They reappeared at the edge of a river, a broad wooden barge tied to a stone platform, its sides worn smooth by years of trade.
"So," Luke continued casually, "a quick history lesson. What do you think—is it good to have too much gold?"
Wanda frowned slightly. "Too much… how much is too much?"
Luke didn't answer right away. He lifted a hand and gestured vaguely upward, as if outlining something enormous.
"Enough to fill a mountain."
Wanda blinked. "That much?" The idea clearly didn't fit comfortably in her head. "How does that even exist?"
"It exists," Luke said. "And it doesn't just sit there. That kind of wealth changes people. Warps judgment. Turns want into obsession."
Luke looked at them again. "So. Do you want it?"
Natasha answered instantly. "No."
No hesitation. No curiosity. Just flat certainty.
Luke smiled faintly. "Good answer."
Wanda hesitated, then frowned a little. "Um… then why did I always think money was a good thing?" she asked quietly. "I mean… with money, people can live happily. Back in Sokovia, we didn't have much. Life was hard because of that."
Luke didn't dismiss it. He shook his head slowly.
"It is good to have money," he said. "Enough to live. Enough to choose. Enough to not be afraid of tomorrow." His voice softened for a moment, then steadied. "But it's not good to have too much of it."
Natasha glanced at him but didn't interrupt.
"Trust me," Luke continued. "I've seen what too much money does to people. Up close. I grew up around it. I watched it twist families, turn trust into suspicion, turn love into transactions."
He looked at Wanda again. "Money itself isn't evil. But when it piles up beyond need, it stops being a tool. It becomes a mirror."
"A mirror?" Wanda asked.
"Yeah," Luke said. "It reflects the worst parts of people. Greed, fear, obsession. Even the kindest person can rot if all they see is gold in front of them."
He glanced toward the distant lights beyond the fog, his tone calm but certain.
"It's like a disease. The more you hoard, the more it spreads. And eventually, you don't even recognize who you were before."
Wanda swallowed, understanding settling in.
Luke finished quietly, almost to himself, "And that's exactly what you're about to see—why it's necessary to keep control of yourself."
A voice cut through the river's hush.
"Who are you?"
Luke and the two women turned together. A man stood a short distance away, bow already drawn, the arrow steady and aimed straight at them.
Luke lifted one hand slightly and, without looking, pressed it down against Natasha's wrist before she could move.
"No one important," Luke said evenly. "Just wanderers. We're thinking of heading to Lake-town."
"Lake-town?" the man repeated, eyes narrowing, but the bow lowered a fraction. "That's not a place people stumble into without reason."
Luke met his gaze without flinching. "We travel wherever the road takes us."
The man studied them for a moment longer—two women who didn't look like normal women, and a man who looked far too relaxed for someone with an arrow pointed at him.
Finally, he eased the tension on the string.
"I'm Bard," he said. "And that barge belongs to me."
Luke nodded once, calm and unbothered. "We have no intention of stealing," he replied. "We were waiting for the owner to show up and ask if he'd take us to Lake-town. You are from Lake-town, aren't you?"
I am," Bard replied at last. "That depends. How much are you willing to pay?"
"I don't carry your local currency," Luke said, reaching into his coat without hurry.
He brought out a single gold coin, old and heavy, and let it rest in his palm before holding it out. The metal caught the light even in the dimness by the river.
"But I do have gold," he added. "Will this be sufficient?"
Bard paused. He lowered his bow, slung it across his back, and took the coin from Luke's hand. He turned it slowly, weighing it, inspecting the markings, then nodded once.
"Okay," Bard said.
Luke looked down the river. "Would you mind waiting a moment?" he asked calmly. "Some short fellows should be coming by now."
Almost on cue, distant shouts echoed. Barrels came rolling down the river, bumping into one another as the current slowed them near the bank. Water splashed everywhere as the Dwarves surfaced from inside, soaked, coughing, and swearing as they dragged themselves upright.
Bard stared at them, clearly confused. "They travelled like that?" he asked. "Those barrels belong to the Woodland Elves."
"Yes," Luke replied simply.
Bard looked back at the Dwarves. "These are the short ones you mentioned?"
"Yes," Luke said again.
The Dwarves gathered around the barge and asked Bard if he could take them into Lake-town quietly. They didn't explain why they needed to sneak in.
Only that Lake-town was far from here, the river was the fastest path between them, and with Orcs on their trail they needed to reach Lake-town and then Erebor as soon as possible—before the next day, before the sun fell and the secret door was lost.
Bard refused. The request sounded suspicious, and he had already been paid well for a simple job. Smuggling strangers into Lake-town was far riskier than it was worth.
Luke stepped in before the argument could grow. He offered Bard more gold, enough to make the risk worthwhile.
The Dwarves exchanged confused looks but didn't question it. One by one, they climbed back into the barrels.
The barrels were loaded onto the barge.
Luke took his place at the front as the barge pushed off. Behind him, Natasha and Wanda stood side by side, watching the river drift past as they moved downstream.
*****
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