8 - A Short Rest

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Hitting the end of the narrow tunnel, we stepped out onto a rocky cliff, where a bright light filled my vision. I could hear birds chirping and waterfalls pounding against stones below them. The beautiful sight made me forget about my agony.

A vast, sprawling house of halls and balconies at the far end of a narrow gorge, the river Bruinen spilling between the rocks as a waterfall to cascade merrily through the valley, crisscrossed by narrow bridges. Sunlight flooded the vale, catching on the silver, glass, and water, reflecting bright arcs of light that caused the entire dwelling to hold a luminous sheen.

"The Valley of Imladris!" Gandalf announced, being the last one to step out of the tunnel. "In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name."

"Rivendell," Bilbo said, entranced by the sight.

"Yes," I muttered with a frown. A mix of shock, relief, and frustration flowed through my veins—along with the searing pain.

"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea," Gandalf added.

Thorin confronted him. "This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the elves will give this quest their blessing?" I cynically said. "They will try to stop us."

Gandalf stared me down. "Of course, they will. But we have questions that need to be answered."

Both Thorin and I went silent.

"If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm, which is why you both will leave the talking to me."

Biting my tongue against further protests, I followed the wizard down the narrow, rocky path into the valley, as did the rest of the company.

Gandalf led us all over a stone bridge, coming into the city. Elves could be seen strolling about, where some stopped to ponder over the dwarves marching into their home. Bilbo gazed in awe at the beauty of Rivendell, shooting me a smile.

I faked a smile back, not nearly as happy to be here. I might as well off myself now.

After passing between two large and imposing elf warrior statues, we found ourselves in the front courtyard. The dwarves all gathered awkwardly waiting for our hosts to appear.

A single, tall elf walked down a long flight of stairs. He held a hand to his heart. "Mithrandir!"

My ears perked up at the voice.

"Ah, Lindir!" Gandalf replied, nodding his head.

"Stay sharp," Thorin whispered to Dwalin, disliking the elf instantly.

Then, Lindir saw me. His eyes widened. "And...Lady Elentári?!"

I awkwardly smiled. "Hello, old friend."

A dwarf murmured, "Elentári?"

Lindir gazed at me with a sparkle in his eye. "What a nice surprise!"

His expression made my heart feel warm. "It's been too long." I stepped forward and embraced him, further surprising the dwarves.

Lindir pulled away to look at my wrapped arm. "What on earth happened to you?"

"Nothing a bit of medicine can't fix."

He frowned. "I'm sure your father will love to see you like this."

The company shouted, "Father?!!"

Irritated, I smacked Lindir's head. "I told you not to mention details when there are guests!"

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