In an open clearing only a few minutes away, a large group of elves appeared. They were no different from Arda's Elves—wearing crimson armor and green cloaks, longbows hanging from their shoulders. Each of them was beautiful or handsome, yet the condition of some was different. Some of the men sat on the ground, hugging their knees, rocking back and forth while muttering to themselves. Some of the women stood on all fours, others imitated animals, and some simply remained in strange, unnatural poses. The others tended to them with anxious expressions.
"Silveat! Please stand up. You're safe now."
The elf in question recoiled in fear.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
"Silwen, I beg you, stand up! Remember who you are!"
The elf behaving like a cat did not even look at them.
"Nya~ Nya~"
Similar yet different scenes unfolded throughout the same area. Many of the elves who behaved normally had tears, sorrow, and anger in their eyes.
The elves who behaved normally were those who had died before being captured. When they returned, they had awakened together in one place. At first, they were confused, but when they noticed some of their comrades acting strangely, they could not understand what had happened. Then those who had summoned them explained the situation and showed them the moments of torture.
After witnessing it, these elves radiated pure hatred and killing intent. Many were deeply saddened, yet many also felt a profound admiration for their second commander. They had watched Vaelor endure, mock his captors, and even terrify Vulgar—after Vulgar lost both his son in battle and his wife in the dungeon, killed before his eyes. In the hearts of these elves, Vaelor's place had changed completely.
Vaelor, meanwhile, was looking into the empty eyes of his standing commander.
"At last, we escaped from there, Commander… and we regained our fallen comrades… But you are still imprisoned in those dungeons…"
Vaelor stepped forward and embraced the woman tightly. She remained unresponsive. Vaelor spoke calmly.
"…I promise, I will find a way to heal you and the others…"
At that moment, another elf approached from behind—a woman with long brown hair tied in a ponytail. She looked at Vaelor and spoke.
"Captain, what do we do now?"
Vaelor released Elaria and turned to look behind him.
"We will wait. He will come to take us."
Just then, the sound of horseshoes was heard. Vaelor smiled sharply.
"Speak of the good man, and he appears."
The elves turned toward the direction of the sound. Many prepared their weapons, drawing their bows, but Vaelor raised his hand and stopped them.
"CALM DOWN!"
The elves lowered their weapons but remained on guard. Two riders appeared atop a hill, heading toward them. When they saw that one of the riders wore black full plate armor, they understood that this was the one who had summoned them to this world.
As Igris approached, he studied the group. When he saw the condition of some of them, his brows furrowed, and he cursed inwardly. Ciri felt something similar; what she had heard from Igris on the way had shaken her, but now she could see the reality with her own eyes.
Igris stopped his horse before the group and dismounted. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stepped forward. Ciri followed, walking beside him.
Vaelor and the third commander of his unit, Zerinya, stepped forward as well. They stood facing Igris and Ciri. Igris examined the elf before him carefully. Vaelor did the same. After a few seconds, Igris spoke, having more or less understood who he was from his eyes.
"Are you Vaelor? The Kürşad of these elves?"
Vaelor asked in surprise.
"Yes, my name is Vaelor… but why did you call me Kürşad?"
Igris chuckled before answering.
"Kürşad is an ancestor of my people. He too was captured, but he died resisting… though the two of you are very different. Still, never mind."
Igris stepped forward and extended his hand.
"My name is Igris. Humans call me the Black Knight."
Vaelor looked at the outstretched hand, then into the eyes of the man before him. After a brief hesitation, he took it.
"Vaelor, second commander of the Crimson Archers. It is a pleasure to meet you—and thank you… thanks to you, we were able to leave that place… and reunite with our fallen comrades."
After releasing the handshake, Igris clasped his hands behind his back again and nodded.
"No. You were able to leave because you resisted to the very end. If you had surrendered as well, I would never have had the chance to summon you… I only became the means of your escape."
Vaelor flinched slightly. His lips trembled, but from the outside he still appeared strong. Not noticing this, Igris placed a hand on Vaelor's shoulder.
"You endured well and saved your comrades, Vaelor! Be proud of that."
After saying this, without paying attention to Vaelor's emotions, Igris turned his head and looked at the elves behaving abnormally and those trying to restrain them. Frowning, he spoke.
"…How bad is their condition?"
At Igris's question, Vaelor sighed and explained. Beside them, Ciri stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her face cold and detached as she looked around, listening to the conversation between Igris and Vaelor. Though she appeared calm, she was gripping her own arm tightly.
She felt many tangled emotions inside. There had been those who tried to capture and use her as well. Geralt, Yennefer, and her friends had always protected her—but what if it had ended like this? What if she had become a will-less body like them?
Ciri shuddered at the thought. She turned and looked at Igris's back, recalling the words he had spoken on the way.
'You don't realize how fortunate you actually are.'
Now she could feel, at least a little, the weight of those words. She wondered what Igris would do next.
Meanwhile, after letting out a heavy curse, Igris began to think carefully.
"…I can't guarantee it, but there may be two elves who can heal them."
Hearing this, Vaelor and Zerinya were stirred with excitement. Vaelor clenched his fists; his body trembled.
"Really?"
Igris paused for a moment and sighed.
"…I'm not sure, Vaelor… I can't guarantee it. But since I brought you into this world, I will take responsibility and help. However, you must understand this—this world is very complicated right now, and these two elves hold extremely high positions here. In light of recent events, they will be very busy for a long time. Still, they will help their kin."
Vaelor smiled with excitement and bowed, thanking Igris. Zerinya and several elves behind them flinched, then did the same.
"Thank you very much! Even a little hope is enough."
Igris was startled, shuddering as he quickly lifted the deeply bowing Vaelor upright.
"Please, don't do that! It's very embarrassing!"
At first, Vaelor did not want to rise, but he watched in surprise as Igris straightened him with ease, thinking to himself:
His physical strength is greater than mine…
Igris sighed and looked at Vaelor, then glanced at the elves bowing behind him and spoke irritably.
"Stand properly, all of you!"
Zerinya and the other elves hesitated, but Igris's firm tone forced them to straighten. At that moment, Igris's eyes fell on the swords.
"May I take a look at that?"
Vaelor was briefly surprised. After glancing at his sword for a moment, he drew it and handed it to Igris. As soon as Igris took the blade in his hand, his eyebrow twitched.
'Katana… these elves are formed on Japanese culture… not Western… now it makes sense why they bowed…'
Sighing, Igris returned the sword to Vaelor.
"It's a fine blade."
Vaelor took the sword, spun it once in his hand with practiced ease, and sheathed it.
"Thank you."
Igris looked first at the traumatized elves, then after a few seconds of thought, sighed.
"Vaelor, knock them unconscious so we can set out. If I bring them into an elven city like this… let's just say the Elves of Arda might be rather shocked…"
Vaelor hesitated for a moment, then sighed and nodded. When he gave the order, the elves moved. They rendered the 274 elves who were clearly behaving strangely unconscious. Igris raised his eyebrows.
"…Impressive… discipline aside, I didn't expect you to be so skilled with pressure points."
The elves had put their kin to sleep simply by lightly pressing or squeezing their necks. This surprised Igris, because no elf in Arda could do this. Pressure points were dangerous bodily vulnerabilities explained by advanced medicine; elves did not research such things, and even if they did, they would never publish them openly. Vaelor nodded and spoke while walking toward Elaria.
"We are a special unit, Master Igris. We are closer to the special forces of your world. To neutralize the enemy, we had to know the most effective methods."
Understanding, Igris nodded. Vaelor lifted Elaria onto his back. She remained unresponsive. Looking at her, Vaelor spoke softly.
"Wrap your arms around me."
Elaria obeyed in a lifeless manner. Ciri shivered and tightened her arms around herself, while Igris sighed and turned his back.
"Let's go."
The elves lifted their unconscious comrades onto their backs and began to move. Igris held Shadowmane's stirrup and walked, not mounting the horse. Ciri, who had been about to mount, stopped in surprise when she saw this. After hesitating for a moment, she sighed, took hold of her own stirrup, and followed Igris on foot. She did not mount either, quickly coming to his side and walking there. Igris glanced at her with mild curiosity but said nothing.
Vaelor came to Igris's side and spoke.
"You can ride your horse. It's no trouble for us."
Igris looked at him and replied.
"I'm not walking for your sake. I was in a coma for seventeen days—I want to stretch my legs."
Hearing this, Shadowmane rolled his eyes and snorted in a scornful tone.
"Liar."
Ignoring him, Igris kept walking. Meanwhile, Vaelor asked curiously,
"Who were the elves you mentioned?"
Igris thought for a moment before answering.
"Hmm… it's a long story… I don't remember everything very well, but I recall some things. How much have you learned about the elves of this world?"
Vaelor thought briefly, then explained roughly everything they knew. After listening, Igris nodded and spoke.
"Good. That saves me some trouble. One of the two elves we're going to is perhaps the strongest and most beautiful elf in Middle-earth—perhaps in all of Arda—and also one of the oldest. Her true name is Artanis, but later in Beleriand she took the Sindarin name Galadriel, meaning Maiden Crowned with Radiant Hair. In other words, we are going to Lady Galadriel, the Lady of Light and the last Noldorin princess."
Vaelor and the surrounding elves were stunned. Since they had learned the history of Arda's elves, they more or less knew who Artanis—Galadriel—was. This woman's place and status in elven history were extraordinary. She had seen Middle-earth and even times before Arda as they knew it, and had struggled against many darknesses. Now they understood that when Igris had said she was busy, he had not been joking.
Ciri looked around curiously, then turned to Igris and asked,
"Who is she?"
Igris looked at her, thought for a moment, and answered,
"An old grandmother over eight thousand years old who has accomplished great things. But she looks young and is quite beautiful… though she didn't affect me much…"
Igris tilted his head in puzzlement.
"I wonder why…"
Shadowmane rolled his eyes.
"You're a hopeless case when it comes to women…"
Igris shot his horse an annoyed look but was too lazy to argue. Turning back to Ciri, he continued,
"In short, she's something like a saintly empress respected by all the forces of good across the continent… that's the simplest way I can explain it. If you're curious about the full story, you can ask Gandalf during the journey, or Lady Galadriel herself when we reach Rivendell… Ah! And when I say all the forces of good, exclude the werewolves… they don't get along well with elves. Only Lord Elrond gets along with them."
Hearing the last part, Ciri looked at him with interest.
"There are werewolves here?"
Igris looked at her.
"Yes, but they're different from the ones in your world. They have their own tribes and are very powerful. They are also my allies. As long as a werewolf doesn't attack you, don't interfere with them—but if one does, defend yourself. Some lose control of their bloodlust and go mad, and some infected humans resemble the ones from your world a little."
Igris stopped and looked at Ciri seriously.
"Never fight them in open ground. Their regeneration and instincts are terrifying, and they are extremely strong. Compared to them, the werewolves in your world would look like puppies."
Ciri nodded, committing the warning to memory. The elves listened silently; they too were taking mental notes. There was much about this world they did not know. Vaelor asked again, his mind entirely on Elaria and the others.
"And the other one—who is it?"
Igris looked at Vaelor and replied,
"Lord Elrond of Rivendell. He is both a skilled healer and Galadriel's son-in-law… But even what they can do has limits… I'm not giving you a full guarantee."
To be honest, Igris had felt a faint surprise upon seeing Celebrían. Though he did not know the original history in detail, he had once read about Elrond's life with curiosity. He vaguely remembered that centuries ago Celebrían had been captured by orcs and that her mind had been severely damaged. Still, he did not dwell on it much. The Tolkien narratives of his own world and this world were both similar and different. He was glad for Elrond's sake, but he did not concern himself too deeply, because it did not truly involve him.
Hearing his words, Vaelor nodded.
"I understand… but even the smallest hope I find, I will pursue…"
He turned his head and looked at Elaria, whose dull eyes stared into nothing as she lay across his back.
"…I owe that to her—and to the others."
Igris sighed and nodded. Ciri, however, asked curiously,
"Will the people you mentioned really help?"
Igris looked at Ciri and spoke.
"Yes, because they would never abandon their own kin… especially Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond. Don't confuse them with the ones you know or have seen in your own world, Ciri. The elves of this world are different… but they are proud as well."
When the ruler of the Woodland Realm came to Igris's mind, he felt a headache forming and stopped the thought.
'I really don't have the patience to deal with that right now.'
Igris sighed and walked calmly, humming an old melody to himself. After walking along the earthen road for a few minutes, Vaelor asked curiously,
"Then who is Kürşad?"
Igris fell silent for a moment and looked at Vaelor. He remained quiet to gather his thoughts, then took a deep breath and began to speak. Fortunately, everyone here already knew he was from another world.
"This event took place about fourteen hundred years before the era I lived in… every educated member of my people knows of it, and even the enemies of that time recorded it. Some parts may be exaggerated, but most of it is true. You more or less know the world I came from… a world ruled by humans, where no other races exist… yet even so, humans divide among themselves according to their appearance, their way of life… there are divisions by religion—Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Satanists… these are divisions of belief. But there are also divisions by peoples: English, Greek, German, French, Italian, American, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Turk… throughout history these peoples have fought one another; some for gain, some for their people, some to rule, for faith, for a cause… if you look from each one's perspective, they see themselves as justified—but from the perspective of those they attack, of the victims, they are in the wrong… Humans are complicated beings. Even though all humans share a single ancestor, there will always be some who see themselves as superior."
Igris lifted his head to look at the cloudy, deep blue sky, gathering his thoughts as he continued walking.
"My people are a people who fought against nearly every nation on our planet—our world. Each time their reasons were different. But in the era I lived in, for me the world was divided into three: the East, the West, and us. Because of what my ancestors did, neither East nor West considers us one of them—but I am proud of every one of my ancestors… as long as they stood on the side of justice, of course."
Ciri and the surrounding elves continued to listen silently. Igris went on calmly.
"…about fourteen hundred years before my time, we had an empire. It possessed the first organized army in history, and that military system laid the foundation for the modern system. In that era, my ancestors were fewer in number than our enemies. Some sources say our enemy had a population of fifty million, while my ancestors scarcely numbered three hundred thousand… though ninety percent of that fifty million were farmers, but still… I don't know how accurate those numbers are; there are too many gaps. Even so, in pitched battle we always won. The enemy's numbers meant nothing to them—they simply fought thinking there were more enemies to kill."
Those listening were astonished; some even thought it must be an exaggeration. But Igris continued without concern.
"When the enemy realized they could not defeat us in war, they offered peace and married their princesses to our leaders or their sons… but it was a trap… These princesses slowly poisoned our empire from within, spread discord, poisoned our commanders, set brother against brother… A few years later, the enemy defeated our corrupted army and brought down our empire, taking more than a hundred thousand of my ancestors captive…"
Igris let out a deep sigh, while the elves and Ciri continued to listen in silence.
"But the enemy emperor, acting out of greed, sought to assimilate the captive people. He implemented various policies. While throwing the elderly leaders and commanders into dungeons, he placed the common people into what were essentially refugee or internment camps. As for the young warriors descended from leaders and commanders, he tried to dazzle them by placing them into positions of command, using words like, 'Look, we defeated you, but we value you—join us.' But the people in the camps lived lives no different from second-class citizens…"
Igris looked at Ciri and spoke.
"Just like the non-humans in your world…"
At these words, Ciri stared at him in silence and let out a deep breath. Igris continued.
"Look, Vaelor… even if I call you Kürşad, in truth you are very different. What you endured is not the same… but he is the closest person I can think of who resembles you in spirit."
Vaelor paused for a moment, then nodded, and Igris went on.
"Among all the emperor's plans and policies, there was one thing he forgot… the people before him were not an ordinary people; they were fiercely bound to their roots… Among the young men he appointed as commanders was one who was actually a prince of our empire. At that time his name was different—I don't remember it—but later he came to be called Kürşad."
While the others listened patiently, Igris paused for a moment, took some water from his inventory, judged the remaining distance to Rivendell, and then continued.
"Kürşad rejected captivity. Using his position, he observed the entire palace and memorized it. He formed a plan in his mind. For that plan he chose forty fearless men—men ready to die for their people, who had, like him, been appointed to command. Meeting with them in secret, he laid out the plan. He had found a weakness in the enemy and conceived a way to save his people… Their goal was to take the enemy emperor hostage and demand the captives as ransom in exchange."
The elves and Ciri were stunned. Ciri spoke quietly.
"This is an impossible mission…"
Vaelor shook his head, while Igris chuckled.
"Right? But we are a crazy people. For us, this is just one of the standard kinds of missions."
Ciri and the others looked at him strangely, but Igris paid them no mind.
"Kürşad did not make this plan out of madness alone. The enemy Emperor had a habit—on certain days of the month he would disguise himself, mingle among the common folk, and take almost no guards with him."
At these words, Ciri and the elves grasped the essence of the plan. They began to consider its feasibility, but Igris chuckled again.
"At least… that was the plan."
Those listening stiffened and focused more intently, while Igris continued calmly.
"On the day the plan was to be carried out, Kürşad prepared meticulously. He and his forty men met with everyone in the camp as if to bid them farewell, but they did not tell anyone what they were about to do. They lay in ambush along the route the Emperor was expected to pass… but what they did not know was that the Emperor would not be coming…"
Igris sighed, yet within him a spark of excitement flared; this story had always filled him with pride.
"…The Emperor had received news—a violent storm was approaching the capital, so he decided not to leave the palace. By a twist of fate, all their preparations were undone by a mere force of weather. Kürşad and his men realized the situation too late. As the storm arrived, fierce winds and torrential rain began, and only then did they understand that the Emperor would not come out. Some of the men suggested returning and attempting the plan another time, but Kürşad, who had thought of everything, knew that the absence of himself and forty commanders had most likely already been noticed. If they withdrew and their plan were uncovered, it would be their people who paid the price… They had only one option."
Hearing this, Ciri frowned.
"This is nothing but a suicide mission…"
Ciri understood where the story was going. Having been trained by the Lion of Cintra and being his granddaughter, she knew very well how heavily guarded a palace was… and considering the vast population Igris had described, she was fully aware that the number of soldiers in such a palace would number in the thousands. Not only Ciri, but the elves as well realized this. Igris, however, only chuckled and nodded.
"Yes… saying, 'If the Emperor will not come out, then we will go in,' they went to the palace. By deceiving the guards, they managed to enter—but their plan was exposed… and from that moment onward, chaos reigned in the palace. The Emperor, upon receiving the news, escaped through secret passages. Kürşad, unaware of these hidden routes, fought his way with his forty men to the throne hall—but he could not find the Emperor. By the time he realized the Emperor had fled, it was already too late… They say Kürşad and his forty men fought until dawn. Some foreign sources even claim that the soldiers in the palace were not enough, and reinforcements had to be called from the outer garrisons… but when dawn broke, the throne hall was filled with piles of corpses. It is said that the lake of blood inside rose to ankle height… yet the most astonishing part was that Kürşad and ten of his men were still alive—though they were drenched in blood and covered in wounds…"
The elves and Ciri stared in astonishment; they found it difficult to believe such a story. Igris continued.
"Kürşad and the remaining men fought their way to the royal stables. They stole horses and fled the capital. Their aim was to inform those who were still free outside the Empire, to tell them, 'Nearly a hundred thousand of your kin are in captivity,' and to return with an army… but this plan also did not go as intended. There was a deep river they had to cross, but the bridges had been destroyed by the storm. Kürşad and his group were cornered at the river and forced into one final clash with the soldiers pursuing them. But because of their small numbers and the exhaustion from fighting all night, they could not resist for long… One by one, each of them fell. In the end, only Kürşad remained—but he continued fighting… At last, when he could no longer hold his sword, an enemy soldier struck the blade, knocking the weapon from his hand, and the surrounding soldiers, seizing the opportunity, drove everything they had into Kürşad… And at last, Kürşad fell into his deep sleep."
Igris paused for a moment. Ciri and the elves said nothing—they could not. They did not know what to say, wavering between belief and disbelief. Igris chuckled softly and continued.
"…They say that even the enemy feared Kürşad and his men in death; no one dared approach them. Because of this, some of my ancestors—those who were officers or soldiers—were able to retrieve the bodies and carry them away… The Emperor felt a fear unlike anything he had ever known. Forty men had nearly annihilated the entire palace guard—so what would happen if a hundred thousand rose in rebellion? That thought frightened him and his advisers. Hiding the incident was impossible, for it was far too great… And what the Emperor feared came to pass. My captive ancestors, hearing the news, began whispering among themselves: 'We share the same blood.' 'We can do this as well.' Restlessness began to spread… And as if that were not enough, my ancestors who were still free outside learned that their kin had been taken captive and were still resisting, and they began gathering their armies as quickly as possible… Faced with these developments, the enemy Emperor released the captives. He did not dare kill or harm them… because Kürşad and his men had left a deep fear in his heart."
Igris chuckled again and went on.
"They say that when Kürşad made the plan, he declared, 'If we succeed, I renounce my claim to the throne. I fight for my people, not for my own ambition. Do not come to me and ask me to be your leader!' They say this even though it was his natural right—he was already the son of their Emperor—but he refused it… How much of this is true, I do not know, nor how accurate every detail of the story is. I have only told what was told to me…"
Igris fell silent and drank some water. The listeners continued walking, unsure what to say, while Igris spoke again.
"But this event is real. It is recorded in sources. Only the exact details are uncertain—how it happened, how many men there truly were—but I believe in it as their descendant… I do not care what others think. After this event, my people came to believe one thing: 'We will either break the chain, or we will choke upon it—but we will never bow.' …And throughout history we proved this again and again. Whenever we were taken captive, a Kürşad would arise and lift us to our feet, and slowly the world came to understand: 'You cannot enslave this people.'"
Igris fell silent and walked on, glancing around. Everyone was thoughtful, skeptical, lost in their own reflections—but Igris did not mind.
"That is who Kürşad is, Vaelor. He was not captured and tortured as you were… but your wills were very similar."
Vaelor nodded thoughtfully, and the group continued forward at a slow pace, while Igris walked on with a different question in his mind.
'I wonder what I should cook for dinner tonight…'
---
(4674 Words)
Author's note :
An extra chapter is my gift to you! I've also shared some lore on my Patreon about the Great Orcs I created, along with information about a character who will be mentioned in upcoming chapters. Anyone who's interested can take a look.
Extra info for future readers: you can quickly access it from the Collection section on Patreon. I've shared it publicly, so you can read it without needing to subscribe.
The Honorable Giant, Gugalat :
https://www.patreon.com/posts/honorable-giant-150314145
Great/High Orc:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/great-high-orc-150307060