Kapitel 81: Chapter 81: Lake-Town Final part.

[General POV]

"Aldril! You bastard, I heard you!" Glóin shouted from the privy.

"Stop yelling in my ear," Bilbo complained, who was helping Glóin up. With a strong push, using all his strength, he managed to lift Glóin through the privy, while Dwalin, from below, supported him to reach the opening.

After all, there was quite some height to overcome. The medieval drainage system was the one all the houses in Lake-Town implemented; all waste ended up in the lake, which, surprisingly, remained clean. This was thanks to the wide variety of fish and algae that inhabited it and fed on the waste, keeping the water pure.

Since the bathroom door was open, Aldril and Bain watched the scene with amusement.

"Ugh, how disgusting!" Glóin exclaimed with a grimace of disgust as he shook his wet beard. While doing so, he noticed Aldril's amused smile. Glóin pressed his lips together and, with a growl, pointed a finger at Aldril.

"Not one damn word, Aldril!" he threatened, his body trembling from both embarrassment and the cold.

Aldril raised his arms in mock defeat, but his smile only grew more teasing. "I won't say a word," he promised. However, both of them knew it was a white lie; of course, Aldril would tell his son Gimli all about the embarrassing situations his father had been through someday.

"Hey! Hurry up and help us!"

"Hurry up, I'm freezing!"

"Glóin!"

The dwarves' complaints were immediate. They had been in the lake long enough, and the lower half of their bodies was beginning to go numb. The cold temperature of the lake was no joke, and though their bodies were a bit more resilient than those of humans, allowing them to swim in such cold water for a time, they were running out of time.

Aldril's words may have promised he wouldn't tell anyone about this, but Glóin knew better than anyone: 'That bastard will surely tell everything,' was his thought at that moment. But hearing his colleagues' complaints, he put the matter of Aldril aside for the moment.

With a huff, he turned around and, alongside Bilbo, helped the other dwarves climb up. Although he wouldn't deny that it was an incredibly funny sight to see Dwalin's bald head poking through the privy, like a piece of dung rising up.

"Splash"

A light slap echoed along with a laugh. Dwalin's face immediately furrowed in irritation and anger.

"Nice ass, Dwalin," Fili teased, the culprit behind the slap. Being one of the youngest and most mischievous, he hadn't missed the chance to annoy the grumpiest dwarf.

"You damned brat!" Dwalin growled, glaring at Glóin and Bilbo. "And you two, not a word about this," he said, turning his gaze to Aldril and Bain. He could only swallow his frustration toward Aldril, who had his lips pressed together, struggling not to laugh. "Humph," Dwalin huffed as he was helped out of the privy by the others.

Next, it was Balin's turn, followed by Thorin and the rest of the dwarves. The younger ones, being more resistant to the cold, were the last to get out. The group now stood, soaking wet and shivering.

"Follow me. There's a fireplace upstairs where you can warm up," Bain said. Under the gaze of all the dwarves, he was the first to head up the stairs. What they didn't know was that, like Aldril, Bain was also struggling not to laugh.

"Let's go," Thorin said, being the first to climb the stairs. The others followed him, except for Kili, who stayed behind, clutching his stomach. "I'll be right back," he told Fili.

Fili, a bit concerned for his brother, asked, "Are you alright?"

"No, I drank too much lake water, and I might have accidentally eaten a piece of crap," Kili muttered before running off to the bathroom to vomit.

------

"What's that pretty boy doing here?!" Glóin exclaimed when he saw Legolas in Bard's house. His shout reflected what many of the dwarves were thinking, including Thorin, who was looking at Legolas with obvious distaste.

After all, that stupid elf had taken the elven sword Thorin had found in the trolls' cave. His resentment only grew when he saw it sheathed on the elf's back.

"Do I need permission to be here?" Legolas retorted with a disdainful smile. "The real question would be: what are you wet rats doing in this place?" he added, provoking the general disgust of the dwarves.

"Legolas," Sigrid murmured softly as she took his hand. The gesture eased Legolas' discomfort, and, ignoring the dwarves, he returned her smile. "It's okay," he whispered back to her.

"Heh..."

Glóin's mocking smile appeared when he noticed that the young human, who seemed to be the boatman's daughter, was the "pretty boy's" partner. In his eyes, Legolas had shown submission.

"Here, use these," Bard interrupted, stepping out of a room with loose clothing in his hands. "You can put your clothes by the fireplace to dry," he reminded them.

"Thank you, boatman," Dwalin said, taking the clothes. This action surprised everyone, as those who knew his temper looked at him in confusion.

"What?" he asked, frowning at their surprised looks. Realizing the reason, he explained: "The boatman has done much for us. Though we paid him, he could have turned us in, but he didn't. Also, he let us hide in his house." He clarified, earning Balin's approval, who nodded in agreement.

Bard felt grateful for the dwarf's words. It was well-known that dwarves were stubborn by nature, and for one of them to thank him was a surprise. Shaking his head with a smile, he pointed to the room at the back, "You can change there."

Nodding, all the dwarves walked to Bard's room. Their short, soaked figures were an amusing sight to the onlookers, especially Legolas, who mockingly watched the dwarves' forms.

"Do you need help with anything?" Aldril asked. Since the dwarves would be busy changing, he didn't want to seem ungrateful by doing nothing, so he offered to help.

"Yes, keep the dwarves and the elf prince from killing each other," Bard muttered with a half-smile, then turned to the kitchen to help his daughter prepare the dishes. They would have a large meal today, and with guests, more plates needed to be prepared.

"Wait," Aldril said, stopping him. "Take this venison. I don't want the dwarves to finish off your food supply." As he spoke, he pulled a generous amount of venison from his storage ring, which they had obtained from Beorn.

Bard accepted it without hesitation. "Thank you," he replied. He had heard of the dwarves' insatiable appetites and had planned to serve them small portions, but now he could use the venison to feed his children, who would enjoy a day without fish.

As Bard headed to the kitchen, Aldril looked up. He noticed the Black Arrow, which was being used as a rack for some ingredients, and it struck him as a strange sight: an arrow capable of piercing the tough scales of a dragon, now reduced to a mere food holder. If any of the dwarves saw it, they would be outraged. How could one of their great creations be used to hang ingredients?

"Is that a dwarven crossbow?" a nearby comment interrupted his reflection. Curious, he turned his gaze toward Thorin and Balin, who were observing a dwarven crossbow from afar.

"Dwarven crossbow?" Tauriel whispered beside him, also fixing her eyes on the tall tower of the bell tower, where the crossbow rested on the roof.

"Isn't it common to see them?" Aldril asked, taking the opportunity to clarify his doubt.

Thorin shook his head and looked away toward him. "No, it's not common," he replied, his eyes lost in memories. "The last ones my people made were destroyed by that dragon," he continued. "The city of Dale had some that we gifted them. But the dragon destroyed them in his attack as well."

"That's true," Balin interrupted. "When we left Erebor, the city of Dale was burning." In a melancholic tone, he continued his tale. "It was the first place the dragon attacked, so it was natural for the crossbows to be destroyed."

"The dragon knew what it was doing," Thorin added. "It was known that elven steel and the dwarves' Black Arrows were the only way to pierce a dragon's tough scales."

"That's why it attacked Dale first," Balin added. "Girion, the king of Dale, gathered his men to defend the city, but it was useless." Sitting in the winged chair by the window, Balin's eyes unfocused, lost in memory.

"Girion used all the Black Arrows available, but it no longer matters," Thorin continued. "If only he had been a better shot, things would have been different."

In the corner of the room, Bard, who had been listening to the conversation from the window, suddenly stepped forward. Looking at Thorin Oakenshield with a smile, he commented: "You speak as if you lived through it yourself."

"Because I was there," Thorin replied, his voice laden with memory. "I saw with my own eyes how their arrows missed." In that moment, he understood that Erebor was doomed; despite their resistance, they could do nothing against the dragon's might.

"Then you must also know that Girion wounded the dragon in the abdomen, near the left wing!" Bain interrupted, full of energy. "He just needed one more arrow, and the dragon would have fallen!"

"That's just a legend, boy," Glóin responded from the fireplace. "If that were true, the adventurer Tindomiel would have killed it." He threw a bit of cold water on Bain's enthusiasm.

"That elf..." Bard murmured, looking at his son and nodding. "It might just be a tale, son," he added, noticing the disappointment on Bain's face. "But it could also be the reason why that elf managed to drive it away."

"Dinner's ready!"

Their conversation was interrupted by Sigrid, who cheerfully placed a venison stew along with plenty of fresh vegetables and fruits, as well as some glasses of water, on the table. The sight of a table overflowing with food was unusual for this household but was nonetheless welcome.

Thorin, now dressed in loose-fitting clothes, looked at the dwarves. "Let's eat and hope our clothes dry before we leave," he said. "Leave your weapons by the fireplace."

-Mirkwood-

"Finduilas?!" Thalwen exclaimed, embracing one of her old friends with great joy. "It's rare for you to visit. What brings you to my kingdom?" she asked curiously.

"Thalwen!" Finduilas returned her embrace warmly. Both beauties were like two golden suns—the youngest of the Noldor alongside one of the few Vanyar still dwelling in Middle-earth. Their presence brought harmony and brightness to the surroundings. "You can probably guess the reason for my visit."

"The son of Túrin," Thalwen replied, her radiant smile still present as she guessed the purpose of Finduilas' visit. "I fear to tell you that he has already departed. His inevitable confrontation with the dragon is about to take place."

"That's exactly why I rushed here. I can't leave him alone; I can't allow the son of Túrin to fall."

"I understand your reasons, Finduilas," Thalwen said with a distant look. "But Galadriel must have already informed you. The boy must face this trial without aid."

-Dol Guldur-

"You must hurry, Mithrandir. The dark shadows of Sauron are spreading toward Erebor," Galadriel said, her delicate voice conveying both power and wisdom. "You must warn them of the danger."

Breathing heavily, Gandalf nodded. "I will depart at once, Lady Galadriel." He wasted no time, and with Radagast's help, he set off in haste toward Erebor. He had to warn them about the approaching orc army, and if possible, assist Aldril in defeating the dragon. Otherwise, it would be extremely dangerous if the dragon aided the orcs.

Gazing toward Erebor on the horizon, Galadriel, her eyes slightly weary from her battle, softly murmured to the wind, "May the blessing of the Valar be with you, Aldril. I hope you can survive the trial of your existence."

***

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Kapitel 82: Chapter 82: Unexpected encounter

[General POV]

-Bard's House-

"We appreciate your hospitality, Bard," Aldril said gratefully, not wanting to impose any further in someone else's home, especially knowing that the presence of the dwarves could bring trouble.

Beside him, Bilbo slightly bowed his head, a common gesture in Hobbiton when expressing gratitude for hospitality. And indeed, Bilbo was a polite little hobbit. If anyone else from Hobbiton were here, they would have confirmed it: "You were very kind to us, Mr. Bard. Allow me to say that you are one of the few who have welcomed us with such courtesy throughout our journey," he declared, standing with his hands on his hips and his head held high.

"Ugh, I hate it when he acts like that," Dwalin grumbled from the back of the group, and he truly did hate it. Throughout the journey, Bilbo's exaggerated politeness drove him crazy! His habit of being blunt was ingrained deep in his bones, so Bilbo's excessive courtesy made his skin crawl.

"Show some respect," Balin added, giving Dwalin a soft elbow to the ribs, which made him hiss in annoyance. But out of great respect for Balin, he said nothing, just muttered incomprehensible words.

"Yes, Dwalin, remember that Bilbo's courtesy has helped us quite a bit," Kili reminded him with a half-smile. "Or have you forgotten when in Bree, Bilbo's courtesy helped us get through the gate without any trouble?"

"I remember. If it weren't for his friendly attitude, those guards would've given you a good beating," Fili agreed, joining in with his brother. "And then there was that time when that elf..."

"All right, you don't have to remind me," Dwalin interrupted with clear annoyance. These two brothers could easily get under his skin, a gift, they had said. "Stupid kids," he muttered under his breath.

Ignoring the chatter of his companions, Thorin stepped forward. His face bore an air of pride as he looked at the man who had given them shelter and a way to enter the city unnoticed. He wouldn't show it, due to his dwarven pride, but he was grateful.

"On behalf of the expedition party, I thank you for your services, Bard," he said in a tone that wasn't too arrogant but certainly not cheerful. Thorin's attitude might seem amusing to those who didn't know him; his wet clothes and the faint smell he carried would make him appear more like a vagabond than a king.

"You're welcome. Be careful as you pass through the city. The night hides small cracks that could make you fall. Walk carefully and stay alert for the guards." Bard's words were spoken without malice. He could have made money by turning them in, and the dwarves knew it. But Bard, yes, the governor had offered a valuable reward for any dwarf who entered the city.

But would Bard do that? Of course not. He was an honorable man. He had made a deal with the dwarves, and his moral code dictated that betraying them would go against his principles. Besides, the coins jingling in his pocket showed that the deal with the dwarves had been more beneficial.

While the farewell with Bard was taking place, far from the group of dwarves, Tauriel and Legolas were engaged in their usual conversation, both hidden beneath their hoods that concealed their radiant beauty. They didn't want to draw attention, a burden they had to bear due to the beauty they were born with.

"Are you sure you want to go with him?" Legolas asked with doubt. "It will be very dangerous to face that dragon," he added, the concern evident in his voice. And how could he not worry? His dear adoptive sister would be accompanying the son of that famous adventurer, facing the largest dragon alive today, a feat he couldn't quite decide whether to call bravery or foolishness.

"Yes, I promised Lady Tindomiel that when her son crossed paths with me, I would accompany him on his journey. And I don't plan on breaking my word. You, more than anyone, know how much I hate not keeping a promise," she said firmly. And indeed, she despised not fulfilling a promise, a trait deeply rooted in her being, a quality she had inherited from her late father. If Finduilas or anyone else who knew Beleg were to see Tauriel's attitude, they would shout, "Just like her father!"

Accepting his adoptive sister's words, Legolas said no more. He knew trying to convince her would be useless. "Take care," he said reluctantly. What else could he say? He wasn't a particularly expressive elf unless he was with his beloved Sigrid.

"Let's go, we must leave. Durin's Day is near, and we only have a two-day lead," a sharp voice interrupted, cutting their conversation short. Turning toward the source of the voice, they saw it was Thorin, issuing orders to march.

"Take care, Legolas," Tauriel added with an affectionate smile. She understood his concern, but she was no longer a child in need of protection. She was one of the most skilled elves with a bow and daggers in the entire elven kingdom of Mirkwood. There was no longer any need for her to be protected.

-Governor's Mansion-

A meticulously constructed mansion made of the finest wood stood in the center of the city, surrounded by a wide circle of water and finely built houses. This was where the city's most important people lived, a small group flaunting the wealth that most of the population did not have. The taxes from market sales and construction were clearly reflected in the extravagance with which this place was built.

On the second floor of the mansion, built with the citizens' taxes, sat a tall man, his visible obesity noticeable from a distance. He proudly wore a luxurious, exquisite robe, his balding head framed by wisps of red hair that only accentuated his ugliness.

His corpulent body was seated in front of a grand table filled with delicacies: fresh fruits and vegetables, lamb, pork, and venison, all served on finely colored plates, a stark contrast to those who only had a single fish to eat each day. If any of those people were here, they would exclaim in indignation.

This man was naturally careless, uninterested in the food shortages plaguing the city he governed. A foolish attitude, indeed, why neglect the very people who paid the taxes that allowed him to live in such eccentric luxury?

"Governor, I regret to inform you that the princess and the elf prince are staying at Bard's house," Alfrid said, standing at his side, watching as the governor ate like a pig, interrupting his meal with the news.

"Ugh!" The news hit him like an arrow to the heart, causing him to choke on the mouthful of food he had. His fat face turned a dark purple, and in desperation, he grabbed a goblet of wine, the liquid flowing down his throat, clearing the piece of meat that had nearly killed him.

Angrily, he threw the goblet across the table and, with surprising speed for his weight, leaped from his chair, a jump that startled Alfrid, causing him to step back in surprise.

"You're an idiot! How long ago did you see them?!" His thick jowls quivered with every word, a sight so horrid even Alfrid found it repulsive, though surely the governor must have looked in a mirror before to know that.

"Around five hours ago, my lord," Alfrid said in a meek voice, shoulders hunched in fear and shame. He knew he had messed up, but he couldn't admit that he had forgotten due to the embarrassment they'd caused him. So, he opted for the simplest, easiest way to escape the situation.

"But it wasn't my fault! Bard threatened me not to say anything, my lord," Alfrid added with a trembling voice, displaying the cunning that had earned him the position of the governor's right-hand man. His deceit was such that he had managed to fool all the stupid inhabitants of Lake-Town.

Only Bard had seen through his schemes, a thorn in his side that he had tried to remove with lies and sharp words. But did it work? No! It had the opposite effect, fanning the flames of rebellion among the citizens. Rumors were circulating that they would rise up in arms to depose both the governor and him from power.

The governor's obese face turned crimson, a sight that would have shocked anyone. This was a flaw of the man, his skin changed color depending on his mood. Red indicated anger and irritation, a darker shade meant sadness and shame, and his natural pale complexion was a sign of calmness and normality.

"That damn Bard is surely plotting something!" he bellowed angrily. "What are you waiting for? Get the guards! I'm going to greet the princes properly."

-With the Expedition Group-

"What a joke of security," Kili muttered as they walked through the slightly darkened city, lit only by the street lamps placed on nearby posts. In the distance, they could see the man in charge of lighting them. A seemingly simple job, yet it had become a tiresome routine, as evidenced by the bored expression on the man's face.

On their way, they rarely encountered any guards, and the few they saw were sitting under piles of barrels, laughing and drinking. The issue wasn't a complete lack of security, it was the habit of only dealing with minor scuffles between rebellious youths. With no nearby villages and the dragon that had once tormented them long gone, the guards had become complacent. The elderly were the only ones who remembered the dragon's shadow over the city and its attacks on the unwary, stories now dismissed as mere tales.

"That dragon over the city? Please!" mocked the younger generation. "Just the ramblings of senile old folks." But for the elders who had lived through the dragon's torment, those words were an insult. "Oh, great Valar," they prayed, "may that dragon never return to rain fire upon this city of fools."

This complacency had caused the guards to relax their vigilance. After all, who would dare to enter the city unnoticed? Elves? "Don't be naïve," they'd say. "What would the High Elves want in this decrepit city?"

"Well, it works to our advantage," Fili added, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Finally! At least this time we'll have an easy path," Glóin muttered, a murmur that many heard, including Aldril, who glanced at the dwarf with disinterest. It seemed he hadn't learned to keep his mouth shut in time.

As if summoning bad luck, the sound of footsteps was heard ahead, and several guards quickly appeared. Among them was Alfrid, his face resembling an orc, easy to distinguish. At his side, a man so obese he struggled to move, sweating profusely. "What a fat man," was the unspoken thought of everyone who saw him, fatter than a pig and wider than their dear, late friend Bombur.

"Silence," Thorin whispered from the front. "Hide."

But bad luck wouldn't leave them alone; Glóin's big mouth had caused it, and now they would pay the consequences. With a sudden movement, Glóin stepped on a wooden plank, causing it to break and sending a pile of barrels crashing down, drawing the attention of the governor and his entourage.

"Who's there?!" shouted the captain of the guard at the front. He faintly glimpsed a small figure and thought it might be a child. But to his surprise, when he got closer, a group of dwarves was lying on the ground, seemingly brought down by the fallen barrels.

Surprised, he drew his weapon, followed by the other guards, who quickly surrounded the unsuspecting dwarves. "What is a group of dwarves doing at this hour?" the governor wondered aloud.

"Surely trying to cause disorder, my lord," Alfrid replied, his hunchback becoming more prominent as he bent down to look at the dwarf Glóin. "Or am I wrong? Heh."

"Get that awful face away from me!" roared Glóin, landing a hard punch on Alfrid's face. This action was taken as an attack by the guards, who approached and drew their swords even closer to the dwarves.

Holding his bruised face from the punch, Alfrid pointed at the dwarves while shouting, "Arrest them! Quickly!"

The commotion had drawn the attention of the townspeople, who had been comfortably in their homes. One by one, they began to emerge to see what was happening, a natural human behavior. Their surprise was great when they saw a group of dwarves being arrested by the guards.

In a corner, Aldril lay hidden, covering Tauriel with a cloak belonging to his mother, one with unique properties that allowed him to hide from his enemies. This was the second time he had used it, having prepared for what was to come the moment Glóin spoke, and his intuition was correct. He managed to conceal Tauriel with him, not that she needed it, but he wanted to avoid the bother of questions he was too tired to answer.

The situation took a 180 degree turn when a dwarf stood before all the guards and declared in a majestic voice, "I am Thorin Oakenshield! Son of Thráin and grandson of Thror! The rightful King under the Mountain, and I have returned to my home!" Thorin, realizing there was no other solution, proclaimed his true identity. His royal bearing became apparent, the wet clothes and dirt on his face unable to dim his regal presence.

"And there it goes," Aldril murmured, predicting the conversation that would follow and the better treatment the dwarves would receive. He remained hidden with Tauriel, avoiding drawing attention to Thorin's title. After all, it was extremely rare to see an elf with a dwarf, and Tauriel's presence would only bring more questions Aldril wished to avoid.

----

It was late at night, and the situation had unfolded as Aldril had predicted. Unlike what he remembered, the governor didn't question Thorin's title as King under the Mountain. It was well known that neither elves nor dwarves would play or lie about the title of "King."

Soon enough, Aldril and Tauriel rejoined the rest of the group, being greeted with surprise and curiosity. However, the questions Aldril had expected didn't come. Everyone seemed afraid to approach them, whether it was due to Aldril's intimidating presence or fear of Tauriel's unusual beauty, he didn't know.

While the group of dwarves was taken to a banquet fit for kings, Aldril, along with Tauriel and Bilbo, were escorted to finely furnished rooms in the governor's mansion. They had been invited to join the dwarves, but they declined. Aldril was mentally exhausted, and since Tauriel only felt comfortable with Aldril, she also refused, though no one bothered to ask her.

Lying in bed, he ignored the excessive decoration, as it wasn't interesting to admire. After spending time in two elven kingdoms, human structures and decorations fell to the background. Settling into the large bed, he allowed himself to examine his system.

What caught his attention was the world exploration, which had increased significantly. However, it wasn't enough to earn rewards.

[World Exploration: 8.5%]

His attribute points, on the other hand, were another story. A high number stood there, all due to the spiders and orcs he had killed along the way, particularly that bastard Borg, whose memory still made his fists clench with frustration and anger.

[Attribute Points: 20]

Wasting no time, he invested them all into his stats. He was soon to face that dragon, and there was no doubt, he needed to grow stronger, even if it meant using all his attribute points.

[Strength LV2] → [Strength LV3]

[Constitution LV2] → [Constitution LV3]

[Agility LV2] → [Agility LV3]

[Mentality LV2] → [Mentality LV3]

[Attribute Points: 0]

An unparalleled strength coursed through his body, bringing comfort and power. If not for his desire to rest, he would've gotten up to test his new strength. He felt renewed, even the mental exhaustion had disappeared.

However, as in all cases, his subconscious urged him to sleep. He hoped that with his newfound strength, he would once again have those dreams where he was taught the skills he had obtained. With that in mind, he allowed himself to drift into the world of dreams.

—Aldril's Dream—

There, in a field full of flowers and large trees, sat a woman on a rock. Her golden armor gleamed in the sunlight, the peaceful atmosphere bringing a sense of calm he hadn't felt in a long time. Her reddish hair cascaded down her back, and her pale skin radiated nobility. She was a beauty that could rival even the fairest of elves. Her eyelids opened as if sensing something, and her golden eyes settled on the figure she was ready to teach.

"You took your time," she said calmly, standing up, revealing her great height and unmatched beauty.

Aldril was stunned by the woman. His eyes widened as he watched her gracefully rise and place a winged valkyrie helmet on her head. Her voice, magnetic and overflowing with power, echoed.

"I am Malenia, Blade of Miquella, and I am here to guide you."

***

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