The elf and Hobbit glanced at coins piled on the stone, then looked at each other, casting puzzled gazes.
Well, it seems he was overthinking this. Aedric raised his hand in annoyance to slap his forehead but directly hit the twilight gem, making him hiss and draw a sharp breath from pain.
Seems he would need to change this forehead-slapping habit in the future. Luna—a newly adult elf whose living needs were almost entirely provided by her kinsmen, with the great Lord Círdan as her guardian. She neither lacked money nor things money could buy.
Morgan—a Hobbit. Though an adventure-loving Took, unlike Baggins, who accepted the status quo, his bones still held the view that enough money was sufficient.
Previously, Aedric had lent him fifty silver coins for Daisy's tuition, later providing ten more silver coins for living expenses. Current Morgan seemed to have no place requiring money. Could not reopen the Golden Wheat Sheaf Inn again, surely?
"Luna." "Morgan." Aedric coughed twice: "Since we three are now together and will adventure together in future, we count as a small team. Some matters are better clarified in advance."
"Good." Luna nodded, not thinking much: "Speak."
"Boss." Morgan fiddled with his "old companion," his expression somewhat puzzled: "Just give orders for matters—no need to be so formal."
"Very well." Aedric reached out to fiddle with the coin pile: "This is our expedition's harvest—fifty gold coins and twelve silver coins total."
"I asked Elrohir and Elladan—neither cares about this amount. Halladrak's side took all orc weapons and equipment. For them, those are more important, and they have methods to remove lingering filth."
"What remains is for us three to divide. Do you have any thoughts?"
Confusion flashed in Luna's eyes as her gaze swept over the coin pile. She then shook her head: "I do not understand these things. You are captain—you decide."
Morgan said carelessly: "Boss, you divide as you see fit. Just remember to deduct what I owe you."
"My thinking is merit-based distribution. I will give a proposal for your reference." Aedric looked at the Hobbit: "Morgan, you infiltrated deep into the orc lair, bringing back extremely important intelligence. Subsequently you entered the cave with me, cooperatively killing the Black Beast guarding the warehouse, and then escorted the rescued captives away."
"You take one-fourth. Any problems?"
"You decide, boss." Morgan shrugged, looking down at the stew pot on the fire trench, thinking unknown thoughts.
"Luna." Aedric looked at the elf: "You alone delivered information back, then intercepted orcs with Elrohir and others, penetrating enemy lines. Finally you shot the crucial arrow, creating an opportunity for me to kill the orc chieftain. You can take one-third."
"Any problems?"
"No problems." Luna blinked, then asked: "But what do I do with these gold coins? I do not particularly like gold. Can I take these silver coins instead?"
"Miss Luna." Facing his new teammate, Morgan was somewhat restrained but still kindly explained: "You should know that in the Shire and Bree area—oh right, including the Blue Mountains—one gold coin usually exchanges for four silver coins. If you do not like them, you can trade with dwarves—they love them."
"Not only that." Aedric explained: "When we travel or complete commissions in the future, we will certainly need to purchase equipment, supplies, and horses."
"With this money, you can buy whatever you need and like. You cannot always trouble Lord Círdan to send messengers delivering things, right?"
"I understand." Understanding flashed in Luna's eyes: "At the Grey Havens, I saw dwarf caravans. However, we used salt and grain to trade for their nails, metal ingots, and useful tools. Only when trading with humans did we use coins."
"Right, exactly this meaning." Aedric efficiently separated the coins: "Luna can receive seventeen gold coins and two silver coins. Copper coins we will discuss later."
Converting these to silver coins made two hundred twelve total. One-third was seventy silver coins plus some copper.
"For you." Having spoken, he pushed the coins over.
Luna opened her waist pack and stuffed them in, then clearly felt the imbalance. Thinking, she took out half the coins and placed them aside. Only then did she nod satisfactorily.
"Morgan, deducting all your shares, you still owe me seven silver coins."
"Ah?!" The Hobbit wailed. Then like a deflated ball, he collapsed on the stone, saying helplessly: "Fine, fine. Who told me to advance payment?"
"However." Aedric raised a gold coin, passing it over: "I will lend you one more gold coin."
"Ha, got money now." The Hobbit jumped up immediately, taking the coin with a beaming smile: "When we return to Thornfield village, I will buy two sheep, have Mina make a great stew, let Mary bake heaps of sweets, and hold a feast for the whole village."
This was what he had been thinking about.
"Good if you are happy." Aedric smiled, looking at the remaining coins: "I killed the orc chieftain, burned down their lair with fire, ended the entire battle, and took some from inside as travel money and compensation. What remains now is mine—no problems, right?"
"Good." Luna nodded.
"No problems." Morgan shrugged carelessly.
"Good. Then all future harvests will be divided by contribution like this." This time Aedric's expression grew serious: "If anyone questions my decisions, I will produce money to make up their share, then ask them to leave."
"Hereafter, this is the rule."
"Boss, you know." Morgan played with that gold coin, rolling it between fingers while smiling: "I will certainly support you."
"Fine. What should our small team be called?" Luna did not mind this—she would certainly stand with Aedric and believed he could be fair and just.
She cared about another matter: "How about Silver Moonlight?"
"Eh?" Aedric was stunned—he had not considered this question.
"No good, no good." Morgan shook his head like a rattle: "Should be called Hearth, Pan, and Delicious Food."
Clearly the Hobbit had his own ideas too.
"What kind of name is that?" Luna stared wide-eyed: "We are an adventure team, not cooks hired to make meals. Do not bully me for never experiencing human society—I have heard many stories."
"Then what does Silver Moonlight count as?" Morgan retorted: "Are we a musical band going to perform with clarinets, flutes, and harps for people?"
"Still sounds better than Hearth and Pan, right?"
"Your name is too weak—it does not sound like an adventure team at all!"
"Quiet!" Aedric loudly stopped his two teammates: "I am captain—I decide!"
"Our team temporarily has no name. When people talk about us and need us, they should seek Aedric, Luna, and Morgan Gray-shadow, plus future members."
"After time passes, perhaps people will give us one."
"Fine." Luna pouted, looking unhappy.
"You decide, boss." Morgan turned his head away.
The tent suddenly grew cold with an awkward atmosphere. Just as Aedric prepared to say something, the Hobbit turned back, his tone carrying apology: "Luna, I apologize for that attitude just now."
"I accept your apology and also apologize to you." Luna tilted her head in response: "I should not have said your name sounded like something for cooks."
"Actually no difference." Seeing the atmosphere ease, Aedric smiled. Neither of his teammates had difficult personalities.
He then patted Morgan's shoulder: "If I plan to open an inn in the future, I will certainly choose this name."
"Exactly!" Luna clapped her hands, smiling somewhat mischievously: "I said it sounded like inn names from stories."
"Fine, fine." Morgan pretended to be aggrieved as he spread his hands, but the corners of his mouth had already turned up.
Then he stood with hands on hips, saying confidently: "If we open an inn, you must let me be head chef. In this area, my skills are famously good—even cooks from Willowdale have come to consult me."
Aedric burst into laughter. Amused by this Hobbit who could always maintain optimism. Luna also pursed her mouth corners.
At this time, footsteps came from outside the tent as Torg's voice arose: "Master Aedric, Lady Luna, and Master Morgan—matters here are finished. Halladrak asked me to escort you back to Thornfield village."
"Good." Aedric answered over his shoulder.
After heavy rain, sunlight poured down. Washing everything transparently bright. Several white clouds drifted leisurely, constantly transforming in the sky—sometimes becoming galloping horses, sometimes scattering like light gauze, slowly cruising across the azure canopy.
A winding path extended from green forest as cart wheels creaked. A small group slowly appeared.
"Morgan, listen well." Aedric lay on the cart, his gaze following white clouds slowly moving across the sky, helplessness appearing on his face as he slowly spoke: "Follow me: 'one, two, three, four'..."
His leg wound had not healed, making movement inconvenient and making him unable to travel long distances. Reluctantly, the Dúnedain had allocated him a donkey cart used for hauling loot.
After approaching Thornfield village, Torg also bid farewell and left. Unless necessary, Rangers did not much like meeting Hobbits. Actually, most Hobbits were also unwilling to see them, finding them insufficiently settled—wanderers roaming the wilderness.
Now only two tall and one short remained in the group. Taking advantage of this rare leisurely time, Aedric planned to educate Morgan, teaching him to count numbers beyond two hundred.
Unfortunately, teaching results were not very ideal. Learning to count in his homeland's tongue had simple, clear rules. But Common Speech? Before, tens was acceptable, but eleven through nineteen became irregular. Twenty through ninety had completely different root pronunciations. Above hundreds was even more complexly headache-inducing.
Now Aedric finally somewhat understood why Morgan could only count to two hundred. Indeed, it is rather difficult to learn.
After teaching for ages, the Hobbit still looked like he heard but did not understand. No choice—Aedric could only switch to teaching him the numerical system from his homeland.
Actually, his homeland's system was simpler. Just remembering zero through ten plus hundred, thousand, and ten thousand—these basic terms' pronunciations and meanings allowed counting indefinitely. Definitely sufficient anyway.
Luna quietly watched the two from the side, smiling. She was also learning this never-before-heard language that sounded properly enunciated with unique charm when spoken. Only she was much cleverer than Morgan, having already completely mastered the pattern.
"One, two, three, four..." Morgan held the reins, reciting listlessly, looking uninterested in learning.
Kicking at grass fallen across the path, he looked up with a surprised expression: "What are those?"
"Hmm?" Hearing this, Aedric quickly sat up, following Morgan's gaze.
At Thornfield village's entrance, over ten gray tents had appeared at some point, pitched extremely orderly as if measured with rulers, neatly arranged in three rows. From a distance, they looked like over ten warriors in gray armor, quietly standing there.
The camp perimeter was surrounded by cargo carts serving as simple walls. Several gray flags fluttered in the wind, painted with blue hammers. Over ten dwarves bustled inside the camp—building fires, tending livestock, and moving goods.
At the camp entrance gathered a large group of people. Aunt Mina. Mary and her lively, lovely daughter. Village chief Hareth and his nephew. Granny Anna and Bilbo Baggins. Plus other villagers—almost all familiar faces.
After the group approached, Aedric discovered this was actually a simple trade fair. Villagers brought out stored foods, furs, and fruit wines to trade for various metal tools the dwarves brought, plus gleaming ornaments.
Earrings, headpieces, necklaces, and bracelets. Everything imaginable. All personally crafted by Blue Mountains dwarves.
A bearded dwarf bustled about, haggling with Hobbits. Only he seemed unsuited for this work—rapid speech, stiff language, and completely lacking merchants' smoothness and adaptability. Also not enthusiastic.
"Hey, pretty little girl, that silver trinket in your hand costs at least ten copper coins—not cheap."
"Granny Anna, the long-handled ladle you wanted plus a complete set of tin cans and crucibles—I brought them all, but prices are one-tenth higher than last time."
"You ask why? What else could it be? This road grows increasingly difficult. Even broad daylight encounters filthy orcs. Though not many, they still cost us considerable effort."
"Village Chief Hareth, I brought all your orders. Best prepare grain tonight—we plan on leaving early tomorrow morning."
"Glóin!" Morgan called from a distance.
The dwarf looked up, showing a smile as he patted his nearly identical son beside him: "Gimli, attend these customers well. I will meet an old friend."
Taking just two steps, he turned back to instruct: "Do not randomly sell things you do not know prices for. Wait until I return."