Free Web NovelChapter 1151: Chapter 1129: The Truth About Wizards
"Who wouldn’t agree with that? This beautiful world."
Gandalf chuckled in agreement.
"There are still many places you’ve never been to, Lann. What you see before you is just a corner of this magnificent world."
"I am destined to miss out on many landscapes, but I will also witness many," Lann said contendedly. "But do you have any recommendations? Although I might not have the time to see them in person, listening should be good enough."
"Gondor, where there is a magnificent and mighty Holy White City. You’ve already seen Rivendell where Elrond resides, but Lothlorien Forest, the Golden Forest governed by Lady Galadriel, is stunningly beautiful."
Gandalf was puffing on his pipe while smiling and stroking his messy beard.
"There are too many beautiful places, Lann. If I have to tell you everything I’ve seen and heard, it would be a real challenge."
Lann first nodded in deep agreement, then suddenly changed his tone.
"Well then, what about that Glorfindel..."
The Demon Hunter tilted his finely chiseled jaw towards the mountain body of Elbo.
From the platform opening on this mountain, one can see the harmonious scene of elves and dwarves singing and drinking together on the giant stones of the dwarves’ feast.
That elf, who suddenly appeared on the battlefield today without anyone able to stop, was conversing with Thranduil.
The Elf King of the Woodland Kingdom was introducing his son to him.
It seems that Glorfindel, even among the elves, should be an elder role.
"Which elves is he from?"
It seemed like he had sensed the existence of the gaze, and from afar, Glorfindel, who was talking to Legolas, naturally turned around and raised his wine glass in acknowledgment towards Lann’s direction.
"Him? Ah, he’s an old friend of mine as well. Like Lady Galadriel, he’s one of the rare Light Elves now in the Middle-earth Continent."
Gandalf’s words made Lann raise an eyebrow.
He remembered the distinction between Light Elves and Dark Elves in this world: whether they have been bathed in the light of those twin Holy Trees before the sun and moon appeared.
"Glorfindel now resides in Rivendell, but unfortunately, during your few weeks there, he happened to be away. Otherwise, you should have met him."
At this point, Gandalf originally held the pipe in his palm, put it down, and patted the Gramdril "Sword of the Enemy" at his waist, saying with an interesting smile.
"These two swords of mine and Sorlin’s should actually be identified by him, as he once governed the country and fought side by side with their holders."
Gondolin, the city built by elves during the First Era.
Lann remembered when Elrond spoke of the origin of the Sword of the Enemy and the Beast-biting Sword, he mentioned this city.
"That city fell, attacked by Morgoth’s armies and the Balrogs."
Lann said in puzzlement.
"Did he survive back then?"
"Survive? No, no." Gandalf said with emotion, "Don’t be fooled by his current polite demeanor; he was undoubtedly a hard nut back then."
"He proactively blocked a powerful enemy then."
"Then he died, in Gondolin, perishing together with the Balrog."
The Demon Hunter looked in surprise at the golden-haired elf on the giant stone of the feast inside the mountain.
Balrogs were Maiar corrupted by Morgoth in the past, divine beings born from Ilúvatar’s thoughts.
And Glorfindel...
"You said he died, but he did not enter Mandos’s halls now."
"Because the Valar admired his courage, kindness, and justice, they resurrected him. And sent him from the Blessed Land across the sea to Middle-earth Continent anew to counter evil."
Lann chuckled lightly, looking at Glorfindel in the distance with interest.
...an Elf Warrior able to fight against fallen divine beings.
But Lann’s next words had nothing to do with him.
"I think I understand a bit about you wizards’ identities, Gandalf."
"Oh?" The Old Wizard also showed interest, exhaling a puff of smoke that turned into a fluttering thread in the sky. "Let’s hear it; I’m quite intrigued."
"Wind King Guan He is the Messenger of the Valar, Glorfindel once walked out of Valinor in rebirth, crossed the sea to Middle-earth. They are all your old acquaintances."
The Demon Hunter looked at Gandalf with a peculiar gaze.
"In my opinion... you’re a Maiar, Gandalf? All five wizards are Maiar?"
The Old Wizard didn’t speak, just puffed away on his pipe, occasionally scratching his face with a dirty fingernail.
"I’m not sure either, Lann."
After a long time, Gandalf shrugged, his tone carrying a playful air like an old rascal.
"I still know some of my friends, I still remember those friendships. But at the same time, I’ve lost a large part of my memory and knowledge."
"Are we Maiar? Maybe, after all, the most holy Ilúvatar has prohibited excessively powerful forces from Valinor entering the Middle-earth Continent to protect this fragile little dust ball floating in the Void Realm."
"Perhaps only when we have fulfilled our destiny can we confirm this statement. But at this moment, I am no different from dwarves, elves, or humans."
"I am just a life fighting for justice and goodness."
Lann nodded and once again cast his gaze into the majestic night beyond the Lonely Mountain. He accepted this notion.
"Hey, Gandalf, since you’re so powerful, can I consult you about something?"
The Demon Hunter’s tone suddenly turned crafty and cunning, smiling at the Old Wizard.
"Well... tell me your thoughts first?"
The Old Wizard, with seasoned experience, responded in the same cheerful manner.
"Here’s the thing..." Lann rubbed his hands and squatted down next to the Old Wizard.
"You see, my armor was perfectly fine when I came, but now it’s fallen apart after being brushed by Smaug’s dragon fire."
"And the evil dragon, its scale armor is indestructible, and the membranes of its wings can whip up hurricanes! I was thinking, why not make use of its materials?"
Gandalf nodded, holding his pipe in his mouth, "You want to use Smaug’s materials to make armor?"
"But that’s difficult because Smaug’s scale armor is already so tough that it’s hard to process. Moreover, the evil dragon’s malevolence, just the residue in the pile of gold nearly drove Sorlin insane, let alone wearing its remnants."
"Malevolence doesn’t matter," Lann said calmly, "I killed it; I wasn’t afraid of it alive, so why fear it dead?"
Through many worlds, Lann favored armor crafted from the Ancient Greece’s Yishu Technology.
This forerunner civilization’s armor came with a protective shield function. As long as the shield wasn’t broken, you wouldn’t die; even if you were stabbed in the kidney, it’d be like nothing happened. Then the armor had additional functions and intelligent setups.
This is the perk of high technology, providing comfort to its user.
But unfortunately, Yishu Technology’s creations are rare, and once used, they begin the countdown to power decline.
Cassandra used up an unknown amount of Yishu Technology creations in just two years.
After all, the Elder Race’s era of civilization was too long ago, and these technological products have been abandoned for too long.
Just digging them up and finding them usable is a testament to their strength.
This is the technologically favored armor by Lann.
And in terms of materials, undoubtedly, the diverse biological materials of the New Continent are breathtaking.
That ecologically rich and prosperous ecosystem has nurtured various powerful and ever-evolving creatures.
Hunters hunt monsters and then transform the monster materials into their weapons and armor.
In this process, truly powerful protective gear and weapons are forged with the specific retention of the monster’s [Essence], allowing the armor to retain some traits from the creature’s existence.
But being powerful, the [Essence] of these monsters also undoubtedly corrodes and oppresses the wearer.
It’s said that hunters who can’t withstand high-level equipment yet pretend to be brave often meet unfortunate ends.
Lann held New Continent’s armor in high regard, and if indeed pursuing the advanced armor produced in such technology and environment, then adapting to the armor’s pressure is a necessary process.
In Lann’s view, Smaug’s malevolence is not unacceptable. In fact, it serves as a tool to develop adaptability in advance.
"Oh, that’s great." The Old Wizard spoke innocently as if unaware of anything. "A warrior wanting stronger armor is very reasonable."
"Reasonable as it is, but Smaug’s materials... it seems no one has ever used dragon scale armor to make armor before? There’s no existing technique or blueprint; aren’t you a Maia? Use your wisdom to help out!"
Although Gandalf doesn’t seem like the God of Forging, the creator of dwarves, Auri, that domain’s Maia.
But he was born of the Creator God’s thoughts, surely he could whip up an armor design on the spot, right?
"Sadly, no, I cannot."
Gandalf showed a face of regret, but in Lann’s eyes... it was obvious he was laughing inside!
"I told you, Lann, my mind is muddled, I’ve lost a lot of knowledge and wisdom, memory, don’t trouble the old man!"
Saying this, Gandalf stood up shakily, as if he wasn’t the one who could lop off an ogre’s head with a sword in broad daylight.
Watching the Old Wizard’s act, Lann’s mouth twitched, but indeed, he had no real solution.
The banquet in the Lonely Mountain continued.
Though the King Under the Mountain could only make brief appearances at crucial moments due to serious injuries, the elves and humans, having just fought side by side against their enemies, understood this fully.
The next morning, humans without the ability to pursue the remaining orcs were first invited to join Sorlin in discussing post-war matters; Lann sat in as an invited witness.
Sorlin announced Bard’s inheritance rights to River Valley City and delivered gold to humans as per the agreement, sufficient to rebuild River Valley City and Long Lake Town.
Then, there was the national treasure from the Woodland Kingdom, the relic of Thranduil’s wife, the starlight-shimmering white gemstone, always prominently displayed in the treasury.
This treasure was returned to its rightful owner. Though Thranduil may still not smile upon Sorlin, at least he wouldn’t instinctively think Thror’s grandson was still a thief.
