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When Jimmy approached, the youngest dwarf, Ori, struggled to lift the large pack.
"Hey, Jimmy, look, not a scratch on it, see. You can trust reliable Ori. If you give it to me, nothing ever goes wrong. But seriously, what do you keep in here? It's insanely heavy."
Jimmy laughed and took the pack with one hand.
"You know my appetite. It's obviously food."
That single remark broke the tension instantly.
Elves and dwarves alike found it difficult to keep glaring at one another after that.
The Elven lord Elrond stepped forward and greeted Gandalf with a nod.
"Welcome to Rivendell, Gandalf."
"Good to see you again, Elrond. And Jimmy and your people…"
"Oh, I encountered him while clearing a band of Orcs approaching from the south," Elrond said calmly. "He claimed to know you, so we returned together."
"Yes," Gandalf said. "Jimmy is one of our companions."
Elrond glanced at Jimmy.
Companions who had been left guarding a hidden passage, it seemed.
Then Thorin Oakenshield approached, axe in hand.
"Son of Thrór," Elrond said, greeting him formally.
Thorin frowned. "Have we met?"
Elrond paused.
Stubborn as stone. As expected.
"You resemble your grandfather," Elrond said evenly. "Very much."
"I've heard that," Thorin replied. "He never mentioned you."
Silence followed.
Among dwarves, unspoken names were rarely a coincidence.
Elrond understood immediately. Old grudges did not fade easily. Dwarves might forget facts, but resentment endured with perfect clarity.
---
You hold onto your anger, but do you know how it looked from our side?
That was Smaug. A dragon. A single creature that overwhelmed an entire mountain kingdom.
Elven bows were our greatest strength, yet even they would barely have scratched him.
Were we supposed to stand and burn with you?
When you fled the Lonely Mountain, we offered refuge in Elven lands. You refused and chose instead to clash head-on with Orcs.
Elrond had every reason to be angry.
But instead of voicing it, he let an old Elven verse slip softly from his lips.
---
"What was that," one of the dwarves snapped. "Was that an insult. Are you mocking us?"
Dwarven pride could be strange like that.
It clearly was not an insult. And honestly, when had anyone ever heard Elves hurl insults?
"Oh, no," Gandalf said smoothly. "He was saying there will be a welcoming feast shortly."
"Is that so," the dwarf said at once. "Then let's go."
---
At the feast, Jimmy stared at the table.
Salads. Vegetables. Fruits.
That was it.
He looked up again.
This was Elven hospitality.
"So this is how you eat," Jimmy muttered to himself. "No wonder you're all built like archers."
Then he shrugged.
Food was food.
Jimmy ate without hesitation. Greens, fruit, bread. Everything disappeared.
The Elven attendants quickly found themselves overwhelmed.
Their plates were small. Their movements are graceful and unhurried. Each serving was meant to be savored.
Jimmy finished a plate in three bites.
And then another.
And another.
Soon, the attendants were bringing dish after dish, struggling to maintain their composure as one human dismantled an entire Elven banquet by himself.
The dwarves exchanged glances.
Then nodded.
And started eating.
Unfortunately for them, not everyone had Jimmy's capacity.
---
[Name: Jimmy Halstead]
[Level: 4 (72%)]
[Age: 1]
[Abilities: Accelerated Healing, Feral Senses, Enhanced Smell, Advanced Hand to Hand Combat, Bladed Weapon and Clawed Mastery]
[Equipment: Memory-Bonded Adamantium]
[Strength: 38]
[Agility: 52]
[Mental: 25]
[Available Points: 0]
[Techniques: None]
[Combat Skills: Silat]
After allocating his points, Jimmy felt it immediately.
Every cell in his body began screaming with hunger.
These fruits and vegetables did contain a strange, refined energy, but for him, it was nowhere near enough.
"Oh, you must be Jimmy," an Elven voice said gently. "These fruits are extremely energy-dense. Eating too much at once can overwhelm the body."
Jimmy looked up.
"And you are."
"I am Lindir, one of the stewards of Rivendell."
"Nice to meet you, Steward Lindir," Jimmy replied calmly. "But I am not like most people."
He reached beneath the stone table with both arms.
Then lifted it.
Twice.
The table settled back down without a crack.
"My body runs entirely on energy intake," Jimmy continued. "I just finished a large-scale battle, so my consumption is higher than normal. To be honest, this has been a problem for years. I have been searching for something that can restore energy quickly while traveling, but I have never found a proper solution."
He picked up another piece of fruit and ate it.
"These fruits might be sufficient for others, but for me, they barely register."
Lindir watched carefully.
Jimmy showed no discomfort. No instability.
Only hunger.
"I see," Lindir said after a moment, visibly surprised. "In that case, I believe something else may suit you better. Elven waybread."
Jimmy's eyes sharpened.
"Elven waybread."
"Yes," Lindir nodded. "When I was younger, our elders experimented with a rare fruit known as blueheart fruit. One batch of waybread was prepared without proper dilution. The result was… excessive."
"How excessive," Jimmy asked.
"Even a troll would suffer nosebleeds after consuming a single portion," Lindir said dryly.
Jimmy's interest spiked instantly.
"That sounds perfect. May I try some?"
"Of course."
Lindir gestured, and an Elf soon returned carrying a silver tray.
On it rested a single piece of Elven waybread, served with a small dish of fruit preserve.
Jimmy picked it up, dipped it lightly, and took a careful bite.
The texture was soft yet firm, similar to a dense grain cake, but infused with a clean, fragrant taste.
Then it hit.
The moment it reached his stomach, energy detonated outward like a controlled explosion.
Jimmy shuddered.
One bite.
Pure satisfaction.
This was it.
He finished the piece quickly.
If it were this kind of food, then after leveling up, four or five pieces per meal would be more than enough. On ordinary days, even one would easily sustain him.
Excellent.
Truly excellent.
"Are there more," Jimmy asked immediately. "I could eat another four or five."
Lindir hesitated. "You are certain that would not cause harm."
Jimmy looked at him calmly.
"Do I look harmed?"
He did not.
Jimmy had long despised his own appetite. Often, he did not stop eating because he was full, but because he grew tired of eating.
Sometimes he even wondered if swallowing food whole, like a snake, would be more efficient. Chewing felt like wasted effort.
More than once, Jimmy had seriously considered that if Logan had gone through this, his strongest muscle would not be his arms, but his jaw.
Overworked. Overtrained.
But this.
This was different.
This let him enjoy food again.
This was not optional anymore.
He needed this waybread. Not only that, he needed the source.
The blueheart fruit.
No matter what, he was going to get his hands on it.
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