The Iron Hills lay in the far north of Middle-earth, and even now, with summer already underway, the weather remained pleasantly cool.
Great numbers of Dwarves drove goats and horses along the relatively level mountain roads, traveling in groups toward the Lonely Mountain. These were the Durin Dwarves migrating from the Iron Hills.
By then, the coronation ceremony at the Lonely Mountain had already ended in haste. Thorin II had originally wanted a grand celebration, but the arrival of the Easterlings had diverted his attention elsewhere.
After leaving Fili in charge of affairs at the Lonely Mountain, the King of Durin's Folk had brought fifty Dwarves Goat Riders to the vicinity of the Iron Hills, accompanied by Dáin Ironfoot. He wanted to investigate the Easterlings' movements before deciding his next course of action.
Yet when they reached the eastern bank of the Redwater River, the Easterlings were long gone. All that remained was rubbish not worth taking and the sprawling remnants of their camps.
Judging by the traces the Easterlings had left behind, at least five large camps had occupied the area not long before.
Seeing this, Thorin led his riders after the chaotic trail left by the Easterlings. Before long, they reached the crossing. No one remained to guard it; there was only a solitary wooden bridge and several dozen burial mounds nearby.
Thorin had intended to lead his soldiers across the Redwater River and continue the pursuit to see where the Easterlings had gone, but Dáin Ironfoot stopped his cousin.
"Thorin, we can't pursue them any farther. Beyond this crossing are endless plains. There aren't many of us, and we can't outrun the humans' swift horses out there. As our king, you can't take that risk."
Thorin looked west without saying a word. Instead, he drew Orcrist and