Alex and his family settled on a fairly high hill so they could be seen from afar. It was all part of a plan—Thorïn Oakenshield and his companions, on their way to reclaim their kingdom, would hopefully spot them first. To pass the time, the girls explored the surrounding area and took photos, eager to preserve memories of such a beautiful place. After all, it’s not every day you find yourself standing near the legendary Erebor—the great kingdom of the dwarves.

Even the most reserved of the girls couldn’t resist getting closer to the stone walls carved into the mountain’s body. Alex didn’t stop them—he trusted them. As for himself, he admired the panoramic view of the valley, with Saya standing beside him, sharing in the awe of this remarkable place. However, Saya wasn’t just focused on the scenery—she was trying to figure out the exact location of the secret entrance Bilbo had used to sneak into Erebor.

A debate broke out between Saya and Alex. They argued intensely about where the entrance should be. Saya, determined to prove her point, was literally pulling Alex’s face with one hand while pointing at a rocky ledge near the wall with the other. Their little quarrel quickly drew the girls’ attention. Turning their heads, they saw the comical scene and eagerly joined the conversation. When they heard mention of a “secret entrance,” their eyes lit up with excitement at the idea of finding it themselves. They immediately split into groups and started preparing for the search—unaware that the entrance could only be seen at a very specific time of day, and even then, only for a brief moment.

Before the girls launched into their fruitless expedition, Alex and Saya hurried to stop them and explained that even if they searched every stone, they still wouldn’t find anything. A chorus of frustrated groans followed—the irritation in the air was almost tangible. Many couldn’t understand: what was the point of a secret entrance if it appeared only once every hundred years, and only for a few minutes?

“If we can’t find this so-called ‘secret entrance,’ that doesn’t mean we can’t just blow a hole in the wall. Keks, you know where it is, just point it out—we’ll handle the rest,” suggested Becca, folding her hands behind her head.

“Exactly. Why look for a door when we can just tear down the wall?” Tiona agreed, nodding.

“I doubt regular explosives will be enough against that wall. If you’d paid more attention to what Alex was saying, you’d understand the bigger picture,” Riveria chimed in, deciding to be the voice of reason.

“And what did we miss? There’s a door that appears only at a certain time. Nothing special,” Moira shrugged.

“Girls… if the door only appears under very specific conditions, that means magic is involved. And I doubt it can be bypassed with just ordinary explosives. Honestly, I’m far more interested in the dwarves’ magic in this world,” Riveria said, giving the demolition enthusiasts a cold stare.

“Riveria, you’re missing the simplest point. If one charge isn’t enough—just use more,” Becca said with a wide grin.

Despite how absurd that plan sounded, several girls eagerly sided with Becca. They were ready to go ahead with the “wall-isn’t-a-problem” strategy—until Alex stopped them again, prompting another wave of grumbling. However, Riveria’s words about dwarven magic caught the attention of some of the girls.

To finally distract them from the idea of blowing up Erebor, Alex and Saya decided to share the history of this world—the races, gods, and the structure of the realm. The goddesses—Freya, Loki, Hephaestus, and Hestia—were especially curious. They wanted to know how the local divinity differed from what they knew. Alex began his story with Eru Ilúvatar and the Ainur.

He hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences when the questions started pouring in.

“What’s the difference between Eru Ilúvatar and these… Ainur?” asked Freya, tilting her head.

“Don’t interrupt,” Alex sighed. “I’ll explain everything. If needed, Saya will help. So. Eru Ilúvatar, which means ‘The One Allfather,’ is the supreme being, the creator of everything that exists. He created the Ainur—spiritual beings you could loosely compare to yourselves, goddesses. From among them came the Valar and the Maiar—those who entered the world he created.”

“So the Maiar are like… demigods?” clarified Hephaestus.

“Something like that. Like you, they took on physical forms and descended into the mortal world. The difference is, if you die, you return to the heavens. But the Maiar—they die for good.”

“Fascinating world… In essence, it’s not that different from ours. Except there are orcs, a Dark Lord, and a ton of other problems,” Freya commented, running her finger along the rim of her glass.

“Lady Freya, I completely agree. What I’m really curious about are the local elves. How different are they from the ones I know?” asked Riveria, folding her arms.

“There are currently three major elven kingdoms in Middle-earth,” Saya answered. “The Woodland Elves, led by Thranduil. Rivendell, ruled by Lord Elrond. And Lothlórien, governed by Galadriel—she’s called the most powerful and beautiful woman in the world.”

Saya, being herself—a walking encyclopedia—decided to go into full detail about the three elven realms. The girls used to find her eagerness to showcase her knowledge a bit annoying, but this time, they gladly listened as she enthusiastically shared facts about the elves of this world. Even Erina, Alice, and Hisako, busy with cooking, were listening closely.

Meanwhile, in the minds of the “kids’ group,” a new idea was forming: a treasure raid on the elven lands. After all, Alex had forbidden looting the dwarven kingdom, but he hadn’t said a word about the elves. The children exchanged glances, the spark of adventure lighting up in their eyes. However, one glance from Alex was enough to make it clear: he wouldn’t allow anything of the sort. The plan died before it was even born—crushed under the weight of a single look.

Saya wasn’t done yet. She continued listing facts: first about elven physiology, then their traditions, culture, and the differences between the various groups. Ryuu and Riveria, the elven women in Alex’s group, were genuinely stunned to learn that in this world, elven women become mortal when they give birth, passing their immortality to their children while losing it themselves. That revelation shocked not only them but all the girls present.

As Alex and his companions leisurely enjoyed their picnic, listening to Saya’s never-ending stream of facts, the ones they were waiting for were already approaching. A group of dwarves led by Thorin Oakenshield, the future King Under the Mountain, was crossing the river. With them walked a single hobbit—Bilbo Baggins—hired by Gandalf as a burglar to steal the Arkenstone from right under the dragon’s nose.

The dwarves and the hobbit landed on the riverbank and began ascending into the mountains. Their path wound through a rocky valley. The goal was close—Erebor. Finally, upon reaching the slope, they stopped. Before them lay the ruins of a once-thriving city.

“What is this place?” asked Bilbo, looking at the shattered remains.

“This was the city of Dale,” Balin replied with sadness in his voice. “And now… only ruins. This is Smaug’s desolation.”

There was a bitterness of loss in his voice. He remembered how prosperous Dale once was—and how it was all destroyed in a single terrible day when Smaug attacked, burning the city to ashes and seizing Erebor. Balin wasn’t the only one who felt this way—many of the dwarves had witnessed their friends and family perish in flames or vanish into the dragon’s jaws.

“Enough. The sun is already at its peak. We need to find the hidden entrance to the mountain before sunset,” said Thorin, snapping his companions out of their thoughts and moving forward.

“Wait, Thorin,” Bilbo called after him. “This is the place Gandalf told us about. He said to wait for him here…”

“Do you see him?” Thorin interrupted. “We don’t have time. Today is Durin’s Day. This is our last chance to reclaim our home. We go without him.”

“But—” Bilbo began, but Thorin’s gesture made it clear the discussion was over.

The hobbit gave one last glance to the ruins of Dale and followed the others. He was beginning to notice how Thorin was changing. The closer they got to the mountain, the more his obsession grew. But Bilbo pushed those thoughts aside—he decided Thorin was just determined not to miss the final opportunity to restore his people’s homeland.

Their group pressed on, taking short breaks to make sure no one fell behind. Thorin led the way, holding the map in his hands. He could feel they were getting close. All he needed now was for Bilbo to sneak into Smaug’s lair and retrieve the Arkenstone. Then Thorin could claim his right as the true king and unite the dwarven kingdoms for final victory.

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As they moved, Bilbo kept glancing back. His eyes suddenly caught a thin wisp of smoke rising in the distance.

“Guys! Smoke! Guys!” he shouted, pointing toward the horizon.

But no one heard him—the dwarves, led by Thorin, continued marching forward without slowing down. Bilbo kept staring toward the smoke, which curled up behind one of the rocky hills surrounding the valley. Hearing the fading footsteps, he realized he had been completely ignored.

“Guys! Wait! There’s smoke!” he shouted louder, pointing insistently in the same direction.

This time, they heard him. All the dwarves stopped in unison and turned their heads toward Bilbo. Following his gesture, they saw the thin stream of smoke rising behind the slope.

A tense silence hung in the air. One question echoed in all their minds: who could it be? This area was supposed to be deserted. The obvious explanation was orcs. But then why was there only a single smoke trail? Orcs usually moved in large groups, leaving entire fields of campfires in their wake.

“Thorin, what should we do? What if it’s orcs?” asked Dwalin, eyeing his leader intently.

“Balin, Dwalin, Bilbo,” Thorin said, making a quick decision, “climb up and find out where the smoke is coming from. Don’t waste time—we haven’t got much of it.”

The named three nodded. Only Bilbo looked less than thrilled—as always, he thought this was a terrible idea. But, as usual, he had no real choice.

Climbing up the rocky slope with Balin and Dwalin, Bilbo soon reached a small ledge. The three began scanning their surroundings, trying to spot the source of the smoke. The dwarves below waited tensely, ready to act if danger showed itself.

But what the three scouts saw left them momentarily stunned.

In the distance, on the flat top of one of the hills, was a group of people. There was indeed smoke—rising from a campfire near which sat a man and several women. Not far from them stood… a gazebo and stone benches. Everything looked like a completely ordinary picnic. The people behaved calmly, as if there were no dragon, no orcs, no ruined Dale anywhere nearby.

Bilbo rubbed his eyes in disbelief, thinking he must be hallucinating again—maybe the Mirkwood fog had lingering side effects?

“Uhh… am I the only one seeing this? Or is that fog from Mirkwood still messing with my head?” he muttered, glancing at his companions.

“No, dear Bilbo,” Balin replied, adjusting his monocle. “We’re seeing exactly the same thing.”

“Brother… why are there people here?” Dwalin asked in confusion, his eyes fixed on the strange scene.

“If only I had the answer,” Balin said softly, shaking his head. “But unfortunately, I do not.”

Meanwhile, down below, Thorin was beginning to lose his patience. Several minutes had passed, and the trio atop the hill remained silent. The other dwarves exchanged uneasy glances, worry growing in their eyes: if these were indeed orcs, and they were already here, then the path to the secret entrance would be far more dangerous than they had anticipated.

“What’s going on up there?! What do you see?!” Thorin finally shouted, unable to hold back.

“I think you need to see this for yourself, Thorin!” Balin called back, his gaze fixed on the incredible sight before him.

Thorin frowned. Before ascending the hilltop, he had ordered the other dwarves to stay alert. As he climbed, irritation gnawed at him—the goal was so close, yet they were forced to waste precious time on these small but troubling distractions.

Reaching the summit, Thorin looked at Bilbo, Balin, and Dwalin with a silent question in his eyes. Balin silently pointed toward the smoke’s origin. Thorin followed the gesture and saw exactly what the others had: on the hill near the fire sat a group of people. Nearby stood a gazebo, and the entire scene looked strangely peaceful—like an ordinary picnic.

Thorin shifted his gaze to Balin and Dwalin as if asking, “What does this mean?” The three began to discuss what they had seen but showed no particular concern—their focus was on making sense of the situation.

Bilbo, however, kept his eyes fixed on the unknown group. Then he noticed someone among them stand up. He didn’t manage to see who exactly—but he was sure they had been noticed.

Before he could say anything, the person looking directly at them suddenly vanished from sight. Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat. He felt a surge of anxiety—it was too fast, too quiet…

He wanted to warn the others but at that moment felt a hand on his shoulder. A chill ran down his spine. Bilbo froze like a statue. Slowly, almost mechanically, he turned his head and met the gaze of… rainbow-colored eyes.

The stranger looked at him with a soft, even friendly smile, pressing a finger to his lips, signaling for silence.

Bilbo swallowed hard, curling up from nervous tension.

“Thorin, what do we do now?” Balin asked, still unaware of the new presence.

“That doesn’t matter,” Thorin replied with a grim expression. “These people don’t know where the secret passage is anyway. And even if they do, it won’t help them.”

“Who said we can’t do anything?” came a calm but loud voice from behind the three dwarves. “And what makes you think, Thorin Oakenshield, that only the key in your pocket can open the secret passage hidden in the mountain?”

Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin spun around in an instant, drawing their weapons. Before them stood a tall man with rainbow-colored eyes, dressed in strange clothing. He stood very close to Bilbo, his hand resting on the hobbit’s shoulder. Bilbo himself was pale as death, trembling slightly with nerves and looking as if he might faint at any moment.

But Balin, always observant, recognized not so much the stranger himself as his clothing—unusual and foreign. His gaze flicked toward the hill where the strange group was sitting. Now they were all watching them intently.

“Who are you?” Thorin demanded sharply, pointing his sword at the stranger.

“Oh, my apologies,” the man replied politely. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Alexander Voldigoad, at your service. You don’t need to introduce yourselves—I already know all of you. Thorin Oakenshield, the future King under the Mountain. Balin. Dwalin. And, of course, Bilbo Baggins from the Shire. I suppose I can skip the names of the dwarves waiting below—they’re familiar to me as well.”

“May I ask, sir,” Balin spoke cautiously, “what is your purpose in coming to our lands?”

“Ah, Balin, of course. But I’m afraid you’re a bit premature—these lands aren’t yours yet. Not yet. And the purpose of my visit is simple—your king.” Alex nodded toward Thorin.

“Come to kill me? To take the key? Or perhaps you’re interested in the treasure like everyone else?” Thorin asked coldly, not lowering his sword.

“Oh no, not at all,” Alex smiled gently. “If I were after Erebor’s gold, I wouldn’t have held my family back for so long. Believe me, they’d have emptied this kingdom stone by stone in no time. But no, I’m here for another reason. And I think we could discuss it in a more pleasant setting.”

“If you’ve really come to talk, release our friend,” Balin said with a slight smile. “Because from the outside, it looks like you’re holding him hostage.”

“Of course. Sorry, Bilbo, if I frightened you,” Alex said softly, removing his hand from the hobbit’s shoulder. “I truly come in peace. Possibly with an offer that might interest you.”

As soon as Alex withdrew his hand, Bilbo immediately dashed back, hiding behind the dwarves. Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin stepped forward, shielding the hobbit with their bodies, their wary eyes never leaving the stranger. Alex calmly pulled out a cigarette and lit it without saying a word.

The astonishment of the dwarves and Bilbo deepened when the cigarette—resembling a miniature smoking pipe—literally materialized in Alex’s hand out of nowhere. But the real scene began a second later, when the rest of Thorin’s dwarves climbed the hill. Seeing the stranger near Bilbo, they didn’t ask questions—in typical fashion, they charged into attack.

Alex raised an eyebrow slightly. He suddenly remembered: dwarves in this world really do hit first and ask questions later—if there’s anyone left to ask.

He easily dodged the first sword strike, then touched the blade with one finger—and it immediately snapped in two. Next, an axe came down on him, but Alex deflected it with a simple flick, and the metal crumbled like a dry leaf.

Just one second passed—and all the weapons the dwarves had tried to attack him with were destroyed… with a single finger. This stunned everyone who witnessed it. None of the dwarves had ever seen anything like it before.

Nevertheless, one of them—a young Ori—grabbed a stone from the ground and shot it from his slingshot straight at Alex’s face. Alex caught the pebble lightning-fast between two fingers, not even letting it get close, and slowly turned his gaze toward Ori. The boy, confused, hid the slingshot behind his back as if nothing had happened.

“Can we talk now?” Alex asked calmly, tossing the stone aside. “As you see, Thorin, I didn’t attack in return. Though I immediately realized you’re a people who fight first and think later. Or… if there’s time for that.”

“What exactly do you want to talk about?” Thorin stepped forward, placing himself before his group.

“Nothing special. Like I said, it’d be better to change the setting for a proper conversation. And don’t worry about the secret passage. The keyhole won’t appear from sunlight, as you think, but from moonlight. If you had studied the map more carefully, you’d understand: ‘the last ray of Durin’s Day’ isn’t the sun, but the moon. Even if you’re late, I can still open the passage. I’ll help you so you don’t miss this chance,” Alex said, exhaling a puff of smoke.

Alex’s words made Thorin tense up. He realized this man knew too much. Everything, even. But at least now it was clear they had more time than they thought.

Thorin exchanged looks with his comrades, and the dwarves immediately gathered in a circle to discuss what they had heard. Their discussion was heated—they argued openly, occasionally glancing toward Alex.

Bilbo did not join the discussion—he still hadn’t recovered from the fear he felt when Alex suddenly touched him. He looked at the stranger, who met his gaze with a kind, slightly sly smile and nodded. Bilbo blushed but nodded back in response.

Meanwhile, Alex looked at his family, who had been watching from the side all this time. He noticed how Coco raised an eyebrow and tapped her wrist with her finger—as if saying, “Enough stalling, come back already, with the dwarves or without.” In response, Alex formed a heart shape with his hands above his head. Some of the girls, including even Tiona and Ais, repeated the gesture in return, showing their support.

“All right,” Thorin finally said, stepping out of the circle. “We’ll hear you out. But you have to keep your word about the secret passage.”

“Don’t worry, Thorin,” Alex replied, folding his hands behind his head as he began to descend the hill. “I always keep my promises. The door we’re talking about is hidden by pretty simple magic. Nothing complicated.”

“Are you a wizard?” Bilbo couldn’t resist, looking at his back.

Alex paused for a second, then without turning around answered:

“That’s a complicated question, my little Bilbo. What is magic? A miracle with no explanation? Or maybe it’s the key to the impossible? Magic is fireworks, miracles, and determination. Think about it—isn’t it magic that a hobbit who valued peace and quiet went on a long journey? Isn’t it magic to leave home for a great adventure? One that might happen only once in a lifetime.”

He continued his descent, leaving behind only a faint wisp of smoke from the cigarette and a feeling of mystery.

“Great,” Thorin grumbled. “Another wizard who speaks in riddles.”

Alex laughed.

“Ha-ha, can’t argue with you, Thorin Oakenshield. But believe me, I’m not just a wizard… I’m something more than you can imagine. Though that’s not important right now. Now—follow me. I’ll introduce you to my family.”

With these words, he easily jumped down from the ledge and disappeared below.

The entire group of dwarves and the hobbit exchanged glances, then looked down at the height of the ledge from which Alex had just jumped. What they saw caused no small surprise. The fall from such a height hadn’t left a single scratch on him. Thorin, frowning, felt his interest in this strange stranger growing.

Alex calmly waited below as the dwarves and hobbit cautiously descended after him. When they were all gathered nearby, he moved forward, feeling the persistent gazes fixed on him—as if they were trying to guess who he really was.

“Excuse me, sir, may I ask a question?” Balin, walking beside him, spoke up. “If you’re not a wizard, then who are you?”

“As I said before, my nature… is a bit complicated to explain,” Alex replied, glancing back over his shoulder. “But you could say I’m a man with a mission. Though that’s not quite accurate either. The main thing is, I’m not an enemy. I’ve come to talk. And to offer you an alternative.”

“What kind of alternative?” Gloin frowned, eyes never leaving him.

“I’ll explain everything when we meet my family,” Alex answered with the same calm, confident smile.

When they reached the slope of the hill, Alex was the first to begin climbing. The others—the dwarves and the hobbit—followed him. At the top, they were met with an unexpected sight: a group of girls, each beautiful in her own way, immediately noticed the arriving guests. The dwarves were especially surprised by the presence of two elves in this diverse company. And Bilbo involuntarily shuddered at the cold, piercing gaze of one girl who looked at him as if he were her personal enemy.

Alex noticed this and, smiling, lightly pinched Lili’s nose to keep her from frightening the poor hobbit.

“Have a seat,” he said. “We’ll discuss everything now. Erina, Alisa, Hisako, please—bring some treats for our guests. Discussing serious matters on an empty stomach is a bad idea.”

“No need,” Thorin cut in, refusing the food.

“Don’t be so quick to judge, Thorin,” Alex replied with a smile. “The treats those three prepare are the best you’ve ever tasted.”

Alex kicked the ground, and immediately a stone table and wooden benches sprouted from beneath it. The dwarves exchanged looks—another magical trick. There was almost no doubt left that the man before them was indeed a wizard.

The girls, watching the new guests with interest, began setting plates with fragrant food. As soon as one of the dwarves tasted the meat, his eyes immediately lit up. He clutched the piece as if he hadn’t eaten for days. The others exchanged glances—and also took servings. The very first bite caused an explosion of flavor for each of them, as if the food was woven from the finest culinary wonders. Even the toughest among them couldn’t hold back satisfied grumbles.

Only Thorin remained indifferent, watching the scene without touching the food.

“Well then, wizard,” he finally said, looking intently at Alex. “Now let’s talk.”

“Of course, Thorin,” Alex nodded, sitting opposite him. “The reason I invited you here is simple: I want to offer you help with Smaug.”

“And what do you want in return? The treasures of my people?” Thorin squinted, leaning forward slightly.

“You’re partly right. But honestly, I don’t need your treasures,” Alex waved his hand. “All I ask is one piece of jewelry for each of the girls. Nothing rare or special—just souvenirs from the adventure. And not all of them even want something. In exchange—I will kill Smaug.”

“You seriously think you can kill a dragon?” Thorin smirked. “Our entire army couldn’t withstand his flames. And you think you can do it alone?”

“First, Smaug is not a dragon. And second, yes, I’m sure. It’ll be easy. But there’s one condition—I take his carcass. Erina wants to try cooking his meat,” Alex said calmly, leaning on the table.

“What do you mean—not a dragon?” Bilbo asked in surprise.

“Ah,” Alex smirked. “Alright. One moment…”

He turned around and called out:

“Anya, dear! Come to daddy.”

To show the dwarves what a real dragon actually looked like, Alex had to call his little princess—his daughter Anya. Of course, she couldn’t leave her beloved pet at home—a little dragon named Bond. At first, Alex wanted to refuse the idea, but looking into his daughter’s eyes, full of pleading and puppy-like devotion, he couldn’t resist. As a result, he created a pocket dimensional space for Bond where he could safely travel with everyone. Anya, in turn, would occasionally take out her pet to feed or play with him.

And so, when Alex called her, Anya, Nyaruko, and Jynx came running out from behind a tree. Behind them, GIR, MIMI, and Stitch happily hopped along. Anya quickly ran to her father and, squealing with joy, climbed onto his lap. Following her, with their usual grace, Nyaruko and Jynx jumped onto him. Three pairs of young eyes fixed on the dwarves.

“Daddy, who are these bearded short men?” Anya asked, eyes wide open.

“Anya, sweetheart, don’t call them that. They won’t like it. They’re dwarves,” Alex answered gently, anticipating the dwarves’ indignant looks.

“Hm… like Uncle Gareth?” the girl asked seriously, nodding.

“Exactly. Now, show daddy’s new friends Bond. I want them to understand what a real dragon looks like.”

Anya nodded, slid down from Alex’s lap, and opened a small hidden compartment in her bag. She reached inside and pulled out a tiny dragon. The dwarves and the hobbit involuntarily gasped—the magic contained in such an innocent-looking object amazed them.

Anya handed the little dragon to her father and immediately ran off to play again, as the place seemed magical to her. She and her friends had already ridden reindeer, fed them, and were now busy exploring the new territory.

The girls from Alex’s family watched silently, waiting to see what decision the dwarves would make. They had already learned from Saya that dwarves in this world were extremely stubborn creatures.

Alex carefully placed Bond on the stone table, and the little dragon lazily stretched out, holding his head high as if fully aware of his own dignity.

“As you can see, this is what a real dragon looks like. Even as a hatchling, he preserves the majesty of his kind. Smaug, however, is not a dragon. He’s a degenerate. In the place we come from, such creatures are called wyverns. Simply put—they’re lizards with wings. They are merely shadows of true dragons.”

The dwarves and the hobbit were shocked: how could a dragon be a child’s pet? But looking closer, they began to notice the difference. Bond had four limbs with sharp claws, plus two powerful wing membranes on his back. Two curved horns adorned his head, and his tail ended in a sharp bony spike. Nothing like what they remembered about Smaug. He only had two legs and wings—a classic wyvern. The dwarves finally understood what Alex had been talking about.

The girls, in turn, were slightly disappointed. They had hoped to see a real dragon of this world, but according to Alex, all dragons here had long since died out or fallen into eternal slumber.

“That’s why I say Smaug is not a dragon,” Alex continued, gently stroking Bond’s chin, who growled contentedly. “He has no honor, no will, no mind. He is an animal obsessed with greed for gold. Nothing more.”

“And you want to kill him… in exchange for jewelry made by my people?” Thorin asked slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on Alex.

“Correct. Only one piece of jewelry for each of the girls. No chests of gold. Just small souvenirs. And if some of them aren’t interested in jewelry, we’ll find something else.”

“Do you seriously think you can handle him alone?” Thorin asked once more, staring intently at Alex.

“I already said: it won’t be difficult. You can consider my offer. As I said before, if we don’t come to an agreement, I will still help open the secret entrance to the mountain,” Alex replied calmly, picking up Bond and settling him on his head.

Thorin nodded and looked to his companions, ready to discuss the proposal. Understanding the hint, Alex got up from the table and moved to his girls, giving the dwarves space to talk.

Bond, sitting on Alex’s head, sniffed the air, looked around, then took off flying toward his owner, who was happily playing nearby.

When Alex settled down again at the table, the girls immediately started talking. Some noted that they weren’t especially interested in jewelry—some preferred rare metals, others valued dwarven knowledge and books. Alex smiled and nodded, listening carefully. He understood: this family valued essence over sparkle.

To be continued…

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep