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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 235
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 11:38:35 +0000 UTCChapter 235: Tranquility and Liveliness
"Welcome, welcome!"
At the city gate, a guest arrived fashionably late.
"I can't believe it, Levi. I never used to travel at night before, but now I not only dare to travel, I even dare to sleep right by the roadside." Bilbo's voice carried wonder. "And after doing so, I might wake up the next day with an extra blanket on me."
"How lively! Has it already begun?"
Muttering to himself, Bilbo entered through the side gate and was immediately captivated by the nighttime scenery and bustling prosperity before him.
"Started long ago. You're the latest arrival."
Levi welcomed him in, pointing toward the plaza beside the castle. "They're all over there. Go take a look."
"Oh, alright."
Bilbo gazed at the elves and dwarves in the distance, feeling momentarily dazed.
"Looks like they've made peace."
"Perhaps," Levi sighed. "People always told me Thorin was the most level-headed and reasonable among dwarves, but from our expedition experience... well, many of his actions could hardly be called rational. Really had nothing to do with being reasonable."
"I think the longing to reclaim his homeland and century-long hatred and pressure had indeed driven him nearly mad."
"Now he's increasingly like a wise king."
"Mm. And also a good friend."
"I agree." Bilbo nodded.
"Hey! Thorin, Bofur, Bifur, Bombur..."
As their conversation ended, Bilbo called out while heading toward the feast tables.
Meanwhile, Levi closed the castle wall's side gate and climbed the stairs beside it.
"Won't you find a place to relax?"
He spoke to a silhouette in the darkness.
"I am relaxing."
Falodan stretched and stood up from his rocking chair.
"It's too bright over there. Can't see the stars properly."
"Stars... alright."
Levi's gaze swept above the castle walls, spotting several others also silently looking upward.
All Rangers.
They had no homeland.
The prosperity behind them belonged to others and needed only a glance. The darkness ahead and the stubborn resistance spanning from the previous age? That's what they needed to watch.
"How similar that star is to our Star of Elendil, treasure of the Dúnedain..."
"Pity it's been lost for thousands of years. Just like our homeland."
"You mention the Star of Elendil."
Levi brought it up casually.
If he remembered correctly, this symbol of Arnor's royal power—a gem resembling a pure white star with some similarity to the nether star—should currently be in Saruman's Tower of Orthanc.
Thousands of years ago, Saruman had found this thing but never returned it. Instead, he kept it for himself privately. Who knew what he planned to do with it?
That old fellow was somewhat selfish.
He'd need to have a good talk with him when he had time.
"I occasionally hear some clues about this thing. Perhaps I can help look for it."
"That would be most appreciated." Falodan smiled and nodded.
Though he clearly didn't hold much hope.
This life without homeland, without belonging, even spiritual sustenance long lost... everyone had grown somewhat accustomed to it.
After all, even if Dúnedain could live several hundred years on average, thousands of years had passed. Time might not fade those unforgettable histories, but it could temporarily soothe emotions and make people realize what needed doing now.
Levi handed over a cup of cool honey beer.
"Want some?"
Falodan fell silent for a moment, accepted the drink, and slowly began to drink.
Many things in this world were broken. But fortunately people kept patching them up.
And some even placed blocks on top.
"So you're here."
A sudden voice from behind made both men turn sharply.
"That's the one bad thing about elves. They walk without sound and don't announce themselves."
Seeing who it was, Falodan relaxed.
If this weren't Roadside Keep, he'd almost have thrown his cup and drawn his dagger just now.
"Agla, perfect timing."
Levi waved. "We're just looking at stars. Tonight's sky is exceptionally clear. Very good for looking up."
"Want to drink together?"
"Of course."
Agla raised the goblet of wine in his hand, gesturing to both.
A Dúnadan, an elf, and someone of unknown origin. The three quietly appreciated the complex, twinkling starry sky while tasting fine wine.
Compared to the elegant atmosphere here, the feast tables near the castle were far from quiet.
"Again!"
Gloin slammed down a large mug of beer with a thud, panting. "Listen up—drink it down, but don't you dare throw it up."
"Of course. I value food highly."
Across from him, the Woodland Realm's deputy kept his expression unchanged, elegantly raising his goblet.
"Shall we continue then?"
"Damned elf, I'll have you face-down on this table soon!"
Glug glug...
Cup after cup went down, empty vessels piling up on the table.
Crash.
Finally, when another empty keg was carried away, Gloin's head tilted to the side, and he collapsed on the table.
"You... hiccup... why are you sideways?"
These were his last words to the Woodland deputy.
"Hmph."
The deputy proudly raised his head and casually popped a grape into his mouth.
"Dwarves. Nothing special."
Mocking words emerged.
The dwarves were enraged.
"I wasn't planning to get involved," Dwalin angrily downed a large cup of ale. "But since you put it that way, don't blame me."
"I don't mind another round."
The deputy fingered his cup, face neither red nor breathless.
What a joke.
As the most capable assistant to thousand-year-old drunkard Thranduil, how could he not have good alcohol tolerance?
The dwarves gathered while the deputy showed no fear.
"Dwarves of Erebor, let me see what you're capable of..."
"Watching kinfolk fight alone won't do."
At this moment, several Rivendell guards brought by Elrond also came over, standing behind the Woodland deputy.
This surprised him somewhat.
Though both were elves, the two realms weren't particularly close. During the War of the Last Alliance, the first king of the Woodland Realm died precisely because the Silvan elves refused to be commanded by the Noldorin High King.
In that battle, they broke from the main force to charge the Black Gate early, then got themselves killed.
That's how the Dead Marshes came to be. The elves lying there were all once the Woodland Realm's bravest warriors.
"Suit yourselves."
Elves and dwarves began a new round of competition.
With them gone, only Elrond and Thorin remained at the table. The former's feelings were unknowable, but the latter just felt awkward.
Two big leaders sitting here with nothing much to say.
Fortunately, another person arrived.
"Bilbo, how have you been lately?" Elrond quickly asked with concern.
"Thanks for asking. As you can see, quite well." Bilbo responded.
Elrond nodded.
"That's good. Come visit Rivendell anytime."
"Erebor's gates are always open to you too." Thorin pulled Bilbo closer.
Though the atmosphere remained somewhat delicate, it had at least livened up.
Passing by to get grape wine, Gandalf looked at these three, somewhat puzzled.
Oh well. Never mind. Another cup.
"Haha, I'm good with fireworks! Let me set them off!"
Gandalf downed a cup and waved to distant residents.
Crunch crunch.
On another side, Beorn munched vegetables and berries, finding the crowd behind him noisy.
Crunch crunch.
Beside him, Little Pink also learned his manner and took a few bites of vegetables.
Beorn continued munching.
Little Pink watched him and continued munching too.
Beorn opened his mouth.
Little Pink also opened its mouth.
Man and dragon froze like this.
Beorn slightly narrowed his eyes.
After a moment.
"What? Not enough vegetables and fruit?"
A citizen shouted loudly.
"This won't do! If others see this, they'll think Roadside Keep can't provide enough!"
"Bring everything stored in the warehouses. One crate each, everyone gets a crate!"
