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Jimmy leveled the Blade at Bard.
With nowhere left to retreat, Bard had no choice but to fight.
"Defeat him."
"Show him what Lord Bard can do."
"Yes. Defeat this traitor to humanity."
"Dale belongs to us—"
"Enough," Jimmy snapped. "Bard. Fight. Or I won't be able to restrain myself from killing that pack of trash."
Bard clenched his jaw.
"Fine."
The same bow. The same arrows.
But compared to the Elves, there was less rhythm… fewer variations.
The accuracy was decent.
Nothing more.
Within Jimmy's perception, these straight-line shots didn't even require thought.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Jimmy knocked arrows aside while yawning.
That alone was humiliating.
Bard's face flushed red.
"If this is all you have," Jimmy said calmly, "then this ends here."
He surged forward.
Bard reacted on instinct. He swung the bow to block, then drew the sword at his waist and lunged.
Clang—whoosh!
"Damn! Didn't pull back enough," Jimmy muttered.
One strike.
The sword flew from Bard's hand.
So did Bard.
He slammed into the ground.
Bard knew there was no retreat left. If he lost spirit now, everything was over.
He rolled up, drew two daggers, and charged again.
Jimmy paused.
Then he tossed the Blade aside and stepped forward barehanded.
Even without using refined techniques, even without overwhelming force… the gap was obscene.
Speed. Reaction. Control.
It wasn't a duel.
It was a father disciplining a reckless child.
After a few exchanges, Jimmy lost interest.
He stepped in, found an opening, and drove a single punch into Bard's face.
Bard collapsed.
"I lost," Bard said hoarsely. "Kill me."
His eyes were empty.
"Just… lead the people of Lake-town. Let them live."
Jimmy frowned.
"Who said I was going to kill you."
He looked around at the crowd.
"I defeated you to cut off certain unnecessary thoughts."
He raised his voice.
"Now watch."
"Balin. Throw a few down."
Cheers erupted from the watchtower.
At Jimmy's signal, several metal canisters were hurled downward.
Boom. Boom.
Flashfire detonated.
Stone cracked. Flame burst outward.
"This," Jimmy said calmly, "is Flashfire."
"We found an entire warehouse of it."
His gaze swept across the crowd.
"Enough for every man, woman, and Elf here to receive ten each."
The silence deepened.
"There are barely a dozen dwarves," Jimmy continued. "But tell me… how many soldiers do you need to defend a narrow passage."
He pointed upward.
"From high ground, dropping Flashfire."
"What would you use to stop that."
His voice hardened.
"Erebor has wealth. But don't get ideas."
"Especially now that the Wood-elves and dwarves have reached an agreement."
"You are… optional."
He exhaled, then continued more evenly.
"Next. Balin will handle negotiations."
"I secured you the right to clear and construct the outer city. Take it."
Jimmy sheathed his blades, nodded once to Thranduil, and began climbing toward the lone watchtower.
Balin descended as planned to speak with Bard and the others.
The terms were simple.
Dwarves did not farm. They forged.
They needed humans to grow food, brew ale, and sustain supply lines.
But before cooperation came trust.
And before trust…
Intent had to be broken.
The final terms were set.
Balin would grant the people of Dale the right to reside in the city. Bard's position as Lord of Dale was formally acknowledged.
However, as had always been the case in the past, the appointment of a Lord of Dale required confirmation by the King Under the Mountain.
Erebor would assist in rebuilding homes. The land necessary for survival would be leased to the people of Dale. Wood-elf scholars would be brought in to guide proper farming methods.
In return, all grain produced would be sold exclusively to the dwarves.
Prices would be fair. No exploitation.
The priority now was the reconstruction of the outer walls of Erebor.
The Elves would transport food supplies. As for how much the humans could purchase…
That depended entirely on how hard they worked repairing the outer defenses.
Every shipment the Elves brought could be purchased by the dwarves in full. Quantity was not the issue.
At least two thousand Elven archers would remain to ensure Erebor's security.
…
Not long after, Balin returned, his face glowing with excitement.
"Thorin," he said eagerly, "once Ironfoot and the Grey Mountains forces arrive, we'll finally be secure."
"Tomorrow the humans will begin repairing the outer wall. We'll rotate teams to supervise them…"
He paused.
"What's wrong. This is good news. Why does everyone look—"
"Jimmy has gone to rest," someone said.
Balin blinked.
"Yes. And that's precisely why this worked. Without Jimmy, we would've been attacked by both Elves and men."
"No. I mean—Jimmy is resting?"
Balin froze.
"…Another attack is coming."
Only then did he understand.
"It seems the walls need serious reinforcement," Balin muttered. "And perhaps the people of Lake-town should be moved into the outer city as well."
"That's not advisable," Thorin replied. "At the ruins of Dale, they may escape notice. If they gather here, they'll become targets."
Balin sighed.
"So much work ahead of us."
…
Over the next few days, Jimmy focused on studying Smaug's dragonhide.
To stabilize Bard's authority and ease tensions, Jimmy gave him the piece of dragonhide taken from Smaug's chest.
A section of scale was missing.
An old wound.
The very spot where Bard's ancestor had once struck.
"Thank you," Bard said quietly, staring at the hide with conflicted emotion.
"You're welcome," Jimmy replied. "Behind that scale was Smaug's heart. Your ancestor missed it by one arrow."
He added calmly.
"That honor belongs to your bloodline."
Bard hesitated.
"Why," he asked. "Why help me. At the start… I stood against you."
Jimmy thought for a moment.
"Because you're not hopeless," he said. "That's all."
Then his tone shifted.
"There's something you need to understand. Letting your people repair the walls wasn't mercy."
Bard stiffened.
"War is coming."
"The Orcs that destroyed Lake-town," Jimmy continued, "were scouts. A probing force."
"If they want revenge," he said flatly, "they'll return in force."
Bard's breath caught.
"I'll coordinate with the dwarves regarding weapons," Jimmy said. "But you already know the problem."
He met Bard's eyes.
"Among your people are those blinded by gold. Until the battle begins, the dwarves will not issue weapons to you."
"That's for everyone's safety."
"An Orc army," Bard whispered. "Then the ruins of Dale—"
"Relax," Jimmy said. "The ruins are remote. Unrestored. Orcs won't search there carefully until this place is dealt with."
He continued.
"If you want Dale to survive, then hold here as long as possible."
After a pause, he added.
"If you still don't trust that… you may move them here."
"But understand this," Jimmy said coldly. "They will not be allowed into the inner city."
"Only the outer city. The most dangerous ground."
Bard clenched his fists.
"Those cursed Orcs," he growled. "Damn them all."
For a moment, he almost asked whether his people could be sheltered inside Erebor.
But the thought died instantly.
Inside the mountain lay seas of gold. Mountains of gems.
Letting desperate people inside would be like releasing rats into a granary.
Even Bard knew better.
Already, someone had discovered flecks of gold shaken loose from Smaug's hoard. Even wall repairs had begun to slow.
Human nature did not need encouragement.
It revealed itself all on its own.
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