Cold wind and drizzle swept over Lake-town's charred rooftops, carrying ashes and the stench of blood spiraling upward.
After the Orc army was completely routed, Tarnes, Thorin, Bard, and Dain stood among the ruins, gazing at the devastated ambush zone, each filled with complex emotions.
Bard stood before the ruins by the dock, brow furrowed, fingers digging deep into the bronze buckle of his belt as he looked at those houses consumed by flames.
Behind him, several Lake-town guards were leading the last group of women and children wrapped in blankets toward temporary tents, where hot fish soup steamed white mist in wooden buckets against the cold air.
He took a deep breath and turned to give orders to the guards beside him: "Clear these ruins as quickly as possible, assess the damage, and provide temporary shelter for those whose houses were burned."
Though Thorin had promised to rebuild, these homeless townspeople needed warm shelter now.
The guards immediately sprang into action, busily organizing townspeople for cleanup work.
Tarnes exchanged glances with Thorin and Dain, also instructing his soldiers, who had just finished sinking Orc corpses into the lake, to help Lake-town's guards clear the ruins.
After a while, a Lake-town guard jogged over to report: "Bard, at least thirty families have nowhere to spend the winter..."
Bard closed his eyes briefly, then turned to look at Storm Soldiers moving stone materials.
These warriors from the Golden Tree were silent as machines. Several working together could lift half a collapsed stone wall with bare hands.
Tarnes approached him, the edge of his wandering knight's cloak still stained with Orc blood: "Bard, if you need it, I can have Storm Soldiers work through the night building wooden houses."
Bard shook his head, his gaze sweeping over a Storm Soldier's shoulder armor that had been pierced by an Orc's desperate weapon strike: "Your soldiers aren't craftsmen. They're better suited for battlefields. I'm not certain whether more Orc armies will come, so I don't want your soldiers wasting too much energy."
In the recent battle, Bard had witnessed these Storm Soldiers' combat capabilities.
Without doubt, they were the most elite soldiers Bard had ever seen, with that completely obedient, victory-focused combat attitude, as if these soldiers were born that way.
Bard thought perhaps only the Elven warriors under that proud Elven king of Mirkwood could match Tarnes' soldiers.
You might underestimate Lands Between soldiers' stamina, Tarnes thought. This battle's intensity was at most a warm-up, just enough to break a sweat.
This wasn't to say Storm Soldiers were incredibly powerful. The Orcs were simply too weak.
After the Orc commander was killed by Thorin, they still had a numerical advantage but didn't even mount decent resistance.
Of course, ambushing Orcs with ballistas and flame devices beforehand, so Storm Soldiers didn't expend much effort, was also a factor.
Tarnes said to Bard: "Don't worry about my army's stamina. With their help, your cleanup and house-building speed will be at least three times faster."
Then images of Kenneth Haight, Edgar, and Nepheli Loux flashed through his mind. All scenes of them asking for more people.
Tarnes blinked, looking at Bard, increasingly feeling this human was excellent talent.
Moreover, Lake-town's people were currently under the double threat of Orcs and Smaug...
My house is quite large, and you can sleep there when tired. No problem!
Thinking this, Tarnes spoke: "The Golden Tree territory also has empty houses. If Lake-town's people are willing to migrate..."
"Migrate?" Bard was surprised for a moment, then shook his head without hesitation: "Asking fishermen to leave the lake is like asking Dwarves to give up ale. Besides, the Golden Tree is at least half a year's journey from here. What if we encounter Orc ambushes on the road? Lake-town doesn't have enough food for my people to travel so far, not to mention crossing the harsh Misty Mountains..."
Then Bard realized his tone was somewhat harsh, paused, and spoke more gently: "Thank you for the suggestion, Tarnes. But Lake-town's people would rather sleep on ice than abandon their ancestors' boats."
Hmm, he doesn't seem to realize how I brought the Storm Legion here in such a short time.
Tarnes was about to explain he had ways to get Lake-town's people to his territory quickly when rough laughter suddenly erupted from nearby Dwarf soldiers.
The laughing voice belonged to Dain, who kicked aside an obstructing Orc helmet and walked toward them carrying a waterskin: "I say you should move to Dale!"
"Dale?" Bard frowned.
Thorin also stepped out from behind Dain, shaking his head at Dain's words: "That pile of broken stone houses? They were trampled to rubble by Smaug over a hundred years ago."
Dain took a large gulp of water, droplets splashing on his red beard, laughing: "You're wrong there, Thorin! Back then, Smaug had no interest in trampling houses. It only symbolically destroyed Dale's defensive forces before leaving. Iron Hills Dwarves who go out trading sometimes see Dale from afar on their return. Most civilian houses inside are intact, and the walls are Dwarf-built. You don't think our Dwarven craftsmanship can't last a hundred years, do you?"
Thorin replied: "Of course not."
Dain set down his waterskin: "Then that settles it. What do you say, human? Though Dale needs cleaning, it's better than having your townspeople homeless in winter, living in flimsy tents."
Bard's fingers trembled slightly. He certainly knew about Dale.
One hundred seventy-one years ago, his ancestor Girion had shot the Black Arrow from Dale's watchtower, only to be turned to charred bone in Smaug's dragon fire.
Bard stared at Dain but still refused: "The walls might be usable, but there are no fishing grounds there, only cold, barren land. And if Orcs are targeting Lake-town, Dale would be even more conspicuous."
Dain said bluntly: "So you think drafty Lake-town is better for resisting Orc armies? Or are you counting on these wooden plank houses to protect your people from Smaug's dragon fire?"
Just as Bard was about to say something more, Tarnes patted his shoulder: "Bard, what Dain says isn't wrong."
He picked up a charcoal stick, sketching a rough map on the blackened ground: "I've seen maps. Dale backs against the Lonely Mountain foothills, with Long Lake tributaries below eastern cliffs. Just repair those walls at the pass, combined with my Storm Soldiers, and defense would be ten times stronger than here."
Tarnes tossed the charcoal stick aside, continuing to Bard: "And you're well aware of Lake-town's defensive capabilities. This time we relied on traps to eliminate so many Orcs. But next time, Azog will certainly realize it's lost control of Lake-town and will definitely retaliate. To put it bluntly, I don't believe Lake-town has the capability to withstand Orc armies."
After all, Lake-town was essentially just a large fishing village, not a real town.
At this point, Thorin also spoke to Bard: "Azog wants more than just the Lonely Mountain. It wants to use the Lonely Mountain as a base to occupy the entire north. It won't be satisfied with just eliminating us Dwarves. Bard, if Dain and we are destroyed, Lake-town will be next."
Bard sighed heavily: "Setting aside that Lake-town only lost some houses with no civilian casualties, even if I agreed to go to Dale's ruins, I'd need to discuss it with the townspeople. After all, this is their homeland. They have the right to decide whether to stay or go."
Dain shrugged: "Fair enough, you're right. But if we can think of this, Azog certainly can too. I hope Dale's ruins only contain weeds and shrubs, not foul-smelling Orcs."
Just as Tarnes wanted to continue discussing Lake-town matters with Bard, Thorin pulled Dain aside.
Dain asked puzzledly: "What's so secretive?"
Thorin asked quietly: "Did you send a distress letter to my father, Thrain?"
Dain nodded: "I did send a distress letter..."
Before he finished speaking, his expression suddenly changed. Clearly realizing his distress letter would put Thrain in danger.
Dain punched a wooden barrel, wood chips flying: "Damn, I should have thought of this. With Iron Hills kinsmen besieged by Orcs, your father couldn't ignore it. Azog must have already set ambushes in the Misty Mountains! After receiving my distress letter, Thrain would certainly march urgently and definitely fall into Azog's trap!"
After speaking, Dain froze in place, not daring to look directly at Thorin, firelight making his pale face flicker between light and shadow.
However, Thorin's reaction was somewhat unexpected to Dain. Thorin only sighed slightly, saying: "We can only hope my father is safe."
Dain wanted to say something when a gray robe caught the corner of his eye.
Behind this gray-robed wizard followed a Hobbit poking his head around, tiptoeing to peek at a Storm Soldier using lightning to shatter Orc corpses.
Gandalf's figure appeared at the street's end. Seeing Thorin and Dain, he walked over quickly with a comforting smile: "Dain, don't worry too much. I've already explained the situation to the Eagle King. They'll watch the valleys from cloud level and should now be searching for Thrain's army in the Misty Mountains."
Dain was stunned for two seconds, then burst into loud laughter.
He strode forward to bear-hug Gandalf, his iron armor clanging against the wizard until he grimaced: "Oh, Gandalf! Thorin mentioned you in his letter. No wonder he reacted that way. I knew you old fellow had a backup plan!"
Gandalf struggled to extract his arm, turning to look at Bard, who had noticed the commotion and approached: "Bard, I was just looking for you. Azog knows one of its armies was destroyed at Lake-town and will definitely retaliate. Lake-town's wooden houses can't stop Orcs."
Bard approached, hearing this with a helpless bitter smile: "Are you also here to persuade me to go to Dale, Gandalf?"
Gandalf was startled: "Also?"
Bard shrugged, pointing to Tarnes who had followed, plus Thorin and Dain standing together. "Just minutes ago, they told me similar things."
Then Gandalf looked at Tarnes and the others as Tarnes briefly explained the situation.
Gandalf nodded and looked at Bard. "What they said is much the same as what I was about to tell you. Most of Lake-town's houses are wooden, with little wall protection. If Smaug were to fly out from the Lonely Mountain again, the devastation here would be immense. Dale's houses, by contrast, are mostly built from solid brick and tile, especially those the Dwarves helped construct. Even after more than a hundred years, those buildings remain sturdy and reliable. They could withstand much of Smaug's dragon fire, and when facing Orc armies, their high, thick walls would let your people hold out until reinforcements arrived."
After hearing Gandalf's words, Bard took a deep breath, cold wind from the lake filling his lungs: "Gandalf, I know everything you say is correct, but just like my answer to Tarnes and the others, I need to ask the townspeople's opinions."
But Gandalf keenly detected the unnaturalness in Bard's tone: "What are you worried about?"
Bard didn't answer, remaining silent, only his leather coat hem fluttering in the wind.
He looked up at the vague black silhouette rising and falling in the mist across the lake. That was Dale's direction.
Memories surged like tides in Bard's mind. His father's deathbed grip on his hand, using a weak voice to tell Bard his true identity and his ancestor's courage in fighting Smaug to the death.
His mother had also hummed songs about Dale from her sickbed.
That was the town his ancestors had ruled, also the place abandoned under Smaug's attack over a hundred years ago.
Now suddenly having to return made Bard's feelings very complex.
No, those are past matters. I must now be responsible for the people who trust me.
Bard looked at Gandalf: "Don't worry, whatever happens, I'll ensure the residents' safety. For now, let the living eat hot meals, especially the Iron Hills Dwarves. They've been chased by Orcs all the way and just experienced an intense battle. They need to replenish their strength."
Then he exhaled deeply: "Whatever the case, we just won a victory. A great victory. Tonight we should hold a feast to celebrate this victory. I can also use this opportunity to ask townspeople about migrating to Dale. This feast would also welcome Dain and the Iron Hills Dwarves, though please don't mind that Lake-town's ingredients are mostly fish. We don't have much else."
Moreover, Bard hoped this feast could comfort Lake-town residents' anxious and confused hearts.
After hearing this, Dain's eyes lit up: "We don't care about food taste or texture. But I hope you can provide enough ale! We Dwarves become ten times more spirited with ale!"
Bard glanced at the many Dwarves around, saying somewhat uncertainly: "I hope the former mayor's wine cellar has sufficient stores."
"Then tonight's patrol and defense will be left to my soldiers," Tarnes said.
Bard was startled: "You're not attending the feast?"
Tarnes shook his head, then indicated Bard needn't worry. He would reward his soldiers.
Having just eliminated so many Orcs, Tarnes' soul collector had absorbed quite a few souls. He now only wanted to hurry through the portal back home to summon more personnel.