Chapter 7 - Chapter VII

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'We were winning the battle. The barbarians fled the fields. The Aquila was just beyond reach. We were going to return back to Rome. Until a storm - whirls of black clouds - hovered over our heads, and lightning struck. Now here we are.'

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What had been midday when the battle was nearly over, the bright skies were dark into the night, and Numerius and the legion were the first to notice. As the barbarians panic in their attempt to flee, their sense of reality was poor to comprehend their surrounding.

Snared by some sort of witchery, or divine intervention, the Romans still kept to their wits and remained a solid discipline, and obeying orders. "Legionnaires fall back to formation!" "Cohorts! Form square!"

Transported into an entirely different mysterious land, the centurions wanted their men vigilant, while the rest; Estelle, Numerius, and the other praefectus cohortis met and gathered to assess their situation. "The storm. It is because of that storm, wasn't it?" Cicero was the first to speak before Magnus confirmed.

"What about you, Justinian? What did you see on top of your horse? You were closer to it than any of us." Cicero asked Justinian, the cavalry captain of the equites.

"The storm was a part of it. But it was the lightning that brought us here." Justinian reported before Numerius speak his mind. "We should make camp - build fortification fast - I do not trust these woods and these lands."

What the Tribunus said were everyone's thoughts, as Estelle's circle dismissed to relay the order.

However, not before Justinian - cavalry captain - was tasked by Numerius to handle the barbarians that were so slow in their escape they were captured. "We might need them." Numerius added. Meanwhile, Estelle ordered a few centurions, to relay it to other centurions to take and treat the injured to the camp in progress.

'Just what is going on?' Estelle thought the same as everyone else.

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The night was still fairly early, although darkness has already taken to the skies. But it was in relative haste; the palisade walls were already constructed, along with the trenches and other basic needs a Roman camp required. An exact replica of the fortifications they had in their previous camp.

Until there was rumbling - the ground quake - as a company of small men ran down the mountain with a horde; mysterious large hounds chased after them, and among those that ran on foot were horrid creatures that had an ugly look to them - several as riders on the large 'wolves' - that pursued the little yet 'bulk' men, and a tall gray old man among them.

Then, because of the nose of those large hounds, it looked their way, and so forth the rider, who announced their presence to the others. "Legionnaires! Inside the walls! Inside!" centurions warned their men outside as larger wolves than anywhere else began to rush their way. As the men scurried to get to safety - behind the walls - it's with great effort that down the last man outside the walls made it back before the hounds could have a lick as the palisade gate came to a close at its ferocious fangs.

With no weapons, tools, or equipment to scale its walls, the riders snarled as did their hounds before pila were sent, and hurled at them from above, and to their displeasure, the Dwarves took notice of the fortified camp and went; charging through groups of orcs to get refuge from these strange men.

Then, without any words, the small 'men' turned their backs from the gates and prepared to stand their ground against more arriving horrid creatures.

"Open the gates!" The tall and old gray man yelled, like any old fool in the marketplace would after a good wine and drink, before the man shouted again as he held a stick in his hand.

Before anyone could think for another moment, whether to trust these strangers, Estelle made the decision in an instant as she ordered to open the gates. Between them and those horrid creatures, it was simply easy to choose as she made up her mind. But also because she wanted information out of them after this situation.

"In! Hurry!" The old man pulled and pushed the small 'men' inside the gates quickly until he followed shortly, and the wall closed shut.

At their entry, the legionnaires on the ground - below the walls - surrounded them in a shield wall.

When met with such caution and hostility, Gandalf stood in front of the company - to keep the company's quest a secret - and to speak for the company of Dwarves, and Hobbit. All in an attempt to avoid offending the strange men with their red uniforms. Especially when most humans had no positive reaction when it came to Dwarves.

But before he could speak, the soldiers on the walls alerted the others of more enemies gathering at the gate.

Then, with a quick glance towards the person on the walls - wearing a distinctive helmet and armor - who shot a nod their way, the captain on the ground gestured for them to follow up the stairs and to the walls.

It was obvious to both sides that the other was just as curious and clueless, but it would seem that the introduction would have to wait until the matters outside the walls were resolved. Then a proper conversation can begin between both Dwarves and Men. Gandalf thought as much.

"Legatus, our 'friends' that sent those bloodhounds our way." Magnus was sure to put an emphasis on his tone towards their guests, and it seemed several of these small 'men' had the attitude to express their dislike of him. But among them, a man stood watching without idle movement nor expression - the leader of this ragged band of 'men' - as he stared at who he perceived was the leader of this army.

But what was it doing here, Thorin as well as Gandalf wondered. While in the background, several soldiers were seen hurling projectiles at the orcs below.

"You must be the commander of this army." Thorin began, as he spoke to the man that commanded a sort of an aura that only great leaders emitted. But surprisingly, the man strongly rejected the small man's assumption as he shook his head and gestured with his hands - the commander of the legion - Estelle Julia Cornelius.

"My apologies." Thorin was not quick to apologize, but did not come across as insulting to the men that looked - cautiously and with suspicion - towards them. "I am Thorin, and these are my kins on our way to a long journey and..."

"They're scaling the walls!"

The small man trailed off, but before he could continue, the battle below between the orcs and scaling the walls; some had managed to ascend until they had climbed the edge. Without further ammunition, there was nothing or anything they could use to throw the bastards off the walls. Therefore, as the Dwarves and Men lay in wait. It was when the first sight of an orc - that has successfully climbed such height - was immediately met by a shield to the face as he plummets down the wall and onto the pikes below.

"Don't give them a foothold on the walls!"

With that, Gandalf and the company of Dwarves fought alongside Men against the horrible beast of the Pale Orc; known as Azog the Defiler, who watched the battle from the woods on top of his great hound.

"Thorin Oakenshield..." Azog mentioned Thorin's name with venom before he frustratedly retreated to wait an opportunity next time around. He was just lucky to stumble upon an army in that profession.

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