Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Clink, clank—"

The sound of armored plates scraping against one another echoed through the dim forest. 

Groups of heavily armored dwarven warriors, bearing their massive shields, formed tight circular formations. 

Within these defensive circles stood elven rangers and archers, their bows at the ready.

"Watch the treetops!" Rynar called out, his gaze fixed on the dense canopy of ancient trees overhead.

"Watch the treetops! Beware of ambushes from the orcs!" The soldiers nearby quickly relayed Rynar's command down the line.

Rynar's foresight soon proved invaluable. Sure enough, as the army advanced, some squads discovered orcs lurking among the treetops. 

Clinging to the trunks with short blades in hand, the orcs waited in silence, ready to pounce on unsuspecting soldiers below.

But Rynar's warning ensured the allied forces were prepared. Against a well-guarded army, the orcs' tricks seemed almost laughable. 

Not only did the keen senses of the sixth-tier warriors make the orcs as conspicuous as beacons, but the sharp-eyed elves also spotted them with ease, taking them down like practice targets.

The journey was fraught with minor skirmishes. Small bands of orcs continually harassed the army, but no large-scale battle unfolded. 

In this way, the orcs succeeded in using minimal forces to delay the allied advance.

"Ugh, by the gods! Can't these filthy creatures fight us face-to-face for once?" Vanervi groaned, wiping the blood off his blade after decapitating an orc. 

The scattered ambushes were driving him to frustration. Whether lurking in the treetops or hidden in burrows, the orcs seemed determined to avoid direct confrontation.

"They're trying to stall us," Omsk said, crossing his arms with a resigned sigh.

"Stall us? You think they're waiting for reinforcements?" Rynar asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Reinforcements, if they come, won't arrive quickly. Besides the Misty Mountains, their only possible source of aid is Mordor," Omsk replied thoughtfully. 

"I suspect they're pulling back their forces to fortify Dol Guldur and await reinforcements. Consolidating their defenses and gathering their soldiers takes time."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's strike now before they regroup!" Thranduil's eyes narrowed.

 If the Nazgûl managed to rally the scattered orcs and fortify Dol Guldur, the allied forces would face an even grimmer challenge.

"It's too late. They've likely already gathered a significant number of soldiers. Charging recklessly won't do us any good. 

Steady and cautious progress is the only way forward, at least to avoid another ambush," Rynar said, glancing meaningfully at Elenthor nearby.

"Ahem! What's with that look?" Elenthor asked, a trace of embarrassment in his voice. After all, he was the only one who had been ambushed—twice.

"Your Majesty..." Omsk approached Rynar with a hesitant expression.

"What is it?" Rynar asked in a low voice, noting that no one else was within earshot.

"What do you think of this allied operation?" Omsk asked, his tone serious.

"What do I think? Why? Have you noticed something off?" Rynar's face grew solemn. 

Though he hadn't brought many soldiers, those he did command were the elite of the Zaltarion Kingdom. 

Even a single loss would pain him deeply. If this campaign ended in disaster, Rynar felt he might as well jump off a tower to restart his life.

"Our objective is to capture Dol Guldur, but I'm afraid we lack the strength to achieve it," Omsk said slowly.

"How so? We have four sixth-tier warriors and an army composed entirely of seasoned fighters. Surely we can breach Dol Guldur!" 

Rynar let out a sigh of relief, assuming Omsk was simply being overly cautious.

"But the enemy has three Nazgûl. And among them, the one specializing in large-scale battles—Death's Breath—is waiting for us there," Omsk said grimly.

"Can't you hold them off?" Rynar asked, meeting Omsk's gaze.

"The Nazgûl may not engage us directly. Knowing the terrain, they could bypass us entirely and slaughter the lower-tier soldiers. 

Your Majesty, I'm not being pessimistic; as the highest combat power of the Zaltarion Kingdom, I am responsible for you and the soldiers under your command," Omsk said firmly.

"So, what do we do? Warn the others? Convince the alliance to turn back? They won't agree. Thranduil dreams of reclaiming this land, and Elenthor wants revenge. 

He'd kill every creature of the Dark Alliance if he could," Rynar said, his voice trailing off into silence.

"What they decide is their business. I only ask that you don't rush ahead into danger. Lead our soldiers and keep your distance from the front lines. 

That way, even if something happens, our troops can hold the line until I return to assist," Omsk said in a low voice.

"Very well. If we can take Dol Guldur, that would be ideal. But if anything goes wrong, I'll hold the line and wait for your return," Rynar nodded, agreeing to the plan. 

When the battle began, Omsk would inevitably be drawn away, leaving Rynar to safeguard the Zaltarion forces until reinforcements arrived.

"One more thing, Omsk—remind the elves to stay vigilant," Rynar called after him. 

Whether or not the proud elves would heed the warning, Rynar felt it was his duty as an ally to say something.

"Rynar, do you really believe that?" Vanervi stormed into Rynar's tent, pulling aside the curtain with a determined stride.

"Close the curtain; the night wind is chilly," Rynar said with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"Don't dodge the question! Answer me properly!" Vanervi pressed on.

"You already know the answer, don't you?" Rynar said cryptically.

"Not just you. Elenthor and Thranduil probably understand as well, though they refuse to admit it," Rynar continued calmly.

"You mean… Dol Guldur is a giant trap!" Vanervi said, his voice strained.

"A trap? Not quite. It's more of a meat grinder. 

We might be able to capture it, but that depends on how many casualties the elves are willing to bear," Bard interjected as he entered the tent with Aranthor.

"Don't look at me like that. We're not about to exhaust all our resources for the sake of an elven city. Dol Guldur is a threat, yes, but not an existential one," Aranthor said, sighing as he spoke.

"I understand…" Vanervi said, his shoulders slumping. He knew humans wouldn't willingly suffer heavy losses to reclaim Dol Guldur. 

As Aranthor had pointed out, the orc army capable of truly threatening them had already been crushed beneath Erebor. 

The remaining threat of Dol Guldur wasn't significant enough to justify such a sacrifice.

"If Balin knew about this, he'd march the dwarves out of here without a second thought," Bard muttered, scratching his head in frustration.

Dwarves might relish a fight with orcs, but only when absolutely necessary. For the sake of elves, and at great cost? Absolutely not.

"One step at a time. Let's hope the siege of Dol Guldur won't be too brutal.

If it is, the alliance might collapse, leaving evil to spread unchecked across this land," Rynar said, rubbing his temples wearily.

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