--- Igris' Point of View ---
As I continued kneading the dough, I glanced at the stunned Elves and shrugged.
"What's so strange about it? You take trees and turn them into elegant furniture. You can do the same with food."
Thalanor spoke in disbelief.
"But those two things aren't the same at all!?"
I looked at him and replied calmly.
"If you change your perspective, they're not that different. Someone who looks at wood as a carpenter creates decorations and furniture, but someone who looks at these ingredients as a chef can create entirely new flavors… of course, that involves trial and error. Maybe that goes against Elven sensibilities, since there's always the risk of wasting food."
Caelthir chuckled, stopped what he was doing, and looked at me.
"Your way of seeing things is different from anyone I know."
I shrugged.
"Everyone's perspective is different. If it weren't, life would be terribly boring."
Caelthir nodded.
"You're right. Everyone sees the world differently. When we look at vegetables, we see food—something that doesn't need processing, meant to be eaten as it is. But you want to work it, transform it into a feast of flavors. That's what we find intriguing."
After finishing his words, he looked at the others.
"Thalanor, Nimraeth. It's time for breakfast. Let's serve Lord Elrond and his family."
The two Elves nodded, and I spoke as well.
"Take some of what I made too. They might like it."
Nimraeth nodded.
"They'll definitely find it interesting."
Thalanor took four plates, filled the bowls, placed them on trays, and they left. Only Bilbo and I remained in the kitchen. Once I finished kneading the dough, I wrapped it in cloth and set it aside to rise, then walked over to Bilbo.
"All right, you've peeled plenty of potatoes. Now cut them into wedges. I'll handle the boiled ones. Time to speed things up."
Bilbo nodded, stood up, stretched his legs, then turned, grabbed the bucket full of peeled potatoes, and moved to the marble counter. He started slicing them, while I began peeling my own. We worked quickly—time was short.
"Igris?"
"Hm?"
"Why do people call you the Black Knight?"
"Hm… It's a nickname people came up with. I didn't give it to myself, and frankly, I have nothing to do with knighthood. Even my fighting style is different from theirs."
"Then why did they come up with such a title?"
"… Probably because of the plate armor I wear."
"Okay, but even if your armor resembles a knight's, why 'Black'? They could've just called you a knight."
"Did you forget the color of my armor?"
"I know, but when the Elves talk about you, your title feels… heavy."
"… It is. My methods are harsh. I don't follow standard ideas of justice. I take a different path—and it works."
"What kind of methods?"
"…"
Should I tell him? Or should I not? I hesitated. I turned my head, looked into Bilbo's eyes shining with curiosity, and sighed. Me and my soft side… I suppose a few simple examples wouldn't hurt.
--- Third-Person Point of View ---
At the highest floor of the building where Igris and Bilbo were, Elrond had just finished writing a new stanza of poetry and was watching the rising sun. His thoughts drifted back to the warnings Igris had given Gandalf in his room the previous night.
'…He knows who the spirit summoner in Dol Guldur is, but he isn't saying it…'
Elrond began tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table.
'Then why won't he say it? Is it because he doesn't trust us? Or is there another reason?'
He rested his free hand against his chin and frowned in thought.
'When I saw Gandalf last night, he was unusually tense… What could Igris have told him? I haven't seen him that unsettled in years. It's also strange how much respect Thorin and the Dwarves have for Igris. And those human rangers, Gilan and Halt, are exceptionally skilled. The ones who call themselves Khuzait are no slouches in archery either—especially mounted archery… yet I've never heard of such a group. The young Hobbit told me what he knew about them, but I've never heard of Forest Wardens, the Kingdom of Veagir, or the Khuzaits… Even Gandalf doesn't know where they come from. Are these people from another continent? Are they newly emerged, or newly formed peoples?'
As Elrond pondered these thoughts, a voice echoed in his mind.
'He truly is a fascinating individual.'
Elrond turned toward the source of the voice, inclined his head politely, and greeted her.
"Good morning, my lady. I hope you were able to rest comfortably."
Galadriel nodded calmly, stepped beside him, and gazed at the view as she spoke.
"Yes, thank you for your hospitality, Lord Elrond. Any place where my daughter and my grandchild are cannot trouble me."
She then looked at Elrond with a composed expression and continued.
"It seems you discussed some rather interesting matters after my granddaughter and I departed. What happened?"
Elrond sighed and recounted the events. Galadriel asked thoughtfully,
"Is there evidence?"
Elrond nodded.
"It appears so."
Galadriel continued gracefully.
"So there truly is a spirit summoner in Dol Guldur… What do you think?"
Elrond sighed deeply.
"I would prefer it not to be true. Corpse-raisers merely control bodies, but true spirit summoners call forth real souls and force them to fight, using all the skills they possessed in life… and there are far too many heroes buried in Middle-earth."
Galadriel nodded.
"If Mithrandir and Radagast are correct, this is a threat we cannot ignore… but you seem troubled by something else."
Elrond nodded.
"I believe the Black Knight knows who the spirit summoner is… but he refuses to say."
Galadriel looked surprised.
"What makes you think that?"
Elrond explained his reasoning. After listening, Galadriel folded her arms and grew contemplative.
"Yes… It is strange that Igris analyzes his enemy in such a manner… but that does not necessarily mean he knows who his enemy is."
Elrond nodded.
"True, but after speaking privately with Gandalf, he became even more tense. I don't know what they discussed, yet I have a strong feeling it is related to this matter."
Galadriel thought for a moment before speaking.
"I will discuss this with Mithrandir after breakfast."
Elrond nodded, then continued.
"Then what exactly is the Black Knight a hybrid of? Were you able to determine his nature?"
Galadriel tilted her head slightly and thought.
"…To be honest, I am not entirely certain… but if my suspicions are correct, matters will become rather complicated."
Elrond nodded again.
"Did you enter his mind?"
Galadriel shook her head.
"No. My instincts tell me not to. The one before me is not an ordinary individual. If I were to do such a thing without asking, I would turn him against the White Council. Moreover, if his nature truly aligns with what I suspect, such an action could have severe consequences. I would rather not enter Igris' mind."
Elrond's eyebrows rose in surprise. He spoke in a lightly suggestive tone.
"I never imagined you would think that way…"
One of Galadriel's eyebrows lifted. She understood the implication well enough and spoke inquisitively.
"Do you believe I enjoy entering people's minds without permission?"
Elrond instinctively thought,
'Yes…'
The moment he realized his mistake, his face darkened, and a thin drop of sweat slid down his forehead.
'Oh no!'
Galadriel's eyebrow twitched. A dark smile appeared on her face as she spoke in a low but threatening voice, without raising it.
"Elrond—"
At that very moment, Arwen entered the study.
"Father, Grandmother, it's time for breakfast."
Elrond let out a breath of relief.
'My dear, you have no idea what you just saved me from!'
Galadriel shot Elrond a sharp look.
'We will talk later, Elrond!'
Although Elrond nodded, his mind was already racing, forming plans and backup plans to avoid being alone with Galadriel. Elrond and Galadriel turned toward Arwen and nodded. Galadriel stood up and gently cupped Arwen's cheeks with both hands. Arwen froze in surprise as Galadriel spoke with satisfaction.
"Still so soft."
Blushing in embarrassment, Arwen protested helplessly.
"Grandmother! I'm not a child anymore!"
Galadriel chuckled.
"Compared to me, you are, my dear granddaughter."
As Arwen sighed helplessly, Galadriel's voice echoed within her mind. Galadriel took Arwen's hands and glanced at a particular spot on her arm.
'You left my side very quickly last night, so I didn't get the chance to ask… what happened to your arm?'
Arwen flinched but quickly composed herself and replied calmly.
'Nothing happened. I was distracted while walking and hit it on a door handle while passing through an open door.'
Galadriel's eyebrows rose gracefully.
'Young lady, you are quite poor at lying—and I am experienced enough to recognize a bruise caused by a punch.'
Her voice turned slightly mocking.
'Besides, I have never heard an excuse as absurd as an Elf bruising her arm by hitting a door handle.'
Arwen froze in place, tense. She could manage her father or mother, but her grandmother—a Lady of Light over eight thousand years old? Perhaps if she lived another five thousand years and trained relentlessly, she might fool her, but right now, that was impossible. Arwen quickly pulled herself together and spoke.
'It's not important!'
A curious smile appeared on Galadriel's face.
'Is that so? I believe it is important—this is the first time my granddaughter has lied to me.'
Growing more nervous, Arwen was about to look to her father for help, but there was nothing where Elrond had been standing. As Arwen stared in shock, Galadriel noticed her reaction and followed her gaze, only to realize that Elrond had strategically withdrawn, leaving grandmother and granddaughter alone. She looked around in surprise and muttered,
"When did he leave?"
Seizing the moment of distraction, Arwen tried to turn and leave, but Galadriel's hand caught hers.
"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"
Arwen froze. Slowly turning back, she met the dark, frowning gaze of her grandmother, and her heart gave a small, frightened leap. Galadriel spoke in a refined tone.
"Am I that frightening?"
Arwen swallowed and thought,
'Yes.'
Galadriel's expression darkened further, and Arwen realized her mistake, growing even more tense.
'Oh no…'
Galadriel smiled warmly—but the smile did not feel comforting at all. In a gentle yet wise voice, she spoke.
"It seems we need to have a little talk, my dear granddaughter."
Arwen swallowed and accepted her fate.
"All right… Grandmother…"
Inwardly, she complained,
'Why did you leave so fast, Father!?'
Meanwhile, in the dining hall, Celebrian sat at the table, waiting for the rest of the family. Thalanor, Caelthir, and Nimraeth—the kitchen attendants—were placing silver-lidded trays on the table. Celebrian glanced toward the door, puzzled.
'Why are they late?'
At that moment, Elrond descended gracefully onto the balcony. Calmly approaching the door, he peeked inside, and when no one was looking, he silently took his seat beside his wife and spoke.
"Caelthir, what have you prepared for breakfast today?"
Those in the room flinched and turned toward the voice. The kitchen attendants thought simultaneously,
'When did the Lord arrive?' ×3
Celebrian looked at her husband in surprise.
'Elrond has improved considerably—I didn't even sense him.'
Caelthir composed himself and spoke.
"We brought carrots, apples, grapes, lettuce, peaches, olives, tomatoes, and peppers, my lord. Also, the Black Knight—companion of Thorin Oakenshield—requested to prepare food for his group in the kitchen. He cooked something quite different from vegetables and asked me to bring it to you."
Elrond and Celebrian were surprised. Celebrian asked curiously,
"The Black Knight cooks? That man who uses… dark systems of punishment?"
Caelthir shrugged.
"I was surprised as well, my lady, but he is quite skilled in the kitchen."
Elrond smiled.
"Interesting… then what did he send us?"
As Caelthir was about to answer, Celebrian interjected.
"Elrond, please wait until everyone is at the table. Our daughter and my mother have not arrived yet."
Elrond sighed softly and nodded. Meanwhile, Celebrian asked with curiosity,
"How exactly did you enter the room?"
Elrond turned his head and looked at his wife.
"You look beautiful today as well, my love."
Celebrian froze for a moment, blushed, then quickly recovered.
"You won't distract me this time, Elrond."
Elrond nodded and replied.
"I merely stretched my body."
Celebrian stared in surprise, then glanced at the open balcony behind him, realizing how he had entered, and spoke calmly.
"I see. Where are Arwen and my mother?"
Though Celebrian was curious why her husband had come through the balcony, she could not raise the issue while the attendants were present. She did not want rumors spreading that the Lord of Rivendell was sneaking into his own home like a thief. Elrond folded his arms across his chest and replied.
"The last I saw them, they were talking on the terrace of my study."
Elrond was completely unaware of what had transpired in the study. He had simply taken advantage of Galadriel's distraction to jump down from the balcony and leave grandmother and granddaughter alone—there was no other reason. As Celebrian nodded, she asked her husband,
"What kind of person do you think the Black Knight is?"
Elrond thought for a moment before answering.
"Based on the reports I've read and the rumors I've heard, he's the kind of person I would never want as an enemy—unpredictable, honest, fair, insane, slightly mad, and utterly fearless. I haven't seen someone the Dwarves respect this much in centuries. He has accepted many dangerous missions and completed them all. Even his failed missions were due to delays or the task having already been completed. He carries significant weight among mercenaries."
Celebrian looked somewhat surprised.
"I haven't seen anyone receive such praise from you in years."
Elrond shrugged.
"It's not praise. It's simply the conclusion reached after analyzing what I have."
Celebrian asked again, intrigued.
"Then why did you say he does not know fear? Because he is brave?"
Elrond shook his head.
"No. This is not bravery—it is the complete erasure of fear, the denial of it, not even knowing what it is."
Celebrian was stunned.
"Can a person truly erase fear?"
Elrond thought for a moment.
"I'm not certain… but according to the young Hobbit, the Black Knight views death as an old friend. It is difficult to frighten someone who does not fear death and even considers it a companion. Gandalf said something similar."
Celebrian was surprised; it was the first time she had heard such a perspective on death. As she was about to speak again, the door to the room opened. A soft light filled the hall as Galadriel entered with all her elegance, followed by her granddaughter Arwen, who looked slightly paler than usual. She seemed mildly exhausted after the ordeal she had endured with her grandmother—by ordeal, it was Galadriel who spoke, and Arwen who listened. Elrond was momentarily surprised by his daughter's appearance but did not dwell on it. After all, Galadriel would never harm her own granddaughter. Celebrian spoke with curiosity.
"Mother, why are you late?"
Galadriel calmly took the seat of honor, directly opposite Elrond, and Arwen sat beside her. Galadriel spoke in a cool, controlled voice.
"My son-in-law and my granddaughter delayed me a little."
After saying this, she looked at Elrond.
"And when exactly did you leave our side?"
Celebrian turned to her husband in surprise. A voice inside her told her that her husband had somehow managed to anger her mother. Elrond, however, did not change his expression at all.
"I left the room while you were speaking with my daughter, my lady. I thought it would allow you to converse more comfortably with your granddaughter."
Arwen looked at her father with hurt in her eyes. She had not wanted to be alone with her grandmother at all this morning; she even felt as if her father had betrayed her. Galadriel, however, maintained her composure.
"Is that so? Then thank you for your thoughtfulness."
Elrond nodded as he replied.
"It is no trouble at all. Spending time with your granddaughter is your right."
As the two spoke, an icy atmosphere seemed to settle over the room for no apparent reason. Celebrian was now certain that Elrond had angered her mother. Arwen, completely unaware of what was happening, had become the first casualty and sat quietly in her place. At that moment, a voice echoed in Elrond's mind.
'Our conversation is not finished, Elrond. We will speak after breakfast.'
The voice was cold, carrying a faint trace of anger. Yet Elrond showed no reaction and instead addressed the attendants.
"You may serve the food."
As the attendants moved into action, Elrond replied to Galadriel within his mind.
'Unfortunately, I do not have as much free time as you do, my lady. I must attend to my guests and fulfill my responsibilities to Rivendell.'
Galadriel's brows drew together slightly.
'And what exactly do you mean by that? And how did you come to the conclusion that I have free time?'
Elrond responded calmly.
'I made no implication, my lady. While you spend time with your daughter and granddaughter, I have a realm to govern. Not everyone can leave all responsibilities to their spouse, as you do.'
As Elrond let out a weary sigh, Galadriel's eyebrow twitched. Yes, she was here because she had fewer responsibilities—but she was clearly displeased by Elrond's thoughts about her this morning.
'We will still talk.'
Elrond replied without changing his expression.
'My lady, you are in my mind without my permission. Please leave.'
For a brief moment, Galadriel felt as though she had been choked. Gracefully, she picked up the milk in front of her and took a sip. She had not expected Elrond to turn the situation against her so deftly. Given the nature of their conversation this morning, if she remained in Elrond's mind, she would be in the wrong—so she had no choice but to withdraw. A feeling within her told her that speaking with Elrond alone would be extremely difficult.
Elrond, meanwhile, enjoyed his silent victory and looked down at the table. A red-colored dish caught his attention.
"So this is the dish prepared by the Black Knight."
Galadriel and Arwen flinched and looked at the red food. Galadriel asked curiously,
"The Black Knight can cook?"
Celebrian nodded.
"Yes. I was surprised as well."
Arwen looked at the dish with curiosity and asked,
"What is it called?"
Nimraeth replied in a calm voice.
"Igris said the name of this dish is menemen."
Arwen tilted her head slightly.
"A strange name."
Nimraeth responded again.
"Igris said that he did not name it himself, my lady."
At that moment, Elrond took a spoonful of the dish and tasted it carefully.
"Hot pepper, olive oil, tomatoes, eggs, and salt—an excellent harmony. It is surprising that something like this can come purely from vegetables."
Celebrian nodded in agreement.
"Yes, it is surprising. Human and Dwarven dishes usually contain meat, or vegetables are turned into soup. This is the first time I have seen such a dish. It is also suitable for breakfast—light and satisfying."
---
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