The Tarnished in LOTR with Elden Ring

The mocking expression Thorin had maintained on his face instantly froze upon hearing news of the dragon, his pupils contracting violently as he stumbled back two steps, hitting the stone pillar behind him to barely steady himself.

His trembling fingers clawed desperately into the pillar's grooves, the sound of his whitened knuckles clearly audible: "This is impossible! Smaug has slumbered in the Lonely Mountain for sixty years! How could it awaken precisely at this moment!"

Thranduil watched the Dwarf prince's loss of composure, his fingertips lightly tapping the throne's armrest, enjoying the cold sweat beading on the other's forehead: "Why impossible? Just as you suddenly presume to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, why can't the dragon suddenly open its golden eyes?"

He deliberately elongated his words: "After all, it chose slumber willingly. Neither blade nor sword could compel it to shut its eyes."

Tarnes placed his hand on Thorin's trembling shoulder, his expression serious as he asked: "King Thranduil, please provide detailed information about the Lonely Mountain's current state."

"Merely fragments brought by refugees from Lake-town." Thranduil carelessly stroked the antler throne's handle, "But one thing is certain. While you were tunneling through trees in the forest, uninvited guests have awakened the dragon in ways you could never imagine!"

Then he looked at Thorin and said: "But what's certain is that the dragon's awakening must be related to your expedition. At least somewhere you couldn't see, someone or some creature entered the Lonely Mountain directly and awakened that dragon."

Thorin still shook his head in disbelief: "No, this is impossible. The Lonely Mountain's main gate has been sealed by us. Collapsed walls and fallen rocks have filled every possible entry route. Unless that dragon wanted to emerge itself, no one could enter."

"Perhaps someone discovered your little secret?"

Thranduil suddenly strode down from his throne, leaning close, his silver hair cascading like a waterfall as he whispered easily in Thorin's ear: "Like that secret passage unknown even to birds?"

Thorin immediately retorted angrily and loudly: "That's even more impossible! Only my kinsmen know of that passage!"

Hearing Thorin's roar, Thranduil burst into laughter: "So you truly possess a passage into the Lonely Mountain and plan to seize your Dwarven people's King's Jewel from that dragon's grasp."

Thorin's roar ceased abruptly, his face darkening as he growled: "You were tricking me?"

Thranduil's smile faded as he stepped back, mocking Thorin: "Tricking you? Didn't you say it yourself? I merely confirmed my suspicions based on your words. Or is your head as rigid as the Lonely Mountain's stones, incapable of even basic thought?"

Tarnes suddenly stepped between them, crossing his hands before his chest in a mediating gesture, sighing lightly: "Gentlemen, continuing to let hatred's chains strangle the neck will only cause suffocation."

After calming Thorin with a few words, he asked Thranduil: "King Thranduil, I joined Thorin's company to repay his aid during my darkest hour. I swore by the Erdtree's name to help him eliminate that dragon. Please inform me of all intelligence regarding the dragon's awakening."

Thranduil settled back onto his antler throne, replying: "You may question those Lake-town humans who fled to my territory seeking sanctuary, though I cannot guarantee they'll provide more useful information. Three nights ago, during the lunar eclipse, seventeen Lake-town residents emerged like scalded moles from their holes. They dragged lungs burned by sulfur, claiming to have seen black dragon wings sweep across the Long Lake, just like that night a century ago when Dale burned."

Tarnes stepped forward half a pace, his right hand touching his chest in an Elven salute, copying the gesture he'd observed from Elven warriors toward Legolas upon entering the palace.

He continued asking: "Where are these innocent humans now? Their words might help me and my friends discover the dragon's behavioral patterns and weaknesses."

Thranduil replied: "They're receiving treatment from my people within my palace. Legolas, later escort our honored guest to where those humans reside."

Legolas said nothing, merely nodding lightly in agreement.

Then Thranduil paused, warning Tarnes: "Tarnes, I must warn you: dragon flame burns more than flesh. Those people's souls bear scorch marks. Are you certain you wish to listen to madmen's ravings?"

"Thank you for your kind warning, King Thranduil. But truth often hides in shattered mirror fragments, and I excel at extracting key information from fragmented speech, like drawing silk from cocoons, to get the answers I seek," Tarnes said.

He looked at Thorin and the Dwarves behind him, then turned, crossing his hands before him, and bowed again in proper Elven fashion to the throne: "I also humbly request Your Majesty arrange a secluded residence for us in the Woodland Realm. We won't impose excessively."

Thranduil's silver-gray pupils swept over the Dwarves, his lips curving in a mocking arc: "As long as your Dwarf friends don't chatter like rutting tits, my palace has plenty of rooms to stuff mutes into."

Thorin coldly retorted: "Only stone lizards hiding in moss fear sound, since any miner's pickaxe could collapse their mud nests."

Why do you two love quarreling so much?

Before Thranduil could respond again, Tarnes first apologized to the Elven king, then suddenly grabbed Thorin's wrist: "Come with me! Balin! Bring the others!"

He practically dragged Thorin backward down the throne steps, lamplight scattering chaotic silver spots across the White Wolf's armor.

Thranduil gestured for Legolas to follow them, then found Thorin's posture somewhat amusing, so his laughter pursued them: "Run slower, Dwarves. Don't let your beards trip you..."

"Shut it, old tree spirit! Tarnes, let me loose! I'm going to rearrange his pretty face!" Thorin's rage-filled shout boomed between the pillars. He bucked and twisted against Tarnes' grip, trying to get at Thranduil, but couldn't break free no matter how much he fought.

After the Dwarves were settled, Tarnes leaned against the cool marble wall, rubbing his throbbing temples.

Inside the room, the Dwarves' continuous arguments pierced through the heavy oak door like twelve dull axes taking turns hacking at his nerves. When Tarnes tried to breathe deeply, even the inhaled air seemed to carry the symphony of anvils and forges.

Millicent noticed Tarnes' expression, her fingers lightly touching his bracer, her voice like mint-infused spring water flowing over scorched earth as she asked with concern: "Are you alright? Your heartbeat's as fast as a startled elk."

Tarnes showed a forced smile: "So-so, just a bit of a headache, nothing major. I'm starting to miss the days when Gandalf was here. Now I understand why Gandalf always wears that pointed hat. Perhaps to keep Dwarf roars isolated in the wool lining."

Tarnes looked around, noticing two familiar figures were missing, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Where did Bernahl and Igon go?" he asked Millicent.

Millicent gently arranged her crimson hair tousled by the night wind, answering warmly: "While you were busy calming Thorin and the others, Legolas already took them to the area where the Lake-town refugees rest."

She paused, adding: "Igon said he wanted to see those refugees burned by dragon flame, perhaps to help somehow. They went this way. That Elf told me to follow the path directly to find those Lake-town humans."

As Millicent spoke, she raised her hand. Following her finger, Tarnes spotted a forest trail.

He then straightened, leaving the marble wall he'd been leaning against: "Indeed, with Igon's identity as a dragon warrior, he's intimately familiar with wounds caused by dragon flame. Perhaps he can discern traces of Smaug from those burn marks. Come, let's go see."

Tarnes followed the path Legolas had indicated, and at the end of the vine-wrapped ancient road, scattered campfires suddenly appeared.

When he parted the hanging silver fern leaves, he saw Igon kneeling on one knee examining a wounded person's charred arm, with Bernahl standing nearby.

Over twenty Lake-town refugees huddled in shelters provided by the Elves, their exposed skin still bearing sulfur burn marks.

Tarnes' gaze swept around the shelter's perimeter. Three Elven archers hid among the gnarled ancient tree roots, secretly protecting and monitoring these humans.

Thranduil was quite benevolent toward these humans, at least not targeting them everywhere like he did the Dwarves.

Tarnes was certain that if he hadn't accompanied Thorin's group this time, Thranduil would have thrown those Dwarves directly into dungeons.

Legolas was also there. Under this Elven prince's guarantee, Igon could quickly gain these Lake-town residents' trust, having them present their dragon-flame-burned wounds for Igon's observation.

"Would anyone volunteer? I might be able to try healing your burns."

Igon took a deep green oval jade bottle from his pack. Upon opening it, a very obvious herbal fragrance emerged, revealing green paste-like medicine inside.

Seeing Igon's actions, Legolas reminded: "Archer, we've already applied burn-healing herbs to these humans."

Igon didn't look up, beckoning a volunteer, a severely burned youth with almost his entire face wrapped in white bandages.

Then he explained to Legolas: "Of course I can smell it. The herbal scent here is so heavy it's practically pickling my nose. But I just examined several people burned by dragon flame, and their wounds are all similar to injuries I've suffered before, so I want to try my salve. The effect should be better."

Worst case, there are still Tarnes' golden tree recovery incantations.

"Wait, Bain."

The youth's father anxiously approached. He'd been tending other more severely injured Lake-town residents and hadn't noticed his son approach Igon.

Under his father's worried gaze, the youth bravely unwrapped the bandages from his face, revealing the horrible, grotesque burned and pitted skin beneath.

He was nearly disfigured. Without the Elves' herbs and magic, such injuries would have killed the youth from infection.

But even so, the youth's face still showed signs of mild festering.

Igon glanced at the youth's father and let out a hoarse laugh: "Don't worry, this is a treasure I've been using all along. It'll definitely heal your son's face."

Tarnes approached, also addressing the father: "Igon is the most skilled warrior I know at treating dragon flame wounds. I am Tarnes, also a wizard. I guarantee that even if Igon's salve doesn't work, I can preserve your son's life and return him to you unharmed."

The father still frowned deeply. Only when his son looked at him with longing eyes through that severely burned face did the father nod.

He bent down, embracing his son: "Bain, I'm right here beside you."

Igon grinned, taking some salve from the jade bottle and gently applying it to the youth's face.

The father tensely held his son tighter, eyes fixed on where the medicine was applied. Only after seeing that Bain showed no pain or adverse reactions did he breathe a long sigh of relief.

Igon skillfully covered the youth's entire face with the salve, grinning: "Relax, this salve relieves pain. Does your face feel cool now, no longer burning with pain?"

Though Bain couldn't speak, judging by how frequently he nodded, Igon was right.

"Don't bandage him again. In about half a day, he can wash his face and your son's handsome features will return," Igon said, waving away the father who'd brought clean bandages.

Legolas narrowed his eyes, curiously observing the jade bottle Igon had placed on the ground.

Half a day to heal wounds caused by dragon flame. This Golden Tree territory contains wondrous things he'd never seen in all his long years.

After hearing Igon's words, the youth's father immediately said urgently to Tarnes and the others: "Could you please help my other kinsmen heal their burns? Some are burned so severely they've fallen unconscious. Even with Elven treatment, they're barely clinging to life."

After speaking, he realized his words seemed greedy and showed apologetic eyes.

Tarnes smiled, signaling him to relax, then said to Igon: "Igon, go help them. Bernahl, you also assist by casting some Erdtree recovery incantations."

"Thank you, thank you." The youth's father kept thanking them.

Tarnes said: "Don't rush to thank us yet, because I have some questions for you. Consider your answers payment for treating their burns."

The man showed an expression of due gratitude: "Without you and your friends, I truly don't know what I'd do. Answering your questions is my duty. I'm very sorry. I haven't told you my name yet. I'm Bard, a member of Lake-town's guard."