The mission to kidnap orcs from the occupied Lake-town went quietly and unnoticed. Rekka, Red, and White received the necessary material for their research — they were tasked with creating a virus capable of killing only orcs.

Meanwhile, Alex and the girls watched GIR, MIMI, and Stitch’s antics with interest and amusement — it was that very trio who had handled the abductions. Not far from where Alex and his companions stood, a magical circle lit up, and from it emerged GIR, MIMI, and Stitch — along with an orc so badly beaten he was almost unrecognizable.

If the orcs of Middle-earth already looked grotesque, the one “processed” by this insane trio looked downright terrifying. Alex quietly thought to himself that the luckiest orc might’ve been the one who simply got drowned in a basin.

Before GIR, MIMI, and Stitch returned to their usual business, Alex asked them to help carry all three orcs to a separate, secluded room — far from prying eyes. It was important that no one saw how Rekka, Red, and White would conduct their experiments for creating biological weapons.

With their experience in abduction, the trio had the foresight to stuff the orc bodies into sacks to avoid attracting attention. Ryu and Riveria expressed their desire to observe the process and decided to follow the scientists. Syr, of course, didn’t want to go anywhere. She decided it was finally her chance to be alone with Alex.

But Ryu had other plans. Without a word, she dragged Syr along despite the latter’s loud protests. Syr whined, grumbled, and complained that it was all “unfair,” but all Ryu did in response was give her a completely empty, dead stare — and kept dragging her.

Watching this, Alex could barely hold back his laughter. What amused him most was the look Syr gave him — a mix of indignation, hope, and pleading so powerful that even he almost stepped in. In moments like that, Alex began to understand why Freya once decided to raise Syr as her protégé. She truly was a mortal reflection of the goddess — and even he found that astonishing.

When everyone left, Alex was alone again. He sat on the stone wall of Erebor, gazing out toward the city of Dale — the survivors from the destroyed Lake-town had just arrived there. He pulled one leg up, rested his elbow on his knee, and stared at the horizon, cheek pressed against his fist. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm on his knee.

He wondered whether Thranduil would arrive — and if so, when. Lighting a cigarette to pass the time, Alex kept his eyes fixed on the events below. After a while, a faint, satisfied smile appeared on his lips — Thranduil and his army of elves had arrived earlier than expected.

Left alone with his thoughts, Alex remembered that in the original timeline, Thranduil appeared the day after the citizens fled Lake-town. But he had long accepted that not everything here needed to follow canon.

Watching Dale from a bird’s-eye view, Alex couldn’t help but note how regal Thranduil looked — sitting atop his majestic elk with massive antlers, clad in armor, he truly looked like a king. But what caught Alex’s attention most wasn’t the elk or the armor — it was the weapon hanging at Thranduil’s side.

Even before his reincarnation, Alex had admired that sword — a fantasy-style katana. The thought of stealing it flashed through his mind — fleeting, but distinct.

However, what happened next surprised Alex. He continued to observe the city from above when suddenly Thranduil raised his head and looked directly at the spot where the cloaked surveillance spell was hidden—as if sensing that he was being watched.

A wide smile spread across Alex’s face. The king had noticed him. And that wasn’t strange—after all, Thranduil wasn’t just an elf, but the King of the Woodland Realm.

“Ho. He noticed. Well, that’s not surprising… He is a king, after all,” Alex said with a slight chuckle, speaking to himself.

“Who noticed what?” a female voice called out behind him.

Alex immediately recognized the voice. It was his beloved, lively princess—Nobuna. He smiled and turned his head. Nobuna and Haruhime were climbing the stone steps toward him.

As usual, Nobuna didn’t waste any time—she bounded over to Alex, sat down beside him, and, grabbing his face, gave him a firm kiss on the cheek. Her face radiated genuine joy: she was savoring every moment of this journey.

Before meeting Alex, Nobuna had been a Japanese princess who rarely left her homeland. She had always dreamed of seeing the world, visiting new places… and now that dream was finally coming true. Visiting Erebor had become a true celebration for her.

Alex smiled again and noticed the new sword at her waist—instead of the dwarves’ jewelry, she had chosen a weapon forged by their hands. That was very much her style.

At that moment, he felt something soft and fluffy wrap around him. He wasn’t even surprised—Haruhime had once again used her tails. Alex had already grown used to it: whenever she was nearby, she would instantly wrap him in her fur.

He was still amazed at how quickly her tails regrew. Haruhime now had eight, with only one more left before she would become a full-fledged kitsune.

Seeing that Alex couldn’t take his eyes off her tails, Haruhime was secretly pleased. After all, she took such careful care of them just for him—so they’d always be soft and fluffy.

“Stop daydreaming,” Nobuna said suddenly, grabbing Alex by the cheeks and turning his face toward her. “You act like it’s the first time you’ve seen Haruhime’s tails. Now tell us—who noticed what?”

“The forest fairy has arrived in Dale. I’ve been watching the city all this time using magic… and it seems Thranduil sensed that he was being watched,” Alex replied while Nobuna continued to tug at his cheeks. Part of a series hosted by My Virtual Library Empire (MV&LEMP&YR).

“Um… but Saya said the elven army wasn’t supposed to arrive this early. Is this normal?” Haruhime asked, gently tugging on Alex’s sleeve to get his attention.

“It’s hard to explain. There are many factors that could’ve influenced Thranduil’s decision. Maybe he already knew the dwarves couldn’t defeat the dragon and moved toward Erebor right after their retreat. Maybe he predicted almost everything—except for my interference and Smaug’s death. Even I didn’t expect the orcs to attack Lake-town,” Alex said thoughtfully, stroking his chin, while Nobuna still held his cheeks.

“But why is he doing this? Don’t the elves of the Woodland Realm despise humans and dwarves?” Haruhime asked softly.

“Let me explain,” Alex responded. “It’s simple: Thranduil wants the necklace that Freya took. He knows there are only about thirteen dwarves left in Erebor. Now he’s pretending to be an altruist, helping the surviving humans so they’ll take his side. If he decides to storm Erebor, no one will dare accuse him—after all, he’s supposedly a savior. It’s a political game, nothing more. He’s hiding behind nobility to get what he wants.”

“Ah, these royal intrigues…” Nobuna sighed, shaking her head. “Even when I was a princess, my father’s brother tried to overthrow him and take the title of Emperor of Japan. Even though our family no longer held real power in the modern world—just the name—he still wanted to grab whatever authority he could.”

“And what did your father do?” Haruhime asked, looking at Nobuna.

“He couldn’t do anything. My uncle gained the support of the ‘Evil Corporation,’ turned into a mutant, and… everything went downhill from there. We barely managed to escape,” Nobuna said with a faint sadness, shrugging her shoulders.

Alex sighed and gently stroked Nobuna’s hair. He understood that the loss of her family still echoed painfully in her heart, even after all these months. In response, Nobuna gave him a bright, genuine smile, as if to say, “I’m okay.”

After all, she now had a new family—a big, strange, but loving one. And a husband who had helped her not only survive her tragedies, but also fulfill her dream of seeing the world.

Haruhime also sighed sadly, remembering how many lives had been lost during the zombie apocalypse in Nobuna’s homeworld. So many hopes perished due to empty ambitions that led to the fall of an entire civilization. Now, rebuilding would take hundreds of years.

To avoid sinking into painful memories, the girls shifted the conversation to lighter topics.

Meanwhile, Alex refocused his attention on Dale. At that very moment, Bard and Thranduil were having a conversation. He couldn’t help but laugh when he heard Thranduil, completely serious, refer to a Dwarven necklace as a relic of the Woodland Realm.

Nobuna immediately picked up on her husband’s laughter and enthusiastically pounced on him with questions. To calm her down a bit, Alex used a projection spell, allowing Nobuna and Haruhime to see what he was seeing during his observation of the city.

“Hm… I thought that elf king would really look like a forest fairy,” Nobuna said, squinting in disappointment. “And instead—he’s just a tall guy with long hair in armor. You tricked me again!”

To reinforce her point, she bit Alex’s cheek.

“I didn’t lie,” Alex tried to defend himself. “I meant ‘forest fairy’ metaphorically. Wood-elves almost never leave their domain—just like fairies in legends who don’t step outside their enchanted forests.”

“I like his deer,” Haruhime said dreamily. “It’s so beautiful… I wish I could ride one someday.”

Nobuna nodded in agreement—the deer Thranduil rode truly looked majestic and graceful. Alex fell into thought: what if he didn’t just steal the elf king’s sword, but also his mount? But as soon as he imagined it, a stern voice echoed in his head:

“Don’t even think about it.”

Alex’s eye twitched nervously—he didn’t even have time to plan it properly, and it was already forbidden. He sighed. It seemed stealing wouldn’t be allowed in this world. And he had such grand ideas: steal the rings of the elves and dwarves, maybe even rob the Nazgûl. But alas, those dreams were not meant to be. Time to give up.

Lost in thought, Alex missed the entire conversation between Thranduil and Bard. He didn’t even notice how much the dialogue had deviated from the original timeline. However, seeing the concern on Bard’s face, Alex guessed that he had tried to dissuade Thranduil from war and propose a peaceful agreement with Thorin.

Realizing Bard would soon head to Erebor, Alex decided to warn Thorin in a special way. He held out his hand, and his finger darkened as if dipped in ink. Then he drew a small mouse on a stone.

“Ninja Art: Living Drawing Technique,” he said, forming a seal with his hands.

Haruhime and Nobuna watched with interest—they had never seen such a technique. As if by magic, the drawn mouse twitched, came to life, and leapt off the stone parapet where Alex and the girls were sitting. It scurried down the steps and disappeared into Erebor.

Seeing their intrigued expressions, Alex explained how the technique worked: as long as one could draw quickly and accurately, they could use magic to create living ink creatures. Nobuna and Haruhime concluded that the ability was incredibly useful.

Meanwhile, a mouse was scurrying through the corridors of Erebor and soon reached the hall where Thorin and the dwarves were discussing the imminent arrival of the orcs and their defense plans until Dáin’s forces arrived. Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a strange mouse — clearly drawn. It ran up to Thorin, stopped, and then disintegrated, leaving behind a message:

“The man who helped you will arrive soon. Go to the gate.”

“Another trick from the wizard… I’m not surprised anymore,” Thorin snorted as he read the message.

“Who’s he talking about?” Bilbo asked, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

“I suppose he means Bard,” Balin suggested. “Looks like something important is happening in Dale if the wizard’s involved.”

“Speculating is pointless,” Thorin replied. “He already foretold Thranduil’s arrival. Time to see for ourselves what’s happening.”

Thorin stood up, and the other dwarves followed. Bilbo hurried after them — the approaching storm was making him uneasy. Passing through the corridors of Erebor, they reached the gate and climbed onto the stone fortifications. There they saw Alex, sitting on the edge between two girls. All three dangled their legs peacefully over the wall, gazing down at the city.

Before them unfolded a grand sight: an elven army clad in golden armor had taken positions on the high ground of the ruined Dale. Even from this distance, the sharp gazes of elven archers could be felt.

“I told you he’d come. And now he’s acting like some noble savior,” Alex smirked. “Can you believe it? He seriously claimed that the necklace crafted by your people is a relic of the Woodland Realm. Adorable, right?”

“There are too many of them… This doesn’t bode well,” Kíli said grimly, eyeing the elven formation.

“Not good because your beloved Tauriel isn’t among them?” Alex teased, glancing at the dwarf.

Kíli stared at Alex in shock. His eyes clearly asked, How do you know that? The other dwarves just smirked — they had long known how the young dwarf felt about the elf Tauriel.

Meanwhile, Thorin stood in silence, his brow furrowed as he gazed at the elven army. Even knowing Thranduil’s arrival was inevitable, the sight of a hostile force at Erebor’s gates irritated him deeply. Noticing this, Alex placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder — a gesture that wordlessly said: Don’t worry. It’s under control.

Thorin nodded. Now that the curse of dragon sickness no longer clouded his mind, his thoughts were clear. He understood his duty as king. He could no longer think only of himself — the fate of his people came first.

He already knew Alex’s plan: stall Thranduil and draw the elven army into the upcoming battle against the orcs. That would balance the scales and improve their chances of victory.

Alex briefly relayed to Thorin the conversation between Bard and Thranduil, so he’d understand the current situation. Then he reminded him that Bard would soon arrive at Erebor’s gate to bring up the old agreement with Lake-town. Thorin nodded, though his voice remained stern:

“Gold is only useful if you’re alive. And if those people don’t leave, they won’t even get the chance to use what they demand.”

“Not even going to argue,” Alex replied. “Just try to gently hint to Bard that he and the people of Dale should leave while they still can. Otherwise, things will end very badly for them.”

But after saying that, Alex momentarily forgot who he was talking to. Dwarves were not known for their subtlety. A “gentle hint” was definitely not in Thorin’s vocabulary. And as if on cue, a horse burst out of Dale — Alex immediately recognized Bard heading for the gate. Not wanting to ruin the upcoming conversation or reveal his presence too soon, Alex silently grabbed Nobuna and Haruhime by the waist and leapt backward off the wall, leaving Thorin and the dwarves alone.

The dwarves exchanged confused looks, unsure of what Alex was doing, but Thorin was no longer watching him — his full attention was now on the rider approaching Erebor.

Bard was galloping, gripping the reins tightly. His thoughts were tangled: he had to stop the war before it was too late. He had already tried to convince Thranduil, telling him about the orc occupation of Lake-town. But the elven king just dismissed it with contempt — “a couple of dirty orcs aren’t worth the trouble,” he said.

Now Bard hoped that Thorin would be more reasonable and keep the promise he made to the people of Lake-town. He pulled on the reins, slowing his horse at the gates of Erebor.

“Greetings to you, Thorin, son of Thrain,” he said loudly. “The people of Lake-town rejoice that you survived against all odds and reclaimed your kingdom.”

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and, narrowing his eyes, looked down:

“What brings you to the gates of Erebor, Bard the Bowman? Have you become a messenger for those woodland elves? Come to convince me to surrender?”

Bard raised his head and answered calmly, but with a hint of bitterness:

“And why does the King under the Mountain hide behind stone walls like a bandit in his den?”

“Perhaps to protect the home we fought hard to regain. There were too many who wanted to seize our treasures. Too many hands reaching for our gold,” Thorin said, standing on the wall with the dignity of a king, looking Bard straight in the eyes.

“We have not come to plunder, my lord. We have come to speak of justice,” Bard said firmly. “Allow us to discuss terms.”

Instead of answering immediately, Thorin first turned to his companions — those who had journeyed with him to Erebor. They nodded, confirming their support. Then his gaze slipped down to where Alex was standing near Nobuna and Haruhime, watching the conversation.

Without wasting time, Alex began gesturing actively, hinting to Thorin to speak more gently. His movements clearly said: you sound obsessed with gold and ready to kill anyone who approaches the gates. He was signaling: don’t threaten, but subtly and diplomatically hint to Bard that his people should leave the valley to avoid bloodshed.

However, dwarves are not masters of diplomacy. And judging by Thorin’s face, he was barely trying to catch the meaning of these pantomimes. Alex sighed, realizing that expecting softness in Thorin’s words was like asking a dragon to recite poetry.

Meanwhile, Bard patiently waited, sitting on his horse. Finally, Thorin turned to him and nodded — a sign that he was ready to speak.

Seeing this, Bard dismounted and slowly approached the gates. His footsteps echoed dully in the silence, broken only by the sound of the wind blowing. Reaching the hastily restored stone wall, he found a narrow slit through which he could see Thorin.

“I’m listening, Bard the Bowman,” Thorin said hoarsely.

“My king,” Bard began calmly, “on behalf of the people of Lake-town, I ask you to keep your word. Give us the promised share so we can rebuild our home, destroyed by the orcs.”

“I will not negotiate with anyone while an armed army stands at the threshold of my home,” Thorin replied calmly, looking him straight in the eyes.

“That army will come to war against you if we don’t reach an agreement,” Bard said, trying to stay reasonable.

“Threats won’t get me,” Thorin snapped. “The elves will not get what they came for.” He still remembered how the elves had turned their backs on his people in their hour of need.

“And your conscience? Doesn’t it tell you that our request is just? My people helped you when you needed it. Now we need help. Where is your honor, Thorin King under the Mountain?”

Bard stepped closer, placing his hands on the stone wall. His eyes searched Thorin’s face for even a trace of compassion.

“I do not deny your help,” Thorin said. “Yes, we paid you to get into Lake-town, and maybe you risked your family. But your people helped us because we promised a reward.”

“We made a deal!” Bard exclaimed. “The deal was fair!”

“A deal?” Thorin’s voice thundered with anger. “We sold our heritage for bread and blankets. We paid with our freedom. And if we hadn’t offered gold, you would have caged us! Or sold us to Thranduil! And you speak of fairness?”

Thorin stepped closer to the slit in the wall, his voice booming:

“Tell me, Bard the Bowman, why should I accept your terms?”

“Because you gave your word,” Bard replied quietly. “Or does the word of the King under the Mountain mean nothing in these lands?”

Those words struck Thorin. He fell silent. For several seconds, he looked into Bard’s eyes — eyes filled with hope. Then Thorin stepped back and leaned his back against the cold stone.

He remembered Alex’s words: A king must always keep his word — especially the one given to his people. And now, with greed no longer clouding his mind as it once drove his grandfather Thror mad, Thorin was beginning to realize how delicate everything was.

He looked at his companions. Their faces were anxious — they understood that if the people did not leave the valley, they could die. Thorin shifted his gaze to Alex. He was practically boiling with irritation, seeing how Thorin had turned what should have been a gentle hint into an almost accusatory speech.

Alex sighed heavily and nearly bumped his forehead against the nearest column. He clearly felt, I explained everything to him so simply… but these are dwarves…

Thorin finally made his decision. He approached the slit again and spoke in a calm voice:

“Leave, Bard the Bowman. Gold can only be spent when you’re alive. Take your people and leave these lands immediately.”

Catching Thorin’s gaze, Bard remembered Thranduil’s words: “Dwarves can’t be persuaded.” The last hope lingering in the boatman’s heart faded along with the final words of the King under the Mountain. He looked away, turned silently, and walked to his horse to return to Dale.

Meanwhile, Thorin watched his companions, and Alex, having reached the peak of irritation, was literally ready to bang his head against the nearest column. He was only stopped by Haruhime, who gently wrapped her tails around him, trying to calm him down.

“For the Great Creator’s sake, Thorin!” Alex threw up his hands. “I only asked you to gently hint that the people of Lake-town should leave the valley! And you… ‘Gold can only be spent when you’re alive’? Seriously? That sounded like a threat, not a hint!” he finished, slapping his palm against his face in frustration.

The dwarves exchanged glances, and Thorin looked at Alex with confusion. To them, it sounded quite soft — under different circumstances, Bard would have heard much harsher words.

Rubbing his temples and trying to suppress his anger, Alex feverishly considered his options.

“Thranduil might not wait till morning… if he attacks today, everything will be ruined…” he muttered. “Wait… I think I’ve found a solution.”

He turned to Thorin:

“You actually did the right thing. Thranduil still believes you’re under the curse of Durin’s line. He doesn’t know it’s gone anymore. And that gives us an advantage.”

“And what do you suggest, wizard?” Thorin asked grimly.

“We need to buy time,” Alex answered, pulling a large artificial diamond from his inventory and transforming it into a fake Arkenstone. “We’ll give this stone to the elves. Let them think Thorin has gone mad with greed and lost his mind. And Bilbo will be our ‘mysterious benefactor’ who supposedly brings the Arkenstone to prevent bloodshed.”

“And how will that help us?” Balin asked, examining the fake.

“Simple. Everyone expects Thorin to stand firm until the last coin, giving nothing away. Let them keep thinking that. Bilbo will sneak into Dale, find Gandalf, and hand the Arkenstone to Thranduil — saying the dwarves have gone mad, and only this way can things change. That will buy us time until morning. Gandalf will arrive in Dale soon.”

“Why me?” Bilbo protested. “Can’t someone else play this role?”

“Only you can do it,” Thorin said, placing his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. “Even if the elves rejected us before, there are too many orcs. We need every bit of help. Please, Bilbo.”

“Alright, as usual, I don’t have a choice. But I’m warning you — I’m a bad actor.”

“Don’t worry,” Alex smirked. “Just talk less. Lies don’t like details. Give them the Arkenstone, say Thorin is obsessed, and then steer the conversation to me.”

“Why would Bilbo need to steer the conversation to you, mister wizard?” Bofur asked, surprised.

“Simple,” Alex replied, giving a thumbs-up. “If Thranduil finds out there’s someone here who can kill the dragon, he’ll be more cautious. And the more absurd Bilbo’s words sound, the more confused everyone will be. That way, no one will doubt Thorin’s obsession with gold. Basically, it’ll be easy.”

“You’re a skilled liar, wizard,” Thorin muttered. “Even I would believe it if I were in Thranduil’s place.”

“Thanks… I guess,” Alex smiled. “My wife is a master of deception. The one who stole the big ruby from your treasure hoard. If she decides to fool someone, they won’t even understand how they ended up in their underwear miles away from home.”

Alex didn’t talk much about Loki, but the dwarves and Bilbo understood who he meant. They had seen a woman with red hair, her eyes always half-closed, looking like she was squinting. But from Loki’s face, it was clear she was a cunning woman who wouldn’t mind tricking someone.

Now they just had to wait for nightfall so everything would look as believable as possible. Thorin approved the plan: if it could delay the elves’ attack, it was worth it.

Alex didn’t linger on the wall any longer, so as not to reveal his presence to Thranduil. Returning to the throne room, he continued to watch what was happening in Dale, ready to act if anything went wrong — just in case Thranduil didn’t want to wait any longer.

To be continued…

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep