Chapter 1117: Chapter 1097: Undercurrents
Thranduil seemed resolute, he only wished to retrieve his late wife’s relic, the starlight white gems, from the Lonely Mountain.
Once he obtained them, he would retreat to the Dark Forest, closing the doors and living his own life.
Lann had no position to persuade him further. After all, as Thranduil mentioned, the elves were few in number and it took much time and effort for them to grow.
Yet most elves would still be beaten to death by just a dozen orcs.
For ordinary people, progress had its limits, and these limits were likely no match for the advantage of numbers.
Putting the elves on a battlefield with countless orcs was excessively cruel.
On the other hand, Lann, who had been astonished by Lady Galadriel’s power, soon found his Aron Dite at his waist starting to emit a faint glow spontaneously.
The sacred and pure Light of Eärendil.
The Demon Hunter drew out his long blade, and immediately the light on it connected with the starry sky as before.
It extended into a thin, wavering ribbon of light, stretching all the way to the southwest.
Towards Dorguldu’s direction.
"...Support?"
Leaning against the dragon fire-charred remains, Lann furrowed his brows slightly, looking at the Lady of the Lake’s Sword in his hand.
According to Thranduil, the only amount of Eärendil’s light remaining on the Middle-earth Continent was in a crystal vial held by Lady Galadriel.
And a portion of it had been given to the Lady of the Lake’s Sword, perhaps this missing part was causing some trouble for Lady Galadriel.
So, although separated by hundreds of kilometers, Aron Dite still sent over its light as support.
However... what kind of enemy would require Lady Galadriel, a Light Elf, to need Eärendil’s light for support?
Actually, the answer had always been obvious, but most insiders were unwilling to admit it due to the war-induced fear.
The only one capable of consuming such vast energy from Galadriel could be the fallen Maia—[Dark Demon Monarch] Sorun.
Even though the evil dragon had been slain, Lann, resting against the ruins, kept watching the starlight ribbon extending from his long blade.
Until the ribbon disappeared not long after, and nothing unusual happened in the sky anymore, did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.
He walked to the elves’ campfire and rested with them.
-----------------
Bard woke up from a blanket on the ground the next morning.
He was in a daze, but the cold morning fog jolted him wide awake.
The human archer sprang up alertly, one hand still instinctively reaching for his bow and arrow.
But finding nothing and looking around, he froze in confusion, scratching his head.
"You took quite a fall last night."
A voice came from behind Bard, and he turned to see Lann sitting on a charred stone step, holding a steaming bowl of fish soup.
Seeing Bard turn his head, the Demon Hunter raised his wooden bowl towards him.
"The elves caught a fish and added some salt to the stew, want a bowl?"
But Bard looked bewildered, pointing to his ear and shouting towards Lann at this short distance, "What did you say? I can’t hear you!"
Lann was also puzzled, quickly putting down the fish soup and running over to fiddle with Bard’s ear.
After much patting and adjusting, Bard’s condition visibly improved.
However, Bard still habitually shouted as he spoke because his hearing hadn’t fully recovered, and it would take at least a few more days for a full recovery.
"It was expected, I suppose."
Lann sighed with relief, releasing Bard’s ear and clapped his hands.
"You were too close to Smaug last night, first it kept roaring at you, and then the shockwave from the falling lightning bolt blew you away... it’s a blessing your hearing can recover."
In fact, the loud crash of the Qilin’s broken horn and the subsequent lightning claps last night even made Lann subconsciously cover his ears.
His eardrums throbbed in pain at that.
"Here, wear this."
As he spoke, Lann took a small Shield Emblem off his belt, marked with an abstract pattern of a white wind.
"What is this?" Bard took it and shouted curiously, "A magical tool of you wizards?"
"You could say that, it can speed up your recovery. Just borrowing it to you, it needs to be returned."
Bard nodded, of course, he wasn’t a greedy person, or rather, after Smaug was drawn by the dwarves’ greed and caused such disaster,
being a descendant of the Lord of River Valley City, he should be the most wary of greed.
And soon, Bard also felt the extraordinary nature of the small Shield Emblem in his hand.
After being thrown away last night, the wood chips and glass shards from the building debris had left many fine cuts on his exposed skin.
However, the alchemy technology of the New Continent Expedition Team, the functionality of the ’Early Recovery Stone’ began to take effect, and he immediately felt the pain of those small wounds on his body diminish considerably.
And from the square not far away came the relaxed laughter of the elves.
Smaug’s massive corpse lay quietly on the ruins of Long Lake Town, but people were no longer too concerned.
The elves were holding a basket of fish, playing with the Qilin.
This creature, noble in appearance and imposing in demeanor, fought fiercely with Smaug last night, forcibly blasting one side of the evil dragon’s wing bone, gaining the elves’ affection and respect.
After asking Lann about the Qilin’s diet this morning, the elves caught a lot of fish, but left only five or six for themselves, with the rest being used to feed the Qilin.
The Qilin certainly didn’t refuse, as the elves in this world have a natural affinity; they were the firstborn created by Ilúvatar, the Creator God.
Moreover, the Qilin had just lost its azure horn, though this time it seemed either due to experience or adaptation.
In any case, it was in much better condition than after its last horn loss.
But to regrow that azure high-energy crystal sharp horn, food was certainly essential.
The sound of hooves treading on the walkway rose, drawing closer.
This was not the sound of the Qilin’s hooves, but Thranduil’s mount, a majestic stag with imposing antlers.
"What are you planning to do next?"
After approaching, the Elf King asked Lann and Bard while sitting on the stag’s back.
"Are you leaving?" Lann stood up, looking at Thranduil.
"Yes, we need to go back and tell everyone the dragon is dead, so my people can relax their tense nerves."
As Thranduil spoke, his gaze drifted beyond Smaug’s upturned corpse, to the distant, solitary, towering snow mountain.
"Also, I should prepare to reclaim our nation’s treasures, my late wife’s relics."
"Then I wish you success. Sorlin will return the Starlight White Gemstone to you; he’s reasonable."
"I hope so." Thranduil repeated with a sneer, "After entering Lonely Mountain and seeing the treasures accumulated by his ancestors... he better be."
Seeing that it involved the racial conflicts between dwarves and elves, Lann wisely chose to keep silent on this issue and shifted the topic.
"The townsfolk of Long Lake Town have moved to the ruins of River Valley City, and we plan to head there too."
The Demon Hunter patted Bard’s shoulder, but since his ears hadn’t healed, Bard couldn’t hear anything and merely nodded blankly.
"We might need some help."
"Just say the word, Yadanisil. Everyone in the Lonely Mountain Region owes you a personal favor, and we elves aren’t ungrateful."
"River Valley City needs food and warm clothing." Lann turned his head to look at the snow mountain gleaming in the sun. "The weather seems like it’s going to snow soon."
The temperature was dropping; Smaug’s dragon fire almost burned down the entire Long Lake Town last night, but by this morning, without a dam to block it, the town’s waterways were filled with ice floes from the lake.
"So, just supplies." Thranduil nodded easily, while pulling the reins to turn his stag. "We’ll be at River Valley City soon, so don’t worry. Farewell."
Lann waved to the elves.
Bard, although unclear about their conversation, understood the waving gesture as a farewell.
The elves executed orders and possessed a millennial understanding among themselves, making their actions unexpectedly swift and fluid.
Just when Thranduil appeared riding the stag, the elves surrounding the Qilin either bowed or waved goodbye to the New Continent Ancient Dragon courteously.
Then deftly packed their belongings and followed Thranduil back towards the Dark Forest.
The town, originally devoid of people, was thoroughly quiet after the departure of twenty-one elves.
Only the Qilin remained, with feelings of curiosity and resentment, occasionally using its hooves or lowering its head to nudge at Smaug’s now completely cold corpse.
With the death of the evil dragon, the foul dragon stench seemed to have been cleansed by the Light of Airendil on Aron Dite.
So the Qilin wasn’t provoked to snort by the smell on the evil dragon.
Though Bard’s ears were inconvenient at the moment, after facing Smaug directly last night, he deeply missed his three children.
So he quickly finished the remaining fish soup and started packing bedding into bundles for the road.
While Bard packed up, Lann didn’t stay idle.
Last night he had packed away the remains of his armor... it could really only be called remains.
Though the Valerian steel main plates and chain mail were intact, the connecting and lining fabrics and leathers were all burnt.
The entire Bear School Grandmaster armor now lay as a pile of disassembled plates. Needless to say, the enchantment that was supposed to be interconnected certainly failed.
Lann, now wearing the silk lining from the armor, found a still oil-slicked and fish-smelling old sailcloth in the ruins of Long Lake Town to pack everything up.
Approaching Smaug’s corpse, Lann placed this bag on the Qilin’s back and patted the ancient dragon’s head.
"Honestly, without the azure horn, it’s pretty nice to touch."
"Neigh-huff!"
The Qilin neighed discontentedly, lowering its head to push Lann’s chest, nudging this snark-talking humorous person away.
