The Tarnished in LOTR with Elden Ring

Tarnes made no effort to hide his admiration, his eyes sparkling with appreciation: "What an amazing place! Among all the architecture I've seen in my travels, the magnificence here absolutely ranks among the finest."

Hearing such praise for his homeland, Legolas' lips curved slightly upward, revealing a subtle yet proud smile, silently acknowledging the compliment.

Thorin looked displeasedly at Legolas' smile, his brow furrowing. Just as he was about to coldly mock, Balin grabbed his sleeve.

Balin blinked hard, signaling him to restrain his temper.

Thorin took a deep breath, forcibly swallowing the sarcasm on the tip of his tongue, and said stiffly instead: "When you reach the Lonely Mountain, you'll understand what true grandeur really is."

Though his tone remained rigid, at least he didn't directly provoke Legolas.

Balin breathed a sigh of relief and quickly took over the conversation, saying to Tarnes with a beaming smile: "Yes, the magnificence of the Lonely Mountain is absolutely worth seeing."

His tone was enthusiastic and sincere, trying to ease the atmosphere.

Legolas turned a deaf ear to Thorin's words, turning his head with a cold expression as if the Dwarf didn't exist at all.

The Elf's gaze was calm and distant, as if silently declaring: the words of Dwarves weren't worth wasting even a trace of emotion on.

Seeing this, Thorin's face grew even darker, his fists clenched tight, knuckles slightly white from the force, clearly angered by this dismissal.

"Holo in ennyn (Close the gates)."

As the last Elven archer gracefully stepped into the palace, his figure disappearing among the ornate pillars, Legolas softly commanded the Elven warriors guarding the palace's main entrance in Elvish.

Two Elven warriors in silver-gray armor immediately nodded in response upon hearing the command.

With their actions, the heavy stone doors slowly closed with a deep rumbling sound.

Finally, the stone doors shut completely, thoroughly isolating the outside world's clamor and strife, leaving only tranquility and solemnity within the palace.

Under Legolas' guidance, the group stepped onto a stone path carefully constructed from rock.

Intricate and exquisite patterns were carved on both sides of the stone path, with magnificent oil lamps hanging along the way. The warm firelight flickered within the lampshades, casting gentle illumination on everyone's faces.

As they continued forward, the path beneath their feet gradually became peculiar.

Bilbo and the Dwarves looked down to discover they were no longer treading on ordinary steps but on thick, winding tree branches.

These branches had smooth surfaces yet retained natural textures, as if they had always been part of this palace.

Igon and Millicent also couldn't help showing surprised expressions, their gazes wandering everywhere, trying to take in every detail of this Wood-elf palace.

Except for Tarnes and Bernahl.

They walked with composure, their gazes calm, as if they had long grown accustomed to everything before them, appearing particularly serene.

After all, they had set foot in Redmane Castle in the Lands Between, entering that magnificent palace entwined by the Erdtree's massive roots.

There, some paths were simply formed by the Erdtree's incredible branches and trunks, grand and magnificent, breathtakingly beautiful.

Therefore, in this Wood-elf territory, they were the only two who remained completely unmoved by this path woven from trees.

Legolas walked at the front, occasionally glancing back at everyone's reactions.

His gaze lingered briefly on Tarnes and Bernahl, seeming slightly interested in their composure, but soon turned forward again, continuing to lead the group deeper into the palace where he had lived for years.

"We've arrived."

After walking for an unknown duration, Legolas' voice was soft yet clear, like a gentle breeze brushing past their ears.

The Dwarves had grown somewhat impatient, muttering complaints, but now they were awed by the scene before them, involuntarily holding their breath and swallowing all their grumbling.

They stood in the center of a magnificent space that seemed like nature's own hall.

A massive ancient tree had been cut, its trunk as wide as a platform, its surface as smooth as a mirror, obviously carefully polished.

On the platform sat a throne carved from premium wood in the shape of antlers. The throne's lines were smooth and elegant, every detail of the antlers lifelike, as if they might leap from the wood grain at any moment.

Behind the throne, enormous tree roots cascaded like waterfalls, merging with the surrounding rocks to form a natural mural.

Surrounding the throne were towering stone pillars, each carved with intricate Elven patterns, vines, stars, and birds intertwined together, forming a court-like structure.

A tall, slender figure sat quietly on the antler throne, positioned sideways to Tarnes' group.

This was an Elf whose posture was elegant and composed, as if merged with the surrounding nature. His silver hair flowed like moonlight, draped over his shoulders, the tips faintly shimmering with weak light.

He wore a crown woven from wild berries and red leaves, as autumn had arrived. In the warm spring season, he would wear a crown made of forest flowers.

This Elf slightly lowered his head, seemingly lost in thought, his profile gentle yet profound.

Tarnes' gaze lingered on the throne for a moment, then slowly swept around, finally settling on six Elven warriors standing quietly.

They wore the same silver-gray armor as the main gate guards, the armor's surface gleaming with cold luster, their postures straight as pines, and their expressions solemn.

Tarnes withdrew his gaze. From these Elven warriors' behavior, he could at least sense they bore no hostility.

The Elf seated on the throne slowly emerged from his contemplation, his silver-gray eyes like winter's cold stars.

His gaze first swept over the Dwarves, a trace of undisguised disdain and coldness flashing through his eyes.

That icy stare was like a blade cutting through the air, making the Dwarves led by Thorin involuntarily tense up, their faces showing displeasure and wariness.

However, when his sight fell on Tarnes, those frozen eyes quietly melted, revealing a trace of elegant smile.

"Welcome, guests from afar. May the forest's blessing be with you. I am Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."

He spoke softly, his voice flowing like a clear spring, carrying natural authority.

Tarnes nodded slightly, his tone gentle yet composed: "Hello, King Thranduil. I am Lord Tarnes from the Golden Tree. I've heard that you and your people have developed quite a fondness for the fruits from my territory, which greatly honors me. To bring even a touch of joy to Mirkwood is my territory's privilege."

Thranduil's lips curved slightly upward, appreciation flashing in his eyes: "After all, fruits containing a trace of magic are indeed rare, and that these fruits come from that wasteland of Minhiriath makes them even more memorable."

However, his gaze then turned to the Dwarves, his expression becoming cold and distant again.

"But I'm sorry," Thranduil's tone carried a hint of faint apology yet exuded unquestionable authority, "if it were just you and I here at this moment, I would gladly discuss the possibilities of cooperation between us in depth. But now..."

His gaze swept over the Dwarves like a blade, his voice low and icy: "We should first resolve the matter of these Dwarves."

Thranduil's words were like an invisible barrier, instantly shattering the previously harmonious atmosphere.

Hearing this, the Dwarves' faces immediately darkened, Thorin's brow furrowed even tighter, his fists clenched, clearly extremely displeased with Thranduil's attitude.

Just as Thorin was about to retort, Tarnes had already stepped forward, blocking him, his tone steady and sincere: "Regarding them, King Thranduil, we meant no offense to your territory. We originally planned only to pass quickly through Mirkwood but unexpectedly lost our way in the forest."

"Is that so? Legolas, my son."

Thranduil didn't respond immediately, but slightly tilted his head, a trace of contemplation flashing in his silver-gray eyes. His gaze first fell on Legolas, then slowly turned to Tauriel standing behind the Dwarves.

Sensing his father's gaze, Legolas immediately withdrew his eyes, looking calmly straight ahead with an indifferent tone: "Tauriel, you answer."

Thranduil frowned slightly, but his expression remained composed without major fluctuation.

However, this subtle change was keenly caught by Tarnes.

What's the situation? Aren't they father and son? Have they been fighting recently, causing bad relations?

He couldn't help but feel puzzled.

Meanwhile, Tauriel, called upon by Legolas, emerged from the Elven squad behind the Dwarves, walking toward the throne with light yet firm steps. Her figure was tall and elegant, her brown archer's leather armor glinting faintly in the firelight.

"Hey, you, tall one! You can testify that we truly stumbled into your territory by mistake, right?" Kili suddenly called out from among the Dwarves, his voice carrying urgency and anticipation.

Hearing this, Tauriel slightly turned her head to glance at Kili, her eyes showing puzzlement and coldness.

Though in her eyes, this Dwarf was indeed tall and handsome among his kin, he was still a Dwarf.

Tauriel didn't respond to Kili's call but walked straight to Thranduil's throne, knelt on one knee, and said respectfully: "Lord Thranduil, though these Dwarves appeared panicked when discovered by the sentries, this doesn't prove they bore no ill will, because these Dwarves somehow bypassed our kinsmen's sight and intruded."

Thranduil nodded faintly, his voice calm and authoritative: "I understand. Tauriel, take your kinsmen and continue the patrol mission."

"Yes." Tauriel responded briefly, then rose and left the throne hall with her squad.

Her relationship with Thranduil also seems somewhat delicate?

Tarnes watched Tauriel depart, again feeling puzzled.

After all, just returning from a mission, instead of letting her rest, he was sending her back out. Thranduil was somewhat displeased with her.

As for the reason for his displeasure, Tarnes didn't know.

Thranduil's voice pulled his thoughts back: "You heard it too. According to my subordinate, you cannot prove they didn't enter my kingdom with malicious intent, can you?"

Tarnes frowned slightly, his tone steady yet firm: "With respect, King Thranduil, this is merely one-sided speculation. If we truly harbored ill intent, we wouldn't have entered your palace in such a quiet manner."

Thranduil let out a benevolent laugh, his voice carrying appreciation: "Of course I know this. After all, tales of your deeds have spread even to the humans of Lake-town. How could I not understand how you differ from other wizards? Compared to Gandalf the Grey, Radagast the Brown, and Saruman the White, you're more aggressive and invasive toward enemies. The songs that reach my ears sometimes make me wonder whether you're truly a wizard, rather than some bane of Orcs."

His laughter continued for a moment, then gradually subsided as his tone became serious again: "But please don't misunderstand, Lord of the Golden Tree. I don't mean that you, your three friends, and that Hobbit harbor ill intent, but rather these Dwarves."

Thranduil's voice grew completely cold at the end, his gaze pointing at Thorin like an ice blade: "I recognize their faces, especially that Dwarf standing at the front. When I demanded from King Thror of the Lonely Mountain the jewels that rightfully belonged to my people, he stood beside that greedy Dwarf's throne. Thorin Oakenshield, royal heir of Durin's line."

Thorin strode before Tarnes, his gaze meeting Thranduil's without retreat, fury long suppressed burning in his eyes.

His voice was low and icy, carrying undisguisable hatred: "Those jewels were painstakingly repaired and reforged by my kinsmen. How did they become yours?"

As soon as Thorin finished speaking, Balin in the Dwarf group slowly closed his eyes, deep despair appearing on his face.

His brow furrowed tight, hands hanging powerlessly at his sides, fingertips slightly trembling, seemingly feeling helpless and pained by Thorin's impulsiveness, as if already foreseeing the inevitable conflict and disaster with Thranduil that would follow.

Thranduil laughed in extreme anger: "I don't wish to entangle with you Dwarves in meaningless verbal disputes. You trespassed into my territory and stand before my throne speaking insolently. This alone is an unforgivable crime. Were it not for the face of the Lord of the Golden Tree, the moment you stepped into this palace, I would have thrown you into dungeons until you rude, stubborn creatures learned what courtesy and respect mean!"

Thorin showed no retreat, his lips curving in a mocking smile, his voice cutting like ice: "Is that all you wanted to say? Do you think these words can make me feel humiliated? Or can such words cover up the fact that you Elves abandoned us Dwarves to die?"

Tarnes, watching the tense confrontation between Thorin and Thranduil, showed a pained expression.

But soon, the anger on Thranduil's face disappeared, replaced by a playful expression as he slowly descended from his throne: "You Dwarves have mobilized such forces for this journey, even calling upon a powerful wizard and his friends to escort you. Your purpose in going to the Lonely Mountain is obvious."

He raised his hand, stopping other Elven warriors who had assumed defensive postures and drawn their swords, and came before Tarnes and Thorin.

Thranduil mainly targeted Thorin, speaking with feigned gentleness to the Dwarf glaring at him: "You know a path into the mountain. You seek to find that treasure that would grant you sovereignty, the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone."

Thorin immediately averted his gaze, instinctively dodging, but quickly realized his expression would confirm Thranduil's speculation, so he looked up at him again.

But these small movements had already been caught by Thranduil, making the Elf king show an "as expected" smile and continue: "To you, it's a priceless treasure. I understand completely."

Thorin said grimly: "So what? How is our action any of your business? Are you planning to help us return to the Lonely Mountain?"

Thranduil elegantly returned to sit on his throne, looking at Thorin: "I originally had that intention, because the mountain also contains gems I desire, the White Gems, containing pure starlight. Those are the jewels your Dwarves selfishly kept, and it's time for them to return to their rightful owner."

Tarnes noticed Thranduil's wording: "Originally?"

"Yes, originally..." Thranduil nodded faintly, then revealed terrible intelligence.

"If the evil dragon in that Lonely Mountain hadn't awakened and flown out again, plundering young, beautiful human maidens from Lake-town as its food, I originally planned to turn a blind eye to your Dwarves' actions, even willing to provide you with weapons and provisions for your journey to the Lonely Mountain."