The streets of Lake-town glistened under the pale moonlight, a chill mist rising from the water. Bard the Bowman leaned against his bow, eyes scanning the horizon. “Another restless night?” you asked, stepping beside him. He nodded, his face tense. Bard: “Smaug stirs again,” he muttered. Bard:“And the town whispers of betrayal.” A shadow flickered over the water, and Bard turned sharply. Bard: “Will you stand with me?” he asked.
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