The night progressed with an air of refinement that Mizuki hadn't experienced in quite some time. The meal had been lavish, with plates of delicately spiced dishes and goblets that seemed never to empty. Elrond had been an excellent host, guiding conversations with the ease of someone who had lived through centuries, his questions subtle and probing, though Mizuki had managed to answer only what she wished.

The Company, for their part, had relaxed somewhat, though Thorin's unease never truly left him. He had spent most of the meal observing Mizuki with quiet curiosity, as though trying to piece together the parts of her story she wasn't telling.

Now, the night was winding down. The hall had emptied, and the gentle hum of Elvish music drifted faintly from somewhere deeper in the halls of Rivendell. Mizuki made her way back to her chambers, her steps steady despite the half-full goblet of wine in her hand.

The corridors were dimly lit, the flickering lanterns casting soft golden light along the carved stone walls. Mizuki's dress swished softly with each step, the golden dragons along its hem glinting faintly as the fabric caught the light.

When she finally reached her room, she pushed the door open with her free hand and stepped inside. The quiet was comforting, the soft glow of a single candle on the bedside table casting long shadows across the walls. She set the glass of wine down and ran a hand through her hair, pulling loose the silver circlet that had adorned her head.

The weight of the day hit her all at once, her body sinking onto the edge of the bed as she exhaled deeply. The wine, sweet and warm, had left a pleasant buzz in her head, though her mind remained alert, thoughts spinning quietly in the background.

For a moment, she sat there, the faint strains of music still reaching her ears, mingling with the cool night air that drifted in through the open balcony doors. Then, with a soft sigh, she laid back onto the bed, the plush pillows and fine sheets welcoming her into their embrace.

The goblet of wine sat untouched on the table beside her as she stared up at the ceiling, her crimson eyes flickering faintly in the candlelight. Mizuki closed her eyes, her thoughts fading into the stillness of the room.

"Not quite what I expected," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, with another soft chuckle, she allowed herself to drift into sleep, the night in Rivendell finally quieting around her.

🎬

Mizuki was stirred from her sleep by a firm knock at the door. Her crimson eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim glow of the morning light filtering through the balcony. She sat up slowly, her body still heavy with the lingering haze of rest, and called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Balin stepped inside, his expression apologetic, his hands clasped in front of him. "Sorry to wake you," he said, his gravelly voice soft, though the weight of his words hinted at urgency.

Mizuki ran a hand through her hair, brushing loose strands from her face, and looked at him expectantly. "What is it, Balin?"

The old dwarf sighed and shifted his weight, his brow furrowed. "Thorin," he began, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "He says he needs you with us."

Mizuki frowned slightly, tilting her head. "Needs me for what?"

Balin shrugged, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Didn't say exactly, but he's not one for waiting, you know that. He's in one of his moods, and when Thorin's in a mood, well..." He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Mizuki sighed, pushing herself off the bed. She stretched briefly, rolling her shoulders as she adjusted to being awake. "Alright," she said finally, her voice steady. "Let me get dressed. I'll be there."

Balin gave her a small nod and lingered for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. "We're all glad you made it through that mess with the Wargs," he said quietly. "Thorin may not say it outright, but I reckon he feels the same."

Mizuki's lips curved into a faint smile. "Thank you, Balin. Now, go on—I'll be there shortly."

Balin bowed his head slightly, then stepped out of the room, leaving Mizuki alone once more. She turned to the window, where the soft light of morning touched the cliffs of Rivendell.

Thorin, she thought with a small shake of her head. What trouble are you leading us into now?

Mizuki soon dressed and made her way through the elegant halls of Rivendell, her steps quiet as she followed the faint voices echoing from the chamber ahead. When she entered, she found Thorin standing stiffly with Gandalf, Bilbo, and, of course, Lord Elrond, who greeted her arrival with a calm, knowing smile.

"Ah, you came," Elrond said warmly, inclining his head toward her as she approached.

Mizuki gave a slight nod in return but said nothing, stepping to Bilbo's side. The hobbit glanced at her briefly, his brow furrowed in confusion as if to silently ask if she understood what was happening. She merely shook her head gently, her eyes moving to the others.

Elrond turned his attention back to Thorin, his hand outstretched. "The map, please," he said, his tone patient yet firm.

Thorin hesitated, his fingers tightening around the rolled parchment he held. The King Under the Mountain did not trust easily, least of all the Elves, and his reluctance was evident in the sharp set of his jaw.

Gandalf, sensing Thorin's hesitation, leaned closer and murmured something in his ear. Though Thorin's expression didn't soften, he gave a reluctant nod and handed the map to Elrond.

The Elf-lord took it with practiced ease, his long fingers unrolling it carefully. He tilted the map this way and that, studying the faded markings with an intensity that even Mizuki found impressive. She stood silently beside Bilbo, watching as the room held its collective breath.

Bilbo, ever curious, leaned slightly closer to Mizuki and whispered, "What are they looking for? What is he doing?"

Mizuki shrugged slightly, her voice low. "I think we're about to find out."

After a few moments, Elrond turned back to the group, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Moon runes," he said at last, his voice breaking the silence. "That's why you haven't been able to read it."

Gandalf relaxed visibly, his posture loosening as he nodded. "Yes, of course. I should have realized sooner," the wizard admitted, his tone tinged with relief.

Mizuki glanced at the map, her keen eyes narrowing slightly as she studied its faded markings. Beside her, Bilbo squinted, clearly trying to make sense of what Elrond was saying.

Elrond continued, his voice steady and measured. "Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same phase under which they were written. Fortunately, tonight's moon should suffice."

Thorin, still skeptical, crossed his arms. "And what will the runes reveal?" he asked, his tone wary.

Elrond met his gaze evenly. "If they are what I suspect, they will reveal the key to entering Erebor."

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words settling over the group like a heavy cloak. Mizuki stood quietly, her crimson eyes flickering between the faces of those around her. Whatever these moon runes revealed, she could sense that they were about to take a significant step closer to their goal—and closer to whatever dangers awaited them along the way.

The group had gathered outside under the clear night sky, the silvery moonlight casting a glow over the valley. A slab of pale crystal, its surface smooth as glass, had been placed on a low pedestal. As the moon rose to its peak, its light struck the slab, refracting across its surface.

Mizuki stood a little to the side, watching as the silvery glow intensified, shimmering like ripples on water. The map, held gently in Elrond's hands, began to gleam faintly, as if responding to the moonlight itself. The Elf-lord placed it carefully upon the slab of crystal.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, like invisible ink revealed by fire, ancient runes began to appear, their silvery script glowing faintly. The crowd gasped softly, Bilbo leaning closer with wide eyes while Thorin stood motionless, his expression unreadable but his fists clenched tightly.

Elrond leaned in, his keen eyes scanning the newly revealed script. Slowly, he began to read the runes aloud, his voice steady and melodic:

"Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."

The words hung in the air like a spell, each syllable carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. Gandalf nodded thoughtfully, stroking his beard. "Durin's Day," he muttered. "A rare occurrence, when the last moon of autumn and the sun are in the sky together."

Thorin stepped forward, his blue eyes blazing as he gazed at the runes. "The keyhole," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "That's how we enter Erebor."

Mizuki remained silent, her arms crossed as she observed the exchange. She could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of what had been revealed. This was what they had been searching for—a glimmer of hope in their arduous quest.

Bilbo, still trying to make sense of it all, whispered to her, "A thrush? A gray stone? What does it all mean?"

"It means," Mizuki said softly, her gaze fixed on Thorin, "that the mountain may not be as impenetrable as it seems. But it also means timing is everything."

Elrond stepped back from the slab, his expression calm but with a glint of respect in his eyes. "The rest," he said, "is up to you."

The moonlight began to fade as the runes slowly disappeared, their secret now revealed. Thorin straightened, determination etched into his features as he looked at his Company.

"We have what we need," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the night. "Now, we move forward."

Mizuki glanced at him, her expression unreadable, before turning her gaze back to the now-empty slab. They had found their next step—but the journey ahead was far from over.