It wasn't just the dwarf guards interrogating Arthur who were nervous, but also the dwarves waiting to enter the city, both in front of and behind Arthur.
Upon hearing Arthur utter the name "Thorin," these dwarves, like the guards, immediately distanced themselves from Arthur, moving away from him.
This made Arthur, who was already tall among a group of dwarves, stand out even more.
The commotion here also attracted the attention of more dwarves, and the dwarf guards responsible for vigilance at the city gate naturally noticed it. One robust dwarf, bald but with tattoos around his head, and a few centimeters taller than the others, walked towards them with a battle-axe.
Halfway there, upon noticing Arthur's attire, he changed from walking to running, sprinting towards them.
Meanwhile, Arthur was still communicating with the dwarves.
He asked, "Does the name 'Thorin' have any special meaning here among you?"
Arthur could sense that their expressions towards the name "Thorin" were respectful, not fearful or angry.
This indicated that the dwarf he had rescued held a significant position in the hearts of these dwarves.
The dwarf captain with the fiery red long beard did not directly answer Arthur's question. Instead, he stared at Arthur's helmet and asked in a more serious tone, "What do you want with Thorin?"
Arthur replied naturally, "Because he told me I could ask him for a favor, so I came."
Then he glanced at the dwarf guards behind him, who were tightly gripping their weapons, and felt a headache coming on.
After all, in The Lands Between, if you encountered someone blocking your path, you just went up and chopped them down. Most likely, they were deranged lunatics incapable of normal communication.
But these dwarves, no matter how he looked at them, were different from the people who blocked his path in The Lands Between; they were capable of communication.
This left Arthur, who was accustomed to clearing paths with his weapon, unsure how to proceed.
If Rogier were here, it would be great. He should be very good at handling these kinds of situations.
Arthur thought to himself.
He said to the dwarf captain with the fiery red long beard, "When Thorin and I parted ways, he gave me an axe. He said that with this battle-axe, I could find him in the Blue Mountains. So, if you don't mind, I can take out that battle-axe and show it to you. I can sense Thorin's importance to you, so please believe me, I truly just came to ask him for a small favor."
The dwarf captain stood there like a stone, silent for a few seconds, then nodded, although the movement was almost imperceptible due to his helmet and beard.
He said, "Please dismount your horse first, wizard, sir. You are too tall sitting on the horse; it's difficult for me to keep looking up."
"No problem."
Arthur stroked Torrent's back, then blew the horse Whistle on his finger.
Torrent immediately transformed into spirit particles and returned to the golden ring, and Arthur landed steadily on the ground.
"Oh, he's a human wizard?"
"Did you see that? That big horse just 'whoosh' and disappeared!"
Arthur's actions caused the surrounding dwarves to exclaim and discuss animatedly.
And what puzzled Arthur was that, after the dwarves seemed to believe he was a Wizard, their wariness towards him seemed to decrease.
The dwarf captain's tone also softened slightly: "You are a wizard?"
Arthur nodded and reached out his hand to retrieve the dwarf battle-axe Thorin had given him from his spatial backpack. This scene further convinced the surrounding dwarves that Arthur was indeed a wizard.
"I'm not seeing things, am I? When did an axe appear in his hand?"
"I'm sure you're not seeing things. The axe seemed to be pulled out of thin air by him; it's truly amazing."
Arthur listened to the whispers of the surrounding dwarves as he turned the battle-axe, presenting the handle side to the dwarf captain, and half-crouched to hand it to him.
The dwarf captain only needed to glance at the inscription on the battle-axe to immediately recognize it as the one Thorin frequently used before.
So he did not take it, but gently pushed the battle-axe back, saying, "This is indeed his battle-axe. I believe you have no ill intentions coming to the Blue Mountains, Human Wizard."
At this moment, the dwarf with tattoos on his head finally approached. He shouted in a deep voice, "Gloin, he is Arthur, who saved me earlier!"
The dwarf captain, called "Gloin," then looked at Arthur with a sudden realization and asked somewhat awkwardly, "Why didn't you say earlier that you saved Thorin and them?"
"I helped them not to show off, and I felt that given your wary demeanor just now, even if I had said these things, the likelihood of gaining your trust would have been low. You don't need to dwell on it, Gloin." Arthur nodded slightly.
Gloin, however, said with some annoyance, "You saved Thorin, which means you are a friend to all of us dwarves. As our friend, you should not be treated this way. I owe you a barrel of ale, Arthur."
And the dwarf with tattoos on his head ran over, slightly out of breath from the long run.
This dwarf warrior bowed slightly to Arthur and said respectfully, "Dwalin, at your service, Arthur. Last time, we parted too hastily, and I didn't introduce myself."
Arthur also recognized Dwalin; he was the dwarf who fought alongside Thorin during the orc attack and emerged unscathed.
Arthur greeted him back, "Good to see you, Dwalin. Although I'd love to catch up, I do have an urgent matter I need Thorin's help with."
Upon hearing this, Dwalin did not ask what Arthur needed Thorin for, but directly led him towards the town: "Then I'll take you to see Thorin first."
Gloin shouted loudly from behind them, "Remember, I owe you a barrel of ale, Arthur! I will definitely treat you to it!"
Arthur heard Gloin's words, turned back, and waved his hand in agreement.
Dwalin also chuckled, saying, "When the time comes, Gloin and I will treat you to a good drink together."
Arthur felt the warmth of the dwarves and his mood relaxed considerably.
Led by Dwalin, Arthur successfully entered the city.
Along the way, Arthur also observed the appearance of the town.
Sunlight filtered through the crevices, falling upon the houses cleverly constructed from rock and soil, each appearing sturdy.
The streets were paved with stones of varying sizes, smoothed like a mirror from generations of footsteps.
Along both sides of the streets, small, domed houses were tightly arranged, their roofs covered with moss and soil where small flowers bloomed. Smoke often curled from the chimneys, drifting towards the arched doorways that led underground.
At the entrances of shops, metal signs crafted with exquisite skill hung, etched with beautiful totems and symbols, attracting the gaze of passersby.
The marketplace was the liveliest place, where dwarves brought their home-brewed ale, handmade weapons, and exquisite jewelry to trade.
The shouts of vendors, the haggling of customers, and the clang of hammers from the blacksmiths' shops intertwined to form a unique market symphony.
dwarf children chased each other playfully in the streets, their laughter injecting endless vitality and life into this town nestled beneath the Blue Mountains.
Soon, Arthur met Thorin.
However, to Arthur's surprise, he had expected to see Thorin in a grand, exquisite house, given his standing among the dwarves.
But Thorin was merely in a medium-sized blacksmith's shop, dressed in coarse, off-white linen, his sturdy wrists exposed as he diligently hammered the glowing red iron block before him, blow after blow.
If not for his distinctive short beard, which was unlike other dwarves, and his more handsome, clean-shaven face, Arthur would have simply assumed he was an ordinary blacksmith.
"Dwalin, what do you need me for? Oh, it's you. I'm glad you're safe,Arthur." Thorin heard the movement behind him, first saw Dwalin, then looked up to see the familiar armor and its wearer.
Dwalin let out a hearty laugh, taking the forging hammer from Thorin's hand and swapping places with him: "Thorin, our friend seems to have run into trouble and came looking for us."
After handing his work over to Dwalin, Thorin took a rag from the wall to wipe his hands, then looked up at Arthur and asked, "What kind of trouble has our friend Arthur encountered? Is the shield you used before broken, or is that sharp straight sword snapped?"
Arthur, however, shook his head and said, "Neither. I need a large quantity of grain, or a batch of crop seeds would also work."
Dwalin chuckled good-naturedly upon hearing this: "Why do you need such things, Lord Arthur? You come to dwarves not for forged weapons, but for cheap grain? If you're hungry, the dwarves of the Blue Mountains welcome you anytime as a guest! Food is plentiful, and wine is abundant!"
Thorin's gaze, however, became serious. He looked at Arthur while subtly kicking Dwalin behind him, making the latter stop his loud dwarf laughter.
Then Thorin, in his magnetic voice, asked Arthur in a serious tone: "How many mouths do you need to feed? What kind of crop seeds do you need? I can prepare all of these things for you, but what is your purpose in requesting grain and crop seeds? I want to know that."
Only then did Dwalin realize that what Arthur had just requested in the common tongue was not "food" for himself, but "grain."
The bald, tattooed dwarf continued his blacksmithing, the forging hammer repeatedly striking the fiery red, high-temperature iron block, sending sparks flying while gradually shaping the iron into a long strip.
Thorin stood with his arms crossed, looking up at Arthur, waiting for his reply.
Arthur gave a direct answer: "I need grain and crop seeds because I want to rebuild my homeland. Thorin, do you remember when I met you all, I was alone? At that time, I disregarded your kind warnings and insisted on going to Minhiriath, precisely because someone told me I could rebuild my home in that land ravaged by fire, flood, and plague."
"And now I've taken the first step—which is to find a small portion of my compatriots from my homeland. But that land is truly too desolate. I need some grain to get through the most difficult stage, so I thought of you. Of course, I won't take the grain and seeds for free. Although I don't have the currency you have here, I will exchange them for things from my homeland. For example, the Warming Stone you've seen before, which can slowly heal wounds and restore stamina."
After speaking at length, Arthur quietly looked at Thorin, and this time it was his turn to wait for Thorin's reply.
Thorin Oakenshield, this dwarf, upon hearing Arthur say "rebuild my homeland," his clear eyes instantly wavered and fell into remembrance.
His thoughts seemed to drift to a distant place, far to the east of the Misty Mountains, beyond Mirkwood, to a massive Lonely Mountain in the north.
Erebor.
"Thorin." Dwalin had stopped his blacksmithing at some point and softly called Thorin's name.
Thorin was brought back from his memories by Dwalin's call. Then, his eyes showed complex emotions, and he slowly exhaled, then looked at Arthur and said, "50 dwarf portions of rations, including meat and fruit. As for seeds, I will choose wheat, corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, and so on. I will also, in my personal name, give you two dairy cows, seven sheep, and a dozen chickens. Is that enough? Enough to... rebuild your homeland?"
Arthur mentally calculated, wondering what to exchange for so many things, and did not notice that Thorin had emphasized the words "rebuild your homeland."
He just nodded vigorously: "Completely sufficient. What do you need? Can I offer forging stones? I see blacksmith shops everywhere in your town, which indicates you enjoy forging things. Forging stones come from my homeland; these stones can help you more easily craft sharp weapons, or they can be used to repair damaged weapons."
Just as Arthur was considering how many forging stones he had left in his spatial backpack, he heard Thorin softly say, "They're free."
Arthur was stunned, then immediately shook his head: "No, no, Thorin, what you've given me already exceeds my expectations. If I don't pay anything, I'll feel bad."
Dwalin came to Thorin's side, gently patted the slightly downcast Thorin, then looked up at Arthur and said, "You truly don't need to pay anything, Arthur. Just the fact that you saved our three compatriots, their lives are already more precious than what Thorin has given you. Moreover, the reason you gave is 'rebuilding your homeland,' and as your friends, how could we refuse your request?"
Thorin took a deep breath, a faint smile reluctantly appeared at the corner of his mouth, and he looked at Arthur, saying, "Only by losing one's homeland can one understand how precious and rare the opportunity to rebuild it is. If I were you, Arthur, I'm afraid I would ask for even more supplies and manpower."
Arthur keenly caught the hidden meaning in Thorin's words, then looked at Dwalin, who was also somewhat downcast, and asked both of them, "Are you... are the Blue Mountains not your homeland?"