—Third-Person Point of View—
After Galadriel and Arwen each took a spoonful of the unfamiliar dish before them, they reacted differently. Galadriel spoke without changing her composed expression.
"Not bad. It's unlike many things I've tasted before."
Arwen, on the other hand, took another bite in surprise.
"Was this really made using just two kinds of vegetables and eggs?"
Nimraeth nodded.
"Yes."
Galadriel spoke in a calm voice.
"Interesting…"
Elrond looked at Caelthir with curiosity.
"Did he prepare only this for the Dwarves?"
Caelthir shook his head in the negative as he replied.
"No. He was preparing two different kinds of dishes with potatoes, and he had also prepared bread dough. But since your breakfast hour was approaching, he could only send this dish."
Elrond nodded.
"I see."
The Dwarves currently staying in Rivendell usually woke shortly after sunrise, whereas Elves sometimes did not sleep at all or rose much earlier. Elrond spoke calmly.
"Then how did the Black Knight cook while his arm was in that condition?"
Caelthir looked at Elrond with confusion.
"What do you mean, my lord?"
Elrond continued, looking directly at Caelthir.
"Igris's arm resembled that of a monster. Did he not struggle at all while cooking?"
The three kitchen attendants stared at one another in shock. Remembering Igris's two muscular arms, Caelthir looked back at Elrond in disbelief.
"My lord… Igris's arms were normal."
Everyone in the room was stunned. Galadriel spoke with keen interest.
"So he did not have a black, scaled, clawed arm covered in spikes?"
Caelthir shook his head from side to side. Galadriel rested her chin on one hand.
"Remarkable… Judging by Igris's behavior, it seemed as though he was experiencing the transformation of his arm for the first time… and he reverted it back to normal without any guidance?"
Elrond replied calmly.
"That's how it appears."
Arwen looked at her mother curiously.
"Is that surprising? After all, werewolves and shapeshifters can transform their bodies as well."
Celebrian looked at her daughter gently.
"Yes, but transforming one's body is not easy, my dear. With training that begins in childhood, one can alter the body, and emotions influence that transformation. Mastery requires time and effort. Although Igris is young, in his twenties, his transformation happened for the first time—and it was the result of an accident."
Elrond nodded.
"Your mother is right, my dear. And despite that, Igris returned his arm to its original state within a few hours… My only question is whether he did it deliberately or by accident."
Arwen asked,
"Does it make a difference?"
Elrond shook his head, but Galadriel answered.
"There is a great difference between controlled power and uncontrolled power, Arwen. One occurs purely by chance and depends entirely on luck. Controlled power, however, is something entirely within your grasp—you can use it whenever you wish."
Elrond nodded.
"The fact that Igris could control his power by his own will so early, without any training, indicates that his potential is extremely high."
Galadriel nodded slowly.
"And that is precisely why this situation is both astonishing… and frightening."
—The Kitchen—
—Igris's Point of View—
Alright! Finally, I peeled the last potato and mashed them all into a smooth puree. Now I needed to tell Bilbo what to do next. When I turned my head to look at him, he was slicing the final potato.
"Bilbo, add oil, red pepper flakes, black pepper, and thyme, then mix it thoroughly. After that, arrange them on the trays! I'll make the potato patties."
Bilbo nodded, crossed his arms, and replied.
"Alright, leave it to me—but you have to explain the recipe to me later."
I nodded and began chopping parsley. After finely mincing it, I added it to the bowl of mashed potatoes. Then I added flour, followed by red pepper paste taken from my inventory. When I glanced at the jar, my heart sank—it was running low. After this, I would only have three jars of pepper paste left… I would have liked to make more back when I was in the Blackbeard colony, but I had no space… If only the system had arrived a bit earlier, I could have stored it in my inventory… Unfortunately, spatial bags don't have infinite space.
I sighed and continued. I added garlic, red pepper flakes, and black pepper, then mixed everything well. After adding salt and mixing some more, I took portions of the mixture and shaped them into patties. After a while, a small tower of potato patties had formed in front of me.
Just as I was about to crack the eggs, Bilbo called out to me.
"Igris, I've used all the trays. Once these are baked, I can place the rest. What should I do now?"
I nodded and replied.
"Slide the trays into the stone oven. Add wood to increase the heat. When the potatoes start turning orange or become crispy, they're done."
Bilbo nodded and focused on his task. I turned back and cracked several eggs into a bowl, added salt, and whisked them. Then I moved to a fire pit and threw in plenty of wood, stoking the flames. I placed a pan over the fire, poured in cooking oil, dipped my potato patties into the egg mixture, and coated them thoroughly. Once fully covered, I placed them into the hot pan.
The sizzling sound of oil filled the kitchen, followed by the rich aroma of frying eggs and potatoes. When I noticed Bilbo had finished his task, I called out to him.
"Bilbo, come here."
Bilbo approached. I handed him one cooked patty. He took it in surprise but immediately began hopping it between his hands and shouted,
"IGRIS! THIS IS REALLY HOT! AH!"
Bilbo tossed the patty into the air and caught it several times. The sight made me burst out laughing.
"HAHAHA!"
After blowing on it to cool it down, Bilbo finally took a bite. His eyes widened as he looked at me in astonishment.
"This is amazing!"
I chuckled as I took the cooked patties off the pan.
"It is. It's one of my favorite dishes. Now, while I make the bread, you cook the rest."
Bilbo tossed the remaining piece of patty into his mouth, nodded enthusiastically, and moved back to the stove. I washed my hands and returned to the risen dough. I quickly floured the counter and began shaping bread from portions of the dough. In some of them, I made small indentations and added butter and cheese. Then I slid all of them into the oven and stoked the fire. While waiting for the bread to bake, I leaned against the counter and asked Bilbo,
"Bilbo… where's my armor?"
Bilbo looked at me.
"I don't know. You should ask Thorin… You seem to like your armor."
My eyebrow twitched.
"Yes, I do. And if you had armor worth over eighty thousand gold, you'd be worried too."
Bilbo nodded.
"You're right…"
As he placed a cooked patty onto a plate, he suddenly froze and stared at me.
"HOW MUCH GOLD?!"
I shrugged.
"Why do you think it didn't even get scratched after taking that many sword and hammer blows? That armor was forged from some of the strongest metals in Arda and worked on by Dwarves for over a year. Armor that strong and well-made is rare…"
I let out an irritated sigh.
"But thinking that those half-elf witch's arrowheads were made of moonsteel drives me insane! The arrows were already high quality, and she even infused them with Aura! There are three holes in my armor! Damn it."
The thought alone made my blood boil. If I ever caught that witch, I'd crush her head with my bare hands! Tch!
I turned and pulled a tray of potatoes out of the stone oven to check them. When I tasted one, I heard a light crunch—they were perfectly crispy. I took one and handed it to Bilbo. He tasted it and looked surprised.
"This is great too. I didn't think anything besides bread could get this crispy. Is it because of the oil?"
I nodded.
"Yes. If you fry them in a pan full of oil, they get even crispier—but I didn't want to waste that much oil, and it's not healthy. Baking them works better."
Bilbo nodded in amazement.
"I always thought potatoes were only boiled in water, roasted in embers, or added to soup. I didn't expect to eat things like this today."
I chuckled.
"You haven't even seen most of the dishes yet. Since we'll be staying here for a while and have some free time, get ready to try new flavors."
Bilbo nodded eagerly.
"I'm looking forward to it."
I nodded back and went to check the bread in the stone oven. I pulled one out with a paddle and tested it—it was still soft inside. It needed a few more minutes, so I slid it back in. It looked like everything would be ready shortly.
I hoped the Dwarves would like the food.
—Third-Person Point of View—
—The Dwarves' Quarters—
In one of Rivendell's elegantly designed corridors, loud snoring echoed through the air. Though the sun had already risen, most of the Dwarves were still asleep. Normally, Dwarves woke early to work in mines or forges, but at the moment, they had nothing to do. Their days consisted of sleeping, complaining, and training.
In one of these rooms slept Bombur, Bofur, and Ori.
Bombur—the glutton of the group—was smiling broadly, thick drool spilling from his mouth. Poor Dwarf, who had suffered from a meat shortage recently, was dreaming of a grand feast overflowing with meat. He was happily devouring steaks piled high before him.
As he ate, he turned his head and looked at Bofur and Ori, who were bringing him food. With great pride, Bofur placed venison chops in front of Bombur.
"Bombur! This was hunted personally by Thorin and carefully cooked by Igris! Just for you! Our king values you—eat with pride!"
Bombur nodded solemnly. He pulled out a cloth, tied it around his neck like a bib, and spoke as he carefully picked up the meat.
"Don't worry, cousin. I'll eat it with the utmost care!"
Bofur nodded seriously. Ori opened a large barrel of beer and placed it in front of Bombur.
"Here you go, Bombur. Don't eat the meat dry."
Bombur nodded.
"Thank you, cousin, but the meat Igris cooks is always tender and juicy! It could be eaten even without beer—but as a Dwarf, I never say no to beer!"
Bombur calmly grabbed the barrel and began drinking without pause, savoring every gulp with deep affection. He wanted to enjoy the beer he hadn't tasted in so long to the fullest. After several seconds, he set the barrel down and let out an enthusiastic belch.
BÖÖÖÖÖRRRRRGGGGG
Wiping his face happily, Bombur took a bite of meat and chewed slowly, savoring every flavor. He ate deliberately, patiently, with the dignity of a true gourmet.
"Tender, perfect fat ratio! The spices add a wonderful flavor! Igris has done an excellent job! I must gift him a mithril kitchen set later!"
Bombur took another bite, closed his eyes to savor it, then drank more beer and belched again.
BÖÖÖÖÖRRRRRGGGGG
Then he rubbed his belly, laughed joyfully, and shouted,
"HAHAHAHAHA! THIS IS LIFE!"
Dwalin and Fili placed a plate piled with sausages in front of Bombur. Dwalin grabbed one and tossed it into his mouth, smiling.
"Here you go, Bombur! This one's from me—cooked by Igris."
Balin chuckled.
"You still eat incredibly well, Bombur! No Dwarf can eat like you!"
Balin took a rib and bit into it. Bombur nodded politely.
"Thank you for your praise, cousin."
Bombur stuffed the sausages into his mouth, sucking the linked sausages in as if they were spaghetti. All of them disappeared into his mouth at once. He chewed happily, then grabbed a rib and bit into it. He closed his eyes, feeling the texture of the meat.
A few seconds later, still chewing with his eyes closed, Bombur's pace slowed. His face suddenly twisted in disgust. He spat everything onto the floor and opened his eyes wide.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
Bombur looked at the green food he had spat out, then at the rib that should have been full of meat in his hand—but it had turned into lettuce. Terror gripped him.
"No… no, no!"
Looking at the table, he saw that plates once filled with meat were now covered in raw vegetables. His fear intensified, his eyes widening in horror.
"No! No! NOOO!"
Bombur stood up, trying to flee, but the chair suddenly bound him in place. His fear deepened. He struggled but couldn't break free. Looking around frantically, he shouted,
"COUSINS! HELP ME!"
No one answered. Bombur thrashed harder and screamed,
"THORIN! IGRIS! HALT! GILAN! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP!"
As he struggled against his bindings, he heard footsteps. He calmed down slightly and smiled.
"Praise Durin! Please, help me!"
Bombur tried to see who was approaching from behind but couldn't. Soon, they reached him—and Bombur froze in shock.
They were Elves.
They smiled warmly, holding bowls filled with raw vegetables. One of the Elves picked up a piece of lettuce and extended it toward Bombur's mouth.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
Bombur looked at the Elf, then at the lettuce, then back at the Elf, shaking his head violently.
"NO! I DON'T EAT RAW VEGETABLES! LET ME GO—UMMM! MMMM!"
The Elf shoved the lettuce into Bombur's mouth and spoke with a warm smile.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
Bombur gagged, felt the lettuce in his mouth, turned green, spat it out, stuck out his tongue, and shuddered.
"DISGUSTING!"
But another piece of lettuce was shoved into his mouth. The Elf smiled warmly again.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
This time, the Elf held Bombur's mouth shut and forced him to chew. Bombur panicked, struggled desperately, tried to spit it out—but failed. The Elf forced him to swallow. Bombur wanted to vomit.
He glared at the Elf in rage, wanting to shout, insult, and threaten—but the moment he opened his mouth, the Elf's hand moved with lightning speed, stuffing it full of lettuce once more.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
Again, the Elf force-fed him vegetables.
Bombur was terrified.
'NO! NO!'
The Elf before him transformed into a demon in his mind—the most horrifying torturer imaginable. He swallowed more vegetables, only for the Elf to force even more into his mouth. Bombur felt the deepest terror of his life. He wanted to scream—but his mouth was full of lettuce.
"NO! NOOOOOOOO! SOMEONE HELP ME! SAVE ME!"
The Elf once again forced the lettuce down Bombur's throat. Bombur burst into tears and spoke rapidly.
"PLEASE! I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! I'LL GIVE YOU MY SHARE OF THE MOUNTAIN GOLD—EVEN THE ARKENSTONE! JUST DON'T MAKE ME EAT THAT DISGUSTING THING, PLEEEEAAASE!"
Bombur was panicking now. He didn't want to eat vegetables anymore. His inside and outside felt like they were made of raw greens. He was done. He couldn't eat anymore.
The Elf looked at him, the warm smile still fixed on their face. Bombur stared back in terror.
When the Elf calmly stepped away, Bombur let out a shaky breath of relief and spoke through his tears.
"Sob… sob… THANK YOU! THANK YOU SO MUCH!"
But then another Elf approached him with the same warm smile. In their hands was an elegant, closed silver tray.
Bombur tensed.
The Elf stopped right in front of him and spoke.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
Bombur shuddered.
"No… no… no more."
The Elf smiled warmly and gracefully lifted the lid of the tray.
When Bombur saw what was inside, sheer horror consumed him.
"NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
On the tray lay broccoli—the vegetable Bombur hated most.
The broccoli looked at him and spoke.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
The Elf delicately picked up the vegetable from the tray. Bombur watched in terror. His mouth opened on its own. He tried to close it—but couldn't.
The Elf smiled warmly and spoke again.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
The surrounding Elves joined in.
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
"Please continue. There's more than enough to fill you."
Bombur screamed in absolute terror.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Bombur thrashed violently in his bed— and suddenly shot upright.
"NO!"
He drew deep breaths; his body and the bed beneath him were soaked through with sweat, his face drained completely of color. He looked around in a daze, then, realizing he was in his own bed, murmured in shock.
"It was a nightmare… Praise Durin… Praise Durin… Praise Durin…"
By then, Bofur and Ori were already awake, watching Bombur with concern. When Bombur had begun begging in his sleep, the two dwarf friends had heard him and gotten up to check on him. At first, realizing it was just a dream, they hadn't paid much attention—but Bombur's sudden screaming and violent thrashing had jolted them fully awake and filled them with worry. Now, the two dwarves looking at Bombur exchanged anxious glances and silently gestured toward him. Ori pointed with his head.
'You go!'
Bofur answered with body language.
'No! You go!'
Ori raised his eyebrows again.
'He gets along better with you! Like İgris said, you two are in charge of food for the group!'
Bofur froze in surprise, then sighed deeply. He took a glass of water from the pitcher on the nearby table and walked over to the mumbling Bombur. Bombur was shaking nonstop, breathing deeply, his heart pounding at full speed, clutching his pillow tightly while repeating the same words over and over.
"It was a nightmare… Praise Durin… It was a nightmare… Praise Durin… It was a nightmare… Praise Durin…"
Bofur sat on the edge of the bed and held out the water.
"Bombur… are you okay?"
Bombur didn't respond, still mumbling and clinging tightly to his pillow. Bofur glanced at Ori with growing concern and shrugged helplessly.
'What am I supposed to do now?!'
Ori gestured with his hands.
'Keep going! Shake him!'
With another sigh, Bofur took a deep breath, grabbed Bombur by the shoulder, and shook him.
"BOMBUR! Are you alright? What happened to you?"
Still trembling, Bombur looked at Bofur. For a moment, he didn't recognize him—but after a few seconds, he spoke.
"…they're gone, Bofur… they're gone…"
Bofur asked, confused.
"What's gone, Bombur?"
Bombur hugged his pillow even tighter and began rocking back and forth.
"My meats… my meats are gone… my soft, beautiful meats are gone… and in their place, raw vegetables came…"
Bofur and Ori stared at each other in shock, then back at Bombur. For a moment, Bofur felt a laugh rising in his throat—but he forced it down and spoke calmly.
"It was just a nightmare, Bombur. Don't think about it too much."
Bombur continued rocking back and forth, clutching the pillow as he muttered.
"My meats are gone… my meats… my juicy, beautiful meats… my chops…"
Seeing Bombur's state, Bofur sighed and held the water out to him again.
"Here, drink. You'll feel better, cousin."
Still rocking, Bombur turned his head toward the water, then nodded at Bofur. With trembling hands, he took the glass and drank. As he did, Bofur spoke.
"Come on, pull yourself together, Bombur. It's breakfast time. You just have to endure a little longer—!"
Before Bofur could finish, Bombur threw the glass from his hand and grabbed Bofur by both shoulders, pulling his face close. Bombur's eyebrows and eyes twitched uncontrollably; there was a wild madness in his gaze.
"I will never eat raw vegetables again, Bofur!"
Bofur gasped in shock.
"Bombur, calm down—WOAH!"
Bombur began shaking Bofur violently as he shouted.
"BOFUUUUR! I CAN'T EAT RAW VEGETABLES! GIVE ME PROPER FOOD!"
Ori stood frozen in shock, while Bofur's head began to spin. He tried to speak.
"Bombu… ple… ase… stop… Ori! HELP!"
Bombur shook Bofur even harder as he roared.
"I WILL NEVER EAT RAW VEGETABLES AGAIN! I'M REBELLING!"
Ori snapped out of his shock and rushed toward Bombur in panic.
"BOMBUR! CALM DOWN!"
Ori grabbed Bombur's arm—but he started getting shaken as well. Bofur was on the verge of losing consciousness, unable to free his shoulders. Ori screamed in panic.
"SOMEBODY HELP!"
Bombur, still shaking Bofur and clearly suffering from post-traumatic stress, shouted as well.
"I WON'T EAT RAW VEGETABLES! GIVE ME MEAT!"
The violently shaken Bofur muttered weakly.
"Brother… just let me go…"
(3443 Words)