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After spending several days in the dwarven city of Iruba, Roland departed with his light infantry, content with the dozens of carts filled with supplies and the new shotguns they had acquired. Thorin, knowing the growing threat of the orcs, had been generous with his resources. As the southernmost defense against the orcs, Roland's protection was crucial for Iruba's survival. Thorin, still wary from the last Lonely Mountain War, understood the importance of supporting Roland.
As they left, Roland cast a sorrowful glance at River Valley City and Iruba. Although many wandering dwarves had returned from the Blue Mountains, Iruba City still housed fewer than 5,000 dwarves, many of whom had been delayed by the harsh winter. These numbers were insufficient to defend against the inevitable goblin orc assault from Gambada. Roland knew that next time, the orc leader Azog would bring heavy crossbows to counter their defenses. The woodland elves in the dark forest, led by Thranduil, could not be counted on. History had shown that when the Lord of the Rings War broke out, the elves failed to defend the river valley, leaving King Bard's grandson and the dwarf king Dain to die outside the city of Iruba.
The unreliable elves, Thorin, and Bard would be occupied in the north, leaving only Roland and the White Wing King to defend the south. Roland realized it was time to visit the White Wing King.
As Roland turned his head to inspect his light infantry, now armed with shotguns, he felt a slight relief. If all else failed, Roland would lead his people west of the Misty Mountains, abandoning Rapid City if necessary. A king without subjects was no king at all.
But the sight of the young recruits, no older than seventeen or eighteen, weighed heavily on Roland. These armed civilians were barely more than children, and he was leading them into a battle they might not survive. The thought of sending them to their deaths haunted him, and he could almost see their desperate faces in the heat of battle.
"Carlos, train them well," Roland instructed softly, his eyes sweeping over the young faces. "I don't expect them to lead, but I hope they can at least protect themselves when defending."
"Don't worry, my lord! They will grow up!" Carlos replied confidently.
"But there's no time for them to grow up..." Roland muttered under his breath.
…
"King, Lord James has invited you to discuss matters crucial to the survival of both cities," Reynold informed Roland as soon as he returned.
"Did they say what happened?" Roland asked, curiosity piqued.
"They mentioned a battle with the orcs," Reynold replied after a moment of thought.
"Prepare the boat. We're crossing the river," Roland ordered, his interest sharpening at the mention of orcs.
…
Accompanied by Reynold and the El Nino rangers, Roland set foot on the west bank. As they walked, Roland was struck by the sight of a wooden and stone city wall in the distance.
"Did they build that so quickly?" Roland asked in surprise.
"Uh, it's not as difficult as it looks," Reynold explained. "The wall is made of wood and stone, easily constructed by cutting a few trees. It's not as advanced as the walls in Rapid City, but it works."
"Oh! That makes sense," Roland said, feeling reassured by the comparison to his city's fortified walls.
As they approached the city gate, the soldiers standing guard saluted, recognizing the king's banner fluttering behind Roland.
"Welcome, King Roland! I apologize that Lord James cannot greet you personally," a man who appeared to be the housekeeper greeted them.
"It's been a long wait," Roland responded with a polite bow.
"I'm honored to serve you!" the housekeeper bowed in return.
"Take me to Lord James. I need to know what happened!" Roland said, a sense of unease creeping over him as he detected the heavy scent of blood in the air—a scent that only came from many wounded men.
"King Roland, forgive me for not being able to entertain you properly," James called out, his hands busy tending to the wounded as Roland approached.
"Dragon God above! What happened?" Reynold exclaimed, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of over a hundred wounded men lying under wooden sheds. James and others were desperately dressing their wounds and moving them to tents or log cabins.
"What happened?" Roland demanded, a cold dread settling in his chest.
"The cavalry we sent south was ambushed by a large force of orcs—thousands of them! We lost over a hundred men," James reported through gritted teeth. His cavalry was already few in number, and losing half of them was a devastating blow.
"Impossible! The orcs in Dogordo can't launch such an attack!" Roland countered, his mind racing. Dogordo's orcs had been decimated during the Lonely Mountain War, with nearly 20,000 of them killed. How could they recover so quickly?
"King, you need to see this," Reynold said, pulling aside a rag to reveal a banner bearing the totems of the orcs.
"This was brought back by my soldiers," James added, glancing at the banner.
"Is there a problem?" Roland asked, noting that all orc flags looked the same to him.
"It's a big problem! A very big problem!" Reynold replied, his voice shaking.
"This isn't the totem of the Dogordo orcs! These are from orcs much further south..."
"Mordor!" Reynold and Roland whispered in unison, the name sending a chill down their spines.
"Do we need to move immediately?" Roland asked weakly.
"How could Mordor care about this place? We're in the North!" Reynold raged.
"Damn it..." Roland cursed silently. The orcs in Dogordo were under Sauron's command, and by defeating them, Roland and his allies had disrupted Sauron's plans. It was only logical that Sauron would retaliate. These thousands of orcs were likely reinforcements from Mordor, and there could be more coming.
"Have the orcs in the south already extended their reach?" White Wing asked, his expression grim.
"Yes, darkness is closing in on the north, and we are the last line of defense..." Roland took a deep breath.
"We will wait for them here! Right here in Niel, the city of the Carden Tribe! This is our home, and we will fight to the death!" James declared, his voice filled with anger and determination. His people had nowhere else to go. Fleeing across the Misty Mountains in winter would be a death sentence, with orcs surrounding them at every turn.
"Then be careful! I'll light a beacon if there's any trouble. My soldiers will come to support you," Roland assured James. "I'm going to Lonely Mountain to inform the dwarves. They need to know what's happening."
The entire North was on the brink of disaster.