Thranduil's gaze kept looking at him, which Bard also noticed, looking over curiously.

Bard didn't know why Thranduil would look at Tarnes, but he didn't speak, instead waiting quietly.

Tarnes pondered for a moment and spoke: "King Thranduil, I'd like to make a trade with you as Lord of the Golden Tree."

Thranduil immediately nodded: "What kind of trade?"

You really were waiting for me to speak up.

Tarnes silently complained internally, then said: "A pendant. I want to exchange it for what Bard mentioned, and its value far exceeds what you're giving. But I'm willing to use it to make friends with you, to symbolize our friendship."

Then a pure gold amulet pendant crafted in a teardrop shape appeared in Tarnes' hand, with carved patterns of hands and a chalice receiving golden dewdrops.

Thranduil immediately stood up from his antler throne and quickly walked to Tarnes.

"You're actually willing to trade such a treasure to me? In a sense, it's more valuable than the Arkenstone those Dwarves seek." Thranduil immediately sensed the pendant's extraordinariness, his tone even somewhat surprised.

Tarnes nodded without speaking.

Anyway, he had several more of these pendants, and he rarely used them in combat.

But since Thranduil thought it was precious, Tarnes felt no need to explain too much.

Moreover, if Thranduil had other opinions, Tarnes was really prepared to let him know that the bards' descriptions of him weren't exaggerated.

"Then I also swear that the Lord from the Golden Tree, the powerful and generous Wizard Tarnes, will forever be a friend of the Woodland Realm and my good friend, Thranduil!"

Indeed, Thranduil let out rare hearty laughter, even stepping forward to lightly embrace Tarnes under the shocked gazes of other Elven guards.

Bard was equally shocked. He remembered that Elves wouldn't have physical contact even with blood-related kinsmen.

What precious thing had Tarnes given Thranduil?

Though Bard very much wanted to know, he was smart enough not to ask.

Thorin's expression wasn't good. He knew that for Thranduil to show such happiness, Tarnes must have produced something extraordinary. Otherwise it would be impossible to move this Elven king.

Thinking that Tarnes had spent so much for his sake, he hated Thranduil even more from the bottom of his heart, while also blaming himself for always letting Tarnes help.

Thorin raised his hand and gently patted Tarnes' back. When the other looked at him, he spoke in a low voice but with a sincere and firm attitude: "Regarding this pendant, I'll compensate you with appropriate money. You've already done enough for me. You must accept this money."

After saying this, without waiting for Tarnes to say anything, he left.

Because Thorin felt Thranduil's laughter was too grating.

After obtaining what he needed, Bard quickly disguised Thorin and his Dwarves as a Dwarf merchant caravan heading to the Iron Hills.

Tarnes and Bernahl also changed equipment, since their armor was obviously not something normal mercenaries could afford.

Now they looked like wandering knights, at least not conspicuous in this disguised caravan.

As for Millicent and Igon, they didn't need to change equipment.

Millicent's clothing wasn't luxurious and very much fit someone who traveled frequently.

As for Igon, with his outfit cobbled together from battlefield armor scraps, probably no one in Lake-town would believe he was anything but a mercenary.

Bilbo, due to his height, was dressed by Bard to look like a Dwarf.

Under Bard's guidance, Tarnes, Thorin, and the others reached Lake-town's outskirts when the first ray of sunlight rose.

"This is simply like a lonely water city struggling to survive in cold and solitude," Bofur murmured, looking at Lake-town's outline.

Other Dwarves nodded in agreement, thinking Bofur was right.

Tarnes squinted, looking toward Lake-town.

It was like a suit of rusty bronze armor, heavily floating on the dark lake surface, reflecting the sky's lead-gray clouds and the distant Lonely Mountain's iron-blue silhouette.

Lake-town seemed composed of countless crooked wooden stakes, like a giant's rotting ribs stabbing into the lake bottom, supporting uneven clusters of wooden buildings.

These houses soaked by time were like inverted fangs, layer upon layer interlocking on spider-web-like trestle bridges.

Faded canvas flapped in the cold wind, wet ropes drooped like gallows nooses, and every plank groaned under strain in the frost.

The narrow alleys floated with scents of fish and rotting wood. Occasionally hunched figures wrapped in oiled cloaks flashed by, their footsteps swallowed silently by the damp air.

Cold lake water seeped through cracks in the town center plaza's stone bricks. Sparks from the blacksmith's forge hissed when they hit the puddles.

Fish vendors' stalls were piled with salmon gleaming with eerie silver light, their scales reflecting the tavern's dim yellow lamplight.

The docks always berthed several ghost-like fishing boats, their sails patched upon patches, exactly like beggars' ragged clothes.

But most glaring was the mayor's pointed mansion, its cedar walls painted with crude gold paint, colored glass windows seeping greedy light in the twilight. It was the only building that looked very luxurious and also the tallest structure in Lake-town.

Beneath the lake surface, countless rotting beams reached toward the sky like drowned men's hands.

Women wove fishing nets with frozen fingers, and children passed terrifying nursery rhymes about dragons under ice-glazed eaves.

But cooking smoke still rose from crooked chimneys, and fishermen still cast nets in the morning mist, as if this floating city would never sink.

"I can hardly imagine people actually living in such a place," Gloin muttered, commenting.

Bombur touched his fat belly: "I'm more curious about the people inside. What do they eat?"

"Maybe fishy fish dredged from the lake bottom, or green seaweed of unknown taste," Bofur replied, making Bombur show a disgusted expression.

Hearing the Dwarves' words, Bard said calmly: "But we not only live here, we've lived here for generations. As for food, as long as we don't starve to death."

Then he moored the small boat in the shadow of old dock ruins, the bow three fingers' width from the ice layer, producing fine cracking sounds.

He lowered his voice: "Alright, keep your voices down. There are guards not far ahead. The mayor's put a twenty-silver bounty on my head. We'll stop here."

Thorin also said quietly: "Sounds like your daughters are worth more than you? After all, they're worth one Black Arrow plus ten gold coins."

Bard nodded matter-of-factly: "Of course, my precious sweethearts are naturally priceless treasures."

The Dwarves' breath condensed into white mist in the cold air. Kili was about to speak but was elbowed in the ribs by Fili.

Distant sounds of iron boots crossing trestle bridges came, Lake-town guards' torches swaying like bloodshot eyes in the morning mist.

"Remember, you're a caravan delivering fruits and honeyed wine to the Iron Hills. I've told you all where my house is. The Black Arrow is in the beam above my dining table."

Bard cut the boat cable with his dagger, watching them step onto the trestle bridge via floating rotten wood. The decaying planks groaned like dying things under Dwarf boots.

Only after Tarnes, the others, and Thorin's group were completely obscured by mist did he begin bending to arrange the anchor.

As Bard finished the last loop of rope around the boat post, creaking sounds of boots on planks came from behind. His heart jumped, and his right hand was already on the short blade at his waist as he turned.

However, he only saw a gray-robed old man standing at the trestle's end, pipe light outlining a weather-beaten face in the morning light.

"This weather's so cold even pike are frozen stiff. Perfect for transporting special cargo."

The old man removed his pointed hat and nodded slightly, speaking gently, white mist from his breath mingling with smoke rings as they rose.

Bard didn't relax his vigilance, cautiously eyeing this suddenly appearing old man: "Are you looking for passage?"

Gandalf chuckled: "Oh, forget that. This old man just got off a Great Eagle. The cold wind's already frozen my bones stiff. Making me ride your boat with no shelter from wind and rain, I don't want to suffer like that again, and it's not on my route anyway."

Then Gandalf said meaningfully: "I heard that though the Iron Hills Dwarves don't get along with Mirkwood's Elves, they still praise the Elves' honeyed wine."

He walked a few steps seemingly casually, positioning himself to see the gap when town gate guards changed shifts.

Bard knocked on empty wooden boxes with reddened knuckles, replying intermittently: "Seems so, which is why I need to set out for the Woodland Realm now. Otherwise those Elves won't open their doors for me tonight."

While speaking, he seemingly unconsciously rubbed the boat deck with his shoe sole, actually erasing the wet footprints Thorin's group had left.

Gandalf sighed at Bard's wariness, revealing the ceremonial straight sword hanging at his waist from his gray robes: "If you truly know those people you just sent off, you'll surely recognize this sword. The golden dewdrop emblem on it is unique. Actually, I'm not your enemy, boatman. Perhaps you've heard my name. Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey."

Bard frowned tightly, then relaxed. The dewdrop emblem on the sword hilt was identical to the dewdrop pendant Tarnes had given Thranduil yesterday.

After hearing the old man's name, Bard finally completely relaxed: "When the Dwarves were chattering and telling stories last night, I did hear this name."

Then he looked at Gandalf somewhat suspiciously: "But I remember those Dwarves saying Gandalf was a very rude, crude, and stubborn hunched old man who couldn't even cook. You don't look quite like that."

Gandalf's good mood disappeared the instant he heard "Dwarves."

He maintained a proper smile and said to Bard: "Thank you for letting me know how I appear in the Dwarves' minds."

PS: The pendant can slowly restore health. The moment Thranduil received the pendant, he felt the burn scars on his cheek beginning to heal, so in his excitement he lightly embraced Tarnes.