New students start from 'Game of Thrones'

Chapter 94 Uncontainable Wrath

"Thorin, there is no need for this! You have no enemies here!" Gandalf shook his head, gazing at the suspicious dwarf.

"This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?" Thorin glared at the Grey Wizard, his voice sharp with resentment. "You've led us straight to our foes!"

"The Elves here mean you no harm. If any enmity exists, it is only what you carry in your own heart," Gandalf replied, exasperated by the dwarf's stubbornness and paranoia. If he could, he would have used magic to silence Thorin's mouth— 可惜，the Grey Wizard knew no such spell.

"Do you truly believe the Elves will bless our quest? They will stand in our way!" Thorin refused to set aside his narrow prejudice, convinced the Elves would neither help nor spare his "great expedition."

"Of course they will bless us—and we must resolve the problem before us," Gandalf explained, helpless against the dwarf's arrogance. "We need Lord Elrond to translate the Elvish runes on our map. If you hope to reclaim Erebor, you must deal with the Elves."

While they spoke, a tall, handsome Elf descended slowly from the high stone steps.

"Stay alert!" Thorin ceased arguing with Gandalf. His eyes fixed on the approaching Elf, and he whispered a warning to the dwarves beside him.

"Mithrandir!" the Elf called out, spotting Gandalf—who stood head and shoulders above the dwarves—from a distance. Mithrandir was Gandalf's name among the Maiar.

"Ah, Lindir..." Gandalf's face lit up at the sight of his old friend. He stepped forward, and the two exchanged formal greetings.

"We heard you had come to the valley," Lindir said softly to the Grey Wizard. "Do you have business here?"

"I wish to speak with Lord Elrond."

"Lord Elrond is not here, Gandalf."

"Not here!? Where has he gone?"

No sooner had Gandalf spoken than a horn call—distinctive to the Elves—echoed from Rivendell's entrance. The whinny of horses and the thunder of hooves followed, drawing closer to the valley's gates.

"Prepare for battle!" At the sound of the horn, Thorin jumped to his feet as if pricked by a pin, shouting at the top of his lungs.

The dwarves immediately formed a tight defensive circle, pulling the hobbit into their midst.

The hooves grew louder. Elrond's guard galloped across the stone bridge, surrounding the dwarves in an instant. The horses circled the group, their movements only deepening Thorin's already frayed nerves—he was like a bird caught in a trap.

"Gandalf!" Elrond rode forward, calling out to his old friend. He dismounted and hurried toward the wizard, whom he had known for untold centuries.

"Lord Elrond!" Gandalf bowed to the Elven lord. "My friend, where have you been?" He noticed the dark bloodstains on the guards' armor and frowned, curious.

"We hunted a band of orcs from the south—we also killed some near the secret pass. I cannot fathom why they would dare (invade) our borders." As Elrond spoke, he handed his sword to Lindir.

"Someone must have lured them here," Elrond added, his gaze drifting to the dwarves—his meaning clear.

"You are right! That 'someone' is us," Gandalf admitted freely, not bothering to hide that he and his companions had drawn the orcs.

"You were correct, Owen—they did lead the orcs here," Elrond said with a smile, glancing at Owen as he dismounted. He nodded in approval of Owen's earlier guess.

Gandalf finally noticed the human among the Elves—and the respect Elrond showed him.

"I will introduce you later..." Elrond turned to Thorin, who was still surrounded by dwarves. "Welcome, Thorin, son of Thror."

Thorin, noticing Elrond's gaze and the Elves' lack of hostility, pushed through his companions and stepped forward.

"We have never met, have we?" His voice was as cold as ice, devoid of warmth.

"You remind me of your grandfather. I knew Thror when he sat upon the throne of the Mountain King," Elrond replied, unfazed by Thorin's rudeness.

"Is that so? Thror never spoke of you," Thorin said. The moment the words left his mouth, the air turned tense. Even the generous-hearted Elrond felt a flicker of anger stir in his chest.

"Ha! Typical greedy dwarves of Erebor—nothing but greed, and nothing more!" Owen, as a guest of the Elves, had intended to stay silent. But Thorin's arrogance had grown too much to bear, and he could not help but sneer.

"What did you say, boy...?"

"You long-legged rabbit! How dare you insult the King Under the Mountain...?"

"I'll sew your mouth shut, you cursed human...!"

The dwarves erupted in fury at Owen's taunt. They brandished their weapons, ready to tear him apart on the spot.

Gandalf panicked, fearing the dwarves would start a fight in Elrond's halls. He rushed forward, prepared to stop their rampage.

But Owen paid them no mind. He had never regarded the dwarves highly, and their shouting only deepened his dislike for Thorin. Unleashing his aura without restraint, he directed it at the dwarves.

The noisy commotion fell silent, as if swept away by a gale. The air around Owen 扭曲 (twisted) with heat; flames blazed across the valley, painting Rivendell crimson. The demigod's pressure forced the Bruinen River to flow backward. The surrounding oak trees swayed violently, some snapping clean in half.

Thunder boomed in the sky. Not just the dwarves—even powerhouses like Gandalf and Elrond struggled under the overwhelming aura.

"Owen, stop..." Elrond raised his arms, conjuring a magical barrier before him. He strained against the pressure, shouting to Owen.

Owen had never intended to harm the dwarves—he had only wanted to vent his frustration with Thorin Oakenshield. He had disliked the dwarf king even when watching the tales in his old world, but in person, Thorin's arrogance was far worse than he had imagined.

Gandalf stared at Owen in shock as he retracted his aura. When Owen turned his back on the dwarves, the wizard let out a heavy sigh of relief.

He had truly feared the unknown human warrior would draw his sword and slaughter the dwarves. As a Maiar who had lived for ages, Gandalf knew he was no match for Owen—such aura was unparalleled in all of Middle-earth.

Looking at the dwarves, who lay sprawled on the ground in (disarray), Gandalf felt a flicker of satisfaction. It was something he had wanted to do on their journey, but never dared.

"You must show respect to those stronger than you!" Gandalf said, his eyes fixed on Thorin—who was drenched in sweat, his face as pale as a sheet. "Even as King of the Dwarves, you are nothing but an ordinary dwarf to a warrior like him. If he wished..."

Gandalf did not finish his sentence, but Thorin understood. He realized that even if he reclaimed Erebor and won the dwarves' loyalty, a warrior like Owen could kill him with ease.

Though their first meeting had been fraught with tension, Elrond still hosted Thorin and his company with great hospitality. Owen, however, could not bear the sight of Thorin's face—and chose to skip the feast.