Fulfilling the King’s Promise

Erebor, King’s Hall.

Aaron looked at Thorin seated on the throne and rolled his eyes speechlessly.

"Sometimes I really wonder if your brain has been fried.

Thorin, have you lost your mind?

Why start a war, especially one with almost no chance of winning?"

"This has nothing to do with you, Gaius."

"No." Aaron said bluntly. "It has everything to do with me."

Thorin smiled teasingly, his gaze lingering on Aaron and Bilbo for several seconds in turn. "I’m sorry for dragging you into this, but I promise you won’t be in any danger."

"We’re not afraid," Bilbo couldn’t help interrupting. "If war really breaks out, we’ll definitely stand on your side. That’s what friends should do. But we don’t want to be forced into an unjust war because of your irrationality.

Thorin, you need to see the situation clearly.

There’s a well-equipped Elf Tribe army outside the city, and you just drove countless angry fishermen over to them."

"The situation will change soon." Thorin smiled meaningfully. "Mr. Bagins, never underestimate Dwarves.

We reclaimed Erebor, so naturally we can defend it as well."

"Yeah." Aaron said sarcastically. "We can defend it, as long as we defeat enemies hundreds or thousands of times our number."

"Not that many," Balin said. "We’ve already informed the army of the Iron Hills. King Dáin will be arriving with troops soon."

"When did you notify them?"

"The ravens of Erebor don’t just know how to caw."

"Oh!" Aaron suddenly understood. "Carrier pigeons—no, carrier ravens."

"Feeling reassured now?" Thorin said smugly. "With Erebor’s defenses and Dáin’s army, we may not be at a disadvantage."

"Now I’m even more worried." Aaron shook his head, looking at Thorin cautiously. "The scale of this war is constantly expanding, which means the casualties will rise dramatically as well."

Thorin merely smiled faintly in disdain. "Dwarves fear no challenge."

Aaron: …

"This time is different. This is an unprecedented challenge.

We can’t make enemies. At the very least, we need to preserve our strength as much as possible."

"There are only fifteen of us. There’s nothing to preserve. It’s better to fight with everything we have."

"No, you misunderstand. I mean preserving the strength of humans and Elves." Aaron said seriously. "This war must be stopped, no matter what."

The smile slowly faded from Thorin’s face, and the others also looked at Aaron in confusion.

"Gaius, why should we preserve the strength of our enemies?" Dwalin said unhappily.

"Because there is a common enemy." Aaron explained patiently. "Smaug said it himself when Bilbo and I were searching for the Arkenstone. The enemy in the shadows is powerful and has its eyes on Lonely Mountain."

"It’s true." Bilbo nodded. "It said it was a darkness capable of drowning the world."

The Dwarves looked at one another, but Thorin burst into loud laughter.

"You two worry over nothing. Clearly, that evil dragon was just trying to scare you.

It was afraid you would find the Arkenstone, afraid I would become king, afraid of the Dwarven army."

Aaron rubbed his forehead and shook his head, utterly speechless.

He knew Thorin had become arrogant, but he hadn’t expected him to become arrogant to this extent.

You’re the king! Is it really appropriate to make such rash assumptions?

"Fine! Since that’s how you see it, I have nothing more to say." Aaron smiled helplessly. "But rebuilding Long Lake Town was a promise you made to them."

"I made myself very clear at the City Gate. I have no promises to them," Thorin said flatly. "I won’t give those opportunists a single coin."

"But they have nothing left." Bilbo said compassionately. "If we hadn’t awakened the evil dragon, they wouldn’t have become homeless."

"This is the price of greed. They should have been prepared."

"But a promise is still a promise." Aaron looked seriously at Thorin. "You are Durin’s descendant, the king of the Dwarves. Going back on your word will not only damage your reputation, but also disgrace your ancestors."

Thorin took a deep breath, looking at Aaron and Bilbo with a complicated expression.

"If I insist on not helping them, what will you think of me?"

"Bilbo will feel regret and disappointment, but he won’t keep trying to persuade you.

As for me…" Aaron paused and took out the signed contract. "I’ll give my share to the refugees of Long Lake Town and help them rebuild their homes.

Thorin, you can refuse to give Bard a single gold coin, but this is what you promised me. I have the right to decide how it is used."

"And if I refuse to give it to you?" Thorin’s voice was hoarse, and an unusual gleam flashed through his eyes.

"Then I’ll take it myself." Aaron said calmly. "But before that, I’ll make you see yourself clearly—for example, by destroying the Arkenstone.

The Thorin Oakenshield I know wouldn’t value gold this much, unless his mind has been bewitched by the Heart of Lonely Mountain."

At that, Thorin slowly walked up to Aaron. "You had planned this long ago? Is that why you asked me earlier whether I acknowledged this contract?"

"You could call it preparing for a rainy day." Aaron shrugged. "I thought of it back in Long Lake Town. If you, the king, refused to keep your promise, I would take out my share.

That way, Long Lake Town could be rebuilt, and Durin’s descendants wouldn’t have to break their word."

"But then you’ll be left with nothing." Thorin casually grabbed a handful of gold coins. One coin after another slipped from his palm, producing crisp clinks. "Do you know what one fifteenth means? If you give up this fortune, you may spend the rest of your life drowning in regret, all for refugees you don’t even know."

"Mm… honestly, money is a good thing. I like money quite a lot." Aaron showed not the slightest embarrassment as he spoke bluntly. "But there are some things money can’t buy, such as… a king’s promise."

"But you bought one." Thorin sighed. "You bought a king’s promise with one fifteenth of the treasure."

"Thorin, forgive my presumption." Bilbo asked with a light smile. "Does that mean you agree to let us give part of the wealth to the people of Long Lake Town so they can rebuild their homes?"

"What? Does Mr. Bagins intend to donate his share as well?" Thorin asked teasingly.

"No, no, no, that’s not it." Bilbo hurriedly waved his hands. "One fifteenth is enough to rebuild Long Lake Town. Any more would be counterproductive. As for my share, I don’t need it."

"You don’t need it?" Thorin looked at Bilbo in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Bilbo nodded. "I’m just an ordinary Hobbit. What would I do with so much money?

But you’re different. Rebuilding a kingdom requires money in every aspect."

Hearing this, Thorin’s lips curved upward as he looked at them appreciatively. "I have to admit, Gandalf’s eye for people is impeccable. The two burglars he recommended don’t even want this enormous fortune.

Gaius and Mr. Bagins, you don’t covet Dwarven wealth. You are true friends, worthy of the Dwarves’ trust and even more worthy of their respect."

The other Dwarves also smiled. They had wanted to offer some help to the people of Long Lake Town, but the king’s orders could not be disobeyed.

If Thorin didn’t want to give, they couldn’t give either. Yet they had never expected someone to persuade him.

"I can let you fulfill my promise, but not now."

"Why?" Bilbo asked anxiously.

"Because the Elf Tribe army is stationed in River Valley City. Until they are driven back, I will never open the City Gate."

Bilbo was immediately left speechless. Thorin could allow them to help the people of Long Lake Town rebuild their homes, but he would never compromise with the Elves.

But if the City Gate remained shut, how could they send the money for rebuilding Long Lake Town out?

Even if they went to River Valley City to explain it to Bard, he might not believe them. After all, Thorin had refused very decisively before, just short of declaring war outright.

"I’ll handle it." Aaron stepped forward voluntarily. "I’ll go to River Valley City and explain everything to Bard. As for how to get the gold out of the city, that isn’t difficult for a wizard like me."

"You can decide that yourself. But before you leave, I have something to give you." Thorin turned toward the others. "Come with me."

The armory.

It was filled with all kinds of armor and weapons, all covered in a thick layer of dust.

But Dwarven forging was unmatched in the world. Even after so many years, the weapons and equipment here would be as good as new with a simple wipe.

"Choose armor and weapons that suit you. We can’t defend Erebor without them."

The Dwarves did not hesitate in the slightest and began selecting equipment that felt right in their hands.

"Mr. Bagins." Thorin opened a box and took out a pale silver vest. "You’ll have use for this."

"My goodness." Aaron’s eyes widened in astonishment. He reached out to touch it. "This is made of Mithril. Blades and arrows can’t pierce it."

"You have a good eye." Thorin said proudly. "My ancestors forged it from a silver alloy.

Put it on. It symbolizes your friendship with the Dwarves. The Dwarves will treat you as their most honored guest."

Bilbo was flattered. He took off his coat and put on the vest.

"It fits quite well." Bilbo gave an awkward smile. "But it feels a little strange. After all, I’m only a Hobbit, not a warrior."

"You’ll get used to it." Aaron patted his shoulder. "Nothing suits you better than something that keeps you alive."

"Gaius, there is only one Mithril vest, but I have thought of something more suitable for you."

Hearing this, Aaron was delighted, thinking he was about to receive a Divine Weapon.

But his expression quickly became especially complicated when Thorin placed a jet-black key in his hand.

"This… isn’t this a little inappropriate?"

The corner of Aaron’s eye twitched. He had never expected Thorin to give him the key to the Secret Door.

Was this key valuable? It truly was priceless, because it was a family token passed down through Thorin’s family for generations and the key to Erebor’s back entrance.

But was it not valuable? It was also true that it wasn’t worth much money.

At least, that was how Aaron saw it. He would leave this world sooner or later, and a key he would never use had only sentimental value to him.

"How about… we trade?" Bilbo said. "I rather like this key."

"Let’s not. We may very well face a war next.

The Mithril vest won’t be of much use on me, but without it, your chances of dying will probably shoot straight up."

Bilbo: …

It was the truth, just a little harsh to hear.