Chapter 33

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The townsfolk struggled to make a home in Dale, the goods Saharia had offered them began to dwindle quickly, some have even passed away during the night due to their wounds that were inflicted by the dragon. Voices of doubt began to spread around the people as Bard made his way through, seeming to be checking on everyone. "Bard, we don't have enough." A man spoke, looking to Bard, his eyes fading of hope.

"Do what you can Percy." Bard responded as he walked through another doorway and into another room. "The children, the wounded, and the women come first." He spoke, nodding to an older woman as the guards nodded as they continued distributing all that they had to the people. Bard then walks over to where Alfrid was leaning against the corner, "Morning Alfrid. What news from the night watch?" He questioned as Alfrid stirred, standing up.

"All quiet, sire." He started as he followed Bard towards the doors. "Not much to report. Nothing gets past me." He informed him before he came to a stop next to Bard, who scanned the area in front of him.

"Except an army of elves it seems." Bard stated as the elves stood up slightly straighter. Bard walked down the stairs slowly, moving towards the elves about to ask them why they were here, before he could speak, the elves parted ways for him to walk through. Bard pushed forward before coming face to face with an elf sitting on a large elk. Bard recognized the elf immediately, "My Lord Thranduil, we did not look to see you here?" Bard spoke with a confused expression on his features.

"I heard you needed aid." Thranduil spoke as he looked over as a large carriage drawn by horses entered the courtyard, the sound of their hooves hitting the pavement drew out the people as a newfound hope gleamed in their eyes. They all ran towards the carts as soon as they came to a stop, some of the previous guards jumping into the cart to pass it down to the people.

Bard looked up at the elf lord with hope and gratitude gleaming in his eyes, "You have saved us. I do not know how to thank you."

Thranduil simply looked down at him with a cold look, "Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine." He spoke, causing Bard to frown. Thranduil then gave the order to his guards as they all started marching towards the mountain.

Bard looked towards the mountain before looking up at Thranduil, "Wait! Please wait!" He called out as he followed after Thranduil. "You will go to war over a handful of gems?" Bard questioned with a confused look.

Thranduil looked over at him with a calm look, "The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken." He spoke as he gave Bard a cold, judgemental look.

"What of Saharia? She wouldn't want this." Bard spoke, trying to reason with the woodland eleven king, whose anger only rage at the mention of the queen.

"What of her? She became my enemy the moment she took those lousy dwarves' side." Thranduil responded in a cold tone filled with anger, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Bard let out a sad sigh, glancing down at the ground before an idea popped in his head as he looked up at the elven king, "We are both allies in this. My people also have a claim over the riches of the mountain. Let me speak to Thorin."

Thranduil raised a brow, "You would try to reason with a dwarf?" He spoke as if it was impossible or even unheard of.

"To avoid war?" Bard questioned as he met the eyes of the eleven king, "Yes."

Thorin and the others stood along the wall they had just finished up, making it out of rubble from the broken stone door Saharia burst through. "Not a bad night's work," One dwarf spoke as they admired their work about to go off and rest.

"Hail, Thorin, son of Thrain!" A familiar voice called out to the dwarves, they climbed up to the top of the wall, looking out to see hundreds of eleves, in the front was the eleven king Thranduil on top of his elk. Next to him was Bard, on top of a white horse. "We are glad to find you alive beyond hope." Bard spoke, warmth in his tone.

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