LOTR: The Mincraft Player

Garrett rubbed his forehead in frustration. With that outburst from Thorin, not even if Gandalf summoned a dozen Great Eagles could they hold back Thranduil's temper.

The only reason they hadn't been struck down on the spot was because the Elves still maintained some regard for the fellowship of the Free Peoples.

If he put himself in Thranduil's position, he wouldn't be able to tolerate it either. If Gandalf were here, he'd definitely curse, "Fool of a Took, er, dwarf!" before lighting his pipe to figure out a plan.

"Your Majesty, you understand... dwarves aren't exactly gifted at communication..."

"Of course I know." Thranduil cut him off, not in the mood to listen to Garrett's attempt at diplomacy. "They're stubborn, like the very stone they delve. And clearly it was they who broke faith first. What right have they to accuse me of abandoning them? Even if I release them, even if everything proceeds smoothly, the end result will simply be yet another king consumed by madness."

Garrett had little to say to that. In all honesty, the dwarves' actions were indefensible. It was the dwarves who had broken their promise first, sparking the enmity between Elves and Dwarves.

And at the root of it all was dwarven gold-sickness. If blame must be assigned, it could only fall upon Sauron, whose rings gifted to the Dwarf-lords endlessly magnified their desires to a pathological degree.

However, during their conversation, aside from the dwarves' mess, there was something else Garrett had noticed from the beginning.

"I saw earlier, your face had some injuries."

Thranduil paused, unsure why Garrett would bring this up.

"Yes, that was from dragonfire. It has never fully healed."

The true appearance of the Elven king was rather terrible to behold. Half his face had been burned beyond recognition. Normally it appeared unmarked only because he used illusion to conceal the wounds.

From Garrett's perspective, it was as though the king's health points had never fully recovered.

[27/30]

He took out a golden apple, and the king's attention was instantly drawn to it. As an Elf skilled in the mystic arts, Thranduil was highly sensitive to magical power.

"This is..."

"A small gift, a token of my personal goodwill. I hope it can help with your injury."

"It's beautiful... and precious. I can sense the power within. But to fully mend my wound with this alone... I fear that may be beyond hope."

Even among the Eldar, Thranduil was particularly accomplished in the healing arts. Magical restoration wasn't overly difficult for most Elves, many could manage it if they wished. And yet, despite all this, the burn on his face had persisted for so long. That alone revealed how hard it was to heal.

"Still, why not try? It can't hurt, can it?"

Crunch.

Persuaded by Garrett, Thranduil accepted the golden apple, and after a moment's hesitation, took a bite.

There was no metallic taste, only fragrant sweetness. Then came a surge of magical energy and a wave of healing that spread throughout his body.

The glamour concealing his wound faded unconsciously, revealing once again the horrific scarring. Under the apple's influence, the exposed burned flesh began to stir with new life, pushing back against the lingering dragonfire. The pain and tingling made Thranduil's features tighten.

As if challenged, the golden apple's full restorative power gathered and focused on the wound, accelerating regeneration.

In the end, this battle of forces ended with the apple's triumph. As the last traces of dragonfire dispersed, fresh skin and flesh began to grow over the wound.

[30/30]

"Looks like it worked pretty well," Garrett said casually, as if he had accomplished something trivial.

"It truly... healed," Thranduil breathed deeply, gently touching his restored face.

It had been so long, far too long since he had last felt the sensation of flawless skin.

"My deepest gratitude to you, Garrett. This burn has tormented me for ages beyond count."

[Woodland Realm Reputation +500]

[Current Reputation: 1000 (Ally)]

"From this day forth, you are an ally of the Woodland Realm. Should you ever have need, you may come and seek our aid. When that time comes, the Woodland Realm shall answer."

With those words, a pact was sealed.

The fewer the words, the greater their weight.

Just looking at the reputation points, Garrett could tell the king meant every word, this was no empty vow.

If, before, the Woodland Realm had merely respected his personal strength and contributions to the Free Peoples, now they regarded him as a true ally, someone they would be willing to march to war for, if necessary.

"Thank you. But alliance flows both ways, if there's anything I can do, I won't hesitate either."

After a courteous reply, Garrett shifted the topic: "I have heard there is a gem in Erebor that belongs to the Elves."

Thranduil paused, feeling that this human's change of subject was rather abrupt, and why was it always something delicate and sensitive?

"That is no ordinary jewel. It holds special significance for me. I have attempted many times to retrieve it, but each time I returned empty-handed. Now that the Lonely Mountain is occupied by a dragon, the chances of reclaiming it are slimmer than ever."

"What if I bring it back?"

"Then I would grant you a boon in return, that's a king's promise," Thranduil replied solemnly.

"Regarding the dwarves."

He suddenly raised the matter: "I know you were companions in your quest. I can guarantee their safety, but until I achieve my goal, I will not release them."

"I understand," Garrett nodded. "But not all of them share Thorin's views. There are others worth talking to."

"I shall give your words due consideration," Thranduil replied.

At this point, releasing the dwarves outright was impossible. With all the old and new grievances accumulated, it would take more than a moment to resolve.

Though Garrett could simply tunnel into the prison himself, he wasn't entirely certain what consequences that might bring. That said, perhaps he wouldn't need to act, someone else might handle it.

The audience with the king ended soon after.

---

Leaving the throne hall, Garrett asked one of the Elves for directions and headed toward a particular destination.

"The dungeons are this way..."

He had just received directions and was planning to speak with the dwarves about everything that had happened, when suddenly a burst of noise caught his attention. Following the sounds, he found a group of Elves talking lively beside a storeroom.

"We are preparing for a celebration."

A familiar voice suddenly spoke behind him. He turned around to see Legolas, carrying a piece of fruit, greeting him.

Garrett returned the Elven prince's salutation.

"A celebration?"

"The Feast of Starlight. It is our tradition. It is scheduled to be held in seven days' time. If you are interested, you would be most welcome to join."

Garrett shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. I've got things to do."

Seven days from now was precisely when he was supposed to meet Gandalf at Dol Guldur. Besides, even if the timing weren't an issue, with all his companions still imprisoned, it would feel wrong for him to be feasting.

But those concerns quickly faded, someone had come seeking him.

"Bilbo."