"Wait! Calm down for a moment!" Vanervi hurriedly stepped in to stop Rynar, fearing that the fiery knight might decapitate the centaur chieftain in a fit of rage.
"This is Bardel, the chieftain of the northern Tupet Centaur Tribe. There must be a reason for their sudden intrusion into your territory!"
Years of wandering with nomadic tribes allowed Vanervi to instantly recognize the centaur standing before them.
"Oh? Then why don't you ask this 'great centaur chieftain' why he has led his forces into my land!" Rynar's eyes burned with fury.
Vanervi began speaking in the intricate and melodious Elvish tongue, a language so elegant that even its harshest phrases seemed refined.
Bardel responded just as quickly, his words sharp, his body tense, and his eyes aflame with anger and frustration.
If looks could kill, every Zaltarion soldier present might have perished under his gaze.
After what seemed an eternity of back-and-forth, their exchange finally ended. Vanervi exhaled deeply, his expression easing, a faint trace of relief crossing his face.
"What's going on?" Rynar's sharp intuition immediately picked up on the shift in Vanervi's demeanor, sensing there was more to the story.
"It appears to be… a misunderstanding," Vanervi admitted with a sigh before beginning his explanation.
The Tupet Centaur Tribe had been roaming the northern plains near the Grey Mountains, living a nomadic life while pursuing game.
Recently, however, a massive army of orcs had appeared near their grazing lands.
Like most intelligent races, the centaurs despised the bloodthirsty orcs, a species firmly entrenched in the dark forces.
Yet, centaurs had unparalleled combat prowess and mobility, which emboldened them to confront the threat.
After all, their nomadic lifestyle meant they could always flee if the fight turned sour.
Under Bardel's leadership, 500 warriors, each with the strength of squires or knights, launched a daring assault on the orc forces at the foot of the Grey Mountains.
Using their innate combat skill, Life Bond, the centaurs engaged in brutal melee combat.
Their enchanted wooden spears shattered under the intensity of the fight, and they resorted to using bows, hooves, and even their own bodies as weapons, wreaking havoc on the orc ranks.
The vanguard of 1,000 orcs was utterly decimated, leaving a trail of mangled limbs, shattered weapons, and bloodied earth in their wake.
However, the orcs quickly regrouped. After several thousand-strong phalanxes were annihilated, the cunning creatures adjusted their tactics and encircled the battle-hungry centaurs.
The centaurs' reliance on sheer ferocity and their disregard for retreat proved their downfall.
Unlike the knights' Glory Bond, which absorbed damage until their combat energy ran dry, Life Bond merely shared vitality among the group, allowing wounds to heal temporarily.
But as the battle dragged on, the orcs' numbers swelled, while the centaurs' endurance waned. Eventually, weapons pierced through their ranks.
One by one, the brave warriors fell, and by the time Bardel ordered a retreat, fewer than 300 survived.
Forced to abandon their grazing lands, the Tupet Tribe fled south, crossing the Grey Mountains and bypassing Lonely Mountain and River Running.
Exhausted and hunted by persistent orc scouts, the centaurs eventually stumbled upon an expansive, unnamed forest not far from River Running.
The forest, spanning hundreds of hectares, promised enough resources to sustain them through the winter.
But their discovery wasn't without complications. The forest's outskirts had long been frequented by settlers from Zaltarion, who hunted and foraged there.
The centaurs, fiercely territorial, initially attempted to scare off the intruders with warning shots.
However, the Zaltarion people, backed by their knightly order, were not easily intimidated.
When arrows failed, the centaurs resorted to wounding the trespassers to drive them away, though they found themselves powerless against the knights' aura-enhanced armor.
"I see now!" Rynar exclaimed, a realization dawning upon him. No wonder the normally brazen orcs had set up fortified camps during their advance.
He had found it odd at the time, considering orcs' disdain for defensive tactics. It turned out the centaurs had been trailing the orc forces, preventing them from moving unchecked.
Without those skirmishes, the orcs might have launched a devastating surprise attack on Thorin and Bard's forces at the Lonely Mountain.
The Tupet Tribe's interference had bought the Free Peoples precious time.
"Very well," Rynar finally said, his tone softening. "In light of your contributions to resisting the orcs, I will let this matter slide." His hand signaled his knights to withdraw their weapons.
Bardel, now free from his restraints, stretched his muscular frame, his bones cracking like fireworks.
Glaring at Rynar, he spat, "Don't think I'm grateful, human! If we had equal weapons, you wouldn't have stood a chance!"
The chieftain's bitterness was evident. Due to their nomadic lifestyle, the centaurs lacked the resources to forge their own weapons and armor.
Most of their iron tools were bartered for or scavenged, and they had no means to craft equipment tailored to their unique physiology.
"Ha! Superior weaponry is part of superior strength," Rynar countered with a smirk. "Weapons are as much a sign of power as knights or magic.
Look at the Elves and Dwarves—are their reputations not built on the excellence of their arms?"
Bardel scowled, his frustration palpable.
"Let's sit down and talk this through!" Vanervi interjected before tensions could reignite. "The darkness threatens us all. We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves!"
Both leaders paused, their animosity lingering but tempered by the truth of Vanervi's words.
A clash between knights and centaurs would be catastrophic, a brutal storm of steel and flesh that neither side could afford.
With a reluctant nod, they agreed to discuss terms of coexistence.
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