"Balin! Watch out!" Rynar suddenly shouted. His eyes darted around, and he quickly grabbed a crude iron spear and hurled it with all his might toward Balin's back. Even the finest weapons forged by dwarves couldn't escape the wear of time—this one was likely scavenged by the goblins from some forgotten corner.
"Aaargh!" A piercing roar made Balin's heart race. Only then did he realize a massive troll, towering at least five meters tall, had appeared behind him. In its hands was a gigantic axe-spear, though right now it was struggling to pull the embedded spear out of its body.
"By Durin! A giant troll!" Shock flashed across Balin's face. Clearly, this wasn't part of what he had planned for.
"Was this part of your plan too? Giant trolls?" Rynar parried a thrusting spear and then spun around to sever the attacker's legs. In the shadows, more trolls were pouring in without end...
"No! Honestly, I didn't even know these things were here!" Balin shouted as he swung his war axe, chopping off a troll's arm before smashing its skull with a chained flail.
"Looks like we were caught off guard! No matter! Fight your way out! Zaltarion Knights, rally to me!" Rynar's blood was boiling. His fighting spirit surged, and he longed to drench his lance and sword in enemy blood.
"Shkk!" Caslow ran a troll through with a clean strike as it charged Rynar.
"Forgive my bluntness, Your Highness, but you didn't bring any knights with you! If you want a charge, Omsk and I will gladly assist!" Caslow parried an incoming blow as he spoke.
"..." Omsk.
"..." Rynar.
"..." Balin, completely baffled.
"Well, that was unexpected! They were standing so tightly packed, I just couldn't resist the urge to charge! Occupational hazard..." Rynar laughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension.
"Balin! Get your dwarves together! The goblins are about to bury your men!" Rynar suddenly caught sight of dozens of goblins piling onto a single dwarf. The dwarf was completely immobilized, and countless rotted weapons jabbed at him through gaps in the mass. Rynar knew if this kept up, isolated dwarves would suffer heavy casualties.
"Hngh!" A deep horn blast echoed through Hall Ten. It might draw more enemies, but it was the fastest way Balin could think to rally his forces.
"Clang clang clang~" Upon hearing the horn, the dwarves sprang into action, showcasing their military discipline. They quickly formed steel walls across the battlefield. Goblins who dared step close were slaughtered in front of the shield line.
"They're all mad! Everyone's gone mad!" Rynar finally caught a breath. Now that the dwarves had formed ranks and the ironclad Zaltarion soldiers were crushing the enemy with brute force, the goblin assault on Hall Ten was finally losing steam. Some trolls still lurked behind stone pillars, hoping for a surprise strike—but the Lorien rangers were keeping them pinned. After a brief exchange of volleys, the goblin archers had fully experienced the wrath of one of the finest ranger units in the world! Fifty Lorien rangers took on nearly 200 goblin archers (if you could even call them that). The carnage was so one-sided, many mistook it for a massacre. Most goblins were shot through the eye socket by steel arrows before they could even draw their bows.
"These giant trolls are a real nightmare!" Balin grumbled as he made his way to Rynar.
"What happened?" Rynar could tell something was wrong from the look in his eyes.
"We've started taking losses. Three of our warriors gave their lives to reclaim our home. They were all smashed to death by those trolls..." Balin closed his eyes in pain. A few silent tears fell.
"Already? Damn it..." Rynar frowned. Reclaiming Moria was proving to be no easy feat. They had barely made it inside, and three dwarves had already perished. There was no way to avoid it. Trolls, five meters tall and wielding heavy weapons, were simply overwhelming. The dwarves' short stature worked against them. As for Rynar's Zaltarion troops? Besides the Lorien rangers, the rest of the Zaltarion forces moved like armored fortresses. Unless the enemy had overwhelming strength—at least tier five warriors or stronger—breaking their formations was sheer luck. And Omsk wasn't exactly a pushover either. High-tier orcs? To him, they were like lightbulbs waiting to be smashed—top priority targets. As for the fragile Lorien rangers? With the slow wind-up time of a troll attack, they'd already be 800 meters away, firing two arrows back for good measure...
"We can't just throw lives at this. The road ahead is still long..." Balin said firmly. He had come to reclaim Moria, not plunder it. They needed soldiers and population to hold the place. Thorin wouldn't give him a second expedition. These forces were already a gesture of goodwill. Erebor was just as short on people.
"Then we take it slow. Let's clear this place first and spend the night here." Rynar nodded. Haste makes waste. Not that they could rush forward anyway.
"Careful. I see more trolls hiding behind those pillars up ahead," Balin warned.
"They're regrouping. I saw shield-bearers." Caslow shook his head. The goblins were assembling troops in the dark. They had no intention of giving up Hall Ten.
"King Rynar! I need your archers to fire some flaming arrows. We need light!" Balin squinted into the darkness, uncertain how many enemies lay in wait.
"Rangers!" Rynar waved. A sensible suggestion, wasn't it?
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" Oil-soaked cloth wrapped around arrows was lit and fired by the Lorien rangers. Screams echoed from the shadows as burning goblins tumbled out, flailing and howling before collapsing into charred corpses.
"Whoa! Did we just stir up a goblin nest?!" Under the flare of the firelight, they saw a chilling sight—goblins crammed together, huddled in the shadows, waiting to strike.
"Loose! Zaltarion City Guards, fire!" Rynar ordered his ranged troops to lay down suppressing fire. It wasn't much, but enough to cause chaos among the goblins.
"Slowly push forward. We need to compress their space and tighten our lines," Caslow murmured. With only a thousand troops, they still felt thin in such a massive hall.
"Advance slowly!" Balin roared, swinging his axe.