Alex found himself a quiet place to sit and wait for nightfall to put his plan to deceive the King of the Woodland Realm into action. Nobuna had left him to explore Erebor with the other girls. Only Haruhime stayed nearby—unwilling to let him sit alone. Wrapped in her soft, fluffy tails, Alex never stopped watching Dale for even a second. In addition to the surviving residents of Lake-town, Thranduil’s army was now stationed there.

One of Haruhime’s tails lightly tickled his cheek, and Alex couldn’t resist pressing his face into the soft fur, which made the girl giggle quietly. To keep her from getting bored, Alex offered to read something while he kept watch over the situation in Dale. To his surprise, the fox-girl pulled a manga out of her dimensional inventory. The title made Alex raise an eyebrow: “They Called Me a Witch, So I Married the Demon King.”

Reading the title, Alex’s eye twitched. He couldn’t help glancing at Haruhime, who was reading page after page with obvious interest. Noticing his gaze, she blushed, her cheeks turning red, and she hid behind the pages of the manga. Alex understood why Haruhime had chosen that story. He said nothing—after all, in such tales, the Demon King often turned out to be more humane than the humans, who were usually the antagonists.

Curious, Alex moved closer and began reading the manga with Haruhime. In response, her tails wrapped even tighter around him, and she practically curled up on his lap.

Time passed—and it waited for no one. Even as he became immersed in the story, Alex never lost sight of what was happening in Dale. Meanwhile, the girls took turns visiting him to keep him company before returning to their own activities—exploring the vast halls of Erebor. The mountain was so immense that one could wander its corridors for months and still find new things.

Hephaestus and Shigure had taken over the dwarves’ forge, and their craftsmanship quickly drew the attention of Thorin’s companions. The dwarves were impressed—and rightfully so. One of the women was a goddess of smithing, and the other wielded techniques passed down through her family for generations. Some of the girls stayed in the wine cellar. Despite Erebor having been occupied by a dragon, the wine reserves had remained untouched—and had only improved with age. Loki, known for her love of fine drinks, couldn’t resist such a treasure.

Reginleif, Kiwi, and Lucina spent their time in the library, reading dwarven texts. Although the White and the Red could have simply copied all the books, they preferred the pleasure of reading them directly. Becca, Moira, and Revy, upon learning that GIR, MIMI, and Stitch had taken over the workshop, went to check out what the trio was up to. Perhaps, with the help of dwarven technology, they could create something like the first grenade—or even a landmine—in Middle-earth.

The girls continued to explore Erebor, taking countless photos of scenic places, but it was Hestia who took the most pictures. Alex understood why—his beloved goddess of the hearth simply wanted to brag at the next Denatus and spark a little envy, especially among the other goddesses.

By evening, Erina, Alice, and Hisako began preparing dinner. Of course, Alex helped too. During the process, he noticed new accessories on the girls: Alice now wore ruby earrings that matched her eyes, Erina had a necklace with a purple gem, and Hisako had chosen an elegant gold bracelet with intricate patterns. Alex was glad to see that the girls who had recently joined their family already felt so at ease.

Still, unease gnawed at his heart. Alex knew that tomorrow an orc army would arrive in the valley beneath Erebor—the real war would begin. Erina, Alice, and Hisako had grown up in peaceful worlds, and the upcoming events might leave a lasting mark on them. Watching a war movie on TV was nothing like seeing death with your own eyes. Alex feared the horrors of war could lead to sleepless nights and nightmares. He decided he would talk to them tomorrow—there was no need to ruin tonight.

When the food was ready and served, the dwarves held another feast. No one in Alex’s family objected—in fact, everyone welcomed the dwarves’ enthusiasm. These rough creatures were kind-hearted, and if they accepted someone into their circle of friends, they considered them as kin.

Bilbo, however, looked troubled the entire time. He was anxious about the role he had to play—after all, it was up to him to convince Thranduil and even Gandalf that Thorin had gone mad.

Alex couldn’t help but smirk. Wasn’t this the same hobbit who had been ready to steal the Arkenstone right from under a dragon’s nose, now trembling at the thought of telling a lie?

The feast ended on a cheerful note, but no one was in a rush to leave. The adventurer girls from Orario decided to share stories of their dungeon dives and monster hunts. The dwarves, as expected, were immediately fascinated—especially once they heard about the kinds of creatures the girls had fought.

Even now, despite her quiet demeanor, Ais was still considered the strongest among all the female adventurers who had ever entered the dungeon. She spoke little—just nodding or offering short phrases. Tiona, on the other hand, talked nonstop, waving her arms and acting out battles as if trying to draw them in the air.

The dwarves, being a people who deeply respected strength, came to admire the girls even more. Time passed, the night grew darker, and when the moon shone brightly in the sky, it became clear—midnight was approaching.

Alex sat at the base of Erebor’s stone gates, in the shadow of ancient rock, illuminated by the soft moonlight. Sitting on his lap was Rory. In her black clothes and with her rainbow-colored eyes, she looked especially mysterious under the moon’s glow.

Alex had two plans for the night: first—Bilbo was to deceive Thranduil; second—Alex would go to Lake-town and massacre the orcs to prevent a surprise attack during tomorrow’s battle.

He held Rory by the waist, gazing at Dale from a bird’s-eye view. Toward evening, Gandalf had arrived there. Naturally, Alex couldn’t resist eavesdropping on his conversation with Thranduil. As expected, Gandalf tried to warn the Elven King about the looming threat from the orcs. But Thranduil was as stubborn as stone and had no intention of retreating.

Alex even smirked to himself, thinking that Thranduil and Thorin could’ve been best friends—two of the most stubborn beings in all of Middle-earth. They’d definitely be nicknamed “Unmovable.”

The argument between Gandalf and Thranduil dragged on deep into the night. Even Bard tried to convince the king, reminding him that Lake-town had fallen under the onslaught of orcs, but Thranduil seemed to believe that was the full extent of their forces. He didn’t understand that it was only a small part compared to the army marching toward Erebor.

Gandalf did his best to make the Elven King see reason, but without proof, his words were nothing more than empty sound. Thranduil listened to him with an expression that made it look like the wizard was telling a fairy tale. Alex could only sigh as he listened to the pointless bickering. He couldn’t understand why all of Middle-earth was so divided. They had a common enemy—everyone knew where he resided: Mordor. But no one cared. Sauron was believed to be defeated, the Ring was gone, and no one wanted to believe that evil could return. No one was willing to risk their own wars to fight orcs that multiplied like cockroaches.

“Why are you sighing? Aren’t you tired of eavesdropping on that wizard and the Elven King?” Rory asked, turning her head to look at Alex while still seated on his lap. “You’ve been sighing every few minutes since Gandalf showed up.”

“I’m just surprised how stubborn Thranduil is. He literally doesn’t see the threat right under his nose. And Gandalf isn’t much better—he relies only on words, without a shred of evidence. Who’s going to believe you if you don’t have proof?” Alex replied, gently tapping Rory’s nose with his own.

“What did you expect?” Rory grinned. “Everything here runs on rumors and stories. You can’t tell what’s true and what’s a lie. And Thranduil thinks Gandalf is just stalling for time to protect the dwarves. Wouldn’t you think the same in his place?”

Alex didn’t reply—he simply hugged Rory tighter and turned his gaze back toward Dale, where lights still burned in the distance and a conversation was taking place that could determine the fate of the entire valley by morning.

He didn’t argue with Rory—he had heard the entire conversation himself thanks to his surveillance magic. Smiling, Rory leaned her back against his chest again, gently swinging her legs.

With a sigh, Alex traced his finger along the stone floor, drawing the shape of a mouse. A moment later, the Living Drawing technique activated—the mouse sprang from the stone and vanished into the darkness, heading off to find Bilbo.

Only a few minutes passed before the small hobbit came rushing down the corridor, out of breath but clearly not holding back. For Bilbo, this was a moment to test his acting skills—and he wasn’t about to waste it.

“I still don’t get why Gandalf can’t do the same things you can,” Bilbo said, walking closer and wiping sweat from his brow. “All I remember from him is fireworks and throwing burning pinecones at orcs on wolves.”

Alex chuckled.

“You see, dear Bilbo, it all depends on how you use magic. It has thousands of forms and applications—you just need to know when and where to use them. Mithrandir… he’s more of a messenger than a real wizard. Every wizard in Middle-earth has a different purpose. So does he.”

“You call him Mithrandir too? Why?” Bilbo asked, recalling that Elrond had also used that name.

“Because it’s his true name,” Alex replied. “‘Gandalf’ means ‘Elf with a staff,’ but ‘Mithrandir’ is the name given to him by the Elves. In Sindarin, it means ‘Grey Pilgrim.’ I hope that answers your question, young hobbit?”

“More than enough. Well… I guess we’re off. But I’m not promising anything! I’m a terrible liar. If it all falls apart—I warned you!”

Alex laughed softly.

“Don’t worry. Once you put the Arkenstone on the table, you won’t need to say much. Just tell them Thorin has gone mad and even suspects his own friends. Say you’re doing this to protect your companions. Speak from the heart, Bilbo. As if Thorin truly is losing his mind.”

With that, Alex gently lifted Rory from his lap, stood up, and handed Bilbo a bundle. It was a fake Arkenstone—crafted so skillfully it was nearly indistinguishable from the real one. Bilbo carefully wrapped the stone in cloth and tucked it into his inner pocket.

“Maybe I should get a rope?” he asked uncertainly, eyeing the tall stone gates.

“No need—it’s much simpler than that,” Alex replied with a mischievous grin.

Seeing that smile, Bilbo instantly realized: nothing good was coming. And before he could protest, Alex had already scooped Rory up by the waist with one hand and grabbed the hobbit by the collar with the other. In the blink of an eye, they had leapt over the gates and landed on the other side.

Bilbo hit the ground with a thud, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. Alex and Rory couldn’t hold back their laughter at the frightened expression on the hobbit’s face.

“All for the mission, Bilbo,” Alex said, patting him on the back. “You’ve got this. We believe in you.”

Casting a distraction spell on all of them to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the elves, the trio crossed the valley. On the stone bridge leading to Dale, Alex stopped.

“Well, this is where you’re on your own, Bilbo. My wife and I have other business.”

“Where are you going?” the hobbit couldn’t help but ask.

“To take care of a problem. So nothing ruins the plan tomorrow. Once we’re done, we’ll return here and wait for you. So as soon as you’re done spinning your tale for the Elven King, come back.”

Bilbo nodded. But curiosity wouldn’t leave him — what kind of “problem” were Alex and Rory going to solve? He barely had time to blink before Alex scooped Rory up and… vanished. Disappeared like a mirage in the night mist.

“I hope that was an illusion,” muttered the hobbit, rubbing his eyes. But alas, it was all real.

He shifted his gaze to the walls of Dale. There, at their posts, stood elven archers, watchful and alert.

“Well then, Bilbo Baggins… Your task is simple — just deceive the Elven King. No big deal, right? You’ve already escaped the goblin lair, fooled the Forest Kingdom’s guards… All that’s left is to talk. Easy as pie!”

He slapped his cheeks a few times to cheer himself up and took his first step toward the bridge.

Gathering his courage, Bilbo began sneaking into the town, trying to avoid the guards’ eyes. He cautiously darted from building to building, hiding in the shadows, intently listening to conversations — he needed to find Gandalf. Hearing two guards mention the wizard, Bilbo immediately knew where to head.

Carefully bypassing the guards warming themselves by a fire, he slipped into the shadows and, making sure no one noticed, continued on. A few minutes later, he spotted Bard and Gandalf and almost called out to them, but caught himself just in time, pressing his hand to his mouth to avoid giving himself away. Meanwhile, Gandalf was trying to convince Bard to prevent the looming conflict.

“Do you really fancy all this?” Gandalf said. “Is gold worth dying for? Do you want to pay for it with the blood of dwarves, men, and elves? Is a handful of coins worth spilled blood?”

“That won’t happen,” Bard answered confidently. “They won’t win this battle.”

“They won’t back down. Do you think they’ll surrender? No. They will fight to the last for this mountain,” came Bilbo’s voice as he stepped out from behind a stone pillar.

Gandalf and Bard turned sharply. Gandalf’s face lit up with a warm smile when he saw the hobbit.

“Bilbo Baggins! Glad to see you’re alright,” he said, smiling sincerely.

Bilbo nodded in response and, lowering his voice, hinted to Gandalf that he had business with Thranduil. The wizard immediately sensed something was off about the hobbit’s behavior, as if he was hiding something. But he said nothing, just nodded understandingly.

Together, they headed toward Thranduil’s tent. As they approached, Bilbo felt growing anxiety — he didn’t know how the Elven King would react. Gandalf assumed it was because Bilbo was worried about his past escape from the Forest Kingdom’s dungeons.

Soon the trio — the wizard, the man, and the nervous hobbit — entered the tent. Thranduil’s gaze immediately fixed on Bilbo.

“If I’m not mistaken—and I’m never mistaken—that’s the very halfling who stole the keys right under my guards’ noses,” he said calmly as he sat on his throne.

“Uh… Yes… My apologies,” muttered Bilbo, trying to avoid meeting his eyes.

For a moment, silence hung in the tent. Gandalf, smoking his pipe, smiled faintly. Bard glanced at the hobbit and couldn’t help but smirk lightly. Only Thranduil continued to look at Bilbo with icy calm, while Bilbo did his best to keep composed — he had a goal: to buy time.

“I have brought you… this,” he said, approaching the table in the center of the tent and pulling out a bundle wrapped in cloth.

Gandalf, Thranduil, and Bard watched with curiosity as Bilbo unfolded the cloth. Inside was the Arkenstone — a sparkling gem whose glow filled the tent with a magical light. No one in the tent except Bilbo knew it was a perfect counterfeit, indistinguishable from the original.

Surprised, Thranduil even rose from his seat, gazing mesmerized at the stone. Gandalf squinted slightly — he hadn’t expected Bilbo to bring the Arkenstone here instead of handing it over to Thorin. But he understood how great the influence of the dragon’s curse was on the dwarves, and he knew that Thorin had already fallen victim to it… at least until Alex’s intervention.

“This is the heart of the mountain… the royal gem,” Thranduil muttered, stepping closer.

“And it’s worth a king’s ransom,” added Bard, standing beside him.

“Yes, it is,” confirmed Bilbo.

“Where did you get this stone?” Bard asked, looking at the hobbit with surprise.

“It’s my fourteenth part of the treasure,” Bilbo answered calmly, first looking at Bard, then at Thranduil.

Gandalf immediately understood why Bilbo had brought the Arkenstone and for what purpose he had taken such a risk. Pride sparkled in his eyes — for the hobbit, for his loyalty, for his courage. A gentle smile touched the wizard’s lips as he looked at Bilbo. Only Thranduil and Bard remained puzzled, not understanding why he had done all this.

“Why did you bring it to us?” Bard asked, staring intently at Bilbo. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“This is not for you,” the hobbit replied softly. “I know what dwarves can be like: stubborn, reserved, suspicious… As for their manners — worse than anyone can imagine. But despite all that, they’re brave. They’re kind. And loyal to the last breath. I’ve truly grown attached to them. If I have a chance to save them — I will take it.”

He paused, then continued:

“Thorin values this stone more than the whole mountain. I think for the Arkenstone’s sake, he will agree to a trade. He’ll give you what’s rightfully yours — and then there won’t have to be any war.”

Bilbo spoke from the heart, repeating what Alex had instilled in him, but adding his own pain and sincerity to the words.

“Are you sure you want to give us this stone, halfling?” Thranduil asked coldly, as if testing his resolve.

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded firmly. “There’s someone else in Erebor now. And this person is far more dangerous than the dwarves.”

“Who is this, that the dwarves let into their kingdom?” Thranduil squinted skeptically.

Bilbo sighed deeply. It was time to tell the truth… or at least part of it.

He began from afar — with their meeting with a mysterious man named Alexander. Not a word about his family, nor any mention of the true nature of his power. Only that he appeared in the valley at Erebor’s foot, and from the very beginning awaited Thorin.

Bilbo described how they had a strange conversation — a kind of magical bargain. The price of the deal was one precious gem… a very large gem.

When the topic turned to the dragon’s death and how this man supposedly killed it with a golden brick, Gandalf frowned. Even to him, it sounded fantastic. And Thranduil looked at the hobbit skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

“And you think I’ll believe this nonsense, halfling?” he asked coldly, drilling Bilbo with his gaze.

“I’m not lying,” Bilbo replied calmly. “This man… is probably the only one who still somehow influences Thorin. But as soon as he leaves, Thorin becomes… different again. I told you — they made a bargain. And while he stays in Erebor, he’ll help keep Thorin… and maybe even affect the outcome of this war.”

Thranduil shifted his gaze to Gandalf.

“Mithrandir, you’re a wizard yourself. Do you know who this man is? What kind of sorcerer can kill a dragon with a golden brick?”

“I have no idea who he is,” Gandalf admitted, shaking his head and letting out a thin stream of smoke.

“Well,” said Thranduil, slowly approaching the table with the Arkenstone and narrowing his eyes, “tomorrow we’ll find out if this ‘dragon slayer’ is really as powerful as the halfling says.”

Bilbo all the while felt as if he was walking through a minefield. Even he sometimes didn’t believe he was telling the truth — his words sounded like complete nonsense. Who in their right mind would believe a dragon could be killed… with a golden brick?

Noticing that the conversation with Thranduil had reached a dead end, Gandalf gently took the hobbit by the shoulder and led him away. He didn’t want Bilbo to linger here longer than necessary.

“I never would have thought Bilbo Baggins could be such a skilled liar,” Gandalf muttered with a slight smile. “Although… I understand your motives, my dear Bilbo. But couldn’t you have made up something more plausible than a man killing a dragon with a golden brick?”

“I’m not lying, Gandalf,” Bilbo replied seriously. “This man really exists.”

Gandalf stopped and looked him up and down.

“And what does this… wizard look like?”

“He’s tall, like you. Young. With black hair and rainbow-colored eyes. Dresses oddly… and very handsome,” Bilbo said, recalling Alex.

“I don’t know him,” Gandalf frowned. “Are you sure he’s a wizard?”

“Absolutely. I saw him perform magic. He kicked — and tables and benches grew from the ground. And I told you: he made a magical pact with Thorin,” Bilbo added, thoughtfully looking at the wizard.

Gandalf was silent for a moment, considering what he had heard.

“If all this is true… then I am truly curious who this mysterious guest is. But now, Bilbo, you need to rest. And in the morning — leave. As far away as possible. And don’t come back.” Brоught tо yоu by thе fоlks аt

“What? No,” the hobbit replied sharply. “I’m not leaving. These dwarves are my friends. You yourself brought me into Thorin’s company as the fourteenth. I can’t abandon them. They helped me too.”

“Forget it. You don’t understand what you’ve done. When Thorin finds out about your action…” Gandalf shook his head. “I’m afraid he might snap.”

“I’m not afraid of Thorin. He’s my friend,” Bilbo said stubbornly.

“Oh, Bilbo… you should be,” Gandalf said grimly. “Never underestimate the power of gold. It destroyed Thror. It can destroy Thorin. Dragon gold isn’t just treasure. It’s poisoned with greed. And no matter how many come for it — all have perished, blinded by avarice.”

“Sorry, Gandalf. But I won’t abandon my friends,” Bilbo said firmly, shaking his head.

Gandalf frowned. He knew that Bilbo could no longer be persuaded. The hobbit had changed. He was no longer the naive traveler he had been at the journey’s start. Now his eyes held a determination — the very same determination Gandalf had hoped to see one day… and now he had. Yet, for some reason, it only filled him with sadness.

Without saying another word, Bilbo turned and walked toward the gates. Gandalf sighed and followed him — to see him off. Bilbo’s stubbornness was no less than that of the dwarves.

Reaching the stone bridge, Bilbo stopped. Gandalf was about to speak again, but something in the hobbit’s behavior seemed strange to him. As soon as Bilbo crossed the bridge, he began looking around as if searching for someone. The wizard frowned.

And suddenly — like a mirage — a tall man appeared next to Bilbo. The wizard and the stranger locked eyes. Gandalf immediately understood: this was him. The stranger’s rainbow-colored eyes shone in the moonlight. He bowed slightly, a gentle smile appearing on his face. Gandalf, surprised but polite, bowed back.

Alex pointed a finger at the wizard’s feet. Gandalf looked down — at his feet sat a strange little mouse. But when he raised his eyes again, Bilbo and the mysterious man had vanished. Only a fresh inscription remained on the stone beneath his feet:

“Thorin is fine. The curse of Durin’s line is lifted. He is no longer obsessed with gold. Sorry for making your hobbit deceive everyone. But at noon tomorrow, an orc army will arrive, and every help will be needed. The orcs in Lake-town are dead. I took care of it. The Arkenstone Bilbo brought is a fake. Thorin knows this. All for peace in Middle-earth. If it’s not too much, Mithrandir… buy some time. Good luck.”

Gandalf stared at the inscription for a long time, then looked back into the darkness where Bilbo had disappeared.

After reading the message, Gandalf immediately understood why Bilbo had risked so much. He couldn’t help but shake his head — they had all just been tricked. But the wizard also realized: right now, any help was crucial, even if it meant resorting to deception… even if the elves were the ones deceived.

After finishing reading, Gandalf wiped the inscription away with his staff so no one else could see it. His heart was somewhat relieved by the news that Thorin was all right, but the question that troubled him most was: how had someone managed to lift the curse of Durin’s line? He probably wouldn’t get an answer — at least, not now.

Sighing, Gandalf headed back into the city, firmly resolved to do everything possible to buy at least a little time before dawn, when the attack would begin.

Meanwhile, Alex, Rory, and Bilbo were returning to Erebor. Alex glanced at the hobbit — he looked as if he had just been through a war and come out victorious. Smiling, Alex lit a cigarette.

“Well done, Bilbo. You handled it perfectly. Well, convincing Gandalf was a bit tricky… but Thranduil heard exactly what he wanted to hear,” he said, taking a drag.

“How do you know what he heard?” Bilbo asked in surprise, looking up at Alex.

“I’ve been watching Dale from the very start. I know and hear everything that’s happening there,” Alex shrugged.

“Strange tricks for a wizard… Still, what were you doing while I was trying to outsmart everyone?”

“Oh, we were just clearing Lake-town of orcs so they wouldn’t strike from behind during the battle,” Rory interrupted. “Now there’s a mountain of corpses and not a single living creature left.”

“I don’t even want to know how you did that,” Bilbo said, shaking his head in disgust.

“You’d better not, my dear hobbit. Or you’ll be having nightmares later,” Alex smirked. “But since we’re back, you should rest. Tomorrow will be a long day. You’ll need all your patience.”

They approached the massive stone gates of Erebor. Bilbo could only nod silently, anticipating not only the upcoming battle but also another very unpleasant “ride.”

Alex noticed Bilbo’s gloomy expression, smiled, scooped up Rory with one hand, grabbed the hobbit by the scruff with the other, and with a single leap, vaulted over the wall. Bilbo felt uneasy again — he never quite got used to those jumps.

Once inside, the trio saw Thorin standing by the entrance, apparently waiting for them.

“Well? How did it go?” Thorin asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Excellent,” Alex replied, giving a thumbs-up. “Thranduil believed it. Gandalf did not. But he understands why all this was done and will keep quiet. Now we just have to wait for sunrise.”

Thorin nodded. He felt the hardest part was already behind them. Approaching Bilbo, he placed a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder, showing how grateful and pleased he was. Bilbo gave only a faint smile, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling on him.

Leaving Thorin and Bilbo, Alex took Rory’s hand, and they headed toward their room, where the girls were already waiting, preparing for sleep. Alex knew — no matter how much the valkyries and the other girls followed the events in real time, they always preferred to listen to his story. Especially Brunhilda. She liked hearing every detail firsthand.

To be continued…

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(Another day and another chapter. I’m 100% sure that I won’t be able to fit the war and the conversation into one chapter. Because too many things happen at once during the war. I can kind of ignore the events related to the girls, but then what’s the point of all this. Oh yeah, before I forget, I created a chapter with all of Alex’s family members so you can see for yourself. Because every time I try to update this zero chapter, the webnovel throws a stone at me as usual, and reminds me not to do it. But now everything will be easier. Enjoy reading!)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep