Chapter 60: The Looming Threat

Chapter 60: The Looming Threat

The horn of the dwarves echoed through the city of Elub, a deep, resonant sound that sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it.

"War is coming," muttered King Bard of River Valley City, his brow furrowing in concern. Bard knew all too well the fragile state of his forces—his city could muster only 300 soldiers, a paltry defense against the looming threat. War was the last thing his people needed.

"Bain!" Bard called to his son. "Stay in the city and take care of your mother. I'm going to Elub."

Bard quickly mounted his horse and set off toward the dwarven city.

---

"Thorin! What's happening? Why has the horn of the Lonely Mountain sounded?" Bard demanded as he was led to Thorin Oakenshield, who stood atop the city wall, peering into the distance.

"The Orcs are coming," Thorin replied, his voice heavy with dread.

"Orcs from the north?" Bard asked, puzzled.

"We're not sure yet," Thorin admitted, rubbing his temples. "Our scouts detected a massive orc army moving south from the Grey Mountains. We don't know if they're from Gombarda or some other northern tribe."

"Did your scouts see their totems?" Bard pressed.

"They've hidden their banners and symbols," Thorin said, frustration evident in his voice. "It's impossible to identify which tribe they belong to. And with Roland and the others just having fought the eastern orcs, we can't rule out that this might be a separate group."

Bard frowned, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. "What are we going to do?"

"I've sent word to Dain in the Iron Hills. He should arrive with reinforcements before the orcs reach us," Thorin said, though there was little comfort in his voice.

"And the Woodland Elves?" Bard asked.

"Bard, you know the enmity between the Woodland Elves and the Lonely Mountain Dwarves," Thorin replied, his voice tinged with regret.

"My god, Thorin! You're risking everything by refusing to ask for their help! If you won't go, then I will!" Bard exclaimed, his frustration boiling over. Without waiting for Thorin's response, Bard turned on his heel and made for his horse, intent on reaching the elves before it was too late.

"Bard! Wait!" Thorin called after him, but Bard was already gone. Thorin sighed, turning back to the horizon. "Go to Roland and explain the situation," he ordered one of his men.

"We might not need to, Your Highness," Bard called out from below. Thorin looked down, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Bard pointed to the sky. "He's already here."

A roar echoed across the sky as Carlos, mounted on the now-recovered Kaldor, descended upon Iruba with Roland in tow.

"Thorin! Bard!" Roland called out even before the dragon had fully landed. With reckless abandon, Roland leaped from Kaldor's back.

"It's good to see you, King Roland," Thorin said, smiling as he opened his arms in greeting.

"King Lagrand," Bard bowed respectfully, "it is an honor."

"Good to see you both," Roland said, returning Thorin's embrace and helping Bard up from his bow. "Now, what's going on? That horn sounded like the end of the world. Are we under attack by orcs?"

"Yes," Thorin confirmed. "We've begun preparing for battle."

Roland's face grew serious as he was led to a map spread out on a nearby table. "Here," Thorin pointed, "in the Grey Mountains. An orc army is moving south, but they've hidden their banners. We can't tell if they're from Gombarda."

Roland studied the map intently. "What about their weapons and armor?"

"They're well-equipped," Thorin replied, though he knew it didn't narrow down much. Northern orcs were known for their superior equipment compared to their southern counterparts.

"Then we prepare for the worst," Roland said grimly.

"Agreed," Thorin said, his frustration mounting. He slammed his fist into the city wall. "I hate this uncertainty."

Roland placed a reassuring hand on Thorin's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Thorin. But we may have to rely on you more than we'd like. We can't afford to fight on two fronts."

"I understand, my friend," Thorin sighed. "The situation in the south is likely worse. Azog, the Pale Orc, is not someone to be underestimated."

Roland nodded solemnly. "I'll return to Rapid City to prepare my defenses. This battle won't be easy."

Thorin watched as Roland mounted Kaldor once more. "Take care, Roland. This fight will test us all," he murmured as the dragon soared away.

---

Back at Rapid City, Roland sat with his advisors, the weight of their decisions pressing down on them.

"So, we're not joining the northern fight?" James asked, his tone betraying his frustration.

"We will," Novia answered, his expression thoughtful. "But we can't commit our full forces."

"It seems we're in agreement," Roland said, glancing at Novia with a faint smile.

"What are you two plotting now?" Vervill grumbled, lounging in a chair.

"Novia and I think we should send our air knights," Roland explained. "They can engage in the north but return quickly if things heat up in the south. Right, Novia?"

"Exactly," Novia nodded. "It's unreasonable to leave them unaided, but we can't afford to stretch ourselves too thin. The dragon knights can fight and provide quick support where needed."

"Fine," James sighed. "I can't order my soldiers to abandon our people to fight in the north. If I did, they'd probably overthrow me."

"Whatever you say," Vervill shrugged. "I don't have dragon knights. I'm just a country lord with rangers and a few archers. You all have the high-end troops."

"Then it's settled," Roland said, rising from his seat. "Keep a close watch on the northern battlefield, especially the orcs at Dolgordo Fortress."

"Don't worry," James said with a grin. "I won't let those orcs lay a hand on Rapid City."

....

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