Chapter 257 The prophecy that will soon come true
"That's just a legend," Dwalin said with a laugh. "Nothing more."
"No, all legends have a basis in fact," Aaron said seriously. "They are the indigenous people of Lake-town; no one knows the truth of the legends better than them."
"Alright, even if it's true that Smaug's left wing is injured, what about the Black Arrow?" Dwalin raised an eyebrow. "There's still one wind-lance left, but I bet no one has a Black Arrow, not even one."
Aaron: …You might need the Black Arrow, but I don't necessarily.
"What are you talking about?" Bard frowned. "Why are you so concerned about the Dragon?"
"None of your business," Thorin said, looking directly at him. "You took our money, so where are our weapons?"
"Wait here."
With that, Bard went down the stairs.
"Sigh!" Aaron shook his head. "Thorin, you need to be mentally prepared; don't have any expectations."
Thorin gave a forced smile. He also understood that Bardprobably couldn't produce any divine weapons, but at this point, he had no choice. As long as they weren't too bad, they would make do.
A moment later, Bard returned, carrying a damp black bag.
The bag clanged as it was placed on the table, and Thorinand the others eagerly opened it.
"Oh my goodness!" Aaron's eye twitched slightly. "I've tried my best to lower my expectations, but these things still managed to break my bottom line.
May I ask, can these things fetch even one gold coin in the market?"
Bard was silent for a moment, then nodded hesitantly.
Aaron rubbed his forehead speechlessly. He guessed some things from Bard's expression.
These things certainly weren't worth a gold coin, but in Lake-town, they were worth that price.
"What is this?" Thorin asked, picking up a 'weapon' with a hook.
"A spear-hook, made from an old harpoon."
"And this?" Kili picked up a black hammer.
"We call it a 'handle-hammer,' forged to look like a blacksmith's hammer. 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 truly shocked them to their core.
"We paid you for weapons; we want real, iron tools," Gloincomplained, giving a bad review, because these 'weapons,' aside from a small part of the tip, were all made of wood.
"This is simply child's play," Bofur said, dissatisfied, throwing the weapon in his hand onto the table. The others did the same.
"You won't find anything better outside of the town's armory," Bard said helplessly. "All the real stuff is locked in the armory."
"All the real stuff?" Aaron thought of something and sneered, "Your Master is truly a scoundrel. If I'm not mistaken, he's worried about someone revolting against his rule, isn't he?"
"Thorin, why don't we just take these and leave?
I can go empty-handed, and so can you," Balin said, but he didn't notice Bard's eyebrows furrowing slightly when he heard the name 'Thorin.'
"If you ask me, we should leave now."
"You can't go anywhere," Bard said, collecting his treasured 'weapons.' "There are spies watching this house, and even all the docks in town might be monitored. You must wait until dark."
The group exchanged glances and offered no objections.
At this moment, Aaron noticed Kili slowly sitting down, his pale face devoid of any color.
"Mr. Bard, I hope you can get the medicinal herbs I need as soon as possible."
Bard nodded, walked out of the house, and leaned against the railing.
He repeatedly muttered Thorin's name, his mood gradually growing heavy.
Suddenly, he thought of something, turned his head to look at the towering mountain, and only then realized the purpose of the Dwarves in the house.
Just then, the door opened, and Bain looked at his father. "Dad."
"Don't let them leave," Bard said hurriedly, about to go down the stairs.
"Wait, Father," Bain pointed to 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 said, walking out wrapped in a thick scarf, wearing a hat, and even having changed into Bain's clothes.
"I'm a proper human; with only a third of my face showing, no one should recognize me."
"You… is it really necessary?"
"Absolutely," Aaron said seriously. "Kili is fading fast. As his doctor, I need to prepare various herbs, and I might even have to test the medicine on that poor fellow.
Besides that, I also have to help you pay, since I don't even know how many things I'll need to buy.
Of course, I'll pay you for guiding the way."
"Come with me, we need to be quick."
Bard led Aaron to the only pharmacy in Lake-town. Although he was somewhat mentally prepared, this pharmacy still managed to break through Aaron's psychological defenses.
Although Lake-town was dilapidated, its size was not small, yet this only place for healing and saving lives couldn't even compare to a small clinic.
Smelling the pungent odor inside, Aaron couldn't help but sigh, "The number of people who die from illness in Lake-town every year must be considerable, right!"
"The environment is a bit poor, but in critical moments, this place is relied upon for saving lives," Bard said, knocking on the counter.
"Hey! Bard, are you buying something?" a slightly plump man asked.
"What do you want to buy?" Bard asked, looking at Aaron.
Aaron surveyed the dozens of herbs on the shelves, pondered for a moment, then said in a deep voice, "Everything."
"No," Bard immediately stopped him. "There's more than one patient in town. If you buy all the medicine, what will the common people do?"
"That was thoughtless of me," Aaron said, embarrassed. "How about this: give me a double portion of everything.
For anti-inflammatory, fever-reducing, and pain-relieving types, give me a triple portion. That should be acceptable, right!"
"Yes, of course, but…" the slightly plump man looked at Bard. "The price isn't cheap."
Aaron directly slammed ten gold coins on the counter. "Is that enough?"
"Enough, absolutely enough," the slightly plump man joyfully accepted the gold coins. With this single order, their family wouldn't have to worry about this winter.
It was almost sunset when the two emerged from the pharmacy.
Aaron carried a large package on his back, filled with various medicinal herbs, as well as a complimentary set of clay pots from the pharmacy owner.
Walking on the street, the conversations of the townspeople reached their ears.
"A group of Dwarves appeared out of nowhere, with bushy beards and fierce eyes. I've never seen people who look like that."
"What are Dwarves doing here?"
"This is a prophecy, a prophecy about the Dwarves of Durin's Folk."
"That ancient legend seems to be true."
"Huge amounts of gold and silver treasure."
"Is it true? Is the King Under the Mountain returning?"
…Listening to these words, Aaron's expression became increasingly complex.
He knew exposure was inevitable, but this was too fast, completely caught off guard.
If the townspeople knew, the Master would soon know too, and then leaving would likely involve many twists and turns.
"Prophecy? King Under the Mountain, King of Stone-carvers…" Bard murmured with a heavy expression. "King Under the Mountain."
He quickly pulled Aaron into a narrow alley and asked bluntly, "Who exactly are you people?
Those Dwarves aren't going to the Iron Hills, but to the Lonely Mountain, right?"
"Uh… you guess?"
"I'm not in the mood for jokes. I heard his name, Thorin.
I've seen the family of the King Under the Mountain on a tapestry: Thrain, Thror, and finally Thorin.
If it's true, then you absolutely cannot go to the Lonely Mountain."
"Why?" Aaron asked, puzzled. "Are you worried about that Dragon?"
"Yes," Bard admitted frankly. "The people in town don't understand, but I do.
The prophecy says that joyful bells will ring, celebrating the return of the King Under the Mountain…"
"Sounds good. The King Under the Mountain will return to his kingdom."
"But there's a second half," Bard said anxiously. "Yet all things in the world will turn to naught, and Lake-town will ultimately be devastated."
"Uh oh!" Aaron swallowed, instinctively looking at the Lonely Mountain not far away. "Things seem to be getting a bit out of hand!"
He didn't know how bad Smaug's morning temper was, but Lake-town was right next to the Lonely Mountain. At a Dragon's flying speed, it would take less than a minute to fly over. With a Dragon's destructive power, it would take less than half an hour to turn this town into ruins. Under the baptism of Dragon-fire, devastation seemed inevitable.
"Now I understand," Bard said with a complex expression. "This is the true prophecy. I cannot let you go to the Lonely Mountain."
"But you can't stop them," Aaron said. "We've faced countless dangers on this journey: Trolls, Orcs, skin-changers, and even Elves.
But they haven't stopped. These Dwarves are willing to risk their lives to achieve this goal.
Now the Lonely Mountain is right before their eyes, just one step away. Do you think it's possible for you to ask them to give up?
Besides, Bilbo and I also signed a contract. We won't give up either. In fact, you could say I came specifically for Smaug."
"You, you… are truly unreasonable," Bard said, furious, pulling Aaron back. "No matter what, I have to try. If I can persuade them, great. If not, I…"
"You can't beat us," Aaron said, looking at him with some sympathy. "There are many of us, fifteen!
And you're in your own home. For the sake of your three children, you certainly won't choose to solve the problem with force."
"But I will get everyone to reason with you. If the townspeople know the prophecy, they certainly won't let you pass."
"That's not necessarily true," Aaron thought to himself, not having the heart to discourage him.
In the conversations of the Lake-town residents, there was no mention of the Dragon, only the return of the King Under the Mountain and countless gold and silver treasures.
Human nature cannot withstand temptation. Most people only believe what they want to believe.
More importantly, the living conditions in Lake-town were unusually poor. A huge treasure was enough to change all of this; they would selectively forget the danger.