After the matters of loot distribution were settled, Doğan continued to carefully clean and bandage Igris's open wounds. Meanwhile, Ciri, who had been waiting quietly off to the side, finally voiced the question that had been gnawing at her mind for a while.
"Will you answer my question now?"
Startled by this sudden inquiry, Igris turned his head and looked at Ciri. His face was expressionless, clearly indicating that he had no idea what she meant.
"What?"
Without breaking her posture in the slightest, Ciri clarified her question in a calm yet faintly curious tone.
"How did you sneak up behind me so silently?"
Hearing this, Igris blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected Ciri to ask this question at this particular moment; even amidst all the chaos and bloody conflict, the woman hadn't forgotten this detail.
"Is this really that important?"
Instead of answering, Ciri merely responded with silent, piercingly insistent glares. Feeling too lazy to offer a long-winded explanation in the face of this stubborn attitude, Igris surrendered with a heavy sigh. Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out one of his metallic black armored gauntlets and gently tossed it toward Ciri. Catching the airborne gauntlet with a swift reflex, Ciri continued to look at Igris with a bewildered expression. Igris simply gestured toward the piece of armor in her hand with a nod.
"There is your first answer. Try the gauntlet on."
Ciri stared blankly at Igris's face for a moment before curiously beginning to inspect the black armor gauntlet in her hand. Its design was vastly different from any equipment she had seen to date; although it appeared heavy and bulky from the outside, it boasted an smooth, elegant craftsmanship. The moment Ciri saw the material and the contours, she made her judgment.
"Dwarven craftsmanship..."
She then slipped the heavy black gauntlet onto her elegant hand, which was calloused from wielding a sword. It was then she realized that Igris's hands were slightly larger than her own. After putting the gauntlet on, she opened and closed her hand a few times, and her astonishment multiplied. There was absolutely no delay, no sensation of friction, nor the slightest clicking sound between the metal joints. She brought her hand closer to her face to inspect the mechanism more intimately. She blinked in astonishment when she noticed that the joints and areas subject to friction were supported with different, softer materials, and the entire interior was lined with leather. Watching her reaction, Igris began to explain with a faint smirk.
"We worked with the dwarves for seven months to design that armor, and then it took another six months to gather the materials and have it forged."
When Ciri tore all her attention away from the armor and focused on Igris, the man continued.
"This armor was designed to focus entirely on agility and speed without restricting mobility. Furthermore, meticulous work went into ensuring there were no weak spots; the armor is a unified whole. When its pieces are worn, it leaves no gaps or exposed areas, providing absolute protection."
As he explained these details, Doğan finished the bandaging and quietly stepped aside. Igris, lightly stretching his newly soothed arms, went on.
"Moving silently is crucial in this world. In many operations like ambushes or infiltrations, a single sound, a faint click, can ruin everything. That's why it went through a lengthy refinement process to make the armor completely silent. After several trials, we added a layer of leather to the joints, friction zones, and the inner lining of the plate armor, and then we added woolen fabric to the parts that still made noise."
Faced with this complex engineering and material process, Ciri stared at Igris in speechless awe.
"Something tells me that was extremely expensive."
Hearing this incredibly accurate observation, Doğan had to try hard not to chuckle in the background. Igris, as if suddenly remembering the fortune he had spent, let out a frustrated sigh and muttered.
"About 80,000 gold pieces..."
Upon hearing this astronomical figure, Ciri couldn't react for a moment. She just stood there, staring at Igris, bewildered and blank. After gathering her thoughts, she spoke in a bewildered, almost scolding tone.
"You are insane. Spending that much money on a suit of armor is pure wastefulness."
Hearing this, Igris straightened up from where he sat without wiping the smirk off his face. Without uttering a single word, he spread his arms wide open. At first, Ciri couldn't quite grasp what this gesture meant, but the moment her gaze fell upon the countless, deep scars crisscrossing his upper body, alongside the freshly closed cuts, she fell instantly silent. Seeing the woman quiet down, Igris chuckled.
"Armor saves lives, my lady. Especially for those of us who fight on the front lines. If I don't spend my money on this, what else am I going to spend it on? Back then, I had no ambitions of settling down or forging a kingdom. Besides, gathering coin to buy land isn't really a problem for me. Clearing out a bandit camp, dealing with slave traders, or hunting down a high-priced monster is more than enough."
Faced with Igris's brutally practical logic born of harsh experience, Ciri was completely silenced; she truly couldn't find a single rational argument to counter him.
This fleeting silence between them was shattered by the appearance of the four Crimson Archers and Bamsı returning from the ambush site. The group was approaching, carrying the paralyzed bodies of Elladan and Elrohir. Ciri, who was leaning against a rock trying to digest their previous conversation about armor, opened her eyes in curiosity and looked at the newcomers. When she had first arrived at the scene, she had seen quite a lot of corpses strewn about, and naturally, she was quite curious about the two individuals who had caused such a massacre. As the twins were carried over and laid down, they locked their eyes directly onto Igris. Seeing their utterly helpless state, Igris couldn't help but chuckle.
"You guys took a serious beating. Tsk, tsk, tsk... old age has hit you hard."
Despite being severely affected by the paralysis, hearing these mocking words caused Elrohir's eyebrow to twitch violently.
"We are still in the spring of our youth, Igris."
Hearing this, Igris shrugged indifferently.
"According to Elven standards, sure... But according to human standards, the two of you are absolute fossils!"
Confronted with this blunt human logic that was so starkly contradictory to their own way of life, Elrohir found himself at a loss for words for a moment. The elves carrying him and his brother gently set the duo down at the base of the massive boulder Ciri was leaning against, propping their backs against the stone. Igris shifted slightly in his seat to get a better look at them. After looking the twins up and down, he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, shook his head, and began to speak in a highly sarcastic tone.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk... Elrohir, once you got into close combat, you focused way too much on your immediate opponents and completely ignored the ranged ones, letting your guard down again, didn't you? You rely on Elladan way too much."
Hearing this spot-on observation and teasing, Elrohir's face darkened considerably; it looked as if he was going to choke on his own rage right where he sat. Completely ignoring his friend's helpless fury, Igris turned to Elladan this time.
"And what happened to you? Compared to your brother, you are usually much more cautious."
Elladan, whose face was as pale as a sheet of parchment and dripping with cold sweat, parted his lips to explain the situation, but due to the poison's effect, he couldn't form the words. Instead of speaking, he could only groan in a muffled tone.
"Uuuh, hmm."
Igris raised his eyebrows as if these groans were an incredibly logical and articulate sentence.
"So, you got distracted because of Elrohir and were struck by a sneak attack."
Elladan attempted to nod in confirmation, but his paralyzed muscles refused to obey. Instead, with varying tones of groans rumbling from his throat, he both confirmed the situation and added a complaint of his own.
"Uuugh, grrr, urgh, ngh..."
After listening to this grievance, Igris shook his head back and forth, a look of profound shock plastered across his face.
"You even carried him on your back and ran? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I honestly think you should be the older brother. That must have been incredibly tough on you."
When Elladan passionately agreed to the situation by producing various muffled sounds once again, the veins on Elrohir's forehead—already brooding over his own mistakes—bulged visibly. Forcing his pupils to slide sideways, he hissed with immense difficulty.
"Whose side are you on, damn it!"
However, Elladan completely ignored his brother's outburst and groaned toward Igris once more.
"Ugh, uuu!"
After hearing this final groan, Igris nodded with a deeply understanding demeanor and replied.
"Don't mention it, I will always come to help. You just need to send word."
Watching all this absurd communication from the sidelines with bewildered eyes, Ciri blinked rapidly and asked in an incredibly strange tone of voice.
"... Do you actually understand him?"
Igris turned to look at Ciri and shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Yes."
Unable to find any logical explanation, Ciri remained silent, continuing to stare at the man. Igris, on the other hand, scratched the back of his head and grinned fiercely as he summarized the situation with an incredibly calm demeanor.
"Welcome to Men's Language and Literature, my lady."
Faced with this bizarre and equally uncalled-for explanation, Ciri truly didn't know what to say. Just then, Elrohir intervened and changed the subject.
"Igris... Thank you for helping us, but I am curious. What are you doing out here?"
Hearing this, Igris shrugged, as if reluctant to provide too many details.
"Nothing much... I was staying at your house, taking care of some business with Gandalf the Grey."
Then, leaning in a bit closer toward the twins from where he sat, he added in an unhappy, reproachful tone.
"Why didn't you two idiots tell me you were princes?"
Elrohir, entirely unaffected by this reproach, replied with a flat expression.
"You never asked, so we never felt the need to tell you."
Then, steering the conversation toward Igris's own goals, he asked curiously.
"So, what kind of adventure have you set off on now?"
Instead of answering the question immediately, Igris shifted his gaze to the elven healer who was off to the side, examining and trying to treat Elladan.
"What is his condition?"
The elven healer turned his head slightly while working and reported respectfully.
"Though he has lost a lot of blood, there is no life-threatening danger. However, the paralyzing poison has spread effectively throughout his body. Without an antidote, he won't be able to move or speak until the poison's effects wear off."
Hearing this explanation and learning that there was at least no fatal risk, Igris nodded and took a relieved breath. Then, turning back to Elrohir, a faint, sly smirk crept onto his face.
"Hey, Elrohir, would you like to join my adventure?"
Elrohir immediately recognized that familiar, mischievous glint in the eyes of the man he had known for a long time. With a sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong, he asked.
"What are you after this time?"
Igris replied with a warm smile, acting as if he were stating the most mundane thing in the world.
"Smaug's head."
Crushed by the sheer weight of the name they had just heard, Elrohir and Elladan were unable to react for a moment, simply staring blankly at Igris's casually smiling face. After a brief phase of shock, Elrohir, despite the heavy paralytic poison coursing through his veins, shouted furiously, looking as though he were about to leap out of his spot and pounce on Igris.
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMN MIND?!"
At that moment, Elladan was also staring at his friend with bizarre eyes. They knew perfectly well that Igris was a lunatic who often did whatever popped into his head, but his current state was beyond even madness. Challenging the mightiest known living dragon among Morgoth's descendants was absolutely not the work of a sane mind. Especially when they considered that the fire of Morgoth's ancient dragons could burn not only bodies but even souls to ash, even the most formidable elven warriors of Middle-earth would avoid those monsters at all costs, never facing them unless absolutely forced to. To die burning in their flames meant the complete erasure of a soul, total annihilation in both body and spirit. With such absolute peril lying in wait, who could possibly be crazy enough to dare fight them? Ah! Wait, they were already looking at exactly that kind of man right now. Seeing their facial expressions, Igris muttered with mild disappointment.
"Why does everyone react like this? It's just an overgrown, winged, fire-breathing lizard."
Regardless of how recklessly Igris spoke on the outside, he was actually well aware of Smaug's potential power. He more or less remembered some of the analyses made on the subject and the information he had read back in his own world. Still, there wasn't the slightest shred of fear in his mind. Elrohir, meanwhile, glared at his friend's relaxed demeanor and continued speaking.
"Igris, you are brave, I understand that, but do not underestimate dragons. Throughout history, very few Elves have fought dragons directly. Currently, the only known living elf who has fought dragons and survived is Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm."
Igris rolled his eyes as if bored by these historical facts and waved his hand dismissively in the air.
"I know, I know. I am aware of the risks. Soul-burning fires, dragon scales that you can't even scratch without special weapons, wings that let it fly, blah, blah, blah."
Then, returning to his previous enthusiasm, he looked at Elrohir with curiosity.
"Are you coming or not?"
Faced with his friend's brazen audacity, Elrohir found himself speechless once again. The more he looked at the reckless man's ease, the more he felt a deep headache sprouting in his temples. However, Igris grinned all the more mischievously as he watched this desperation; he had always loved the opportunity to corner this noble duo and tease them.
"Oh, come on, Elrohir! If you and Elladan join us, our chances of success will definitely soar! After all, your grandfather killed the greatest dragon in history, Ancalagon the Black! You have the blood of a dragon slayer coursing through your veins!"
Upon hearing this final argument, the Twins literally started coughing as if choking on their own saliva. They completely hadn't expected Igris to escalate things to this degree and toy with them so brazenly. Yes, Eärendil, the father of their father Elrond, had indeed accomplished that epic feat, but that didn't automatically mean they were born with those same abilities or power. They were just about to open their mouths to defend themselves when a much more ancient, smooth, and elegant voice answered in their stead.
"Eärendil accomplished that under certain very specific conditions, young man. I kindly ask that you keep my grandsons out of this affair."
Hearing this familiar and mighty voice, the grinning expression on Igris's face vanished instantly. As a violent shiver racked his body, he slowly turned around, almost as if he had turned into a mechanical robot. When he saw Galadriel, sitting upon her pure white unicorn and gazing calmly at him with eyes as deep as the ocean, he couldn't help but scratch the back of his neck. Clearing his throat, he spoke in a dry voice.
"Ah... Lady Galadriel, so that pillar of fire had to do with you... Hahahaha... When did you arrive?"
Galadriel replied calmly as she slowly dismounted her steed without compromising her grace in the slightest.
"Right about the time you were declaring my grandsons to be dragon slayers."
Elrohir, lying on the ground at the time, respectfully greeted his grandmother upon seeing her, despite his pain.
"Welcome, Grandmother... I would love to hug you, but I cannot move."
Galadriel walked softly over to the twins and examined her grandsons' condition with a compassionate gaze. She gently passed her ancient power over them to slow the worsening of the insidious poison and the bleeding wounds. Breathing a sigh of relief from the soothing effects of the treatment, Elladan established a mental bridge to thank his grandmother for her help and her arrival. Galadriel, in turn, silently acknowledged his gratitude with a blink and a slight nod of her head.
Meanwhile, completely detached from this noble atmosphere surrounding them, Igris's eyes caught sight of Bamsı, who was slumped in a corner with his shoulders slumped, looking utterly gloomy. He called out to the unhappily waiting man.
"What happened to you?"
Seeing his brother in this state, Doğan let out a deep, exhausted sigh, while Bamsı, without moving from his spot, explained his grievance in a profoundly miserable tone.
"My Lord, this fight was far too short. I didn't get enough of it."
He then pointed a reproachful finger at the Crimson Archers standing guard just ahead.
"These men got between me and my opponents, and it made me very unhappy."
Hearing this, the Crimson Archers, with their bows slung over their shoulders, looked at each other in bewilderment for a moment, not knowing what to say, and shrugged as if to say there was nothing they could do. Igris chuckled dryly at Bamsı's insatiable appetite for battle and reassured him.
"There will be much bigger fights ahead, Bamsı. Believe me, so many that you will grow tired of fighting."
Hearing the word "fights," Bamsı slowly raised his head and looked at Igris with a hint of suspicion.
"Truly?"
Without a shred of hesitation on his face, Igris nodded confidently.
"A man's word."
Receiving this promise, Bamsı breathed a massive sigh of relief and regained his boundless energy. Quickly leaping to his feet and dusting the dirt off his legs, he turned to Igris, rubbing his grumbling stomach, and spoke.
"Understood, my Lord. Could we go back and eat now? I'm so hungry I could eat an entire lamb."