Thorin Regains His Senses, the Art of Boosting Morale

The Ice Dragon lured away a large number of war beasts, but the number of orcs far exceeded that of elves and dwarves, and their numbers continued to grow.

The Elven Golden Armor Unit suffered heavy losses, and Thranduil, riding his stag, fought his way back through the River Valley City, slaying dozens of orcs in succession.

When Thranduil's mount used its antlers to impale eight enemies, just as he was about to behead them all, the elk was struck by an arrow and rolled to the ground.

The orcs around him quickly launched an attack. Thranduil glared at his enemies with resentment, then quickly stood up and grabbed his twin swords to fight back.

His elven army also retreated to the River Valley City, where they clashed with the orcs. The city instantly became a three-way battlefield between humans, elves, and orcs.

Outside the city, Dain's Ironfoot Army had suffered more than half its casualties, and even his boar mount had died on the way to the charge. The number of dwarven warriors continued to decline amidst the sounds of fighting, screams, and shrieks.

Left with no other choice, Dain ordered his troops to retreat from Lonely Mountain. To his surprise, even after fighting for so long, he still hadn't seen Thorin.

The dwarves are now facing an enemy several times their size, their morale is low, and the person they need most is their king.

Inside the Great Hall of Erebor, Thorin sat alone on the throne, his eyes vacant as he gazed at the gold scattered across the floor.

"When have we ever abandoned our own people?" Dwalin stepped into the hall, his tiger-like eyes filled with tears. "Thorin, they are bleeding, they are sacrificing."

"These mountains are full of caves, and we can use the terrain to ensure everything goes smoothly." Thorin suddenly stood up. "Yes, yes, that's right. We need to move the gold deeper to ensure its safety."

"Didn't you hear me?" Dwalin roared in exasperation. "Dain is surrounded. They're all going to be killed."

Thorin paused for a moment, then said indifferently, "People always die in wars, that's human nature, but compared to gold, human life is worthless, worthless."

"For gold, it's worth dying for."

"Is that what you think?" Aaron suddenly appeared in the hall, picked up the Arkenstone from the throne, and said, "Perhaps I shouldn't have given it to you in the first place."

"Put it down." Thorin drew his Longsword and pointed it at the two men. "Put down the Arkenstone, then leave."

Get out of here before I kill you all.

Aaron shrugged and tossed the gem into the pile of gold coins at his feet. Thorin immediately jumped down the steps, picked up the Arkenstone, and carefully held it to his chest.

"Dwalin, what do you think of him now?"

"He's completely a different person." Dwalin shook his head in anguish. "He's wearing a crown and sitting on the throne, but he looks smaller than ever before."

"I think so too." Aaron shrugged, then took out his Wand.

"What are you going to do?" Thorin's expression changed slightly as he tried to stop Aaron from doing so.

"Expelliarmus."

The red curse struck Thorin, knocking his Longsword from his hand and sending him flying backward.

"Calm down, I'm not here to steal your gold." Aaron smiled, then pressed his Wand against his temple. "There's something I want to show you."

A wisp of silver smoke emerged from Aaron's head. With a wave of his hand, a scene appeared in the magnificent hall, a fragment of his and Bilbo's memories of searching for the Arkenstone.

In the scene, Smaug smirks smugly, stating that he had considered letting Thorin take the Arkenstone, only to watch him be consumed by the stone and fall into destruction.

He even cited his ancestor as an example, briefly describing how Thor became arrogant and disdainful of everyone due to greed, ultimately leading to the destruction of his country and family.

As for the memories related to the One Ring that Aaron later shared, Aaron dared not release them, as this would cause Bilbo considerable trouble.

"Did you see that?"

Thorin, you are on the old road of your ancestor.

Thorin shook his head in disbelief, stunned. "Impossible, this must be fake."

"This is real!" Dwalin cried out anxiously, "Look at what you've become!"

Thorin was once a relentless pioneer for the dwarves, determined to reclaim Erebor and restore the dwarves' Glory.

But what about now? They were once consumed by greed and madness, even disregarding the lives of their own people.

"You are the king, you have always been our king, we have never doubted it before, but now we have to."

"It's not the real thing, it's not the real thing..." Thorin muttered to himself, repeating the words over and over.

Seeing Thorin's appearance, Dwalin felt a bitter taste in his mouth and even a glimmer of tears in his eyes, but he breathed a heavy sigh of relief because he could tell that Thorin had begun to doubt money.

Aaron quietly gestured to him to go out first and notify the others to prepare for battle, while he himself fiddled with the magic Wand in his hand, thinking about what spell to use later.

But then he thought again and put the Wand away.

For a neurotic patient like Thorin who is obsessed with money, illusions are much more effective than spells.

Aaron snapped his fingers, and the entire hall turned a dazzling gold. His own figure became transparent, replaced by a lifelike dragon (Hogwarts Ghost version).

The gold coins beneath Thorin's feet transformed into a massive Golden Vortex, instantly trapping him within. He struggled desperately to climb out, but to his horror, he saw his grandfather Thor screaming in the depths of the vortex, a sound that brought tears to the eyes of all who heard it.

At that moment, Smaug's spirit appeared before him. It didn't say anything, but just grinned, its eyes filled with obvious sarcasm, as if to say, "I knew all along that the descendants of Durin would come here."

Just as he was being swallowed by the gold coins, Aaron dispelled the illusion in time.

"Thorin, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

"It's nothing, I just had a nightmare, it felt so real."

It felt so real; I even saw my grandfather waving at me.

Aaron chuckled inwardly, relieved that Erebor had no shortage of statues of Thor, which provided him with ample material for creating illusions.

"If you're not going to get sick, then you can continue guarding this gold here!"

"Balin and I are going to support the battlefield. Their loyalty to the king has never wavered, but they simply cannot bear to watch their compatriots die in battle."

"Wait." Thorin stopped Aaron nervously, then took off his crown and threw it into the pile of gold coins. "I'll go with you."

Aaron feigned surprise. "You've figured it out?"

"I don't want to end up like my grandfather, where gold was never as important as my people." Thorin drew his Longsword, removed the Metal Ornaments from his body, and walked toward the City Gate.

At this point, the remaining Ironfoot Army was powerless to resist and was forced to retreat to the walls of Erebor.

As if he could already see the dwarves' Apocalypse, Azog immediately sounded the horn, preparing to launch the final all-out attack.

The dwarves on the city wall felt extremely guilty. They didn't want to be cowards. Just as they were feeling utterly dejected, Thorin slowly walked towards them with his sword in hand.

When Kili saw that he could no longer bear it, he cursed Thorin, saying, "I will not hide behind the stone wall forever and watch others charge into battle, especially for our sake."

"I'm not that kind of person, Thorin."

"No, no." Thorin looked at his nephew with relief. "We are all descendants of Durin, and the descendants of Durin will not back down in the face of battle."

He walked up to the crowd and said apologetically, "I have no right to give orders to you anymore, but can you listen to me one last time?"

The dwarves remained silent, but they all stood up and gripped their weapons tightly to show their stance.

Aaron rolled his eyes. He admitted that the scene was very moving, but if Thorin hadn't stopped them, they would have rushed out long ago.

"Ahem! I've prepared something for the dwarf army."

You charge ahead first, I'll follow shortly.

At this point, the dwarven army had nowhere to retreat, with their backs against the foot of Lonely Mountain. Dain ordered them to build Shield Wall, preparing for a final, desperate fight.

Seeing this, Azog ordered the orc army to remain in place until several giant beasts reached the front ranks before he ordered the horns to be sounded and a general attack to begin.

With several giant beasts leading the way, the dwarves' morale immediately dropped. Their Shield Wall could stop the orcs' charge, but a swing of the giant beasts' clubs would likely shatter their formation instantly.

Crossing the cold mountains and mist, we reached a deep cellar and an ancient cave...

We need to set off before dawn to find the location of the beautiful gold...

The pine trees howled on the Highlands, the strong wind roared in the night, the crimson flames spread relentlessly, and the trees howled like torches...

Suddenly, a melodious tune rang out from Erebor. Aaron waved his Wand and, like a conductor, played the poems that Thorin and the others had sung in the Shire across the entire battlefield, making slight modifications.

The orc army, which was originally about to launch a general offensive, was completely bewildered and did not understand where the tune came from.

But the dwarves felt an indescribable sense of national pride and patriotism from the music. If they had been a little panicked before, they were now absolutely ready to die for their country.

The dwarves endured countless hardships and grievances to win over Erebor, and they were determined to protect their Dwarf Kingdom, even at the cost of their lives.

Each dwarf gripped his weapon tightly, letting out a blood-boiling roar, eager to fight the orcs to the death.

Meanwhile, Bombur, who had just hoisted a large horn onto the city wall, looked speechlessly at the music conductor beside him. "You've gone this far, are you still going to blow the Charge Horn?"

"Why are you looking at me? This is art, art that boosts morale."

"My music teacher taught me a few War Song, but I was worried you wouldn't understand them, so I found one that's more down-to-earth—at least in my opinion, there's no melody that can stir the dwarves' emotions more." Aaron said proudly, "But your Charge Horn is the real battle cry."

Upon hearing this, Bombur nodded hurriedly, took a deep breath, and vigorously blew the horn.