The Prophecy About to Come True

"This is just a legend," Dwalin said with a laugh. "Nothing more."

"No, every legend has some basis in fact," Aaron said seriously. "They’re native to Long Lake Town. No one knows better than they do whether the legend is true."

"Fine, even if it is true, Smaug’s left wing was injured. But what about the Black Arrow?" Dwalin raised a brow. "There’s still one wind ballista left, but I’d wager no one has a Black Arrow—not even one."

Aaron: …

You might need the Black Arrow, but I might not.

"What are you talking about?" Bard frowned. "Why are you so concerned about that dragon?"

"None of your business." Thorin met his gaze. "You took our money. Where are our weapons?"

"Wait here."

With that, Bard went down the stairs.

"Ah!" Aaron shook his head. "Thorin, you’d better prepare yourself. Don’t get your hopes up."

Thorin forced a smile. He knew Bard probably could not provide any divine weapons, but there was nothing else they could do at this point. As long as they were not too terrible, they would make do.

Before long, Bard returned carrying a dripping black sack.

The sack landed on the table with a clatter, and Thorin and the others eagerly opened it.

"Oh my god!" Aaron’s eye twitched. "I tried my best to lower my standards, but these things still managed to shatter them. Forgive me for asking, but could these things fetch even one gold coin at the market?"

Bard fell silent for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

Aaron facepalmed speechlessly. Bard’s expression told him everything.

These things definitely were not worth one gold coin, but in Long Lake Town, that was apparently their price.

"What’s this?" Thorin asked, picking up a "weapon" fitted with hooked claws.

"A Spear Hook. It was modified from an old harpoon."

"And this?" Kili picked up a black hammer.

"We call it a Haft Hammer. It was made after the hammers at the smithy. It’s a bit heavy in the hand, but it’s better than nothing for self-defense."

The dwarves exchanged glances, forced to admit that these things had left them thoroughly dumbfounded.

"We gave you money to buy weapons. We wanted real iron weapons—proper blades and spears." Gloin voiced his displeasure, because apart from a small section at their tips, these "weapons" were made entirely of wood.

"This is a joke." Bofur tossed the weapon in his hand onto the table in dissatisfaction, and the others did the same.

"You won’t find anything better outside the town armory," Bard said helplessly. "All the real weapons are locked inside."

"All the real weapons?" Thinking of something, Aaron sneered. "Your Master really is a bastard. If I’m not mistaken, he’s afraid someone might rise up and challenge his rule!"

"Thorin, why don’t we just take these and leave? I can go empty-handed, and so can you." Balin spoke, but he did not notice Bard’s brow twitch slightly at the name Thorin.

"I say we leave now."

"You’re not going anywhere." Bard gathered up his treasured "weapons." "Spies are watching this house. Even all the town’s docks may be under surveillance. You have to wait until dark."

Everyone exchanged looks, but no one objected.

At that moment, Aaron noticed Kili slowly sit down. His pale face was completely bloodless.

"Mr. Bard, I hope you can get the medicinal herbs I asked for as soon as possible."

Bard nodded, walked out of the house, and leaned against the railing.

He kept repeating Thorin’s name to himself, his mood gradually growing heavier.

Then something occurred to him. He turned toward the towering mountain that pierced the clouds and finally realized what the dwarves in his house intended to do.

The door opened just then, and Bain looked at his father. "Dad."

"Don’t let them leave." Bard hurried toward the stairs.

"Wait, Father." Bain pointed at the room. "Aaron said he wants to go with you."

"What? Doesn’t he know there are people watching outside?"

"That’s why I changed my outfit." Aaron emerged wrapped in a thick scarf, wearing a hat and even dressed in Bain’s clothes. "I’m a proper human. If only one-third of my face is showing, no one should recognize me."

"You… is that really necessary?"

"Absolutely." Aaron’s expression turned grave. "Kili can barely hold on. As a doctor, I need to prepare all kinds of herbs. I may even have to test medicine on that unlucky bastard. Besides, I need to help pay for it. I don’t even know how much stuff I’ll be buying. Of course, I’ll pay you for leading the way."

"Come with me, then. We need to move quickly."

Bard led Aaron to Long Lake Town’s only pharmacy. Although Aaron had prepared himself somewhat, this apothecary still managed to break through his psychological defenses.

Long Lake Town was rundown, but it was not exactly small. Yet this only place that could heal the sick and save lives was not even comparable to a tiny clinic.

The pungent smell inside made Aaron sigh. "Quite a few people in Long Lake Town must die of illness every year, right?"

"The conditions are a little poor, but when it matters, this is the place people rely on to save their lives." Bard knocked on the counter as he spoke.

"Hey, Bard. What are you buying?" a slightly plump man asked.

"What do you want to buy?" Bard asked Aaron.

Aaron examined the few dozen types of medicinal herbs on the shelves, pondered for a moment, then said solemnly, "All of them."

"No." Bard immediately stopped him. "There’s more than one sick person in town. If you buy all the medicine, what will the townsfolk do?"

"That was thoughtless of me." Aaron looked embarrassed. "How about this? Give me enough of each for two people. For anti-inflammatory medicine, fever reducers, painkillers, and the like, give me enough for three people. That should work, right?"

"Yes, of course. But…" The plump man looked at Bard. "It won’t be cheap."

Aaron slapped ten gold coins onto the counter. "Is this enough?"

"Enough. More than enough." The plump man happily accepted the coins. This single sale meant his family would not have to worry about winter.

The sun was nearly setting by the time the two of them left the pharmacy.

Aaron carried a large bundle on his back, packed full of all kinds of medicinal herbs, along with a set of earthenware pots the pharmacy owner had thrown in for free.

As they walked, the townspeople’s conversations drifted into their ears.

"A whole group of dwarves appeared out of nowhere—full beards, fierce eyes. I’ve never seen people who looked like that."

"What are dwarves doing here?"

"It’s the prophecy. The prophecy about Durin’s folk."

"So that ancient legend really is true."

"Untold gold and silver treasures."

"Is it true? Is the King of Silverfount returning?"

As he listened, Aaron’s expression grew more and more colorful.

He knew their exposure was only a matter of time, but this was far too fast. It had caught them completely off guard.

If the townspeople knew, then the Master would learn of it soon enough. Leaving after that would probably involve plenty of trouble.

"The prophecy? The King of Silverfount, the King of Stonecarving…" Bard muttered heavily. "The King of the Lonely Mountain."

He quickly pulled Aaron into an alley and bluntly asked, "Who exactly are you people? Those dwarves aren’t going to the Iron Hills. They’re heading for the Lonely Mountain, aren’t they?"

"Uh… take a guess?"

"I’m not in the mood for jokes. I heard his name—Thorin. I saw the family of the King under the Mountain on a tapestry: Thrain, Thrór, and finally Thorin. If it’s true, then you absolutely cannot go to the Lonely Mountain."

"Why?" Aaron asked in confusion. "Are you afraid of that dragon?"

"Yes." Bard admitted it frankly. "The people in town don’t understand, but I do. The prophecy says that joyful bells will ring to celebrate the return of the King of the Lonely Mountain…"

"That sounds good. The King of the Lonely Mountain will return to his kingdom."

"But there’s a second half." Bard said anxiously, "And yet all things in the world shall turn to nothing, and Long Lake shall ultimately become a land of devastation."

"Uh-oh!" Aaron swallowed and instinctively looked toward the nearby Lonely Mountain. "This seems to have gotten a little serious!"

He did not know how bad Smaug’s temper would be when awakened, but Long Lake Town was right beside the Lonely Mountain. With a dragon’s flying speed, it would take less than a minute to get here. With a dragon’s destructive power, it would take less than half an hour to turn the town into ruins. Under the baptism of Dragon Fire, devastation seemed inevitable.

"Now you understand." Bard’s expression was conflicted. "This is the true prophecy. I can’t let you go to the Lonely Mountain."

"But you can’t stop them," Aaron said. "We’ve faced countless dangers along the way—Ogres, Orcs, Skin-changers, even elves. But they never stopped. These dwarves are willing to risk their lives to achieve this goal. Now that the Lonely Mountain is right in front of them, with only one step left, do you really think they’ll give up? Besides, Bilbo and I signed a contract too. We won’t give up either. You could even say I came specifically for Smaug."

"You… all of you… You’re utterly unreasonable." Bard was furious. He grabbed Aaron and headed back. "No matter what, I have to try. It would be best if I can persuade them. If I can’t, then I…"

"You can’t beat us." Aaron looked at him with some sympathy. "There are fifteen of us! And we’re in your home. For the sake of your three children, you definitely won’t choose to settle this with force."

"Then I’ll bring everyone to reason with you. If the townspeople know about the prophecy, they definitely won’t let you pass."

Not necessarily, Aaron thought, unable to bear crushing his hopes.

There was no mention of the dragon in the townspeople’s conversations. All they spoke of was the return of the King of the Lonely Mountain and inexhaustible gold and silver treasure.

Human nature could not withstand such tests. Most people only believed what they wanted to believe.

More importantly, life in Long Lake Town was miserable beyond measure. A massive treasure was enough to change all of that. They would choose to forget the danger.