"To be honest, I still think that humans lack the proper conditions to raise a Dragon of the Elves. Letting it stay in Rivendell might not be such a bad idea," Elrond said, clearly still unwilling to give up.
"I appreciate your kindness, Lord Elrond. The Zaltarion Kingdom may not be especially wealthy, but feeding and caring for one Elven Dragon is hardly beyond our means," Rynar shook his head, politely refusing.
"Very well. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me," Elrond sighed, resigning himself.
"The entire North has been in turmoil lately. Ever since the Dwarves reclaimed Erebor, Gundabad's orcs have been growing restless. And from what I've heard, the southern orcs have joined the fray as well, haven't they?" Elrond chatted idly with Rynar.
"We couldn't stop the Dwarves from reclaiming their homeland. It's their territory, after all. Besides, my kingdom needs funding for its own development. My dealings with the Dwarves were purely a matter of mutual benefit," Rynar responded, not directly addressing Elrond's comment.
"A shadow is falling over Middle-earth. Sauron is returning, and none of us can escape that. His Nazgûl have been unusually active lately..." Rynar shook his head.
"The Nazgûl have reappeared?" Elrond frowned.
"Indeed! I've already encountered Khamûl, the Second Nazgûl; Sennar, the Third; Amorasor, the Fourth; and Lydilias, the Fifth," Rynar nodded.
"..." Elrond stared at Rynar with a look of pity. What kind of insane luck must it take to encounter four Nazgûl and live to tell the tale? The fact that he was still standing there proved that Rynar had to be absurdly lucky.
"Well, you're certainly... fortunate. Some people go their whole lives without seeing even one Nazgûl, and you've already fought four," Elrond said, astonished.
"Lord Elrond, let's keep our conversation grounded in reality, not six feet under! I'm just a third-tier knight! Taking on four Nazgûl? I'd be lucky if even my ashes remained!" Rynar cried out.
"Still, you stirred up quite a storm under Erebor, and now you're heading to Moria to stir up another?" Elrond said with a helpless sigh.
"Sigh... The Dwarves, emboldened by their success in reclaiming Erebor, are rallying. Many have returned to Erebor, and their forces have grown considerably. You know how deeply the Battle of Moria scarred them. Now that they have the strength, what do you think they'll do?" Rynar replied with a question of his own.
"Besides, retaking Moria benefits us too. Lothlórien and Moria could support each other, and the entire southern stretch of the Misty Mountains would fall under our coalition's control," Rynar added with a grin.
"I doubt the proud Dwarves would seek help from Elves..." Elrond shook his head pessimistically.
"Balin is not Thorin. If he becomes King of Moria, he'll make the best decisions for the realm," Rynar chuckled and shook his head. Balin was far more flexible than Thorin. If things went south, he wouldn't hesitate to ask for help.
"Let's hope so..." Elrond fell silent.
"The Elves of the Golden Wood are not like those of the Woodland Realm. They have no old grudges with the Dwarves of Erebor. I believe they'll get along," Rynar said with a smile.
"No comment on that... When do you plan to leave?" Elrond asked.
"We'll likely rest here for two days. It's getting late in the game, and delays could bring complications," Rynar said, gazing seriously toward Moria.
"Are you sure you can handle the Balrog?" Elrond still sounded worried. A Balrog, after all, could rival dragons in strength.
"One hero, two dragons—I don't see how I could possibly lose," Rynar replied, his expression full of steely resolve.
"Still, be cautious. That Balrog once shattered the Dwarven kingdom. Back then, the Dwarves were no pushovers either," Elrond warned, shaking his head.
"Can't be helped. We've come this far. Whatever lies ahead, we can't just turn back now," Rynar shrugged, his tone lighthearted.
"Just remember—if you're planning to die, leave the Elven Dragon behind..." Elrond muttered, his lips twitching.
"Heh... Thanks for the vote of confidence!" Rynar chuckled dryly.
"By the way, Lord Elrond, we're in need of some scouting-type operatives. If possible, I'd like to ask for your support in that regard," Rynar decided to test his luck.
"I'm sorry, Rivendell will not involve itself in your war. However, I'm still willing to help you in ways that are within our means," Elrond shook his head. The Elves wouldn't get drawn into wars between Dwarves and Men, but Elrond, mindful of the bigger picture, had no intention of standing idly by.
"Come with me," Elrond nodded slightly and gestured to Rynar.
...
"This is an epic-tier potion—Breath of Frost. Drinking it grants thirty seconds of immunity to fire. There are three left—take them all. But remember, only use them if absolutely necessary. These are your lifelines," Elrond said, retrieving a finely carved wooden box from his chamber. Inside were three vials glowing with icy blue starlight.
"Thank you, Lord Elrond," Rynar said gratefully. Compared to Dylan's potions, Elrond's were clearly more refined and precious—perfect for either a last-ditch fight or a hasty escape.
"Do you even know how a Balrog fights?" Elrond shot Rynar a glance.
"..." Rynar was speechless.
"Now I'm starting to believe you really are going there to die..." Elrond rubbed his forehead, clearly exasperated. Was there really someone who would go mess with a Balrog without even knowing how it fought?
"All I know is they use flaming swords and whips to attack their enemies!" Rynar offered.
"That's a vague idea at best! There are different kinds of Balrogs—some are close-combat warriors, others are ranged spellcasters. Those wielding flaming whips usually lean toward fire magic. Their fire spells can incinerate almost anything! The ones with flaming swords are formidable in melee. And beware—their armor of flame can burn through most attacks. Many strikes won't even touch them. I don't know which kind dwells in Moria, but it won't be easy," Elrond explained.
"Thank you for the information," Rynar nodded. Judging by Elrond's description, the Balrog in Moria was likely a caster. From the movies, Gandalf fought that thing for what felt like seven days and nights—it didn't look that impressive...
"Oh, and one more thing—if that Balrog is a spellcaster, watch out for its single-target forbidden spells," Elrond added ominously.
"Pfft!" Rynar spat out his juice.
"What?! It can cast single-target forbidden spells? The kind that nukes people instantly?" Rynar was stunned.
"Yes, and its incantation is short, which means it can cast them quickly. Be careful. That's what the Breath of Frost is for," Elrond nodded seriously.