Would Thranduil let go of this opportunity?

Grabbing Vernor's outstretched hand, knowing that as long as he pretended to be pitiful, he could make the other party give up the struggle, and he choked up a little and said, "Why? Why don't the same elven royal family, the High King, Galardriel, and even Isild need to face these difficulties?

"For the king of the Great Green Forest is elected, and has no royal blood, and because you are a king without a ring, and have not seen the twin sacred trees, let alone the elves of Vera. Pen ~ Fun ~ Pavilion www.biquge.info" Sensing that Thrandil's eyes were gradually dimming, Vernoll stretched out his other hand and held it tightly. "So you have to pay more than them to make the green forest last forever. I'm sure you can do it. ”

"I have the power of an elf, not necessarily. Thranduil turned his face sideways, lest his expression would reveal anything.

After a long sigh, he finally heard the promise he wanted.

"I'll help you. The inexplicable sense of responsibility made Vernoll can't help but say this. She only felt that the elf king in front of her seemed to have become the 20-year-old elf child she saw more than a hundred years ago.

"Help me all the time. Thranduil also found a hint of a return to the days of the Prince.

Since the fight with Isild, all the leaders of the alliance finally noticed the change in the Elven King.

The elven king, who had taken a back seat, no longer missed a meeting about the war. Although he rarely spoke during the meeting, he only listened silently, but his attitude was more upright than before. Even the glittering mopping robe was no longer worn for the ledger, but was replaced by a beautiful half-robe that reached only the knee, tied around the waist with a precious belt carved with dark patterns, and looked smart.

Under the actions of the Elven King, the relationship between the Woodland Kingdom and the Noldor Elves is also getting better and better. In the beginning, Isild, Prince of the Noldor, would be invited over as soon as he went to battle. Later, when Prince Noldor went to the battlefield, he did not wait for an invitation from the woodland, and took the initiative to go to the woodland camp to visit the princess and enjoy the wine. Such a situation was seen by the Supreme King, and he couldn't help but nod his head again and again.

Only Princess Silver Moon found it strange. Why did the Elven King come to visit him with Prince Noldor every time, and he would not sit for long, and the Elven King would take his leave early due to some sudden trivial matter. This time, the Dwarven Kingdom has finally sent the modified Mithril Helmet.

Even Isild couldn't sit still, changed a few postures in his chair, and finally couldn't help but say goodbye to the silver moon and went straight to the elven king's camp. I didn't know that I still pounced. The attendant outside the king's tent respectfully held a Mithril helmet small enough for only elven children to wear, and said to him, "Your Majesty has taken another one, which is made of the remaining materials." ”

Another Mithril Helmet was brought to the Noldor tent by Thranduil, dressed as a Noldor warrior. Since the last time he was separated from Vernor, he instructed the captain of the guard, Elos, to inquire about Furnor's squad in the Noldor army. With a copy of the information accurate to the captain's name, the camp in charge, and the battle schedule, it would only take Thranduil a few more minutes to find Vernor.

According to the information of the tent to which he belongs, after entering the second tent, he received a kind reminder. The Noldor Elf, sitting by the tent door, looked up at his bow and arrows, and pointed in the opposite direction. "There's a woodland elf over there, too. ”

Turning in the direction of the Noldor Elf's finger, Thranduil saw Vernor, who was still holding the saber in his hand as he slept. Despite her veil and hat, her eyes closed, her soft, slender eyebrows, and eyelids that were more curved than those of a normal elf, Thranduil confirmed her identity. Nodding in thanks to the Noldor elves who reminded him, Thranduil slowly approached Vernor. As the distance narrowed, he saw a thin stream of sweat clinging to her slightly furrowed brow.

It's the height of summer. The elven warriors on call changed into lighter armor, but even if they lay still, the heat would still make sweat come out of their bodies, not to mention the veil and hood still wearing the veil and hood of Vernor? Thranduil wanted to help her remove the veil, but he knew how shocking it would be. He could only stare away from the female elf next to him with his eyes, and lay on his side beside her.

Thranduil cautiously stretched out her gloved hand, trying to wipe the sweat from the corners of her eyes. As soon as he touched the tip of his eyebrows, he caused the other party's eyebrows to tighten even tighter. He had no choice but to withdraw his hand and shoot around the tent with unwilling eyes, hoping to find some items to cool down.

"You're her partner, aren't you?" the female elf who was glared at by his eyes reminded him kindly. "You're an archer, so you can only be in the ranks of the archers, and you can only be separated from her? By the way, you can follow my example and use the robe to help her cool down. ”

The elf pulled up the corner of her robe and swung it lightly, and Thranduil immediately felt the coolness of the breeze caressing her face. After expressing his gratitude, he did as the female elf did, and sure enough, Vernor's brow was relaxed. But why is there still anxiety between the corners of her eyes and eyebrows?

Vernore was in a dream.

The hot climate brought her back to the days when she lived in the dwarven kingdom in her dreams. The huge forge in the middle of Elpol is spewing pungent flames as always. Even in winter, the creatures next to the furnace are baked by the flames. Vernoer, who was working by the fireside, had to wear a heavy face protector to prevent being burned by the sparks.

Sweat oozing through the pores of the skin fills the gap between the helmet and the cheeks, exacerbating the feeling of dryness. But it couldn't be more uncomfortable than the contemptuous look from the dwarf she called "Mentor" while sipping a cool beer.

"Elves are elves, and no matter how much time you spend studying, you will never understand the combination of fire and metal. The bearded dwarf, who had just poured a large glass of beer and closed his eyes in intoxication, said.

The other dwarf, whose beard was tied in a three-strand braid, shook his head and gave Vernor a disdainful look.

Is it really impossible to control the scale of the flames? Vernoll didn't believe he was so useless. Ignoring the risk of burns, she took off her gloves and began fiddling with the metal in her hands. Even if the palm of the hand was pierced by a sharp metal object, she just sucked up the blood gushing out of the wound and continued to study.