Chapter 270: Untitled II

"I don't understand why you must lead your clansmen into such a dangerous situation. You clearly knew that a considerable number of enemies were entrenched here, and I still needed some time to prepare. Thorin, I need an explanation."

Although the tone was one of blame, Allen's tone was still calm. The empty soup bowl was gently placed by him on the broken stone table beside him.

It was just that the left hand clenched tightly revealed that his heart was not as calm as he appeared.

Just a moment ago, Allen received the battle report from his subordinates. Even without counting the summoned Lion-Hunting Knights, the number of his subordinates who died directly exceeded one hundred, all of whom were elites wearing full sets of armor.

Most of these soldiers' causes of death were being hit directly in vital parts by blunt weapons through their armor, losing their lives shortly after being injured, with no way to be saved at all.

Dozens more soldiers, although they saved their lives, had such serious injuries that they would never be able to step onto the battlefield again.

Allen's ability could only accelerate the healing speed of injuries and save his subordinates' lives as much as possible, and was still far from being able to bring the dead back to life.

Whether it was the Battle of the Five Armies or the battle to expel the Easterlings, Allen had never lost so many elites. Moreover, those hundreds of Lion-Hunting Knights would probably need a huge amount of Dinars and prestige to be replenished, which would take a long, long time, and the time consumed would at least need to be calculated in years.

Saving Thorin to avoid the fall of an important ally in the Grey Mountains was something Allen had to do, but he still couldn't accept such casualties.

"Explanation for what? The situation on the battlefield itself is ever-changing. The enemy is retreating steadily in our anger. Shouldn't I take this opportunity to hunt them down? Should I leave more time for the enemy to gather more powerful forces? And didn't we win?"

In the firelight, Thorin, who was still wearing armor, had an extremely calm tone. Based on his understanding of Allen, this questioning would definitely come, it was just a matter of time.

"We did win, but how many loyal clansmen have you lost in the Grey Mountains over these years? And in this battle, I lost nearly a thousand elites. I have only ruled Rhovanion for just over twenty years, and the population is just that small. And how many veterans can your Lonely Mountain have, which has only recovered for ten years, who can step onto the battlefield fully armed? Can we consume ourselves like this with the Orcs? Can we afford it?"

Allen understood Thorin's stubbornness very well. He did not expect these words to affect Thorin's determination, but at the very least, he needed a reasonable explanation and a guarantee that this would not happen again in the future.

A guarantee from a king.

Thorin was silent. The longsword in his hand constantly stirred the burning wood in the bonfire. The leaping flames raised large patches of sparks, reflecting the dwarf's bearded and uncertain face.

"Allen, regardless of anything, you once promised. I remember, and you remember too."

Thorin knew Allen's losses well, and even felt guilty, but he could not retreat at this time.

"I remember, Thorin. Of course, I won't forget my promise. It's just that war isn't fought like this. We still have time. We can use our wisdom to reduce the casualties of our subordinates. Those filthy fellows aren't worth us paying such a huge price. Mordor is lurking, and the Easterlings are also tending toward calm. We still have time, don't we?"

Allen's tone softened. He had no intention of tearing up the promise, just hoped that Thorin could stop his pace of advance and discuss the next plan with him, instead of relying on the lives of his subordinates to rush forward like this.

"It's you who have time! Allen!! You have time, but I, perhaps, don't."

Thorin's tone suddenly became intense, and his helmet was thrown aside by him fiercely.

Under the illumination of the firelight, what entered Allen's eyes was white hair shimmering with silver light, a face covered in wrinkles, and a beard that was half grey and half white. These features all indicated that the dwarf before him had already entered the final stage of his life.

"My hair turned completely white two years ago, and the wrinkles on my face are becoming more and more. Allen, your reputation for being well-read is spread throughout Middle-earth. You should understand what this represents."

Looking at Thorin before him, Allen stood up in surprise. He certainly understood what this represented.

The vast majority of dwarves, once they begin to show signs of aging, indicate that their life has entered a countdown. In at most ten years, they will leave this world and head to the Halls of Mandos.

Almost all dwarves are like this, and very few can escape this rule.

"In recent years, I always dream of a solid and vast hall. Its tall walls seem to be cast from steel. There, I can vaguely hear the calls from my ancestors. At that moment, I knew my time was running out."

As he spoke, Thorin, in Allen's shocked eyes, picked up his own bowl of meat soup from beside the bonfire and drank it gulp by gulp. In recent days, Thorin especially liked to eat particularly hot food.

This could make him feel the temperature of life.

"But, but I remember you are only 205 years old!!"

Allen's words were full of surprise. For a moment, many words of comfort rose in his heart, but in the end, they were all swallowed back hard.

He knew that his old friend did not need pity, and actually cared more about his support for him.

It was just that the question in his heart, Allen still asked.

"According to the lifespan of your clan, you at least have many years, and shouldn't..."

"Yes, yes, according to common sense, I at least have a few decades."

Thorin, who finished the meat soup, interrupted Allen, who was somewhat incoherent. His eyes were firm, and his wrinkled face was calm.

"Perhaps this is the arrangement of fate. If the gods need my service, then I will surely go happily. Allen, death is not worth fearing. It's just that before leaving, I still have things that must be completed."

Speaking of this, Thorin's tone also softened.

"Allen, under the situation where we help each other, the Lonely Mountain developed very fast, very fast. It was never short of wealth, but it is too small and can no longer provide a decent job for all the dwarves. Many clansmen went to the Iron Hills to dig new mines, but you also know the situation there—it's a place with only steel."

Saying this, Thorin sighed imperceptibly. Many dwarves were unwilling to go to the Iron Hills. The reason was also very simple: digging iron and forging, how could it be as comfortable as digging gold and silver jewelry directly? The rewards obtained were also far different.

But forced by livelihood, plus the king's orders, they had to go. This explained what? It explained that the development of the Lonely Mountain had slowed down. It was just that Thorin would not mention these to Allen.

"Now, other sayings have appeared among my clansmen, believing that all Khazad should not be trapped in the Lonely Mountain. Some mentioned here, our rich kingdom once in the Grey Mountains, and some also mentioned that place, that dark place once called Khazad-dum in glory, now named Moria. I probably don't need to say how terrible that place is."

Allen's eyelids jumped when he heard this, and he instantly understood the reason why Thorin was so anxious.

Now, although Thorin was old, he was not muddled. His prestige from reclaiming the Lonely Mountain was enough to suppress all clansmen, making them obediently follow orders to stay in the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills, instead of running around.

It was just that the King under the Mountain's lifespan was less than ten years. Then, the one who would inherit the throne next would be Fili. Perhaps the dwarf prince who had followed Allen to conquer Mordor had grown a lot, but he was still young and probably could not possess the prestige like Thorin.

Not to mention young Fili, in the original trajectory, even Dain, who had higher prestige, could not stop Balin's headstrong act. And Balin's headstrong act directly led to hundreds of dwarves dying miserably in Moria. The loss was probably even greater than Thorin's conquest in the Grey Mountains.

Of course, as an ordinary dwarf, Thorin certainly did not have the ability to foresee the future, but as an excellent leader, he probably had already guessed this possibility.

Then, in order to consolidate Fili's rule after he succeeded to the throne, and also to find a broader home for his clansmen, Thorin had to reclaim Mount Gundabad before he left this world, use that place as a fortress to block the Orcs in the Angmar Mountains to the west, and leave behind a stable Grey Mountains.

Such a goal made Thorin have to be anxious, and also have to take risks to engage in ruthless battles with the enemy time and time again, because he really had no time left.

Allen, who understood everything at this time, looked at his old friend with white hair and sighed deeply.

He indeed received a subtle explanation from the stubborn and arrogant Thorin, but this explanation was somewhat heavy for himself.

For a moment, Allen even wanted to open his mouth to ask Thorin if he wanted to extend his lifespan, and then have more time to complete these unfinished undertakings.

It was just that now was not a good time, and Allen could not guarantee whether the Elixir of Life would have the same effect on dwarves.

One must know that even Sauron's Rings of Power could not affect the lifespan of dwarves. That was the magic power that already existed in Middle-earth, and the Elixir of Life was still from outside.

Finally, all of Allen's plans and words were suppressed, leaving only one sentence.

"Thorin, what is the next plan?"

"Very simple, Allen."

Thorin's brows relaxed, and a trace of a smile appeared on his face. Following this, the dwarf king took out a well-drawn map from his pack.

"Allen, we are currently in the west of the Grey Mountains, only about ten days' journey from Mount Gundabad. And the Orcs in this area have already been routed by us. In the short term, it is impossible to threaten us. Currently, I am preparing to lead soldiers to continue hunting down the enemy, not giving them a chance to gather. On the other hand, we also need to stockpile enough supplies to wait for an opportunity, and then capture Mount Gundabad in one fell swoop."

Listening to Thorin's plan, Allen looked at the map before him and pondered.

Not to mention that Mount Gundabad was the holy land of dwarves, the location of this place was also extremely important. It was the center point of the Angmar Mountains, the Misty Mountains, and the Grey Mountains. As long as one controlled this place, it was equivalent to mastering the important passage connecting the three mountain ranges.

In the future, whether it was troop marching, trade, or passing information, there would be an extra good choice. Moreover, occupying this place could also isolate the Orc forces in the north, making them unable to support each other, providing more favorable conditions for clearing these fellows in the future.

It was just that Allen felt that such a rash attack still had great risks.

He pointed to the north of the Misty Mountains.

"Must pay attention to the enemies in the Misty Mountains at all times. I only cleared the Orcs near the High Pass. Most of the other enemies are hiding in the northern mountains. They could appear behind us at any time. Being attacked from both front and back will make the war fall into an extremely unfavorable situation."

Thorin glanced at the location on the map and looked at Allen somewhat suspiciously.

"Will they? Unless there is something special, these fellows are all fighting on their own and rarely have the opportunity to join hands."

Allen shook his head helplessly. It was very clear that his old friend did not discover the abnormality of the heavy rain during the day. The ever-changing weather of the Grey Mountains misled him. Allen needed to tell his friend that Sauron had already intervened in the war, and he would not give up this passage he had mastered for a long time.

"So, the most powerful dwarf king in the north is preparing to reclaim his former home, and the ruler of Rhovanion is also preparing to step into this muddy water."

A loud and familiar voice suddenly rang out, interrupting Allen's words. He looked back and saw that the person who came was the Grey Wizard who had been a guest in Fislate some time ago.

"Gandalf, didn't you go traveling? How come you came here at this time?"

Different from Allen's surprise, Thorin just nodded and said: "Long time no see, my friend." Perhaps the dwarf was already accustomed to the wizard's sudden appearance.

"Yes, it might indeed be a bit long, so long that I almost don't recognize you, son of Thrain."

Gandalf's tall figure quickly arrived beside the bonfire. He held a steaming bowl of meat soup in his hand, and then sat down opposite the two kings without any ceremony.

"Allen, now, I will answer your question. I just went to Mirkwood to investigate, and when I came back, I heard from your beautiful wife that you had already left your capital and brought a considerable number of troops. Do human minds always change so fast? And by the time I hurried to this mountain range, the traces left by your battle were as obvious as firelight in the darkness. In short, you should know why I could find you, right? Alright, the doubts have been answered. Now it's my turn to propose suggestions for this farce. I hope you retreat as soon as possible."

"Why?!"

"This is impossible!!"

Allen and Thorin gave their own answers respectively.

"Don't be in a hurry to refuse, my friends. Could it be that your eyes only discovered the evil fleeing in all directions in the mountains, but ignored the darkness circling in the sky?"

Gandalf's grey-white brows twitched.

"That group of darkness headed north. North!! You should be able to think of something, right?"

Gandalf, who was drinking meat soup, sized up the two kings before him, then placed the soup bowl beside the fire, took out the tobacco pouch that had followed him for a long time from his bosom, and puffed out one smoke ring after another in the darkness.

The wizard believed that his words were already clear enough. He was talking about the dragon, the dragon hiding in the cold northern region. ===== CHAPTER 271 =====