Hearing Caelthir's words, Igris and Bilbo's jaws practically hit the floor. Igris asked in sheer.
"What is a figure like you doing in the kitchen?"
Caelthir shrugged, his voice carrying a hint of sheepishness.
"I'm grounded."
Bilbo interjected in astonishment.
"Grounded? What do you mean?"
Setting the cloth in his hand down on the counter, Caelthir scratched his cheek and began to explain.
"About 400 years ago, during an experiment, we blew up Rivendell's alchemy workshop. The ensuing noise spooked the horses and drove them mad, and the fire from the explosion nearly reduced half of Rivendell to ashes... Following this incident, our Lord punished my brother and me. He decreed that I serve in the kitchen for a thousand years; I still have 600 years left on my quota."
Igris and Bilbo looked at each other in utter shock, and then back at Caelthir. Bilbo's curiosity had completely overtaken his dread.
"What about your brother?"
Caelthir chuckled.
"He received a similar punishment, but 100 years ago, Lord Elrond said one of us had to take charge of the alchemy workshop. My brother is far more impatient and obsessed with alchemy than I am; so, I allowed him to return to the post."
Igris raised his eyebrows and let out a long breath.
"I don't know what to be more surprised about... The fact that I've met an exceedingly rare twin elf, or that the chief alchemist of Rivendell is peeling tomatoes right next to me?"
Caelthir looked at him with amusement.
"Life can be full of surprises. Even for a long-lived elf."
Igris nodded at these words, and suddenly, a spark flashed in his mind. Looking at Caelthir intently, he asked.
"Is that psychopath alchemist your apprentice or your brother's?"
Rolling out the pizza dough exactly as Igris had shown him, Caelthir nodded in response to Igris's question.
"He is my brother's student, but he occasionally seeks my advice."
Hearing this, Igris nodded and then asked Caelthir with a slightly hesitant expression.
"Master Caelthir... is there any chance you could give me a few potion recipes that I can make using the herbs found around Erebor and in the Mirkwood?"
Faced with this question, Caelthir set down the dough and fell into a brief moment of thought. Then, a faint smile graced his lips as he nodded.
"You show us new dishes, and in return, I will give you a few recipes. What do you say? I might even give you a couple of recipe books."
Frankly, this seemed like a rather unfair trade—a few culinary recipes in exchange for potent potion recipes—but for a long-lived elf, it wasn't much of a loss, as experiencing new sights, tastes, and sensations was far more entertaining for them. Knowing this perfectly well, Igris nodded in agreement.
"Deal. We will be around for about a week, which is more than enough time for me to show you a few recipes."
Caelthir nodded and returned to his task.
"I am looking forward to it."
Following this fruitful agreement, Igris also resumed his work, though he kept a watchful eye on Estel and Bilbo, who was personally serving the boy. Bilbo had taken a hot, freshly baked pizza out of the oven and carefully placed of Estel. He also added some potatoes, a bit of menemen, and a portion of honey-glazed carrots to the side of the plate. Estel looked at the colorful array of food before him with sparkling eyes.
"The food and potatoes I had for breakfast this morning! But what are these, Bilbo?"
Bilbo spoke with a warm smile.
"New dishes Igris made. They are called pizza and honey-glazed carrots."
Upon hearing the name of the last dish, Estel scrunched up his small face, momentarily baffled.
"Honey-glazed carrots? Does one put honey on carrots?"
Bilbo nodded in agreement, validating the boy's confusion.
"I was surprised too, but it tastes wonderful, it just has a unique aroma."
After a brief moment of hesitation, Estel slowly pierced the food with his fork. He popped the bright, honey-and-spice-coated carrot into his mouth and began to chew softly. At the first bite, his face puckered slightly at the unfamiliar, strange sweetness, but as he continued to chew, the harmony of the spice and honey settled on his palate, and his expression smoothed out. He truly felt the rich flavor blooming on his tongue. After swallowing the carrot, the little boy nodded in satisfaction.
GULP!
"That was really good."
Bilbo chuckled at the little boy's sense of discovery, then pointed his finger at the steaming pizza.
"Try this one too."
Estel nodded eagerly, reached out, and lifted the carefully cut triangular slice by its crust. But as he pulled the slice upward, his eyes widened like saucers, entirely dumbfounded by the hot mozzarella cheese that began to stretch from the crust.
"WHAT IS THIS!?"
Highly amused by Estel's utterly astounded reaction, as if he had just witnessed magic for the very first time in his life, Bilbo replied.
"Cheese."
Still holding the slice suspended in the air, Estel asked in bewilderment.
"This stretching thing is cheese!?"
Bilbo nodded calmly.
"Yes, melted cheese."
Yielding to his curiosity, Estel lifted the pizza slice a little higher, stretching the cheese further, but the stubborn strands simply refused to snap. He raised his arm even higher, yet the cheese remained intact. Realizing he couldn't defeat this elastic food, he finally gave up and took a huge, hot bite out of the slice, trailing the stretching cheese with it. As he chewed that rich, cheesy, and saucy mouthful, an excited gleam sparked in his eyes.
"IT'S SO DELICIOUS!"
He then began to devour the slice rapidly. While Bilbo watched this scene with great amusement, Igris sighed internally.
'Even if he is the future Aragorn, he's still just a kid...'
Then, shivering as he remembered his own childhood, a myriad of embarrassing things he had done as a boy flooded his mind, and he muttered to himself.
"Ah... I wish I didn't remember those."
Attempting to banish those cringeworthy memories, he focused entirely on his cooking and began to hum an old tune...
--- Half an hour later ---
The deafening chaos in the grand hall where the Oakenshield company rested continued without losing any momentum. Matheld, bearing a distinct, angry red mark on her cheek from a heavy blow, lay flat on her back on the cold stone floor, utterly defeated. Despite the aches racking her body, she was taking deep, ragged breaths, her chest heaving rapidly. As beads of sweat rolled down her forehead and dampened her face, her eyes remained fixed on a single spot directly on the ceiling. After catching her breath a little, she parted her full lips and spoke.
"I lost..."
The cold, sharp surface of a dwarven axe pressed gently against her throat. Dwalin, who held the axe in a vice-like grip and was heavily out of breath himself, also sported fresh swelling and scrapes on his face. The old dwarf let out a deep sigh of exhaustion and slowly lowered his weapon.
"That was a good fight, woman! I didn't expect you to be so strong."
This was no empty praise, and Dwalin wasn't the type to hand out such compliments lightly. Matheld had fought with strength and speed surpassing that of any normal human; her muscle memory and reflexes were razor-sharp, but her fighting style was too wild and untamed. Furthermore, Dwalin had far more experience. Consequently, the bald warrior dwarf had emerged victorious. The surrounding dwarves were either ecstatic or crestfallen, but the happiest among them were the Vaegirs. This time, they had all placed their bets on Dwalin, fully aware of just how seasoned and formidable a warrior the old dwarf was. As a result, they had won back the silver they lost in the previous two bets, and then some. Zoltan, on the other hand, glared miserably at the scene before him and muttered to himself.
"@#$#@½$#! Why didn't I play the dwarf?! Damn it!"
Hearing his friend's helpless rebellion, Kargan turned to him with a broad smirk on his face.
"I told you not to gamble."
Still fuming over his lost silver, Zoltan snapped grumpily.
"Shut up, Kargan."
In response to his friend's childish sulking, Kargan let out a genuine, booming laugh.
"HAHAHAHA!"
Zoltan continued to pout with his arms crossed, pretending to ignore his friend, but deep down, he was extremely pleased to see him laughing with such unbridled joy again, just like in the old days. Ciri's mind, however, was wholly consumed by the scene before her and the mechanics of the fight. Frankly, as a woman, she was in awe of Matheld. She just didn't know if she could defeat the woman using only her sword skills, but she desperately wanted to spar a round with her. Observing this from the sidelines, Gilan chuckled in satisfaction.
"Oh yeah! I won a beautiful gift for Jenny without even lifting a finger! Hahaha!"
Seeing this, Halt rolled his eyes and completely ignored Gilan's gloating.
"Gilan! Help me study this map! It's a detailed map of the Mirkwood! Let's see what we're up against."
Hearing this, Gilan turned and walked over to Halt's side.
"Alright!"
While the two veteran Rangers buried themselves in maps for their upcoming adventures, Thorin and Balin stood on the other side of the hall, watching Dwalin and Matheld converse. Balin asked mischievously.
"How was the fight?"
Thorin spoke absentmindedly.
"Too rough."
Raising his eyebrows, Balin probed further.
"Rough for whom? Dwalin, or the woman called Matheld?"
Thorin was about to answer when he snapped out of his daze, coughing abruptly to stop himself.
"The wom-AHEM!"
Then, swiftly correcting his sentence, he continued.
"It was rough for both of them. It is not pleasant for two comrades who will fight in the same company to batter each other so harshly."
Hearing this answer, Balin looked at his King with a highly amused expression and spoke in an exaggeratedly shocked tone.
"Is the person saying this the very same one who brings his own nephew to the brink of death with grueling training sessions during the breaks on our journey?"
Though Thorin paused for a moment, he replied firmly.
"That was a punishment I gave because they went off to hunt werewolf without my knowledge, and my way of venting my anger."
Seeking further entertainment, the old dwarf pressed on.
"Is that truly so?"
Thorin nodded with absolute gravity.
"Yes! I was harsh entirely for the purpose of fully disciplining my nephew."
Balin looked at Thorin with deep skepticism, while Thorin returned his old mentor's gaze with an authoritative, icy glare of warning. Raising his hands in surrender, Balin yielded.
"If you say so."
Thorin relaxed with a satisfied expression, but Balin's mischief was far from over.
"Dwalin and Matheld seem to get along quite well. It's a pity; if my brother weren't married, she would make a fine candidate for a bride."
Thorin stared at Balin in sheer astonishment.
"What!?"
Paying Thorin absolutely no mind, Balin stroked his beard thoughtfully and mused aloud.
"I wonder if she would accept my grandson as a groom? It would be a terrible shame to let such an excellent warrior woman slip away..."
Thorin simply stood there, staring blankly at his old mentor, completely lost for words. Balin, catching his King's disbelief out of the corner of his eye, offered a roguish smirk and shrugged.
"What? Is it a crime to think about my grandson's future?"
While Thorin continued to glare unhappily at his mentor, the grand doors of the hall pushed open, and Bilbo walked in, heading straight for Altay and Fin.
"Altay! Fin! I need a few men to help carry the food."
Hearing this sentence, the duo of Bamsı and Ordo, who had been sitting nearby chatting, glanced at Bilbo for a split second before bolting upright, sprinting toward the door, and vanishing into the corridors. Altay, Fin, and Bilbo stared at the two fleeing men in dumbfounded silence. Fin sighed deeply and spoke.
"I think they're heading to the kitchen."
Altay shook his head in helpless resignation.
"They are definitely heading to the kitchen."
Fin sighed again and looked at his friends.
"Come on, let's go help too."
While the 3 Vaegir warriors nodded, Altay turned to look at Doğan.
"Take five men with you, help them, and keep Bamsı under control."
Doğan nodded tiredly and let out a heavy sigh.
"Alright..."
Then, muttering to himself, he walked over to the other Khuzaits.
"We literally just came back from a battle, but that bear of a man is still so energetic..."
Watching Doğan leave, Altay turned to the women.
"Alchin! Belen!"
The chatting Khuzait women looked at Altay upon hearing their names. The two women stood up and approached him. Altay spoke in a calm, commanding tone.
"Khaqan Igris has prepared the food; set the tables so we can eat."
Receiving their instructions, the women nodded and swiftly dispersed to prepare the dining area. Meanwhile, a profoundly beautiful and elegant blonde woman approached them through the crowd. She wore the familiar, faintly worried expression of a mother, yet maintaining her dignified composure, she stepped up to Bilbo and Altay.
"Have you seen my son? He left without telling me."
Looking at this gentle and noble woman, Bilbo nodded to reassure her and spoke with great warmth.
"Yes, Lady Gilraen. He came to the kitchen because he was hungry, and I gave him something to eat. Do not worry, he is not alone; the elves working in the kitchen, Master Caelthir, and Igris are with him."
The clouds of anxiety within Gilraen scattered upon hearing this assurance. Visibly relaxing, she nodded at Bilbo with an expression of profound gratitude.
"Thank you, Master Baggins. I apologize for any trouble my son may have caused."
Faced with the woman's deeply apologetic demeanor, Bilbo's cheeks flushed slightly, and he replied with bashful sincerity.
"It was no trouble at all, Lady Gilraen. I enjoy spending time with Estel; he is a very bright boy."
Gilraen smiled gently at Bilbo's heartfelt words and nodded in agreement.
"I thank you for that, Master Baggins. It pleases me that you have befriended Estel. I like him interacting with different people."
After pausing for a brief moment, she continued with a simple yet curious question that had crossed her mind.
"So, what did Mr. Igris cook for dinner? The dishes we had this morning were so different and wonderful."
Just as Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, a sound echoed through the hall. It was like the roar of a monster dying of starvation.
"BIIIIIIIILLLLLLBBBBBOOOOOOOOO!"
Bilbo jumped out of his skin in sheer terror, and the people around them flinched violently. When Bilbo spun around, two massive, powerful hands suddenly clamped down on both of his shoulders like a steel vise and shook him violently. Utterly bewildered, Bilbo found himself nose to nose with Bombur and managed to stutter out.
"Bombur? What are you doing!"
Bombur, his mouth watering and his eyes crazed with ravenous hunger, fired back with a question of his own.
"Did Igris make the food?"
Seeing Bombur in this feral state, a very tense Bilbo nodded and swallowed hard, already feeling his shoulders going numb.
GULP!
"Y-yes."
Bombur demanded frantically.
"Then why hasn't the food arrived?"
Bilbo struggled to answer as he tried to pry his shoulders from the dwarf's iron claws.
"That's why I came here, to get some men."
Hearing this, Bombur jolted, his eyes rapidly scanning the surroundings until he realized with creeping dread that two specific individuals were missing. He asked in sheer panic.
"Bamsı and Ordo!?"
Bilbo answered immediately.
"They already went to the kitchen."
Bombur's eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock. The fat dwarf froze completely, staring blankly at Bilbo as a horrifying image of Ordo and Bamsı devouring all the food flashed through his mind. Instantly releasing Bilbo, he spun on his heel, sprinted with impossible speed, and crashed through the grand doors of the hall.
"OUT OF MY WAY, MY FOOD IS IN DANGER!"