Chapter 259: Inherited Stubbornness
"Everyone, please listen to me, you must listen to me." Bardlooked at the crowd anxiously. "Have you all forgotten what happened to Riverrun? Have you forgotten those who perished in the flames?"
The townspeople's enthusiasm was instantly doused with cold water. Many lowered their heads, their hearts wavering.
"For what?" Bard looked at Thorin in disappointment. "For the ambition to become King Under the Mountain, he is driven by greed, his eyes blinded by his own desires."
"Quiet, quiet, everyone, let's not be so quick to… shift blame." The Master suddenly interjected. "Let's not forget that it was Girion, the Master of Lake-town, your ancestor, who failed to kill the Dragon."
"Girion is your ancestor?"
Aaron looked at Bard in surprise. If this was true, it meant that Smaug's left wing was very likely to have been hit by a Black Arrow, giving the Dragon a fatal weakness.
Alfred chimed in, "We all know the story. He shot arrow after arrow, but none found their mark."
The tide turned again. The previously hesitant townspeople began to lean towards the Dwarves' plan.
Bard walked up to Thorin. "You have no right, no right to enter the Mountain."
"I am the only one with the right to enter," Thorin said calmly, then looked at the Master. "Dare I ask, Master of Lake-town, are you willing to see the prophecy fulfilled?
Are you willing to share the great wealth of my kin?"
A heavy hammer struck the Master's heart. Of course, he was willing. Who doesn't like money?
"I would say to you…" The Master rubbed his hands, smiling, "Welcome.
Welcome, once again, welcome, King Under the Mountain."
With the Master's word, the townspeople naturally stopped wavering and burst into laughter, as if they could already see a bright future beckoning to them.
Bard could not dissuade Thorin, nor could he dissuade the townspeople, so he returned home helplessly.
The Master warmly entertained the company, bringing out all his treasured fine wines. As for weapons, armor, supplies, and food, he naturally thumped his chest and promised they would be ready before morning.
"Are you trying to die?" Aaron looked sternly at Kili, who was sitting alone in the living room, a hint of pressure in his eyes. "The poison you have is not easy to cure, but I am confident I can suppress it. The Potion is already brewing.
But the premise is that you must rest well. You cannot move around carelessly before I formulate the antidote, and you certainly cannot participate in the upcoming actions."
"How long will it take?" Kili asked weakly.
Aaron raised an eyebrow, thinking he had come to his senses.
"You're lucky. Although the Orc's poison is strange, it's too crude; it hasn't been carefully prepared at all.
And I happen to be a student of a Potion Master. I can develop an antidote with ordinary herbs, and you can be detoxified in less than seven days.
However, the injury on your leg, due to not being treated in time, will take longer to heal."
"I was asking how long the Potion would take to brew?" Kilisaid with a bitter smile. "This expedition is too important for the Dwarves. I must be present when the door is opened."
Aaron: …Your mother was right, you are too reckless.
"Kili, do you truly not value your life?"
"Some things are more important than life."
Slap!
Aaron directly slapped him.
"Why did you hit me?"
"To sober you up," Aaron said irritably. "If you were truly beyond saving, I would certainly respect your opinion; dying on the expedition would be a man's romance.
But now you have a chance to live, and I am confident I can cure you, yet you're still thinking of seeking death. Either the toxin has seeped into your brain, or your brain is waterlogged."
"I am not."
"You are." Aaron tapped his head. "I'm the doctor. Besides, we escaped by water, so it's perfectly normal for a seriously injured person like you to have a waterlogged brain."
"But this expedition…"
"Shut up." Aaron took the black stone hanging around his neck. "Before you try to throw your life away, please think of your mother first."
Kili was silent for a moment. "Fili will take good care of her."
"Oh, for crying out loud." Aaron patted his forehead. "Thorin is your relative, isn't he? If this stubbornness isn't inherited, I swear I won't believe it."
"How did you know? He's my uncle."
Aaron: …I've had enough, I've truly had enough.
Aaron clutched his hair, irritated, even feeling an urge to hit someone.
"You want to die, do you? I'll go find your uncle and your brother right now. I want to see what they think.
If they all agree to your suicidal behavior, then I won't treat you."
"No." Kili desperately grabbed Aaron's arm, pleading, "Don't tell them, I beg you."
"Heh heh!" Aaron smiled as he pried his hands open. "Are you telling me what to do? You don't want me to tell them, but I insist on telling them."
A few minutes later, Aaron brought Thorin and Fili before Kili.
"Gentlemen, having done this much, I have truly done my utmost.
His fate from now on is for you to decide."
"You're poisoned." Thorin looked at Kili, angry at his lack of resolve. "Why didn't you say so sooner?"
"Uncle." Kili stood up with difficulty. "I must be present when the halls of my forefathers are opened."
"Kili, I understand you, very much so." Thorin helped him to a chair. "But you truly cannot go now, not just for yourself, but also for this expedition. You will severely slow us down."
"You must stay here," Fili advised earnestly. "You need to rest well, detoxify, and heal your wounds.
I promise, brother, the first thing we do after our success will be to bring you to the Lonely Mountain."
Seeing their resolute attitude, Kili forced a smile and nodded regretfully.
Fili stayed to comfort his brother, while Thorin pulled Aaron aside. "Gaius, tell me honestly, can you really cure him?"
"Don't worry, I'm ninety percent confident," Aaron said easily. "However, it would be best to send him to Bard's house tomorrow. The Master's character cannot be trusted at all."
"Will he agree?" Thorin asked doubtfully, after all, he had just harshly rebuked Bard. One could say there was no one in Lake-town who hated Dwarves more than Bard.
Aaron shrugged. "I'll persuade him."
After the banquet, the members of the company lay scattered on the ground, resting, their snores rising and falling.
Aaron slowly opened his eyes and tiptoed out.
He arrived at Bard's house and knocked on the door.
Bard opened the door, saw Aaron, and said coldly, "Take your medicine and leave. You are not welcome in my house."
"Don't be so distant!" Aaron chuckled. "I came this time because I need your help with something."
"I dare not help you again," Bard sneered, then waved his hand. "Give him the things."
Bain placed the herbs Aaron had bought outside the door, while Sigrid put a set of clay pots and two bottles of light purple Potion into his hands. The youngest daughter then put three gold coins into Aaron's pocket.
The meaning was clear: the relationship was severed, and they no longer had any connection.
"Your medicine, clay pots, and gold coins are all here. Now leave immediately."
Bard was about to close the door, but Aaron quickly stopped him. "There may be a turning point for the prophecy."
Hearing this, Bard hesitated for a moment, then said helplessly, "Come in!"
Aaron shrugged and walked inside, while the three siblings carried the herbs back in.
"What do you want me to help you with?" Bard asked, sitting in a chair.
"To stay at your house for a few days.
Of course, not just me, but Kili too. If that guy's poison isn't cured, he'll really be close to death."
"I agree." Bard hesitated and nodded, then looked at Aaronseriously. "Now tell me how to change the prophecy."
"It can't be changed," Aaron said very directly. "If Thorinand his companions don't kill Smaug in the Lonely Mountain, it will definitely come here."
"Didn't you just say there was a turning point?" Bain said, a little angry.
"The turning point I spoke of was only for your family," Aaron spread his hands. "I am a Wizard. With my abilities, protecting your family is not a problem."
"What about the others?" Bard asked eagerly. "What about the townspeople?"
"Uh… I must tell you a cruel truth: I cannot save everyone," Aaron said very directly. "I will engrave a defensive magicarray near your house. Even Dragon fire cannot easily destroy it. As long as you hide in the ruins, you will survive."
"We can't survive. Winter is coming soon. If Lake-town is destroyed, we'll either freeze to death or starve to death."
Aaron's eye twitched. "Can't you move somewhere else?"
"We have nowhere to go. Leaving this town makes us homeless refugees.
Fleeing in winter, we'll probably die on the way before reaching other towns."
Aaron: …So pessimistic, but there's truth in that pessimism.
"Sigh!" Aaron let out a long sigh and placed all the gold coins he had plundered from the Troll hoard on the table. "This is all the money I have. It's enough for you to stock up on supplies for the winter, and in spring, you can take your family to a new place to start a new life."
Bard looked at the bag of gold coins, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. "So you've arranged everything for my family?"
"Something like that! Your family is worth saving.
As for the others, I won't just stand by and watch them die, but only within my capabilities." Aaron said. He wasn't a saint; he wouldn't risk his life to save a group of strangers blinded by money.
"Thank you for your kindness, but I cannot abandon the residents here." Bard pushed the gold coins back. "My ancestor failed to kill the Dragon, so what right do I have to abandon them and flee for my life?"
Aaron was stunned for a moment, then looked solemnly at Bard, and the three siblings standing firmly behind him.
"I truly didn't misjudge you." Aaron applauded. "I will guarantee your family's safety until I kill Smaug, I guarantee it in Gaius's name.
As for what happens afterward, I can't control it, but Thorinhas already promised to help you rebuild this town."
"Wait, you mean you will kill Smaug?" Bard looked at Aaronseriously. "Is that true?"
"Of course, it's true. Thorin wants to rebuild the Dwarf kingdom, while my goal is simply to kill that Dragon," Aaron said very casually. "Originally, we had a grey-robed Wizard in our company, but he had an urgent matter. With just me as a Wizard, there's only a twenty percent chance of success.
But your son, Bain, told me that Smaug was shot through a scale by Girion, which is a fatal weakness. That counts for twenty percent. Plus the prophecy, I can make some preparations in Lake-town beforehand, which is another ten percent.
That adds up to a fifty percent chance of success, which is enough to take a gamble."