Chapter 20 — No More Pretending, Cards on the Table?
The hidden passage was long and winding.
Gandalf's group walked for a long time before finally emerging from it.
At once, Rivendell, like something out of a dream, unfolded before their eyes.
Gandalf had been here before and showed little reaction.
Bilbo, who had only ever heard tales of Rivendell back in Bag End, was struck speechless by its beauty.
As for the thirteen dwarves…
From a certain perspective, dwarven aesthetics were rather peculiar.
The twelve dwarves other than Thorin Oakenshield merely found the place mildly novel.
Thorin himself, however—
Was deeply displeased.
Naturally, his irritation stemmed from the fact that Rivendell was Elven territory—enemy territory in his eyes. And this was despite the fact that Rivendell lay far from Erebor, and that the fall of Erebor and Moria had absolutely nothing to do with it.
None of that mattered to Thorin.
Thorin Oakenshield hated all Elves.
If this were the modern age, he'd be a textbook racist.
"Gandalf," Thorin said after a few seconds, his resentment growing the longer he looked around and thought of his lost kingdom. He strode forward and spoke with iron certainty.
"I said it before—I will never seek help from my enemies."
Gandalf was patient by nature, but even he was beginning to struggle with Thorin's stupidity and pointless pride.
"There are no enemies of yours here."
"Elves cannot be trusted," Thorin insisted grimly.
"The disaster of Erebor already proved that. They will stop us. They may even betray us."
Every race in Middle-earth had its flaws.
Having walked these lands for centuries, Gandalf understood the flaws of Elves all too well.
"We need Lord Elrond to interpret that map."
"Do you still want to reclaim Erebor?"
Thorin wanted it more than anything. He clenched his jaw and snarled,
"If anything goes wrong, the responsibility is yours alone."
Gandalf had no patience for childish blame.
"Once inside, I'll do the talking. And I expect you to maintain at least a basic level of courtesy and dignity."
Thorin shot Gandalf a glare, unwilling to argue further.
Gandalf, having said enough, turned to the others.
"Everyone—please follow me."
The moment of pretense was over.
The group began moving deeper inside.
Time slipped by quickly.
When Gandalf's party reached the long bridge before Rivendell's palace, Smaug, still in the form of a raven, stepped out of the hidden passage.
He paused on high ground, gazing down at Rivendell's beauty for a moment, then glanced at Gandalf and the others crossing the bridge below. Having walked enough for one day, Smaug spread his wings, ready to fly down.
At that instant—
[You have arrived in Rivendell.]
[The Elven Lord Elrond and the Lady of Light, Galadriel, though they have never seen you in person nor fought you, both maintain a hostility level of 5 toward you (out of 10), for the sake of Middle-earth's peace.]
[Mission One: Reduce both Elven rulers' hostility toward you to 2.]
[Reward: One Silver Blind Box.]
[Mission Two: Reduce both Elven rulers' hostility toward you to 0.]
[Reward: One Silver Blind Box (Upgraded).]
[Mission Three: Reduce both Elven rulers' hostility toward you to a negative value.]
[Reward: One Silver Blind Box (Supreme).]
[Note: Rewards are not cumulative. All missions must be completed before leaving Rivendell.]
...?
The first two missions were easy enough to understand.
But the third—negative hostility?
That meant positive feelings.
In other words, to obtain the Supreme Silver Blind Box, Elrond and Galadriel would have to regard him as a friend.
Smaug laughed silently.
He was certain this was an impossible task within the limited time before leaving Rivendell.
But that was fine.
Completing even one of the first two missions would already be a win.
Though, frankly speaking, even those were far from easy.
After all—
Gandalf failing to recognize him was one thing.
Lord Elrond might fail to see through him.
But Galadriel?
There was a nine-in-ten chance she'd recognize him at a glance.
Which meant that if he wanted even a single Silver Blind Box—
He'd have to come clean.
And once he did, what would happen?
War?
Hard to say.
Then again… Galadriel was extremely powerful. Could she kill him?
Smaug wasn't sure.
"Then let's give it a try."
He didn't believe he'd die here.
He could fly. If he couldn't win, he could run.
And besides—he held far too much crucial information. He was confident he could keep Galadriel from striking.
Having weighed it all, Smaug wasted no more time and flew down.
---
Gandalf's group crossed the bridge and stopped in a small plaza.
A few minutes later, Elrond arrived from outside with his guards.
Seeing the elves armored and mounted, clearly in a battle-ready formation, Thorin Oakenshield—who already hated elves—immediately shouted,
"Ready your weapons!"
As if a handful of dwarves could actually overpower Elrond and his warriors inside Rivendell.
Up in a nearby tree, Smaug watched the scene and felt genuinely speechless at Thorin's intelligence.
Elrond really does have remarkable patience.
Out of boredom, Smaug imagined it from another angle:
A group of rude strangers breaks into your home uninvited, sees you, and immediately adopts a battle stance.
I'd tell them to go to hell.
Whether as the dragon Smaug or as the human Amino, he was certain he didn't possess such saintly restraint.
In the plaza—
"Gandalf," Elrond greeted warmly. It had been many years since they last met.
"Lord Elrond," Gandalf replied with a smile, quietly exhaling in relief.
They exchanged a few words, catching up briefly.
Then Elrond turned to Thorin, studied him calmly, and said,
"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thráin."
At that, Thorin immediately adopted the posture of a prince and replied bluntly,
"I don't believe we've met."
Up in the tree, Smaug felt only one thought surface:
Saintly patience.
Not caring to watch further, he spread his wings and flew deeper into the palace grounds.
Gandalf's ear twitched at the faint sound of wings. He looked up and spotted Smaug flying inward.
So it followed us in, Gandalf thought, mildly surprised.
That confident it won't be recognized?
Gandalf had already intended to discuss the raven with Elrond. Now he realized—he couldn't delay. It had to be soon.
---
Smaug flew into a wooded area, circled briefly, and spotted a few plump squirrels.
On a whim, he transformed into one.
He'd always liked squirrels. This was indulgence, pure and simple.
Once transformed—
Squeak squeak~
He grabbed a couple of pinecones, stuffed them into his mouth, and began wandering through Rivendell at leisure, sightseeing—
And casually seeing whether he might catch a glimpse of Elrond's daughter, Arwen.
The half-elven princess was… mildly interesting.
Just mildly.
Smaug only wanted a look.
Nothing more.