"Whooo—whooo—" The dwarves' horns rang out loudly across the entire city of Erebor.
"War is coming!" King Bard of River Valley City frowned. Among the northern powers, Bard was the weakest. Given his population, gathering even three hundred human soldiers would be difficult. He was naturally the one who least wanted war.
"Bain! Stay in the city and look after your mother and the others. I'm going to Erebor now." Bard packed his belongings, hurriedly mounted his horse, and raced toward Erebor.
"Thorin! What happened? Why did you sound the Horn of Erebor?" Led by dwarf guards, Bard found Thorin Oakenshield standing atop the walls, gazing into the distance.
"The Orcs are here!" Thorin sighed.
"The Wandering Orcs from the north?" Bard asked doubtfully.
"We don't know yet. Our soldiers only discovered a massive northern Orc army marching toward Erebor. We still can't confirm whether they are Orcs from Gundabad." Thorin rubbed his head in frustration.
"Didn't you identify their totems?" Bard blurted out.
"They put away their totems and banners. There isn't a single clue. You know Roland and the others just fought the Wasteland Orcs in the east, so we can't determine whether these Orcs are northern Wasteland Orcs or Orcs from the Fortress of Gundabad." Thorin sighed. Even Orcs knew how to call for reinforcements now. If the Orcs had been able to mobilize in full during the first Battle of Erebor, there would be no place for Thorin, Roland, and the others in the north today.
"What do we do?" Bard fell silent for a moment before speaking.
"I've already sent a request for aid to Dáin in the Iron Hills. They should arrive before the Orcs do." Thorin looked at Bard.
"What about the Woodland Elves?" Bard could not help asking.
"Bard... you should