Bard shrugged: "So, what do you want them for?"
Gandalf maintained his benevolent expression: "That depends on what you tell me they are about to do."
Bard raised an eyebrow. Why did this old man like to beat around the bush when speaking? It felt so difficult to talk to him.
He scrutinized Gandalf again, from head to toe, and said, "I think the sentences the dwarves used to describe you aren't entirely wrong… My daughter has been detained by the Mayor. Arthur and Thorin are here to rescue my daughter. If you want to know why the Mayor detained my daughter, to make a long story short, it's because we have different attitudes towards how to face the awakened Dragon, so he doesn't like me."
Then Bard added softly, "Though we disliked each other even before this."
Gandalf's expression changed slightly, but he seemed to have been prepared for the news that the dragon had awakened.
Then Gandalf bid farewell to Bard: "The dwarves will still help you rescue your daughter, but Arthur, he has other things to do."
By the time Bard heavily tossed the disguised fishing net into the wooden box and looked up again, Gandalf had already walked towards Lake-town's abandoned dock, the hem of his grey robe sweeping across the icy ground, leaving footprints of varying depths on the thin frost.
At the same time, Arthur and Thorin had already arrived at the west gate entrance of Lake-town, waiting to enter Lake-town after the guards checked all procedures and certificates.
The iron railing of the guard post at the town entrance was covered in icicles, and two guards were poking a frozen raven carcass with their spears.
"Fruits, from Golden Tree Territory. And this mead, a specialty of Woodland Realm." The scar-faced guard's spittle splattered on the forged parchment Thorin presented, and a greedy look appeared in his eyes: "We'll take a thirty percent tax on each box of your goods."
Thorin raised an eyebrow: "Thirty percent tax?"
"Yes, thirty percent tax. I suppose you've heard that Lake-town was attacked by the dragon from the Lonely Mountain before, and now it's a time of reconstruction. Our great and benevolent Mayor is constantly worried about the townspeople whose houses were destroyed, but unfortunately, his financial resources are limited, so he can only levy additional customs duties." The scar-faced guard spoke eloquently, completely disregarding the lack of logic in his words.
Thorin was silent for a moment. Although he had planned to feign dissatisfaction to make the guards believe they were truly a merchant caravan.
But the scar-faced guard's words still choked Thorin. He had never heard such a blatant and shameless reason for detaining goods.
Thorin shook his head: "Thirty percent tax is still a bit too much. Even if we sell them, we won't earn much by the time we reach Iron Hills. Never mind, we won't enter Lake-town after all."
"Is this a place where you can come and go as you please? Leave all the goods here. I suspect you are smuggling things that violate Lake-town's laws. Let us check them thoroughly."
The scar-faced guard sneered upon hearing this, just as he was about to order the surrounding guards to confiscate all of Thorin's goods, he saw a dwarf with a long white beard walk out with a smile.
Balin, with a kind and benevolent smile, came to Thorin's side: "Wait a moment, brave Guard Sir. See if you can be a bit accommodating, it wasn't easy for us to come all this way."
As he spoke, a sapphire slipped from his sleeve and quietly rolled into a puddle at the scar-faced guard's feet, reflecting an eerie glow by the guard's boot.
The scar-faced guard's expression remained unchanged, but he skillfully hooked and stepped, pressing the sapphire under his sole, while at the same time, his attitude towards Balin became enthusiastic: "I thought so too, it must have been a very difficult journey for you to come all the way from Blue Mountains."
Then he shouted to the guard responsible for recording: "All clear, open the gate, let them in!"
"Wait, perhaps Sir Alfred should take a look first."
Another guard had just raised his crossbow, his tone somewhat hesitant, and Balin had already slipped another gem into a crack in his wrist guard.
Then this guard said nothing more, but waved his hand to have the city gate opened.
The moment the iron gate creaked open, some accumulated snow fell, drifting into the icy sewage ditch like dead butterflies.
"Welcome to Lake-town, I hope you have a pleasant experience." The scar-faced guard called out feigning politeness behind Thorin and the others.
Thorin and the others followed the cold and damp road and found an open inn. The group then settled in.
"It seems the ruler of Lake-town doesn't trust us to stay here honestly; we're already being watched." Dwalin leaned by the window of the second-floor guest room, seeing several sneaking figures outside through the narrow gap.
Arthur said: "This is normal, as long as we make sure our conversations aren't overheard by those with ulterior motives. Bernal and Millison are already outside to prevent any nosy people from getting close."
Thorin also slowly paced to the window. At this moment, the gilded watchtower of the Mayor rang its bell. He pretended to be curious and pushed open the window. The dwarf's eyesight saw the plump figure moving behind the Mayor's stained-glass window.
Then Thorin heavily closed the wooden window, shaking the accumulated snow on the window frame, causing it to slide down with a rustle.
He looked at the dwarves inside the room and instructed: "The Mayor is already up, and someone must have already told him that a dwarf merchant caravan has arrived in Lake-town. Ori, Nori, Dori, you, along with Kili and Fili, the five of you go to the market and pretend to be merchants. The rats the Mayor keeps should be smelling the honey."
The named dwarves exchanged knowing glances and agreed.
Arthur also said: "In that case, we should also act like normal mercenaries. Bernal and Igon are most suitable to pretend to be drunkards in the tavern downstairs, while Millison and I will follow Kili and the others to the market, acting as escorts for the goods. This will not only make it convenient for us to gather information but also prevent others from suspecting our identities."
Upon hearing this, Kili played with a silver-plated spoon on the guest room's dining table, tossing it into the air where it made a bright arc, then caught it precisely and said: "Then Teacher Arthur, you should learn from us."
Then he deliberately raised his voice to imitate a mercenary's rough voice: "Later, when we get to the market, if anyone dares to stare at my wine barrel—!"
Fili picked up the cue, pounding his chest, making the pewter cups on the table clatter.
But before Arthur could speak, Thorin's silent gaze made Fili and Kili immediately sit up straight, not daring to move.
Thorin nodded: "Very good, then it's settled."
Bilbo, at this moment, curiously raised his hand and asked proactively: "What about me? Do I need to do anything?"
Thorin glanced at Bilbo and said faintly: "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you. I was just about to tell you what you need to do, and it's a very important task."
Bilbo instinctively recoiled, asking nervously: "What important task?"
"Of course, it's to use your stealth talent to find where Bard's two daughters are being held in Lake-town." Thorin said.
At this moment, a familiar voice to Arthur and Thorin came from outside the guest room: "After so many days, is Bilbo already capable of facing difficulties on his own?"
Millison pushed open the door, revealing Gandalf's figure outside.
Bernal's voice also clearly came from outside the room: "Don't worry, he must have used some kind of sorcery; no one noticed Gandalf entering this inn."
The moment Arthur saw Gandalf, he felt a sense of relief, and the first thing he thought of was that he finally didn't have to lead these stubborn dwarves alone anymore.
Thorin also showed an excited expression and stepped forward: "Oh, Gandalf! When did you catch up with us?"
Gandalf's eyes were a bit strange, as he recalled how the dwarves, according to Bard, described him, and seeing Thorin's cheerful look, he didn't know what to say.
However, he quickly cast these thoughts aside and entered the guest room, which was packed with people (mostly dwarves).
Arthur's arm paused in mid-air, then he firmly wrapped it around the thin shoulders of the grey-robed wizard.
The burnt scent of pine wood and the smell of tobacco instantly filled Arthur's nostrils, reminding him of the day he parted ways with Gandalf a few months ago.
He said with a smile, "You finally deigned to show up with your pipe?"
However, the smile lines at the corners of Gandalf's eyes gradually faded as the blue smoke from his pipe ascended, and sparks flickered among the tobacco, reflecting a deep crimson stirring in the depths of his pupils.
Gandalf's expression was serious as he looked at Arthur, then at Thorin: "This is precisely why I rushed to find you, Arthur, Thorin. The situation we face now is far more dangerous than we imagined."
Arthur also showed a serious expression: "Tell me in detail."
Gandalf took a puff from his pipe, his aged face hidden in the smoke: "In Dol Guldur, Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, Saruman, and I discovered that the Ringwraiths, who should have been buried deep, have awakened. Although we did not find the true master of Dol Guldur, I can confirm that it is definitely not some ordinary necromancer, so Smaug's awakening is by no means accidental."
Then he glanced at Arthur and said with some lingering fear: "If I hadn't called Lady Galadriel and the other two beforehand and directly entered Dol Guldur, I would have been imprisoned there, unknown to anyone, until I died or fell. Because I can confirm that the master of Dol Guldur is indeed the one I thought of."
Arthur heard the name "Ringwraiths" for the first time and asked with a frown: "What kind of creatures are these Ringwraiths?"
Gandalf briefly explained: "They are also called the Nazgûl, a group of human kings corrupted and fallen by power and authority, now obeying the command of the Dark Lord."
Arthur nodded, indicating that he understood.
But Thorin said, "But what does this have to do with us?"
Gandalf glared at Thorin: "Of course it does. Not to mention that the four of us discovered in Dol Guldur that they were secretly forging standardized weapons and armor for orcs, you will face not only an awakened Dragon but also an entire army of orcs, ready for battle. We also found someone crucial to you in that abandoned fortress. Your father, Thráin! And it is because of him that we learned who the true master of Dol Guldur is."
Thorin's eyes widened, and his mouth slightly opened. After a brief moment of stunned silence, he became excited: "You found my father?? Where is he now?? Is he injured??"
Gandalf soothed him: "Don't get excited, Thorin, your father is very safe now. Although he sustained some injuries, they have completely healed."
He glanced at Arthur and said with a chuckle: "This is thanks to Arthur."
Arthur looked bewildered: "Huh? Me?"
Gandalf's holly wood pipe slowly rotated between his fingers, and the rising smoke outlined the contours of memory: "When we found Thráin, his pulse was weaker than a spider silk in the wind; his situation was very bad. Although Lady Galadriel chanted spells to barely protect his heart, she could not stop the dissipation of his life, like trying to catch a waterfall with a spiderweb. Therefore, we decided that Lady Galadriel and the others would pursue the whereabouts of the true master of Dol Guldur. And I called for the Great Eagles to help, taking Thráin to your Golden Tree Territory to seek help. Ms. Nephili Lu received us and provided treatment for Thráin. By the second day, Thráin was able to drink an entire pot of lamb stew."
So that's how it was.
Arthur nodded.
When Thorin heard that his father was receiving treatment in the Golden Tree Territory, his previously anxious mood instantly calmed down.
Because he had complete confidence in Arthur and everything related to him, as if as long as it concerned him, all difficulties would be resolved.
Thorin relaxed, raised his hand and gently patted Arthur's back, his rough laughter startling the rooks perched outside the window: "I've lost count of how much I owe you."
"Friends shouldn't always think about owing this or that. You help me, I help you, that's normal. Don't always keep score, otherwise, living like that is too tiring." Arthur smiled.
But his jest was interrupted by Gandalf's suddenly grave expression. The grey-robed wizard stroked a new crack on his pipe and sighed, saying: "Unfortunately, one of the Seven Rings, the dwarf King's Ring... was taken by the shadow of Dol Guldur."
Thorin took a deep breath, then seriously said to Gandalf: "As long as father can still drink mead and scold me for being reckless, and still swing his battle-axe to teach Fili and Kili martial arts, that is worth all the Mithril and gems in Middle-earth."
Arthur asked, "So what did you come to me for?"
Gandalf replied: "For the coming war, I implore you to assemble an army capable of resisting the enemy's attack."
Arthur felt confused and shook his head, refusing: "Leaving aside why I suddenly need to assemble an army. Even if I agree, the Golden Tree Territory is far away in Minhiriath; it would take at least half a year for them to arrive. Even if I send a message back to the territory now, by the time the army crosses the Misty Mountains and reaches here, Smaug's Dragon-fire would likely have already burned Lake-town to ashes. I think you should seek help from Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, after all, a distant remedy won't quench an immediate thirst."
Gandalf explained helplessly: "I have already sought help from Thranduil, but he did not agree; those spiders in Mirkwood consumed too much of his people's energy and time. In recent days, I have also separately gone to Gondor and Rohan for help, but without exception, they all refused to send troops. The only ones who might send troops and arrive fastest near the Lonely Mountain are the dwarves of the Iron Hills."
Thorin asked in confusion: "Dain? Why would he send troops? I haven't even obtained the arkenstone yet."
Gandalf looked at Thorin: "Because your father, Thráin, wrote a letter in the name of the King to the Seven dwarf Kingdoms and the dwarves of the Iron Hills, detailing the urgent situation here at the Lonely Mountain. Although Dain has not sworn allegiance to you, he did swear an oath to Thráin. Coupled with Dain's close relationship with you and your father, the probability of him sending troops is very high. As for the Seven dwarf Kingdoms, I am unsure whether these dwarf Lords still pledge allegiance to Thráin today, after his disappearance for many years."