A long, resonant horn sounded from the distance.
"They once rode beneath the stars."
For no apparent reason, Garrett suddenly recalled this line.
Rumble.
The thunder of hooves echoed as a silver-grey torrent surged forward, mingling with flashing silvery-white figures.
At this moment, he was like a piece of driftwood caught in a river, splitting the current in two. But as the tide flowed past him, it immediately merged again into a single stream, rushing downhill without obstruction.
All the riders' gazes were fixed on the enemy ahead. Not a single one spared a glance for him, the unfamiliar outsider.
Crash.
In the blink of an eye, the silver-grey tide collided with the orc cavalry. In just an instant, the foremost wargs were staggered. The unlucky orcs who fell were either trampled by hooves or quickly slain by blades, falling silent in moments.
A single charge shattered the orcs' pursuit formation, leaving them unable to regroup and forcing them to halt and fight in place.
The elves swiftly shifted formation as well, adopting a more efficient method of slaughtering the orcs.
Whoosh!
An arrow struck a fleeing orc with precise accuracy. The rider shot flawlessly while galloping, each arrow finding its mark. Garrett clicked his tongue in amazement. If it were him trying to shoot from horseback, he'd be lucky if the arrows didn't fly off to the horizon, never mind hitting anything.
Bows, spears, blades, swords... all kinds of weapons were wielded with ease in the elves' hands. The number of orcs rapidly diminished, yet they never managed to mount any effective resistance.
There were no war cries, no excessive noise, only the clash of steel against armor and flesh, and the agonized screams of dying orcs.
All of it felt slightly unreal to Garrett. Riding his horse, he stood atop a hillside, gazing at the one-sided, silent slaughter below.
A rout.
There was no better word to describe the scene before him. Realizing that his forces stood no chance, the orc squad leader let out a roar and retreated with the remaining troops.
After taking down a few stragglers, the elves did not pursue. Instead, they quickly began securing the battlefield.
Moments later, as if finally noticing Garrett, the cavalry turned and approached him, encircling him in several loose rings.
What... is going on?
Just as he began to feel a hint of unease, a tall elf rode forward and spoke, "Stranger, greetings. How shall we address you?"
"Garrett. An adventurer from a human settlement in the west."
"Adventurer, what brings you to this land?"
"I heard that Rivendell is the most beautiful place in Middle-earth. I wanted to see it for myself."
"Indeed?"
The elf looked at Garrett, eyes slightly scrutinizing. After a pause, he said, "Then please come with us."
The journey continued in silence. Garrett followed the main group onward.
Since that initial exchange, no one had spoken to him again. The elves around him were quiet to the point of being oppressive, leaving him with nothing to do but open his inventory and organize his supplies to pass the time.
Although his faction system indicated that Rivendell held a friendly attitude toward him, the silent, armored company still made him feel somewhat on edge. You could call it strict military discipline, or perhaps he simply couldn't find a good opening to strike up a conversation.
So the journey passed in silence, until they entered a valley.
At first, the canyon was dim, hemmed in by towering mountains on both sides. But before long, the barriers to either side began to fall away.
Unconsciously, Garrett nudged his horse forward, trotting a little faster toward the exit. Under the starlight, his eyes widened, and his vision suddenly opened up. For the first time, he realized how limited mortal sight truly was. There was so much beauty before him, yet he could only take it in piece by piece, turning his head this way and that, unable to see it all at once.
"Allow me to officially welcome you, Adventurer Garrett."
The elf who had spoken to him earlier outside the valley dismounted gracefully, turning his gaze toward Garrett.
"I have heard tell of a powerful human warrior who recently appeared in the wilds of Eriador, one who built a fortress overnight and single-handedly defeated an orc war-band numbering in the hundreds. He called himself an adventurer."
While recounting this tale from unknown sources, the tall elf removed his helmet and looked at Garrett with a meaningful expression.
Seriously? This rumor spread that fast? Even the elves know now?
"It's really not that exaggerated..." Garrett waved his hands in denial, then looked up at the elf, and froze.
That face looked so familiar. Especially the silver circlet upon his brow.
"Lord Elrond."
At that moment, another elf in civilian attire quickly descended the nearby steps.
"Lindir," the tall elf nodded in greeting and handed the sword at his waist to him.
Garrett quickly turned and carefully examined the elf beside him.
No wonder he looked familiar, this was the legendary Lord of Rivendell, Elrond himself. And the one beside him? That had to be his counselor Lindir.
After briefly giving a few commands to the soldiers behind him, the Lord of Rivendell continued speaking to Garrett, "For the past few days, orc activity in the surrounding areas has been unusually frequent. From the Last Bridge to the Bruinen, they've been seen everywhere. This is highly irregular. I believe something, or someone, must be drawing them here."
No worries. They'll be back in a year anyway, Garrett thought to himself.
"It seems the cause has now been found."
"Uh, I think it's probably me," Garrett admitted. "I've killed quite a number of orcs lately... got myself on the Goblin-king's most wanted list."
Elrond's eyes held a hint of admiration as he looked at Garrett.
"You have likely slain more than just orcs..."
Garrett's eye twitched. Has he been reading my achievement log or something?
"I can sense your accomplishments are not false. No need for modesty, it is something worth praising."
"Rivendell welcomes you."
"Prepare a feast, we shall welcome our guest properly."
The fact that the lord himself was inviting him to dine... Garrett was genuinely honored, but he didn't show any nervousness.
---
A short while later, Elrond, now out of his armor, sat at the same table with Garrett, both in the seats of honor. Exquisite dishes were laid out before them, and an elf poured him a glass of fine wine.
"My thanks," Garrett nodded in appreciation.
"The first word of you reached my people through the Dúnedain. I have heard you maintain good relations with them."
"Yes. I was helped by one of the Rangers and had quite a bit of contact with him. I promised him and his people that they could come to me if they ever needed anything."
"Those who show generosity will always find it returned."
Elrond gave a slight nod and sipped his wine. Suddenly, his gaze settled on the sword hanging at Garrett's waist.
"May I examine your blade?"
"Of course."
Garrett hadn't stored it in his inventory, he'd kept it hanging on his belt specifically hoping that this knowledgeable elven lord might help identify it.
Elrond took the blade and examined it carefully, running his fingers along its length.
"Its craftsmanship is exceptional. It appears to be from the First Age, forged to combat the great armies of Morgoth. Its edge is keen, it cannot be a nameless blade. However, I have never heard of any legend associated with it. Perhaps it was lost before it had a chance to reach the great battles."
"I took it from a troll. Their caves always seem to hold some ancient relics," Garrett explained.
He wisely left out the part where the troll was using it as a spit for roasting meat, didn't want Elrond to choke on his wine.
"I see."
Elrond nodded, returning the sword to Garrett. "I believe it will serve you well against the forces of darkness. I look forward to the day it earns a name."
Only blades that had achieved great deeds were given names.
For him to say this, it was clearly a wish for Garrett to win glorious victories with it.
Truly, elves are masters of elegant speech, Garrett thought.
His conversation with the lord was unexpectedly pleasant.
Everything felt so... natural.