Walking Into a Trap with Eyes Wide Open

Though Dwalin and the others were reluctant, they knew Balin was right. They had no other choice.

Fili and Kili each jumped onto a goat, cut the ropes connecting them to the chariots, and rode hard toward Ravenhill.

"Gaius, get on." Dwalin mounted the last goat and left a spot for Aaron.

"I’ll pass!" Aaron shot him a disdainful glance. "I don’t like being stuck with a rough old man."

"At a time like this, you’re still joking?"

"This isn’t a joke." Aaron shook his head without explaining. He merely tapped his shoulder with his Wand, transformed into a raven, and flew into the sky.

Dwalin:…

Why did I even bother worrying?

Thus, they arrived safely at the foot of Ravenhill and joined up with Thorin.

"Charge up."

At Thorin’s command, everyone began climbing the mountain.

The Orc guards along the way were utterly incapable of resisting these four elite Dwarves. The group slaughtered their way to the summit.

But what unsettled them was that the top of the watchtower was empty. Azog was nowhere to be seen—or rather, he was hiding somewhere.

"Where is he?" Kili asked. "There doesn’t seem to be anyone here. Maybe Azog ran away."

"I doubt it," Thorin muttered. As an old rival, he knew exactly what kind of Orc Azog was: sinister, cunning, ruthless, and powerful. Every villainous trait was embodied in him to the fullest.

Still, it made sense. They had made no effort to conceal their approach to Ravenhill, so Azog must have discovered them long ago. Given his nature, there was no way he would foolishly wait in place for a fair fight to the death.

"Fili, take your brother and search the watchtower.

Stay hidden. Report immediately if you find anything, and don’t act on your own.

Understand?"

"Wait." Aaron hurriedly stopped them. "The enemy is hidden while we’re exposed. We shouldn’t split up, or we’ll be picked off one by one."

"More enemies are coming," Dwalin said as he walked over. "Goblin mercenaries. Only around a hundred or so."

The moment he finished speaking, the imp-like Goblins came charging over with shrill cries.

"Deal with them first," Thorin said, drawing his sword and charging forward.

Fili, Kili, and Dwalin showed no fear either. If it had been hundreds of Orcs, they might not have been a match for them, but Goblins were hardly much in a fight. Losing to them would be downright humiliating.

River Valley City.

Legolas rode over in haste on a white horse, with Tauriel behind him.

"Gandalf, another enemy force has arrived," Legolas said anxiously. "Gundabad Orcs led by Bolg. They’re almost here."

"Gundabad?" Gandalf seemed to realize something. "So this was planned all along. Azog is pinning down our army while Bolg launches a surprise attack from the north."

"The last straw that breaks the camel’s back?" the Thoughtform mused. "But judging by the current situation, that Orc force isn’t a straw—it’s a weight on the scales.

We’re outnumbered, and we only barely managed to gain a slight advantage. Once Bolg arrives, the scales of victory will tip back toward the Orcs.

Damn it! Life is unpredictable, and everything’s gone to hell!

No wonder my ancestor always said the tides of battle could change in an instant. I never believed it before, but now I have no choice but to."

"The situation is not quite that dire," Gandalf said calmly. "The Orcs have reinforcements, but they are not the only ones."

"Hm?" Aaron raised an eyebrow, finally remembering that Gandalf had said Queen Galadriel had rescued him from Dol Guldur, after which he had sent Brown Wizard Radagast to seek reinforcements.

The battle had reached this point, and the Orc reinforcements were nearly here. There was no reason their own reinforcements should not arrive as well!

"Gandalf, you truly had the foresight. Your image in my heart has instantly grown much taller."

The corner of Gandalf’s mouth twitched, but he merely smiled without replying.

"The north? Where is north?" Bilbo asked. "Tell me."

"Ravenhill." The Thoughtform glanced at the sun obscured by dark clouds. "If nothing unexpected happens, it will be where Azog is."

"Oh no." Bilbo’s expression changed drastically. "Thorin is there, along with Fili, Kili, and Dwalin. They’re all there."

Upon hearing that Kili was at Ravenhill too, Tauriel’s pupils widened slightly, and her heart immediately leapt into her throat.

"Not just them." The Thoughtform scratched his head. "My main body is there too."

At those words, neither Bilbo nor Gandalf showed the slightest concern. Instead, they breathed sighs of relief, and even the worry on their faces eased somewhat.

"Hey, hey, hey, what’s that supposed to mean?"

The Thoughtform felt as if its fragile heart had suffered a devastating blow, turning ice-cold.

"That is the one piece of good news," Gandalf said bluntly. "If you are there, Thorin and the others will not be in mortal danger. With a bit of luck, it may even be possible for them to retreat unscathed."

Thoughtform:…

What kind of people are these? They think way too highly of me!

"You are a clone?" Legolas stared at the Thoughtform in astonishment. "How did you do it? I can’t see any difference from the main body at all."

"Talent. It mainly comes down to my one-in-a-million talent." The Thoughtform proudly lifted its chin while secretly grumbling, You’d have to be a ghost to tell the difference.

The Thoughtform had been created by the main body using half its Magical Energy. It had flesh, blood, and emotions. Forget Legolas—even a wizard like Dumbledore, one who could step into the ranks of a Holy Magus at any time, would be unable to tell the difference.

"Can he really guarantee Kili and the others’ safety?" Tauriel asked doubtfully.

"Absolutely," Gandalf said blandly. "I have never seen anyone with a stronger desire to survive than him. Since he dared to go, it means he is confident he can return safely."

The Thoughtform smiled awkwardly and did not argue.

The main body still had at least two thousand points of Magical Energy. Apparition, Animagus—either one was enough for an escape. At worst, he could use the Disillusionment Charm to hide for a while.

If things truly came to the worst, he could use the Water-Repelling Charm and jump into the icy river. He did not believe the Orcs would risk freezing to death just to dive in and fish him out.

"But they are still in great danger," Tauriel said. "We need to find a way to warn them."

"No need." The Thoughtform pointed to its head. "Though I am a clone, I am no third-rate clone. I can communicate with the main body at any time.

The news that Bolg will attack from the north has already been passed on to him. Thorin and the others will know too."

"Well done," Gandalf praised.

"Um… should we go support them?" Bilbo asked worriedly. "I’m not trying to spoil the mood. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t be concerned, but… it’s Thorin!"

Gandalf drew in a sharp breath and inexplicably felt his teeth ache.

He had actually forgotten about that. Bilbo’s concern was not unreasonable.

Both Thorin’s grandfather and father had died at Azog’s hands. As the saying went, enemies meeting face-to-face would see red. Even if Thorin knew Ravenhill was a trap, seeing Azog would make it difficult for him not to lose his reason.

In a hot-blooded state, it was entirely possible that he would stay behind and fight Azog to the death.

"Aaron, can you talk him down?"

"What do you think?" The Thoughtform rolled its eyes. "You know how stubborn Thorin is. All I can say is that I’ll do my best.

But if he truly refuses to listen, I’ll just knock him out and carry him back."

The others looked at one another, speechless.

That method was somewhat underhanded, but there did not seem to be a better option.

Ravenhill.

Having just dealt with a group of Goblin mercenaries, Aaron received the Thoughtform’s message. His brow immediately furrowed. "Thorin, my clone has sent word. Bolg is leading a force of Gundabad Orcs this way. We must leave immediately."

"We almost have him," Dwalin said irritably. "That filthy Orc is here. We should continue."

"No, that would be walking right into the trap," Thorin said calmly. "This is Azog’s scheme—a terrible trap."

Aaron was somewhat surprised, but even more delighted.

Thorin Oakenshield had changed for the better. Now he would not have to waste his breath.

Thorin cast a regretful glance at the top of the watchtower, then helplessly gave the order to retreat.

But just as they mounted their goats, Azog, who had been hiding in the shadows, could no longer hold back.

Thorin wanted to kill him, but did he not want to kill Thorin just as badly?

In the past, Thorin Oakenshield had merely been a down-and-out Dwarf prince, yet he had repeatedly escaped the Orcs’ pursuit. But now, he had obtained the Arkenstone and was the rightful Dwarf king.

Even if the Orcs won this war and occupied the Lonely Mountain, as long as Thorin lived, he could unite the Dwarf clans. Killing him then would be harder than ascending to heaven.

"Thorin Oakenshield." Azog called Thorin’s name as he stepped out of the watchtower. "Is the mighty Dwarf king going to slink away with his tail between his legs?"

"What the hell do you know? This is called keeping the green hills, so there’ll always be firewood," Aaron said carelessly. "Don’t think we don’t know that Bolg is bringing the Gundabad Orcs here. Once this place is surrounded, we won’t be able to leave even if we want to."

"That is exactly right, Azog." Thorin smiled contemptuously. "You are lucky today. You get to keep your life. But next time, you will not be so fortunate."

With that, Thorin prepared to lead the others away.

"Thrain." Azog mockingly spoke Thorin’s father’s name. "The sight of that Dwarf dying by my hand was truly pleasing. The fear in his eyes is still fresh in my memory.

Oh, and your grandfather. What was his name again?

Thrór. I personally cut off your king’s head and tossed it onto the ground like garbage.

Two generations of Dwarf kings died by my hand. If the third-generation Dwarf king is afraid, it is only natural for Durin’s descendant to want to be a coward!"

Fuck!

Aaron cried out inwardly. Azog was being far too vicious.

This did not just lay their family and national hatred bare—he was grinding their self-respect into the dirt. No one could endure that.

"Thorin, calm down. Calm down, you have to calm down."

"I can’t calm down." Thorin unconsciously tightened his grip on the reins, then dismounted from the goat the next second. "Today, I will kill him."

"We can’t calm down either," Dwalin said furiously. "The Dwarf king has been insulted. We cannot pretend we heard nothing."

Fili and Kili nodded in succession and stepped to Thorin’s side.

Aaron:…

Motherfucker! Why are you three joining in too?