"Thorin!" Rynar spotted Thorin in the royal hall.
"Rynar?" Thorin was surprised to see him, not expecting Rynar to return so quickly.
"Yeah, I've run into trouble and need the help of the dwarves," Rynar explained his predicament.
"Trouble? Orcs again?" Like Bard, Thorin immediately thought of the orcs.
"No, not the orcs," Rynar replied, his face darkening as he explained.
"Starvation then?" Thorin laughed outright, shocked to hear that Rynar, with a dragon rider under his command, had been overwhelmed by refugees.
"I can't believe you're in this situation!"
"What do you mean, Thorin? My people are barely surviving on scraps, and you're laughing?" Rynar's eyes widened.
"It's just... I never thought I'd see the day when Rynar, the one who thrashed the orcs, would be brought low by his own people," Thorin Oakenshield laughed so hard that his usual cold demeanor shattered.
"Unbelievable... What's the connection there?" Rynar said with a blank expression, though inside, he was mortified.
This was humiliating! To be brought to such a state in front of the dwarves!
Bard's people were starving because Smaug destroyed their home, while Rynar's people were starving because he hadn't prepared for the winter...
"So, do you have any spare food or warm clothing? I'll pay for it," Rynar asked, opening a small pouch and spilling out a pile of gems.
Thorin was speechless, not because of Rynar's wealth, but because of his audacity. Was this a joke? Taking his money and then coming back to spend it here? Classic Rynar!
Thorin's eyes shifted as he looked at Rynar.
"Of course we have some. But come on, talking about money between friends is just bad for the relationship,"
Thorin recalled that the dwarves of Iron Hills had brought a surplus of supplies. Giving Rynar some wouldn't be a problem.
"That's great! You're giving it to me for free?" Rynar was shocked by Thorin's generosity. Thorin was truly impressive—giving without hesitation, just like the king under the mountain.
"Swipe!" But before Rynar could collect the gems, Thorin's hand shot out, sweeping the gems into his arms.
He glanced at Rynar, chuckled, and walked away. After all, Rynar had already taken so much gold from them. This was a small price to pay in return.
It took Rynar a moment to realize what had happened. "Thorin has changed!" He thought.
Where was the dwarves' simple-hearted nature, their kindness, their hospitality? Well, Rynar consoled himself, it's all for the people. What's mine is theirs anyway...
…
"Clap, clap!" Thorin clapped his hands, inspecting the ropes securing the newly loaded wagons.
"How about this? Is it enough?" Thorin looked up at Rynar.
Twenty full wagons were loaded with various goods: five wagons of flour, five wagons of dried meat, five wagons of leather and cloth, and five wagons of tools.
Rynar nodded in satisfaction. With this, the winter would be much easier to endure. He had already organized people to break the ice and fish, after all.
"Looks like I can finally assign those 100 Zaltarion City Guards," Rynar thought to himself.
Though the orc army had retreated north, small bands of orcs still roamed the wilderness. If they gathered during the winter, they could wipe out the still-fragile River Running.
"Rynar! I'll have Balin lead the dwarves to escort the supplies back to your town," Thorin offered, considering that Rynar didn't have enough men to protect the shipment on his own.
"I'd be more than grateful," Rynar quickly agreed, lacking the manpower to say no.
…
"You've built a town at the mouth of the lake?" Balin asked curiously, looking at the lord who had changed the fate of the North.
"Indeed…" Rynar didn't intend to say much.
"By the way, King Rynar, I have a request. I wonder if you'd be willing to help," Balin suddenly seemed hesitant.
"A request?" Rynar thought for a moment and immediately guessed what Balin wanted to ask.
"You're planning to retake Moria?" Rynar scrutinized Balin.
"Oh! How wise of you!" Balin was astonished by Rynar's insight, having never expected him to guess his intentions so easily.
"Why do you want to reclaim Moria? Isn't Erebor enough?" Rynar asked, puzzled.
Balin shrugged and, after a moment of silence, said, "Khazad-dûm was the pride of the dwarves... It was our ancient capital. I wish to see Durin's line shine there once again."
"I remember Thorin once led an assault on Khazad-dûm, didn't he?"
Rynar recalled the final battle of Azanulbizar at the eastern gate of Khazad-dûm, where the dwarves claimed a costly victory but were unable to reclaim the city due to the lingering Balrog in its depths.
"Yes, but we failed…" Balin's voice was heavy.
Rynar opened his mouth to try and dissuade him, but suddenly, a system's clear voice rang out in his mind—
"Ding! Side quest activated: Reclaim Moria. Time limit: 1 year. Reward: Random attribute Dragon Knight General."
"Well then! I'll help you for sure! With our bond, how could I say no? Not only Moria, but I'd even take Gundabad with you!" Rynar thumped his chest, vowing his assistance.
After all… he couldn't resist the lure of a Dragon Knight General. His attempt to persuade Balin had just turned into persuading himself.
"Uh…" Balin was left bewildered by Rynar's sudden change of heart.
Just moments ago, Rynar was advising caution, and now he was more eager than Balin himself. Poor Balin couldn't wrap his mind around the sudden switch.
"Damn!" Caslow, who had been following behind, cursed silently.
The Balrog was a terrifying creature… The only one who could stand against such a beast was him. And with Rynar volunteering him, Caslow's only concern was surviving the flames.
He silently gave Rynar a glare, realizing he'd have to start preparing fire resistance gear so the Balrog didn't roast him alive…
"We've arrived!" Rynar spotted the familiar broken stone walls and felt a surge of affection. Crumbling as they were, this was his first home in Middle-earth.
"Impressive! In just a few days, your city is already taking shape," Balin admired.
"Of course! Of course!" Rynar was pleased with the praise.
After the supplies were unloaded and stored, Rynar thanked the dwarves profusely.
As Balin and his men prepared to leave, pulling their wagons led by stone goats, Rynar suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, Balin! If possible, let's schedule the campaign to retake Moria for next summer. I'll lead my army to assist you then," Rynar called out.
He had carefully considered the timing.
Winter was impossible for such a venture, and spring would be consumed with farming and city building. Only in summer would his troops be free.
"Understood, King Rynar. I'll set out in the summer to meet you," Balin bowed in respect.
"Safe travels! Be careful on your journey!" Rynar waved as the dwarven convoy disappeared into the distance.
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