Chapter 282 Thorin is awake, the art of boosting morale
The Ice Dragon lured away a sufficient number of war beasts, but the number of Orcs far exceeded that of the Elves and Dwarves, and their numbers were still increasing.
The Elves' golden armored troops suffered heavy losses, and Thranduil, riding his elk, fought and retreated towards Riverrun, continuously slaying dozens of Orcs.
As he entered the city, Thranduil's mount gored eight enemies with its antlers, and just as he cut off eight heads with a single swing of his sword, the elk was unfortunately struck by arrows and fell to the ground.
The surrounding Orcs quickly surrounded him. Thranduillooked at his enemies with hateful eyes, quickly stood up, and counterattacked with his twin swords.
His Elf troops also retreated into Riverrun, engaging in battle with the Orcs inside the city. The city instantly became a battlefield for humans, Elves, and Orcs.
Outside the city, Dáin's Ironfoot Army had also suffered more than half casualties, and even his wild boar mount had died on the way during the charge. The number of Dwarf warriors continuously decreased amidst the sounds of fighting, screams, and shrieks.
In desperation, Dáin had no choice but to order his troops to retreat to Erebor. What he couldn't understand was that even now, he still hadn't seen Thorin's figure.
The Dwarves were now facing enemies several times their number, their morale was low, and what they needed most was their King.
Inside the great hall of Erebor, Thorin sat alone on the throne, his eyes vacant as he looked at the gold scattered everywhere.
"When have we ever abandoned our kinsmen?" Dwalinwalked into the hall, his tiger-like eyes filled with tears. "Thorin, they are bleeding, sacrificing."
"These mountains have caves connected to caves; we can use the terrain to ensure absolute safety." Thorin suddenly stood up. "Yes, yes, that's right, we need to move the gold deeper to ensure its safety."
"Didn't you hear me?" Dwalin roared, frustrated by his inaction. "Dáin is surrounded; they will all be killed."
Thorin paused for a moment, then said indifferently, "People always die in war. There are plenty of people, but compared to gold, human lives are not worth mentioning, not worth mentioning.
For gold, any number of deaths is worth it."
"Is that what you think?" Aaron suddenly appeared in the great hall, picking up the arkenstone from the throne. "Perhaps I shouldn't have given it to you in the first place."
"Put it down." Thorin drew his longsword and pointed it at the two of them. "Put the arkenstone down, then get out.
Get out before I kill you."
Aaron shrugged, tossing the gem into the pile of gold coins at his feet. Thorin immediately jumped down the steps, picked up the arkenstone, and carefully clutched it to his chest.
"Dwalin, what do you think of him now?"
"He's completely changed." Dwalin shook his head in Pain!"He wears the crown, sits on the throne, but he's smaller than ever before."
"I thought so too." Aaron shrugged, then pulled out his wand.
"What are you doing?" Thorin's face changed slightly, about to stop Aaron's movement.
"Expelliarmus."
The red spell struck Thorin, knocking the longsword from his hand and sending him flying backward.
"Calm down, I'm not here to steal your gold." Aaron smiled, then pressed his wand to his temple. "There's something I want to show you."
A wisp of silver smoke was drawn from Aaron's head. With a wave of his right hand, a scene unfolded in the magnificent hall, a part of his memory from when he and Bilbo were searching for the arkenstone.
In the scene, Smaug sneered triumphantly, openly stating that he had considered letting Thorin take the arkenstone, watching him be consumed by the gem, falling into ruin.
He even used Thorin's grandfather as an example, briefly describing how Thrór became arrogant due to greed and ultimately suffered the fate of a ruined kingdom and family.
As for the later memories concerning the One Ring, Aarondared not release them, as this would bring no small trouble to Bilbo.
"See?
Thorin, you are following in your grandfather's footsteps."
Thorin was incredulous, shaking his head blankly, "Impossible, this must be fake."
"This is real." Dwalin cursed, his heart burning with anxiety. "Look at what you've become?
The old Thorin was indomitable, a pioneer for the Dwarves, dedicated to reclaiming Erebor and restoring the glory of the Dwarves.
But now? He has fallen into greed and madness, even disregarding the lives of his kinsmen.
You are the King, you have always been our King. We never doubted it before, but now we have to."
"It's not real, it's not real..." Thorin muttered to himself, constantly repeating these words.
Seeing him like this, Dwalin's lips twisted into a bitter smile, and even glistening tears flashed in his eyes, but he let out a heavy sigh of relief in his mind, because he could see that Thorin had begun to doubt money.
Aaron subtly gestured for him to go out first and inform the others to prepare for battle, while he himself toyed with the wand in his hand, wondering what spell to use next.
But then, he put his wand away.
To deal with a neurotic patient like Thorin, who was obsessed with money, illusions were far more effective than spells.
Snap!
Aaron snapped his fingers, and the entire hall turned a dazzling gold. His own figure became transparent, replaced by a lifelike Dragon (Hogwarts ghost version).
The gold coins under Thorin's feet transformed into a giant golden whirlpool, and he instantly fell into it, struggling desperately to climb out. But by an unfortunate coincidence, he saw his grandfather, Thrór, screaming in the deeper parts of the whirlpool, a sight that brought sorrow to those who heard it and tears to those who saw it.
And at this moment, the ghost of Smaug appeared before him. It said nothing, only bared its fangs, the sarcasm in its eyes extremely obvious, as if to say, 'I knew all along that the Sons of Durin would come here.'
The moment he was swallowed by the gold coins, Aarontimely dispelled the illusion.
"Thorin, what's wrong? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, just had a nightmare, a very real one.
Especially real, I even saw my grandfather waving at me."
Aaron chuckled inwardly. It was fortunate that Erebor had no shortage of statues of Thrór, which provided him with sufficient material for creating illusions.
"Good that you're fine. Then you can continue guarding this gold here!
Balin and I are going to support the battlefield. Their loyalty to the King has never changed, but they absolutely cannot stand by and watch their kinsmen die in battle."
"Wait." Thorin nervously stopped Aaron, then took off the crown on his head and threw it into the pile of gold coins. "I'll go with you."
Aaron feigned surprise, "You've come to your senses?"
"I don't want to be like my grandfather. Gold will never be as important as my kinsmen." Thorin drew his longsword, removed his metal ornaments, and walked towards the city gate.
At this point, the remaining Ironfoot Army was truly unable to resist and had been forced back to the walls of Erebor.
Azog seemed to have already seen the end of the Dwarves, and immediately ordered the horn to be blown, preparing to launch the final general assault.
The Dwarves on the city walls felt extremely guilty; they did not want to be cowards. Just as they were feeling utterly despondent, Thorin walked slowly towards them, holding his sword.
Upon seeing him, Kili could no longer bear it and cursed at Thorin, "I will not hide behind stone walls forever, watching others charge into battle, especially when it's for us.
I am not that kind of person, Thorin."
"No, you're not." Thorin looked at his nephew with a relieved expression. "We are all Sons of Durin, and the Sons of Durin will never flinch from battle."
He walked up to everyone and said with deep apology, "I no longer have the right to command you, but will you listen to me one last time?"
The Dwarves remained silent, but they all stood up from the ground and gripped their weapons, indicating their stance.
Aaron rolled his eyes. He admitted the scene was very inspiring, but if Thorin hadn't stopped them, this group would have charged out long ago.
"Ahem! I've prepared something for the Dwarf army.
You charge first; I'll be right behind you."
At this moment, the Dwarf army, with their backs against the foot of the Lonely Mountain, had nowhere left to retreat. Dáin ordered them to raise their shield wall, preparing for a final desperate struggle.
Seeing this, Azog temporarily ordered the Orc army to stand by until several giant beasts moved to the front row before having the horn blown and launching the general assault.
With several giant beasts leading the way, the Dwarves' morale instantly dropped. Their shield wall could block the Orc charge, but with one swing of a giant beast's club, their formation would likely shatter instantly.
Over the cold mountains and misty, to dungeons deep and caverns old... We must away, ere break of day, to find our long-forgotten gold... The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night, the fire was red, it flared and spread, the trees like torches blazed with light... A melodious tune suddenly resounded within Erebor. Aaronwaved his wand, like an orchestra conductor, playing the song Thorin and the others had hummed in the Shire across the entire battlefield, with a slight modification.
The Orc army, which was about to launch a general assault, was bewildered, not understanding where this tune came from.
But the Dwarves, from the music, felt an indescribable sense of national pride. If they had been a little panicked before, now they were absolutely fearless in the face of death.
The Dwarves had endured so much hardship, suffered so much, and faced so many grievances to reclaim Erebor; they would defend this Dwarf kingdom even if it meant death.
Every Dwarf gripped their weapon tightly, letting out a fervent roar, eager to fight the Orcs to the death immediately.
At the same time, Bombur, who had just hoisted a large horn onto the city wall, looked at the music conductor beside him with a speechless expression. 'You've gone this far, should I blow this charge horn or not?'
"What are you looking at me for? This is art, the art of boosting morale.
My music teacher taught me a few war songs, but I was worried you wouldn't understand them, so I found something more down-to-earth. At least, in my opinion, there's no tune that can stir the Dwarves' emotions more than this." Aaron said triumphantly, "But your charge horn is the real command."
Hearing this, Bombur nodded eagerly, took a deep breath, and strenuously blew the horn.